The Outpour of A Soul

Feigned hearts cry away, break away, never stay.
Quiet hands brush a tongue­­­­ - repeat her thoughts, melodies swing from her earlobes.

Life, uninhibited.
Never stay away too long.

Love shaved off into cups of emptiness and dazzled with fruity seductions, delectable finds.
Nails run across the rails, catch a bit of paint and an epiphany splashes forth.
Sleepy smiles frighten my night, i need her light.
Radiance encumbered and spilled out onto the kitchen floor, our conception.

Reveal hidden identities.

Zipping around my appetite, savoring the flavorful experience of beholding the nape of her neck.
It teases me, crowds my mind.
Her wrists and her elbows enchant me, lulling me to stupor.
Inside out she'd be just as gorgeous.
Her caress is nothing less than divine, this lover all mine.

Our hourglass trails on, hoarding time like it'll never expire.

I can't help it, keep pulling me in.

My anchor has set sail.

Sleeping

I rested my tattered palms upon his grizzly cheeks
Splattered all of my love onto him with my eyes
Inhaled a whiff, a sniff, as if, his scent was a riff;
improvised with a beauty uncompromised...

I theorized that he must be sleeping.

I lifted his face and despised
everything i was seeing
this man, disguised, brought terror to my being
where did MY man go and why was he fleeing?

I tried to tell myself I wasn't to blame
But it's hard not to exclaim when your heart is aflame
A shame when you can't tame the urge to want to maim his pristine new dame

I proclaim that he MUST be sleeping.

What other reason would suffice?
How could this treason become his vice?
They say there's a season for everything, I guess this is my fate's roll of dice.

I'm in love with a stranger
The only danger is the glimpses from beneath the mask
They come to me, a savior, like Jesus in a manger, I bask and

I ask, to confirm that he MUST be sleeping.

I place one hand on his heart, the other on mine,
Useless apart, but when they combine, become aligned
All my sorrow now benign
Divine thoughts begin to flow

Because I know that he is only sleeping.

And, soon, in the morning, the sun will be leaping.

My Secret Hero

He holds and heals
He knows and conceals
my fears...
He shows, when everyone else is closed, that he hears
my tears...
Even when he isn't near.

You know the kind of man,
who doesn't even know his own plan,
yet helps you in a way that only he can?
and rather than
add on
he subtracts; the mess now gone,
stress now lone,
the excess that was ingrown now has a tombstone.

Though he may not know,
and think he's just a pillow--to cushion my fall,
he's secretly my hero.

On the low,
When i think about him, inside, i glow.

He bestows hope,
Never lets me mope,
A shoulder to cry on while I cope,
The tightest knot in my life's rope

He makes my whole being smile
Meanwhile, i unpile, all of the vile
from my life,
and throw it into exile.

Renewal is mine
as i finally peacefully recline,
all thanks to this certain fellow
i call my secret hero.

Not a Poem, just some slightly rhyming thoughts...

Funny how they say home is where the heart is,
‘cause when I think of love my mind never grazes the thought of this.

My house is a shell casing,
Left behind after the treacherous murder of our kindred souls,
Devoid of the gunpowder necessary to ignite the flame that can forge our allegiance to each other once again.

My house is full of sarcastic glares, shrugged shoulders, and nonchalant phrases.
No encouragement, no support, no hope.

My house has never been home.
My childhood was not merry, my adolescence actually quite scary,
Parents fail to realize they’re not only there to conceive,
All children need is someone to believe.

Guess it’s true that you have to learn to stand on your own two feet,
‘cause if you don’t, you’re only asking for defeat.

Haphazard Encounters: A Short Story Cycle (Chapter 1: Wilson)

I met this man in a wheelchair today. He asked my name. I said "Lydia," politely. He looked up and over his battered glasses at me, his eyes bore into my soul. He replied "Lydia, eh? You look more like a Michelle to me." I took offense. I didn't show it. Just peered into the green-grey cesspools that were his eyes and stood limply, praying the bus would come trampling around the corner in the next few seconds. When it didnt, the man rolled closer and i averted my gaze, suddenly aware of my throbbing uncomfortability. The man calmly offered his grubby hand, "Well, Lydia-Michelle, my name's Wilson. Pleased to meet your acquaintance...i, i mean make your acquaintance, young lady." My eyes lingered at his hands for a few seconds, calculating the potential health risks involved with even grazing his filthy digits, then my compassionate right hand extended itself to meet his and shook heartily. Funny, i thought, that's how i lot of things worked in my life; sympathy overpowering rationale. Wilson grinned toothlessly and released our grip. My rationale looked at my right hand, then at my sympathy and shook its head, sinking back into the depths of me. Right then I knew that this wouldnt just be a one time disease-exchanging encounter with Wilson. "Oh no," my sympathy said, "you just wait and see. Wilson will be as kind as can be." My rationale stared at me, raging at my sympathy's Seussical manner about the matter. It jerked my body away from the man, sending my feet stumbling haphazardly over the horrendous gashes that consumed our city's sidewalks and crashing into the pay phone pole, almost severing what was left of the phone line it was already holding onto for dear life. After I'd recovered from the collision and composed my myself, I turned around to see the bus stop deserted. My rationale sighed, comforted by the absence of Wilson's grim frame. My sympathy was saddened, but she giggled, knowing wholeheartedly she'd get her chance at redemption soon enough.

Then & Now

then...
the world was beautiful
the birds sang in the dew-stained trees of the forenoon
the wind whispered the sweet melodies of the most brazenly romantic tunes
the sun illuminated the gorgeously azure sky as it limply hung from the brink of dusk

now...
the world is hideous
the bats shriek from within their morose dwellings
the smoking embers of an expiring day linger in the haze of a pitch black twilight
the moon is gleaming repugnantly, revealing the genuine disposition of the world's intentions

then you were in
now you fallen out

then you were sanguine
now you are forlorn

then you ceaselessly fought
now you hastily forfeit

then was Unbreakable; Nothing Even Mattered
now there's Nothing Left To Say

in the end I Will Always Love You

A Sense of Rest

As my days dwindle,
And I hear calling from above,
I can’t think a better thought,
Than of my sweet, true love.


Though my tired eyes may fail me,
I can still see his gentle visage,
As clearly as the day we,
First met eyes – it seemed a mirage.

Though my ears couldn’t hear a tree fall,
Never will the sound of his sweet nothings in my ear fade,
If his engaging serenades I could not hear,
I would care nothing for the anthems of angels.

Though my tongue could not detect the bitterness of a lemon,
Eternally shall the taste of his saccharine lips stay with mine,
If it ever shall grow faint,
Never shall my tongue crave another morsel.

Though my nose can no longer savor the scent of fresh baked cookies,
Forever is how long his masculine fragrance will tickle my nostrils,
If his comforting aroma I could no longer inhale,'
Every other odor shall reek upon my whiffer.

Though my hands could not feel the stabbing prick of the sharpest of cacti needles,
Everlasting is his affectionate and securing touch upon my skin,
If his unmistakable caress should never graze my body again,
Any other stroke would feel like an invasion upon my being.


Now, dwindling so far gone,
My soul begins to soar,
And just when all my remembrances left me,
I am in his arms – this time forevermore.



--wrote this my second semester of 12th grade--

imPERFECTION

The blemishes of an untouched petal.

Rouge is its taint of beauty
Green sprouts its life; bountiful
Sweet ivory bursts forth out of its soul
Mahogany savors the pleasure of its wilting fate
As purple stands boldly and triumphantly in the face of its perfect adversity

A lively canvas, this bunch, daring its viewer to avert her gaze
Gaping open in the vulnerability of an unkind atmosphere, it shall never part from here
It challenges even its Creator's vast spectrum of paints on His pallet

Never stifling its creativity for the likes of one
It only blooms for its own satisfaction
Loving everything perceived as its faults

The blemishes of an untouched petal.

-- Written: February 14, 2009 in the hour of 3:00 pm (how ironic)

The Survival (The Prey)

difficult.
go-go throbbing relentlessly against my eardrums.
busy, rushed, impersonal.
a stifling icebox.
grey, overcast skies.
delinquency.
politics.
founded upon a legendary history dripping with injustice.
measured by the majority's opinion of success & not by heart or hunger.
the right vs. the wrong associations.
big DARK secrets.
change vs. acceptance of oneself.
undying competition.
intimacy vs. isolation.

a traditional and noble facade truly that encompasses a cold, cut throat heart and no soul.

love. scarred and gutted, brutalized and tormented by life's serial killer.

The Survival (The Hunter)

simple.
bleeding bass.
beckoning angry mothers.
bad ass kids, just trying to have fun.
hot, sticky summers.
the piercing bite of fire ants swarming sweet caramel-colored skin.
brisk, icy winters.
goosebumps and teeth chattering, but the frostbitten beauty so enticing you can't go inside.
adolescence plotting their escape or clinging to their ignorance.
young mothers.
absent fathers.
adults living inconveniently to provide a more bountiful harvest for their seeds.

a professional shell with a heart-warming, down home spirit dwelling comfortably within its walls.

real love painted with the timeless ebony ink of Heaven.

InsideOut

no support. no communication. hurt.
rock bottom.

salvaging shreds of love, dignity, trust.
a mirage of the sun upon the horizon.

renovating, working, trying.
rebuilt upon a foundation as good as a used cash car; looks good. really shot to hell.

no acknowledgement. no communication. hurt.
confusion and spite birth dark nights of fabrications. deceit.

believing in a solution.
plastered smiles and held tongues.

realizing. but no admittance.
fireworks. traffic.

acceptance of death.
the crash instantly kills.

serenity.pure ascension.
we're safe in His arms now. His will everlastingly fulfilled.