The "Age" of Reason

The Way the Soul Cries when the Clock starts


From a larger pulse
      a whole that
            r e t r acts
      with every thought
            and desire
      etched into human form
           breathing now
                 panting - eating
            feeling - crying
                  laughing


                  processing


Life


Not just a piece anymore
      or a glowing burst of
            energy and infinity
Temporarily broken away
      placed in material
            experience


The earth weeps
      with welcoming
            flattery
A clock begins
      tick             ing
            logic
                  Reason   ?


Suddenly, this beautiful
      infinite soul
            feels the pressure
      of being stamped
            with age
                   separation
                        confusion
                               reaction  ?


Dying to
      connect
            to a larger whole
the one from whence
      it came
            the wisdom 
                  that had already consumed it


To hide the crows,
      and the creases,
            and the moles,
                  and the whites
                        and grays 
      or show them  ?


Fighting, leaping,
      begging
            for the beginning
Running from the unforgiving
      labeling
            of the ticking
                  clock


Do not judge this
      soul
by its
      journey 
             l e  n   g    t     h      .       .        .


For there have been
      many
and there will be
      infinitely more


Tear the skin away
      break the eyes - 
            the hair
See the thing inside
      the part that came
            from the larger
                  p u l s e
      the part
             that has always been
                   the same origin
             as yours       

A poem about moments. The kind that knock you down, that weaken your pulse - just before it speeds up again.

Impact


Crackling fibers


      dance


Upon the glowing


      ember


light of this


      electrifying


            moment


Every particle


      etched


together with


      energy - 
  
            lightning


Something deeper,


      warmer


than fire..


      burns within


And the crashing


      waves


are a mute comparison


      wind


cannot blow, nearly


      fierce


            enough


Only light, reflection


      refraction


Particles - finely tuned


      flowing


Moving together, they


      crumble


melting toward one another


      giving


in to this elegant


      yearning


this natural pull to -


      connect


Much like the flow of


      lava


the kind of burn that


      heals


the kind of pull that


      forgives


and the kind of welcome that


      encapsulates


BANG


      doesn't even scratch the


            surface


      of this. This is larger

More poem-writing, as promised.

So, in lieu of the fact that lately, I've had more to "say" than to say poetically, I thought that perhaps a poem was due.

I did promise that when I started this, I would try to post some every now and then, and one for every 4 posts seems, at least, appropriate.

Hope you enjoy.



The Darkest of Delicate Beauties

As the moon fades,
      glowing through the trees,
            ever so dimly
its rays touch the skin
      with unforgiving luminosity


The moon was always overlooked
      always second to the sun
            and its oranges, pinks and reds


But it is in the comparison
      that the mind loses its focus
            on the duality of the two beauties


Like comparing a hand to a foot


She rages - the moon,
      with her blues, whites and purples
            always delicate in her contact


Forgiving the sun's daily aggressive rays
      with her cool, beautiful light


Dancing with the sun, she keeps in step
      carefully maintaining this delicate
            immortal balance


      of prisms and light
            color and white


Her dark beauty - glimmers
      just as bright


There is no forceful break
      in her rays


Moving the tides
      she wails
            submitting to her passions


But, jealousy - no
      she has none


For what has she to envy?


None can tame her
      cooling breezes
            and meteor twilight


She is her own


Unpraised
      
      and uncaged -- howling in ecstasy 

Anyone done any Listening lately?

I am So brilliant. Aren't you?


Politics and politics, and religion and REFORM and politics, politics, politics, politics, and dammit if I didn't promise myself a long time ago that I would never venture into these topics, and I would always keep it philosophical and creative.


But how the hell can I avoid it without railing myself with a brick in order to keep my promise? 


How!?


It's everywhere. It's engulfing - with its flames and its poisons and its know-hows and boohoos.


BLAH blah blah... that's all I hear anymore when those surrounding me talk about especially politics and religion.


So what's a girl to do?


Everyone is soo incredibly impressed with themselves for Everything that They know and are So entitled to their opinions. That you MUST listen to.


And copyrights.                                                                        And independence.
          
       And freedom-to-Do-or-Say-anything-I-want-no-matter-the-consequences.


And things.                                                                            And T.V. shows.


And blah .                     -               I heard it.


      blah . .                      -               Oh yea, where?


           blah . . .                 -                Y'know. From those people. At that source. With the stuff.


                blah . . . .            -                 Oh.. oh! Right! Of course I know. Yea, man. 


                    double blah.


What happened to them? What happened to the men and women patiently and silently and humbly listening to others opinions BEFORE deciding that the one they were listening to was an opposing one? Where the hell did they go?


So irresponsible.


So inexcusably rude.


So arrogant.


Every last one of us.


Every time I go anywhere and any one of those subjects come up - I end up feeling as though I've been suddenly surrounded by a crowd of raving five-year-old know-it-alls Screaming at the top of their lungs,


               I know the Best candy better than you!!


        I tasted it first!


                     But I can buy it cheaper than you!


              Mine tasted So much sweeter than yours!


And you know what?


I quickly turn into one of the babbling, blustering, boiling, raving, proud and loud. 
     Lunatics. We're all lunatics.


And we should be ashamed of ourselves.


The only exception I can even wrangle up is possibly my grandfather, or my father. Being men of few words, typically, they each only interrupt, interject, or speak strongly when they know, better than anyone, for absolute certain, not only that the party is interested, but also that they are more knowledgeable about the subject at hand. 


and you know what else? When they are introduced to something new, from someone more knowledgeable than themselves. They listen!!!! Intently.


When did our poorly sourced citations, lazy grapevine gossip, book scanning and magazine reading become so deserving of our arrogance? Where do we got off?


Seriously?


When was the last time you spoke to someone about any of those things who patiently listened, and paid attention, before attempting to attack you with not a more confident, but a more knowledgeable rebuttal?


I'm having a hard time remembering myself..


We all desire, for the most part, the same simple things.


But everyone wants to sit around and fight, and nag, and fight - and point out to everyone, but themselves, how wrong they are.


Like babies begging for attention.


Do me a favor; next time you go to talk to someone about politics, or religion (or anything that tends to prompt your arrogant pride into full force) - show some self control. 


Think before you speak. Listen before you think (I believe this is an important step we often leave out as well).


Analyze the jump before you leap - 
          or we're all just going to end up in the pit, dragging it all down with us.


I'll try to do the same.










               

Anecdotal Nonsense on Dating and the Dreaded Red Button...

Aaaaannnnnd.. she's still awake. Perplexed and unable to escape her thoughts.

Nothing new about that, eh?

On Dating


I was thinking..

Isn't it funny the things we say - the person we sometimes become when we're in the dating stage of life?

Silly, really.

Wouldn't it be so much easier to just take a deep breath and be ourselves?

So, why the hell don't we?

This game of anxiety and nervousness.. overanalyzing every little movement and word. Part of it is the romanticism of the thing itself, I suppose.

But, when, WHY did people ever become so scared? So fake...

I see it as an invisible box that we put ourselves into. When you're first meeting someone, your mind initially shifts to the "socially acceptable" box (which, let's face it - no one truly knows the answer to what this is - thus begins the circle of confusion.. winding us into an abyss of god knows what's next) feeling the ins and outs of what might make this person find you crazy or odd.

Anxiety is a funny thing.

But what really got me thinking, besides the obvious danger of the socially acceptable box thing (throw that one away - forever. Do it right now, I order you), is the red button.

The dreaded red button....

What's the red button, you say?

Remember when you were a kid and there was "that" thing - that One thing that was the equivalent to Not pushing the red button? The One thing you weren't supposed to do?

Do you remember the way you felt when they (in this case, probably your parents or older sibling) told you not to do it? Do you remember asking why? Do you remember how Badly you wanted to do it after they said Not to?

So, in this case, what's the red button?

The red button is accepting the box. It's not flushing it down the toilet and being yourself. It's doing the opposite.

O.k. So, now think. The last time you went out on a date, started a new job, or met some new people. What did you do?

I bet lots of you said to yourselves. "O.k., me. Just be yourself, and you'll be fine."

You just told yourself not to push the red button!!

And I'll bet you failed.
I bet you pushed it.
I bet you were as far from being yourself as is humanly possible.

Moral of the story?

Don't say it. Don't think about it. Don't even consider it.

As a matter of fact - do something else.

Take a bath. Meditate. Pray. Listen to your favorite cheesy band on the way. Do things that make the red button story seem like a silly little anecdote that you never intended to remember, or read again.

People are weird. I, myself, enjoy being one of the weirder ones. Go have fun doing the same.

The journey out

Lately, it seems as though I can't tell the difference between when it's time to write or journal. It's as though I've become one with it. Perhaps is a good thing. It could also be terrible.

I have had a couple people confirm for me recently my fear of being completely self-absorbed. Everyone's got their quirks, right? Awesome. Well, some might see this as a bad thing, but I'm instead going to seize it as an opportunity to truly face my demons head on.

Let's do this.

I figure I'll delve into some service work for a while. See where I end up.

And also, I must start writing every day. Or stop doing it. (not on here, but at least somewhere) I'm never going to improve at this rate or have any gained respect for myself. I'm not shooting for hubris or anything, but a tad more self confidence and a little less obsessive reflection certainly wouldn't hurt.

I have got to get off my ass. Get moving. Start living. Stop planning. Run. Live.
      Before I die.
            Could be a hoot.

I've also realized that my research is terribly lax - along with my follow-through. So, basically my integrity blows, but hey, you gotta start start somewhere.

Baby steps.

I'm not going to change the world tomorrow morning, but I can at least dig the first place for a brick.

I run, no, Sprint, toward change. Always have. But I lack endurance. I've got to slow down and take smaller bites, or I'm just going to keep purging all of the progress right into the trashcan.

So that's the part you get from too much self reflection. Then there's this.



People feel pain. Real pain. All of them do. That's why it's so important to focus on the connections - the similarities, because as soon as anyone starts to feel as though they're the only solitary one - that's it. That's the place where we get ourselves into trouble.

It's so easy to feel alone. It's so much harder to feel connected. To truly set yourself free in love and life. Reaching out and (I know... it sounds lame) touching that face, accepting that shoulder, unclenching that fist.

SO much harder.

Than angry
            bitter
                miserable
                   solitary
                       "independence"

There we go.

I hope you see where I'm going with this. If not, just give me a sec.

I am not, in any way, trying to say that independence is a bad thing, but I also think the word has been abused and, regrettably, misused. Embarrassingly so.

The word "independence" has become such a powerful mechanism, it's as though it breathes on it's own now. We mistake pride, isolation and loneliness for independence. They're not equal.

It's not the same thing. It never was. So, stop being fooled. Pay attention. Listen. Put your damn pride away.

Perhaps independence is actually the ability to connect and live without losing yourself. There's this idea floating around that it's impossible to connect with others and hold onto yourself at the same time.

It's not true.

Remember those similarities I was talking about? You're in there, too. Just as they.

That torch needs to burn. And your mind is too heavy. Just like mine. I have no doubt.

Stop thinking. Instead, listen.

The key's in there somewhere -- I just know it.

It's time to start.

So, I've finally tired of saying I'm going to start a blog "sometime" and resolved to start it today. I'm honestly not sure what's been holding me back, but I'm pretty sure it doesn't matter once you've found yourself a jumping point. I guess this is it.

I've been bearing my fears and inner criticisms for far too long. It's time to bear them with a little strength and integrity. As much as we'd like it to sometimes, life doesn't sit around and wait for us to wake up, we just age, and then we have to reap the consequences of ill spent time with a proudly, or humbly, raised head. I haven't decided which one is mine yet, but I'm alright with that.

I'll probably be posting some poems every now and then, possibly some other interesting, or even uninteresting, things. Who knows? You'll just have to stick around long enough to find out.

I do, however, have a poem to share today. I have no description for it, except that it is an expression of a certain awakening process I've been cycling through for several years now. It's the beginning of something. A something which, at this particular point, has no face, and no name.

But I'm pretty sure it's beautiful. I hope you agree.


There It Is


I am the original wisdom
      you've been ignoring


I am the unconditional love
      you've been hating


I am the fear
      you've been running toward


I am the window pane
      you've been smashing


I am the pieces
      you've been ripping apart


I am the fire
      you've been suffocating


I am the soul
      you've been bleeding


I am the mother
      you've been infuriating


I am the house
      you've been wrecking


I am the music
      you've been muting


I am the mountain
      you've been tearing down


I'm the light
      you're trying to kill.

Over here.

It's o.k.

Shut your eyes.

Breathe.

It's safe here.