waiting to become ...

How long will I wait? How long will I wait for my vision to hit the page? How long will I wait for coffee shop conversations, video games, and someone to drive? It seems I will continue to search for myself, even after I have found myself. I know who I want to be, and I know that in some way the "who" is what I am now. I can taste it, because I’m as close as I have ever been to the day I become. Any closer and I would be what I have yet to become. Yet, I find myself trapped in what I was, and am, or what I never should have been, but what I had to be … waiting for who I am to be who I am in the moment. I need to become me.

ships under stars .

ride this hand to love and flat land,
and wrestle with the letting go
of all the things that I don’t know.
some ships sail so seek the things unseen.
sun stars and sand, follow flow and learn to lean.

yellow butterfly.

the butterfly yellow, over the waking waters shimmer,
sunlight's the beams over the waters wake as it glimmers and rides.
shimmy shakes and glides,
the white lights, and soft sights all painting pictures for my eyes.
the butterfly water shines like yellow.
sitting near silver shiver shores on sunday i sat mellow.
soft citrus tastes and some soggy sand to bellow.

the aforementioned affirmation of the formed and reformed.

two yellow butterflies,
splitting up, to roam cold hills.
two wings are one,
sitting close,
with wet window sills,
and home so soon ...
so south on wind it flies,
you're changing blocks,
beneath the pale blue skies .

words to inspire ...

what is inspiration without subsequent action?

piano man .

a piano man,
a singer and,
a voice that never comes.
lost days of my youth,
the dreams,
the love and slums.
and if piano music spoke to me,
this song would rattle drums,
have one last look at yesterday,
take a step too far and pray.
the memoirs line the dusty box,
with one warn out key to play.

tick sick soldier tock ...

teeter-tottering to the tick-tock of the clock.
just counting down the seconds,
until the second that we talk.
old organs beckon as we walk.
cus he's just such a sick soldier,
with some several skin diseases,
and some severe sedentary hereditary illness,
old books to fulfill this,
this world he appeases.
but he keeps rolling slowly,
steady on for the four fathers,
or even just the few fathers,
and any others that he pleases.
the broken places, token face.
the love he chases, spoken race.
so which or what way would his world take him and when,
before the future fizzles out in front of him,
which weathered fortress holds a friend.
when where to be is hard to see.
then what to do, is asking you.
and options range from A to B,
then scrolling through means 1 to 2.
and where is this girl?
that everybody talks about,
but nobody knows,
the one i always seem to dream about,
the one that never seems to show.

the road less travelled .

wisps of emotion,
attached to faded memory,
with a quickly fading shadow of hope,
under a quickly setting sun.
the night is silent,
the night is dark,
this days midnight brings light,
a new dawn, with many days.
the smoke and mirrors summer soundtrack,
the grass bed and front row seats,
to the game of make believe,
and the objectification of clouds.
it was beautiful, and so are you.
but all the things i felt are fading,
like new and over priced jeans,
love can't thrive off of vintage feelings,
it wont support the vintage look.
what was it that took me,
what was the hook?
what would it take to make me leave my words behind?
what would it take to put new worlds in my mind?
now I'm left in the dark,
summers gone,
and so are you.
with you left the hands i loved to hold,
with you left the pretty smile,
and eyes that spoke to me.
gone is the soundtrack of my summer,
all that's left is silence,
under a set sun,
with no shadow to chase,
as the midnight dawn approaches.
this hurts,
but this is right.
i'm not yet done with today,
the broken road,
the winding road,
the one that leads me to you.
these are words not of mouth and mind,
but of heart and soul.
not wanting,
but not wanting to be unwanted.

spell cheque simile.

there are those who feel,
only to rip the emotions away from the situations,
abstract them,
set to work like jekyll on hyde.
then set them free ...
so others may share in their thoughts.
there are those who think,
only to stretch the boundaries of their minds.
both to pick the brain,
and to search the deepest corners of their thoughts,
the closest corners to the soul.

these are those who think on, or in similar terms.
those who stand on higher ground,
and sink between the waves.

these are the spell cheque similes.
likened unlike any others.

and to think for me,
this all started with one line.

bowling with bumpers.

bowling with bumpers,
makes it harder to miss.
with lightning and thunder,
a storm is never bliss.

fairview ...

This is an anomaly of sorts.
Red lights flow forward, dragging my feet.
White lights chase me, pulling at my eyes.
Cool air in my lungs, clear thoughts fill my mind,
sending chills through my skin.
Everything that has escaped my grasp,
becomes apparent in this moment,
The night sky mirrors my shaken image.
The changes have left me searching,
the familiarities have left me entirely.
Like the rabbit that sits motionless,
testing the waters of fear,
or the man who once tested the waters,
only to succumb to fear.
What am I, if I'm one of these?
Human?
I'm turning over a dead leaf,
and leaving a wrecked train behind me,
wresting in our footprints
So there I stand, with the sun at my back
Chasing my shadow.
Stumble, but never stop.

my mind .

There is no one word that can explain how I feel about you. I do my best to string a few together, in hopes that it will bring me closer to an adequate expression of the things i think and feel inside. My thoughts are often beyond my own understanding. I could spend hours unwinding and untangling them, and I'd still have a knot in my stomach.

this is where ?

if it wasn't for this orange salty ocean,
over flowing with fish and emotion,
into wide open wounds and rocked with simple sounding tunes,
the moment i give up, is the moment all four legs give out ...
I can only stand this storm for so long.
with you being in the eye, and me having two.
its been hard not to buckle, and even harder not to shuffle the deck.
with fifty-two cards to build you a palace,
and no gold for the crown, the letters of love that hide the malice.
the blanket wraps in warmth and love,
here to the left i smile down from above.
and hands that were meant to hold,
and no knowledge of the distant cold.
i never wanted to let go.
but i was called to what i knew were doubts,
why can't you here my silent shouts?
this is where I stand.

this little light of mine ...

Walk the talk. Or at least start standing for the things you once claimed you stood for. We all need to stop pretending. You could make such a difference if you just stepped out. One day you'll look back and see every moment that wasn't spent living out your faith or speaking about the faith you have, and you'll realise that every one of these moments was a wasted one. People wont always carry with them the memories of the moments you shared, but if you share your faith, they'll carry the life changes it brings for the rest of their lives. Your life is a burning candle and it's melting away. It's brief, and unless you use your life to shine light on truth, it was all for not. So stop hiding what you have for fear of losing what you one day will, and start taking a stand. You can change your world.

good bye .

It's here again. We run through these halls and out these doors. Except this time it's a little bit different. We don't run as quickly as the times before. For some of us it's the last time we'll ever set foot in these halls. If we do ever set foot here again it will be as new people, and for the most part, better people. We will have finally pealed off the stereotypes that kept us apart, and the drama that broke us apart. We will finally be real people. People who understand that there is more to life than fast food, practices, part-time jobs, Friday nights, and what lies behind those doors. New people, new thoughts, new everything. Part of me says that I will miss everyone that leaves, but another part of me says I will enjoy them all a little bit more when they return. I hope they realise that just because every night of the week can turn into a Friday night, doesn't mean every night of the week should. There is more to life then trying to escape it. There is more to life than pleasing yourself. I hope they see that. I hope that being in the world opens their eyes to the realities of this world. I hope that they seek to change the world for the better, and succeed. I hope they know that this is the last time they run, and I hope that as they look back one last time, they are happy with all the days they walked these halls.

Love you guys <3

dusty yellow diamonds .

old dusty diamonds ... we reinvent.
red water leaks, rusted pipes are spent.
here and there, then gone again .
the thoughts of middle beginning the end.
if its those bars that trap you,
let loose, and lose a friend .
you gain much more,
there's no pretend.
but the piece you lost will never be returned.
the songs you sing, and those green bridges you burned.
the process is difficult, with the targets fighting stance,
but with pain comes perfect slates,
and soft finished floors for feet to dance.
rocking chairs, and change for good,
escape these yellow bars, and rain gray wood.