I’d like to see you,

one last time,

not a single soul around,

and look you square in the eye

and see the way your face contorts

as you answer my question of, “Why?”

But the second words get in the way,

it’s difficult to decipher

your honesty from your lies,

but without a single soul around,

this one last time,

I could read your eyes.

This is spell-binding,
all the love that we’re finding.
You bend and fold promises,
and later,
I find them in my pockets.
Who would ever choose
to stop this?
I am us.


I need to start putting my writing up on here again because,
although tumblr is amazing, I collect way too many things on there
that aren't just my writing. This blog has been a diary of my life
and I think I might be losing that a bit.

As the colors fall from the tree,

I can feel just how they leave.

But beauty stains and creates

a permanent intangible memory,

you can still close your eyes and see.

There was a deadbolt on your door the day you requested I leave. I turned to go but was perplexed by the contraption I saw before me. With the countless number of times I’d been here, how did I not notice the giant brass of the deadbolt’s body? With the countless number of times we played house, how did I not notice the taunting clack of the deadbolt as it rapped upon your door? With the countless number of times you pulled me into you, how the hell had I ever gotten in here in the first place?

I couldn’t move but not for lack of wanting to go anymore.

I couldn’t move but not for hoping you’d hold me back like you had infinite times before.

No, this time I couldn’t move because of bewilderment;

between a deadbolt and no key,

“How did I ever think someone else

or, the way you put it, myself

could be the one to set you free?.”

I used to pride myself on how well I knew you. But no one can step through a door without there first being an opening to peer through.

It’s not a person who hides behind nuts and bolts and brick wall formations but rather an ego too afraid of itself or, for that matter, anyone else. With a prison so secure, to get in or get out, one must be dead set on destruction and with eyes wide closed, to simply rush in.

s.

I saw your name

and instantly added the nickname

I had created long ago

one fireside day.

It was a reverberating taste in my mouth;

like skipping syllables

through the simple consonants of your name;

rocks that caressed smoothly the tips

of who we left and since became.

You must be blind

to not see a love like mine.

You must be numb

to not feel the world I am from.

You must be powerless

to let such passion become such a mess.

You must be sad

to not finish the life you never had.

You must re-build

to find the individual who was once so fulfilled.

You might border upon whole

if you ever embrace your soul.

Your breath like poetry,

your eyes holding the most of me,

your scent is my only scenery.

The wildness of your touch gently

mingles with our familiarity.

Love is the climax to any story.

You left me reminiscing

of a life I am grateful

I am not living.

Maybe I checked out long before I saw you leave.

In the abyss of my memory

somewhere, somehow

I lost how much you meant to me.

Ironically my mind tends to erase

the animosity

to re-generate

conscious positivity.

When I forgot your features

I found the person inside of me

worth dancing the streets for.

I wonder if you still read my blog.

But no matter what,

I will always bet you do.

:)

Once upon a land before time*,
there was a rhyme
prior to my rhythm.

But then my feet planted in this Earth
grew me into an unpredictable prism.

I sought you out through endless search
to synthesize the whole of my worth.**

In curiosity, ecstasy, or catastrophe
your simplicity
came along and
simply captivated me.

And as we greet the future,
head on and consistently head strong;
your passion, your utter motivation
encourages and so much more than motivates me.


*If you can't explain this line's origins for yourself,
you should do research.

**I think this, honestly, might be my favorite line I have ever written. It can extend to so many of the lovely souls that are in my life as of now that words can not do justice to what it actually means to me.

I just wish you got a chance to be the real person
~you dreamed you'd be~
before you became the guy
that faded into some predictable scene.

I could have sworn I was with a glimpse of the man
~you could have been~
before you let him fade into air
that tastes so less than paper thin.

Smile.
I swear once upon a time
you didn't feel it was a sin.

The things I create
come from their own vision of their existence.
I'm just the messenger of their mystic visit,
the canvas for their senses.
They urge all to come feel, watch, and listen.

It's a mystery mysteriously whispering to me,
"while everyone outside the door falls in love so magically
it's been mystically easy to see

all along how you were made opposite of me,

the vision to my dreams".

I’d write a letter describing how much I miss our friendship
but I’d never make it past “I can’t believe what you did”.

You mentioned how you would always love me
but never once
how you would wind up on my list of people to miss.

Still, life is much to beautiful to be a trick;

and I listen to it for its soundtrack

and realize love is its ultimate mix.

I'm the rain
you stole out of the raindrop.
The blue hue you ripped out of the sky;
I was a symphony waiting to happen
until you took the lull from my sweet lullaby.

I exist
without right to ever meet my existence.

I'm perfect
but was jilted of ever joining my perfection.

I have essence
but will never learn about it through my own life's lesson.

I'm the paint
you never put on its canvas.
I'm the plane
you never taught how to land this.
I am the shine you shook out of the sun once.

I'm a life you halted
without any question in my direction,
without thought, without heart, without hesitation.

I can fly away from this world up high,
but I will always look down upon you
and wonder why you never chose to try.

This is what happens when a child is abused.
This is what happens when children are recruited for war.
This is what happens when abortion is a choice over life.
This is what happens when you sell a child into a life of prostitution
or a government leaves a child in a life of destitution.
This is what happens to millions of innocent victims.

This is what happens;
what remains is the question:
what are YOU going to do about it?

The basis for your style should free

the world you want to see

and the person you aim to be.

And I have found it so hard to ever agree

with a human who hates their own humanity.

I refuse to see a world that only sickens me,

so I am free to say

you are the person I would hate to be.

Hate to be.

Yes, we disagree, we debate, we make arguments
for the side we are fighting for
but, how often, in the end does anyone defend their side
with less passion than they had before?

weave into me;
can't you see
inspiration is free?

it sets your life
on fire
to the millionth degree,
x ^ 1,000,000.

say, you agree;
because in your eyes,
it's all i see.

You would notice the cracks on the wall
instead of the love we created to walk tall.

But I aim to gaze at the infinite
and focus solely on the things that stay indefinite.

Now my passion creates such a tapestry
and I wake up next to someone who matches me.

You have built such outstanding towers;
tell me, where did they go?...
...all your finest hours?

I rediscovered today;
I not only love you for all the ways
we still feel new
but for all the ways
I have grown so accustomed to you.
<3

Just know,
the minute you put your faith into something or someone
is also the moment you open the threshold for disappointment;
Prepare yourself for both
but eternally hope for only one.

Letting go is only recognition it's not fair on yourself
to wait on either outcome any longer;
it is not a relinquishment of belief
nor is it an inability to imagine any longer.

"You may say I'm a dreamer
but I'm not the only one.
I hope some day you'll join us..."

I would state the remarkable person that made the above comment that is in quotation marks but if you don't know who said that quote at this point in your life then I don't know what the hell you've been doing with your life thus far. =P (I put that little face symbol but seriously, I'm serious about that).

Just know, the minute you put your faith into someone or something is also the moment you open the threshold for disappointment; prepare yourself for both but eternally hope for only one.

Letting go is only recognition it's not fair on yourself to wait on either outcome any longer; it is not a relinquishment of believing nor is it an inability to imagine any longer.

"You may say I'm a dreamer but I'm not the only one. I hope some day you'll join us."

I would state the remarkable person that made the above comment that is in quotation marks but if you don't know who said that quote at this point in your life then I don't know what the hell you've been doing with your life thus far. =P (I put that little face symbol but seriously, I'm serious about that).

For the story I never finished last Spring into Summer...

...Perhaps if Spring ever rears her lovely head, I might be motivated to finish that short story but until then -

Like a school girl with a crush,
she'd admire the way he refused coffee,
and chose hot chocolate instead.
Not simply because it matched her preference
but because he was acknowledging and
LISTENING to his inner child.

Sugar, instead of caffeine, was what he required.
Often, he reminded her of why she was who he desired;
"Sweet enough to ignite my daily life
and pure stimulant enough
that no other needs to be acquired".

She'd simply smile,
and think quietly to herself,
"Soul-mates encompass the land of lovers."

She stopped thinking twice about
his intention for compliments
a long time ago.

She Knew Better Now
to just sit back
and absorb the temptation of his voice.

It was that long ago
he taught her how to indulge fully and properly
in his edible delicacies of description;
"A real cook wants you to appreciate his art,
not his kitchen nor the preparation."

More simply put,
his compliments quickly became
the marshmallows in the cocoa that was her life.

And so he believed,
she had stripped herself bare
but what remained was her striking stare,
which made him falter in his thoughts,
"Do I remember you from somewhere,
from an icy facade Some wear?"

There is a significance
to everyday existence
if you let your ears listen.

Sometimes my passion comes
like a waterfall you can't a hold back,
like laughter that just has to be had.


(Photo - My niece Alex <3)

simplicity only requires that you try

Little girl, you can not be replicated.

Bask in your bewildering beauty.
Sign the testimony to your own significance
and life becomes anything but a hindrance.


If you value your innate tendency
to be a perfect design
you won't be silly & ever let
anyone jeopardize your shine.


Young girls can be.
Such defiant creatures.
but always make sure its truth
blasting through your speakers.


"Oh, gorgeous lady,
you're way too pretty to be sad
and utterly too in love with life
than to be anything but glad."

Memory is a tricky little lady
and sometimes
I encourage her to chase me.

it's about damn time

Have you ever lived off the grid;
where seasons forget their place?
You don't plant your feet on the ground;
you perpetually groove through outer space?

Where love makes you forget time
and makes your body a poet
as you match it to your lover's rhyme?

You never need to see signs
because you never forget to
open up your eyes?

Your trust takes a sip
and seamlessly
allows you to lose your grip?

You forever hold on
to the people you know
because each person only aims to
magnify each other's glow?

Life is never a show
because you enjoy it
as it passes oh so slow?

Live in a manifest
of everyone you've ever met
because mutual energy is
more than just a guest.

I like being able to write things that
manifests most everyone I've ever met.

I want a whirlwind again

I’m not this out of control

but something about you

simply makes me glow;

who knows, who knows?

it's that same old blank stare
yea, i think i'd notice it anywhere.

i wonder how the person is
beneath the photographer's machine
because we all know photographs can turn a person
into what they don't seem.

When we see the art in daily life
we pull it out to paint our strife.

Don't you see the artists
every day life starts us?

Life is balanced
and it's not a dream;
the beauty you seek
is already a reality.

Blogger,

I really don't get why you won't show the feeds of new people I follow and get rid of the people I've tried to stop following.

Fix yourself; this problem has been going on forever!

Oftentimes I have not the simplest idea of why I am inspired suddenly to write the things I do

I wonder if you held me close when I was a baby. Did you steal every chance you could get to simply gaze at your own precious being, your innocent, teeny tiny creation or was it hard to even look at me; regretting bringing me into the life you and my father had created? I don't blame you for leaving; well, I don't blame you as much anymore; I'm working on the not blaming-you-at-all business. I understand you may have felt it was the only thing you could do so I suppose I can forgive you. Mostly, I forgive you because I became who I am today because of the path I had to walk along the way. I'm pretty spectacular and you, Miss, are the one who missed out. But by God, have you, in some sort of ironic way, taught me how to appreciate children, how to be there for them every single step of the way, and how to teach them how much they mean to me just to simply have them apart of my day. I'll be an even more spectacular mother some day than I even am my own person and it's just too bad I'm afraid you'll probably miss out on that as well.

The only thing I wonder is whether or not you would have made me feel how much I was worth without me having to figure it out on my own after so many years; that's what parents do, you know? They make you actually feel how much you are worth before life summons you to find it all by yourself. And I can't lie, it would have been nice. And I can't lie, I probably would have avoided so many boys I should have never wasted a single second on in the first place. But those are the sort of experiences, you just have to say "it is what it is" and significantly just try and change your ways which I have. A 360 sort of change.

But enough about you because I have someone who was actually there and always will be to talk about. Someone who never became just a figment of my imagination and never will.

I think it must have been my brothers, my sister, that held me the most. In particular, Christopher, since he is still the one human being on this Earth that holds me in place with the best grip; when I'm at my worst or at my best or simply just where I am at. When I can tell he wants to get angry at me, he still talks to me with a level head no matter how much of a jerk I am being. When I have to go to the hospital at 3 in the morning and I'm crying my eyes out over getting an IV put in my arm, he's holding my hand cracking jokes even though he probably feels more pain than me seeing me revert back into an infant because I hate needles. He takes care of me for days when I am sick and sleeps on the floor so I can have his entire bed to my germ infested self; now, who else in the world would ever do that for me? He feels proud for the things that I do as if he is doing the same things himself and he pretty much is because God knows I would not have had half the courage to achieve the things I have without him in my life. As a matter of fact, I probably would have given up a long time ago if, every time I wanted to, he was not there to save my life and light the fire within me again. He is most definitely my anchor; the person who motivated me the most to show this world my thunder.

My family is not perfect and never will be. We very rarely even see one another; I have not seen my mother since I was seven and I will never figure out how I really feel towards my father for a million and one reasons. Mostly because he is not here anymore if I ever even did want to speak to him, sort out my crazy mixed up emotions. But I do forgive the both of them; so much so that I even feel I should thank them. They may not have raised me but they are apart of me; they set in place the perpetual groove that eventually spun me and I, for one, am very proud of me. My family would most likely be on an episode of Jerry Springer than be the next cast of Full House. But I wouldn't change it for anything. I have had all the family I need to have jam-packed into my siblings and my aunt for 21 years, now. It took losing my parents to find much more amazing ones in my siblings; and I only feel foolish for ever feeling lost because I overlooked what I had all along.

I think the only cure for love sickness
is to find another gentle heart that will listen
and embark with you on a single mission;
to show the world the love it's been missin'.

Take me to your mountain,
show me your white wonderland,
I want to fall in love again and again and again.

Take me to where you exist,
the places you'll never wonder if you'll stay
because you already made your mind up along the way.

I try to forget how it felt
before we ever said our good-byes.
I try to forget how it felt
before you plagued my life with lies.

But what is more consistent in my memory
is us lounging on your roof
while I contemplate how the blues in the skies
emphasized the detail of your eyes.

~I'm glad its inspiration that keeps me awake at night and dreams of imagination that awaken me in the morning. It is admiration for life that is my motivation.~

When it is inspiration that makes me an insomniac,
I must say I really do not mind at all
and I have realized instead of feeling tired
when I have to wake up and begin yet another busy, jampacked day,
four or five hours later,
I'm actually rejuvenated more than
if I had gone to sleep uninspired at, say, I don't know 11 o'clock.

I've found my dreams are more pleasant as well.
Hmm, someone should do a study on this.
I wonder if they have already...

I write poetry
to contemplate all that is
unknown to me.

I find my imagination
and the placement of an apostrophe
easier to understand than humanity.

I feel more comfortable
with grammatical syntax
than I do listening to a world's suffering soundtracks.

I can use my love of detail
to picture a human race that doesn't
thrive off making its members fail.

Writing makes me a child again,
foresees unpredictable circumstance,
motivates me to keep "going the distance"
brings me back to the times you held my hand,
reinvigorates my love for far lands
and all the gracious souls I met in Thailand.


Writing can make me old before my time
or infinitely young,
simultaneously,
in a single rhyme.

I need to elaborate detail in what I write,
I believe this is where I am slightly lacking.
There is this lovely lady I have the privilege of "following"
(now that tumblr saved my blogging "existence")
and now I get a deeper look into her work
and how it has advanced in huge strides I should say since high school;
and even in high school, I remember being blown away by this woman's words.

I can honestly say I have never met a female my age that writes so seamlessly eloquent as she does. I've been wondering why I don't feel like my writing tends to lean toward this type of eloquence. Not that I do not like the things I write because I absolutely love them; I would never write words I did not put my whole thought and heart into. But after reading and loving so much of this lady's work, it is definitely the detail. I think I tend to write too abstractly at times, in a way that I could understand what I was trying to say and I could explain it to someone else but when do I ever add footnotes to the things I write.

I need to simplify things.
Direct and connect with others more through universal experiences.
Strip my writing of individualism and add imagination.
Vivid descriptions.

I can't wait to embark on such a mission.
I can't even remember a time where I became critical of my writing, pin-pointed a type of structure I could work on to make it better.
I'm a child in a toy store the way I feel for words. :)

Instead, I contemplated you all night,
not how to make the familiarity all right.

If you can be silent and
still aim your opinion through your eyes,
you have passion;
an impenetrable insight.
But voice those opinions
and the world tends to label you
with a necessity to be right.

All I believe that matters
is that you feel safe inside your own skin
because it's within our own spirits
life never ceases to begin.

don't know where this came from but I am glad it did :)

Often we look at loving someone so much and them not having equal intensity in loving us or them losing the intensity in which they love us back as a failure. As something bad, terrible, depressing. As nearly life-ending especially after putting so much time and dedication into that person. Yet, after my years of experience, after trial and error, and after feeling success on a daily basis; I come to realize maybe it was not such a bad thing. In fact, I look back with an air of happiness for all the love that existed inside me. The love that rewarded me with the gift of internal sight. The love that rewards me with a gift of being able to see what is often overlooked; our truest identities, the person inside of us we meet when we work in the path of our greatest potentials. Of course, losing what you want will always yield terrible emotions but what one does not realize is that you love the person because you see how truly remarkable they can be. Or you've seen how truly remarkable they can be and, for some reason, it's slipping away from them. They do not want to be that incredible self anymore, the deity of their own being.

It's depressing to watch them un-evolve or simply not evolve at all into the person you look into their eyes and in their soul, you can see. In some of their actions, the person you can feel inside them. In their daily existence, the sliver of their true self you see them, at times, be. It's disturbing for you to watch this but no one ever stops to think, "aren't you the lucky one?" You become so caught up in trying to "help" them, to holding on tightly, to not letting those grains of sand slip through your fingers even though we all know sand belongs on the beach, that you miss how much you have with or without that person. You've seen them and not a single thing they ever do can take that away from you. Not just seen them as in you physically opened your eyes and they were there but you have seen the light within them, the truth within them, the beautiful, complete being we are all capable of striving towards. It's not just literally seeing them, it's feeling what they hold within them. It's seeing who they are in the here and now and beyond. It's their eternalness, the God within them, the Self that remains so deeply hidden within all of us; many times, the Self that is not even ever found.

Yet, that person is not ready or is afraid to see that being in themselves for whatever the reason. I could go on a tirade and list just some of the reasons, some of the reasons I've seen in several people over the course of my own experiences but the reasons have no implications in this conversation. They mean nothing. All anyone needs to know about them is that, obviously, they exist. Do not ever be in denial about their existence. Also that, you can not change them no matter how hard you try or have tried countless times over. You can search in an encyclopedia of explanations to come up with the best one to enlighten this person with but if they are not ready to transform their own life, they will not. Give them freedom, their life is not yours to bring to light especially when it interferes in your ability to see your own.

It's like gazing into the same mirror with someone but having completely different views of the images staring back at you. The person in love sees the truest image, the pure form of the person but that person cannot see it. They stare at themselves as if a fog is between them and the mirror. This fog are those reasons.

It's not a joyous occasion to go through this experience but it is not a failure. We need to see we got the most beautiful piece of the equation; life introduced us to another person's spirit, soul, deity, being. We need acceptance; we need to understand we are not them, we need to loosen our grip and let them do what they think they need to do to live. Maybe they'll learn, maybe they'll come around, maybe they will stop self-inflicting their development and, at some point, flourish again within it but, whatever they do, it is their decision alone, not that of anybody else. When you truly love someone, you can watch that grain of sand get distant and hope to God they once rise up again, even if it is not with your wave this time.

If they ever come around, believe in the miracle of their true self. If they don't, believe in it still; and be grateful, be humble, feel privileged above all that you were one person or one of the people that were given the gift of capacity to see that being inside them.

Here, There, and Then

There's a necessity in me
to grab a hold of we
and walk through a morning misty street,
to hold hands and try to match our feet
to the same beat,
to dance in the sun's heat,
to kiss each other at the exact spot snowflakes meet,
to jump in puddles, splish splash, on the concrete,
to be lost in our elaborate conceit*,
to defeat any of the world's deceit,
to intertwine ourselves on the beach, listen & feel complete,
to sway in an empty wave pool, hearing "I love you" on repeat
to know that love is an easy feat
when the passion remains so sweet.

*Conceit - I never realized one definition of conceit is actually imagination and, in this way, I use the word in this poem.

I have never read something so profoundly beautiful and perhaps accurate in my life...

http://xiaui.wordpress.com/2011/02/07/date-a-girl-who-reads/

I need to frame this as soon as humanly possible.

This is just about my favorite thing I have read in a long, long time.

I wish I could befriend more females who would see this article and fall in love with it because they've lived it for years as I did and have.

"Date a Girl Who Reads"

by Rosemarie Urquico

Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes. She has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.

Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag. She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she finds the book she wants. You see the weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a second hand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow.

She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.

Buy her another cup of coffee.

Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice.

It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas and for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry, in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by god, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does.

She has to give it a shot somehow.

Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world.

Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who understand that all things will come to end. That you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.

Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilight series.

If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are.

You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype.

You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.

Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.

Or better yet, date a girl who writes.

One of my Favorite Creative Couples

http://www.jodyfenton.com/

http://www.jodyfenton.com/gallery_list.php?n=8172

Her erotica photography; amazing :)
And the child portraits; so adorable.

And then there is her significant other.
Greg Gouwens. moe.'s professional photographer, who took Penelope and me under his wing and did a shoot for us, the first one like that I think he ever did, absolutely free of charge. The stupid hotel would have charged us ten bucks a photo but not this man; who way exceeded any "talent" that hotel had anyway. He spent an hour with us, taking over 500 photos of us in the Dominican Republic and giving us one of the sweetest experiences of our lives. Such a sweet man; I can't wait to cross paths with this couple at another moe. gathering.

View his photography
http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1212266937#!/pages/G-2-Photography/113602402000271

Thanks for being so inspirational, you two!

Nothing else has ever brought out
the Earth in me.
Dance is just my melody
as your beat manifests inside of me.

Something more than life produces
the music in me
when you are what
surrounds what I see.

"Did you ever think it would come to this?"

Because I always knew there was something about you

I just never could resist.

<3

Blogger;
had I not indebted so much of my time into you from high school; I would not use you anymore. Why won't you even let me delete people I've followed from my dashboard? Why doesn't your un-follow option even work? Some of those people don't even use their blogs, why do you think I care about things they've written a plethora of years ago?

To make a long story short,
tumblr is much better than you.
Unfortunately you have better style options I also cannot part with.

You can't even connect my posts to facebook.
I guess your only function has become like a stylized diary for me.

Connection

Simpleness gives me

no itch to reminiscence
except in the dailiness
of which I live in bliss.

It gives me pleasure
to simply lay my head
upon this dancing bear
and conjure up the dreams
that naturally belong there.

Into a world of love,
I consistently stare.
When I dance, it's there.
When we speak, it's there.
When anyone holds on, it's there.
Even when we let go, its guidance is still there.
I wish I could show the whole world
what is right here, right here.

I love that my joy of writing has just led me to a dancing bear pipe,
though I'm not even really smoking right now,
you are mine regardless... <3

Just a thought.

There's so much beauty right here;
I feel no need to look to the yesteryear.

I feel sorrow
for ones who create
illusory, fanciful
notions of events
to get them through today's tomorrow.

To be truly
in awe of the now,
one doesn't look to ancient past
in order to take a bow.

Only ghosts re-live their pasts to feel proud.

Only those missing something
fill their voids with obsolete fiction
to make their present more re-assuring.

Spur of the Moment

There were many times in two seasons,

where we found ourselves underneath a sequence of spring into summer stars.
Each of these times, I found, you shook my heart.

My love had been boiling for many days, it could even be said many months, prior. But your heart wouldn't allow mine to utter the words that would bring my soul incomprehensibly higher. This particular evening, though, I couldn't and I wouldn't wait. Yet, I truly would not have been bothered to not hear it back because you can't force someone else to follow the path of your own feelings. I knew what I felt for you regardless of whether or not you were on the same plateau with your emotions and I was not going to let insecurity crush my sun-lit horizon. Only to my surprise, you didn't hesitate to fly with it. As a matter of fact, you grabbed my hand and led me into it. Into your world I was guided and instantly transfixed.

Although, our love for each other continues to grow and grow with each passing day. Although, each morning I wake up to your eyes and your voice, saying "Pretty", constantly resonates throughout my day. Although, every moment's movement with you refuels each of my veins, each of my joints, each one of my bones with the eagerness of our "first-times", my body still cannot wait to greet another season with you where our passion, desires, similarities, conversations, and dedication transpired.

I need to finish this and add the rest of the pictures when it's not 6 in the morning and my body doesn't ache from how much I jammed to meatPLanet hours agooooo...

I just love the fact that I've traveled;
by myself,
another world I've completely unraveled.

The most important thing
about life you can learn
is that finding your Self
should be your primary concern.

When we engage our natural intuition,
we can act out truth and morality
and finally be a societal motivation.


Once you let go of your insecurities
with both hands,
you guide your soul into a world
it finally comprehends.


If you keep your feet free from restrain
it's whole cultures, not just their dances,
you will gain.


In this life, you should encourage debate
but only in the absence of hate.

You can make a plethora of mistakes but
what counts is turning them into the shapes
to which you can better the future steps that you'll take.

But this is only a single philosophy,
you have to choose which bite to take
and which to taste.

Oh, reflection heed direction

Some times I just wonder
if you calculate
all the times I didn't tell you anything but the truth.
All along
I never steered you wrong
and really never meant you any harm.

Does it ache to know you partake
with the souls in this world
that boost hate?
And within their own "circle",
only communicate games?
Does it bother you to learn
that "best-friends" is only a term
they used to manipulate
the trust you thought they had earned?

Time doesn't make one friend faithful;
it's only actions that prove one is capable.

How complicated must it be
to figure out how one is fake?
How much energy must one drain
on friendships that deliberately cause
shame and utter back-stabbing pain?
And not a single tear of remorse
will they ever dare to entertain.

"The Master said,
'He who governs by his moral excellence

may be compared to the pole-star,
which abides in its place,
while all the stars bow towards it.' " -Confucius













Your love cascades in the simplest of ways.
It shades winter days with warm sunlit rays.

You're one soul in this world people can believe
when they see;
you present the person you actually be.

It will always be the way
your eyes synchronize with mine
~to tell my body~
what's exactly on my mind.

It will always be the way
*you whisper a touch *
over the borders of my body
as you seamlessly embody
*~the design of how you desire me~*.

Presently, it's how
your courtesy and your urgency
combine to compliment
the contours of my constancy.

How one man inspires me
to write such beautiful poetry;
mmm, I love you so <3

Growth

It takes losing your inhibitions
to slip into what you've been missin'.
It's your life you're supposed to
grab a hold of and listen.

Nature works as your guidance
if you take its light and shine it.

Love is always honest
so long as you honor it.

Respect is an avenue which relies on
your own self-view.

As humans, we have a gift;
it's called the art of being considerate.

In this world there would be no need for barriers
if we only understood
"everyone is their own life's story-tellers"*

How will you ever know what you can do
living a life-style that never
encourages you to move?

*This concept is from Ruiz's book "The Voice of Knowledge"

I love such random bouts of inspirational words

Your skin falls asleep
upon soft, soft sheets.
But what if, it's not you I dream of
this time? Rather it's sweet melodies of me...

I believe all my life
I was on a search
for someone to make
my life what it is all ready worth.

There's nothing outside of us
we don't all ready have within;
it's just these societal projections
we seem to want to always win.

These walls blinded my view
until I met the world outside you.
It's pointless to form such grand notions
when sitting in a box you have no plan to open.

And now I've seen what's within me,
without a single person that I knew;
so why don't you, too,
figure out what you can do;
what can you do?

So now I invite your soft skin back in
but no longer will it hold my fingers within
a past that has limited adrenaline.

I have enough visions
to last until your mind makes some decisions.
I can dream for me and I can dream for you
until your body acts upon what your soul can do;
the only way to ever locate the true you...

not done.

I am blown away by just
how much art surrounds us.

We are artists.
Life is the paint that starts us.
Love starts our souls as altruists.

Art is feeling your body painted on mine;
as we soar through an ocean of design.

Music is a dance that brings you to me;
no matter where you are,
our rhythm makes my feet free.

Writing transcends the distance;
and through it, I see our souls whispering
before they stop to listen.

The ocean leads me straight to a view
where I find you
and all the love we have grew.

Whatever happened to just getting high on life; naturally; without drugs? No one can tell me they never knew how; we were all children once without a care in the world loving the wonders of the world. Sober YET every day flying; tripping with our imagination, rolling with our compassion and love, feigning for adventure. Not needing a quick fix but rather craving a company of commitment. Friends weren’t people who encouraged us to destroy our bodies when we were five years old. And by the way, friends STILL AREN’T people who would encourage you to break your body down instead of building it up. So what happened?

How come so many people follow the crowd when we were always taught we should walk to the beat of our own drum? How come the fundamental rule of be respectful of yourself and others is quite lost in this society? We listened for years upon years upon years of teachers saying, “Always do your best.” Well, I have one question, is this really it? Is this your best? Because if it is, just between me and you, I think you’re doing your Self and all the “others” in the world a huge disservice. You have potential way beyond how many drugs can be put into your nose in one afternoon or how many drinks you can down before you are not responsible for your own actions anymore or how many pills can be swallowed or needles injected before you O.D. and are in critical condition.

I really am beginning to have a severe distaste for all drugs; even alcohol. Not that I didn’t have a distaste for them before I guess.

They’re unnecessary and no one seems to recognize that anymore. It’s a habit and all people care about. All the while they miss the natural highs all around them.

I think I just miss my boyfriend (well it’s not JUST that, I really do hate drugs). But he is the one person I can experience everything with, both of us being sober, and surpass insurmountably any sort of high a drug could give us. He knows nature, he is nature, and when we are together, experiencing certain things together, it connects me more to the world’s spirit than I can get to on my own.

Hmmm…

Taurino, please find your way to Dominican Republic por favor, muy rapido :)