will you fly with me?

what if a bird
would just fly us away?
would you come with me tonight?
what do you say?

lets just go somewhere else
and stay there awhile.
im ready to go,
we can fly a few miles.

so what do you say?
will you come with me?
i need to know now
cause we're at the tree.

we could climb to the bird
and i'd hold you tight
are you going to come?
cause its about to take flight.

what if a bird
would just fly us away?
would you come with me tonight?
what do you say?

white cold

the cold is like gloves on my hands.

it's not usually very cold here. it might rain one night and a cold front comes in, but it's never cold for more than a week or so.

you see the word cold and your mind sees the color white. white like snow. it only snows here once every ten years. i wish it would snow. i want real winter. i want the cold to come and stay, i want the ground to be covered in snow. covered in white. but, i dont see white. all i can see is green.

its harder than i thought it would be.
seeing them over there
at the beginning of a new story.

i stare at the cold white worksheet and remember. "i used to wear her like a jacket." and she was the gloves. and they were warm.

"i feel like exploding"
"why?"
"because often times things are overwhelming.
im alright. no worries."
"...i wanna know."
"i feel like running
in a field."
"what?"
"the picture in my mind is amazing.
the green is so green.
the blue is so blue.
the white is so white.
the colors are so bright.
it's a pretty cool picture.
i just want to run through it.
run until i fall..."
...fall on the ground with her.
running through fields with her.
running til we fall and rolling around
in the such green grass,
under the such blue sky,
with the such white clouds,
feeling such bright emotions.
---
laughter. joy. innocence. love.

A New Sparkle

my eyes are locked into yours
there's a sparkle there
like the horizon of sea shores

in all this im looking at you
trying to speak with my heart
this sparkle is new

all these feelings out in the sea
they wash up on the land
and its so clear to me

sun reflecting and it's mine
all this coming from your eyes
the sparkle's new, its here this time.

Scrapbook

the world does leave its beliefs on our pages like a hastily made scrapbook.
pages are torn, pictures torn in two.
picture that were once beautiful and new.
the world tears us apart
and for some reason we find it in our heart
to like it and conform even more
opening up our torn apart scrapbook
letting everyone take a look. and for some reason we're proud
showing it off all big and loud.
but at once we realize that god is real
and he has the power to heal.
he cleans and rebounds our old scrapbook
making it new and a good site to look.
we change our ways
see through the haze
of this worlds beliefs
and its such a relief
to know we end up in the right place after all
we end up in the arms of god.

i need to give some credit to Kelly for this poem. a poem she wrote inspired me to write this one. if you want to read hers it is on her xanga Sunday, July 3, 2005's entry. check it out. its good.

i'd rather pillows than glass boxes.

Your Radiance

the dots are left in my eyes
from the radiant light that shines
from your wonderful beauty
that has been burned into my retinas

and, Oh, what a wonderful picture
to be burned there
such beautiful radiance shines
so bright that it brightens me

you shine and the light in your eyes
-- the light from your eyes
so gorgeous eyes
weakens me

bright smile reflects the light
from the sun, the provider
the light enters my heart
and it strengthens me

i blink and the picture is seen
the radiance
the beauty
its you

alright. i know its kinda sappy. but is what came to mind. it made me happy.

So Sorry

no words can explain this time
the overwhelming thoughts and memories
i write about all this in rhyme
it helps me to explain

i apologize again.
im so sorry once again
i want to take back whats been
but i cant...

we're all reading the same sad story
whats written has been wrote
i want to rewrite whats been written
changing every note

i apologize again.
im so sorry once again
i want to take back whats been
but i cant...

im so sorry... (it haunts me just as it does you)
im so sorry... (the pain is mutual for us two)
im so sorry... so sorry

Guilt Can't Hide

they meet. they collide.
damage done. can't hide.
sore feet. guilty stride.
have not won -- inside.

whatever happened
cant be undone
the package of hate
the hiding sun

i cannot live
nor can i hide
knowing what ive done
to you. i lied.

The End?

the world split apart
on that lovely warm day
the beauty froze over
grew colder and died
the earth blew apart
and nothing was right

the pole ends of the world
were a man and a woman
the pole ends of the world
which held everything together
the pole ends of the world
which exploded and blackened

the man is unable to live
there is no air for him to breathe
the air is frozen, the air is dead
the woman is indecisive and confused
or so we all think -- does she know where she's going?
will she ever come back?

the universe is large
and there's one lucky star
the stars light reaches us
the beautiful light has finally come
the beautiful star
has already died

the earth split apart
as did the man and the woman
the one lucky star
its light fades away
these two lucky people
gone and away?

i'd like to dedicate this poem to my friend Josh Durham. He's gone through a lot lately and this is for him, completely for him. he read this and wrote a response to it called "2nd chance" if you want to read feel free, to at his blog.

living truly?

flashing lights
repeating sounds
looping images
like a broken record

that'll teach me to try
that'll teach me to fly
i've learned and i quit

although its impossible
living truly
is trying and flying
so who knows whether i'll crash
or soar

loving light.of the sun

the sun beat
proudly in the sky
dancing merrily
feet with perfect grace
on lush fields of beauty
pure joy rushing through their veins
the proud beating beauty
of the sun

the dark cloud
obscuring the light
blocking hatefully
a clot in their joy
they bound behind bushes
pure fear creeping in their hearts
the dark hateful hiding
of the sun

the rays shine
breaking the hatred
bringing forth joy
streaming wonderful
lovely great happiness
dancing O so merrily
the great beautiful rays
of the sun

Circling Lines

once again another day
of hoping and waiting
and nothing quite happening

circles and lines
circles lead nowhere
and lines lead to despair

i want to go someplace
somewhere that will displace
the hoping and waiting

the circles and lines
circles go 'round
lines going down

curvature of lines
lovely and wonderful

perfectly straight
perfection and beauty

i want to go someplace
somewhere that will displace
the hoping and waiting

the lines and circles
lining circles
circling lines

Laceration

the repeating tone
knowing shes no longer there
but holding on anyways

i cant go in either direction
i cant hurt someone else
my hearts all made up
but it cant bring itself to rip off
it cant go through with the action

its all so serious but its all so silly
serious is delirious
simplicity must ensue
its not a big deal
it doesnt really matter
dont hurt
dont feel
dont choose
whats real?

i cant do this now
i cant bring myself to do it now
i think, i feel
for the tattered doll
i cant bring myself to hurt it anymore
so many see her and pass her by
dont love her for who she is -- why?

i praise and i pray
i hold and i hope
i shouldnt have latched on
then the painful rip wouldn't be

callous and caring
painful unsharing
i dont want to be
the terrible tearer
who brings so much terror

a simple decision
complicated division
division which will divide
the end -- be the same?

Couldn't Be Meant To Be

the screen empties
save one window
the cursor blinks
he waits for words
words that won't come
words that aren't meant to come
words that couldn't possibly be meant to be
just as they couldn't possibly be meant to be

then he thought
thought of where he was
the idiocy
and the hopelessness
hopeless to be
they couldn't be meant to be

why was he like this?
what were these words?
what would they mean?
they would mean nothing
filled to the top and spilling over
they couldn't be meant to be

Escape

he just wants to lie on the couch
lie there
cuddling with a person or blanket
he doesnt care
all that he has is a blanket
a blanket

the awkward feeling is gone
the sense of being out of place has passed
the world is at balance
his head on the pillow and blanket in his arms
he has finally escaped
and now he's alone

Killer At Heart

Michael Keihler. "Be proud of your name, son," his mother had always told him, and he supposed he was. After all his ancestors had fought in wars; they had been in battles, killing those who treated others unfairly. "You'll always be a Keihler at heart, so you should be proud." And so he was. In fact, he was planning on passing the name on: Alice Patman. They had been dating for a good year or two now. He figured he was in love and needed to get married one of these days, so he decided to.

They were going on a date that night, and it was the night. He had the ring, he was completely ready. They went to her favorite restaurant. One of those really fancy, expensive places. It was located right next to the park, it was a beautiful park at that. The park had a big lake and a beautiful board walk, dim with only lanterns giving off light. He decided that was the perfect place to ask, so after dinner that's where they went.

They were walking on the board walk alone, holding hands. With his other hand he checked his pocket. Good, the box is there. He cracked open the box and felt the ring. Good, the ring is in it. He slid his finger out of the box and it popped shut. "What was that?" Alice asked. "What? Oh, nothing." he replied, nervously. He hadn't been nervous, not until just now. It was probably because now she knew that there was something, even if she didn't think anything of it, he did.

"Alice, there's something that I haven't told you about me yet." She looked at him with a questioning look. "Alice, I love you." Then he brought out the lovely black box with the lovely gold ring inside.

It was on that dim, romantic board walk that he asked her. And it was on that dim, romantic board walk that she said yes. After all was done, after the restaurant and the dim, romantic board walk they climbed into the car, fiancé and fiancée, for him to bring her home. They pulled out of the parking lot, drove away, and then they were stopped by a stop light.

That stop light was the last thing that he really remembered clearly, everything after that was just a blur. He remembered reaching down for something, then a flash of white lights, he remembered something wet and warm covering his hands, he remembered looking at his hand and seeing the color red, then red lights, then darkness...

- - -

It was 4:02 PM. All the feelings and emotions rushed back to him when that time came. Everyday, he would be crawling along on the ground only to be beaten and robbed by the memories and the sadness of her being gone, exactly at 4:02 PM. That was when he'd gotten the call that she was dead. Not Alice, she had died in the car crash nearly 7 years ago, these memories were of Heather. Heather had been his wife. He married her a few years after the loss of Alice.

Heather and Michael were nearly a perfect couple. They'd been truly in love when they were married. Then a few years later the separation came along, it was terrible. Michael was torn apart; he didn't know what to do. Why was this terrible separation coming into his marriage? What was it about? Fortunately they had finally worked out their problems and come back together. Things were finally going back to the way they had been before the separation, possibly even better than before the separation when it happened. They had only been back together for a month when he received the phone call. That was when he died, died on the inside. He had been killed and robbed of his love. This had happened only three weeks ago, and it haunted his life. 4:02 PM.

- - -

The police had been investigating the murder of Heather Morson Keihler for the past three weeks. Yes, it had been murder. She had gone out to run some errands and then she was found with a knife wound in her stomach and her wedding ring missing. That was all, just her wedding ring. None of the money in her purse was gone, none of her credit cards were stolen, just her wedding ring.

This is why the police were so interested in this case, because it was so suspicious why that was all that mattered to whoever the attacker was. Whoever it was...

- - -

Michael heard a knock on his door. That knock pulled him out of a nap, and when he woke up the world rushed in on him so fast that he was dizzy. He had been asleep, away from this world where both Alice and Heather had been taken from him. In his dreams they lived on, and they were there-- to comfort him and to remind him of his happy days when love wasn't murdered and robbed from him. --KNOCK KNOCK-- He rose and went to answer the door. It was the investigator.

"Hello Mr. Keihler. Sorry to have bothered you, but I needed to ask you some more questions about your wife's case."
What more information could they possibly use from me? "Yes sir, whatever you need."
"You never found her ring did you?"
"I'm sorry sir? What do you mean?"
"Alice, I mean. Wasn't her ring missing too?"
"Yes, it was. I suppose it somehow came off in the wreck, what does that have anything to do with Heather?"
"We found that what was believed to be a wound from the broken glass in Alice matches the same knife wound that was found in Heather."
"What are you talking about?"

The investigator glanced over at a seemingly ancient chest that was on the other side of the room. On top of that old chest was a seemingly older knife with an exquisite case. The investigator made his way over to it and brought out some sort of measuring device.

"Mr. Keihler, This knife's width is the same as both of the wounds."
"Sir, that knife belonged to my grandfather. He fought in World War II. My mother brought that here because she wanted it to stay in the family. I never actually touched it."

The investigator opened the case and looked inside. Gleaming up at him were two gorgeous diamond rings.

Michael froze. He froze in confusion, and in horror. Images began flashing through his mind as clearly as someone looking through a photo album. He remembered the stop light. He remembered reaching down to retrieve the knife, then violently stabbing his fiancée and the blood running out all over his hand. He remembered vividly colliding with the other car. He remembered the red lights flashing from the police car, then he remembered removing her ring and pocketing it as well as hiding the knife before he passed out.

He remembered Heather saying she would be back in a little while and driving away to the corner store. Then suddenly like an overlooked page in a photo album he remembered grabbing that knife and riding down to the corner store, murdering his wife and stealing the ring.

"Mr. Keihler, you're under arrest for the murder of Alice Patman and the murder of Heather Keihler."

Michael was speechless. All he could think of was how he'd felt like his love was murdered and stolen from him. How he'd died on the inside when he received that phone call. In a sense he had killed himself.

Thoughts And Memories

the bus pulls in, then stops. its door slides open and it unloads. he, along with everyone else, shuffles off. the sun was just beginning to rise causing the sky to turn a vivid red color. the color of love. the color of hate. the color of blood. the color of pure emotion.

he arrived at his usual spot. the hall was strangely full this morning, of all the other students. he sat there trying to read, glancing up occasionally to see who was there and then looking back down at his book. escaping the world of reality and reentering the world of fiction. the world which is created by one's own mind and rests with all other thoughts and memories. thoughts and memories that can be stirred by the slightest scent, the slightest gesture, the slightest glance.

he glanced up again and saw someone. memories flooded back to his mind. he remembered when they had been so much more. and then that had just faded. he looked over and saw someone else. he thought of how they had been through so much together and how much they had grown together and then split apart it seemed. he remembered how much he loved her and how he feels now. someone coming down from the hall. someone who he was so close to, who he'd known for so long and so well. he looked around and saw everyone sitting in the hall and thought to himself how everyone had their own life, how everyone had their own story. they all had their own future, their own present, and their own past. they all had their own memories.

he returned to his book and the world of fiction that rests in our mind thinking to himself one thing:

it's amazing how so much of life is made up of reflecting on the past. whether it be browsing old photo albums, watching old home videos, talking about old times with friends, or just thinking about past events. maybe we've done something in the past that we regret and we think about ways that we could have gone about it differently. but, the fact remains that we can't change the past, so why do we continue to brood?

Photo Album

pictures flashing before my eyes
coming around from behind
memories of what all i did to you
and what i have done to myself

pictures of the past
pictures changing the present
pictures making the future better

living with all this regret
something i can not change
they've already been taken

(can't throw them away)

already taken and printed
placed in the photo album
which is placed on the shelf
it will always be there

throw it to the side
they scatter about
this gallery full of memories
this world full of pictures

pictures of the past
pictures changing the present
pictures making the future better

living with all this regret
something i can not change
they've already been taken

(can't throw them away)

Recycled Trash

the realization just shot through me like a bullet
the fact that i used to be new
and now i'm old and used,
broken and thrown out like trash
recycled trash

yesterday - sitting around and useless
today - sitting on the curb
with so much potential
the recycled trash is bound to come back around
come back around

there's nothing i can do but sit here and wait
wait to be picked up
picked up and recycled
for one man's trash is another man's treasure
another man's treasure

recycled, reused
it all comes back around
and i can promise that ill come back around
in one form or another
recycled trash

Sinking Again

it was her. she was here. she was beautiful, lovely, and walking toward his table. why had he asked her here? why... again?

she sat. they both said hello. the meeting wasn't awkward, it was--it seemed--cautious; like a child trying to sneak behind its parents backs and get away with something. at the same time, everything came naturally: the verbal language, the body language, the almost psychic language between them.

the question kept swimming through his mind, like a fish looking for food, a fish that would probably starve to death, or come close to it. the question: why? ...why did i start it again? he could wonder as much as he wanted but he wouldn't find the answer. the answer was in plain sight, he'd just looked it over as you would a stack of papers on your desk: he loved her, but he would never admit it. not to himself, not to anyone else, and especially not to her.

there was no way he would go back there, even though he'd already gotten out the map and begun reading the directions. the thing about him is that he kept going one place, then he'd retrace his steps and find himself right back where he'd started. then he'd set off someplace else and somehow end up back at the beginning. how he did it he'd never figure out. but he did it nonetheless. and it really did suck to not ever get anywhere. no matter how far you went you never really did go anywhere. it really was just annoying.

the date was going well actually, at least it was until they'd both finished their food and the only thing that was left was each other. his arm was resting on the table. so was hers. they were but inches away from each other. almost instinctively he moved his, slowly and naturally his hand touched hers, softly. then their fingers interlocked.
(he was stepping into a lake)
he leaned forward.
(a very deep lake)
they gazed into each others eyes.
(he couldn't swim, and he knew it)
once again, slowly and naturally, they both moved. they both drifted closely to one another and then--
(he was drowning)

A Mere Silhouette

he was sitting there. on the cold, rough driveway; on that cold, rough night. the others ran around playing games. games of the past, of the simpler days. games like hide and seek, and freeze tag. it was actually rather cold outside as he sat, looking up at all the stars. he didn't have his jacket, he'd left that inside. it was also rather dim outside. the only light came from that of a street light overhead. and although it was so dark, the street light was so bright in his face. shining so bright, in fact, that it seemed that it was laughing at him. saying, "haha, look at you and your sad poor little life. ha! you even have to rely on me for light!" he wished it would just turn off. he didn't want the light. he just wanted the stars. but that light continued shining.

there were other street lights too. behind the trees, behind houses, causing the trees and houses to be mere silhouettes. the shape is clearly seen, but what is in the shape is a complete mystery. he hears the others laughing and playing. knowing that he could be too, if he wanted. but he sat, gazing upward at the stars. wishing that he could just pocket one of them. carry it away with him. for times when all was dark. then those around him would just see his silhouette. but he would have the warmth and the light of the wondrous star.

light is such a mysterious thing. the way it works. the way it affects life so much. it affects the shadows: their length, whether they be long or short, whether they even be there at all. it affects peoples vision: without light all would be just blindly following nothing. light helps us all to find where we're going. it helps us to see. but at the same time, when something obstructs the light from view the light hides it. causing this silhouette. this mystery.

is it possible that at some point people can be standing right in front of the light, see just what is right and what is there and yet, to be a silhouette, to be a complete mystery, to be a mere silhouette?

The Fisherman's Decision

its an overcast day. the fisherman had just caught his fish. he spends all day trying to catch fish. all of his life he spends trying to catch fish. and thats all he ever does. you'd think that he'd get really excited when he catches fish. i sure am when i catch them. but he's so used to it by now. sometimes its even boring. he's actually considered going off and doing something else for awhile. considered changing his ways. maybe doing something more exciting than catching fish. eh.. this is his job, he cant just switch.

the fish he'd just caught wasnt the right one. he puts it back in the water. sets his pole again. waits. sitting there in his chair. really the last thing on his mind was whether or not there was a fish on the line. he was picturing himself as if he werent a fisherman. what else could he be doing with his life, other than playing this little game of "go fish." solitaire had even been more exciting sometimes. at least it was a different game. something out of the ordinary. "maybe i will go do something different. im tired of this fishing. im tired of it." he stands up and stretches wondering what else he could do when he realizes there was another fish caught on the line.

should he go get it or just ignore it? let it free? maybe he could came back later and it would still be there. would it really wait around that long? the complication of this simple task was curious. why is it such a big deal? its just a fish on a line. right? nothin to worry about. right? the fisherman turns back around, away from the fish "i guess ill come back later, and if im lucky it'll still be there."