I've got a bold new idea
We'll make love a reality
Instead of something used to
Break the hearts of the lonely
Why don't we redefine love?
How 'bout we redefine it true?
Where people don't hurt people
Because they've nothing better to do.
How 'bout we redefine it
So where it actually means true love
As God really meant it to be
A heavenly gift from above
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Anti-Love
I've decided something these past few months. That romantic, dreamy love doesn't exist. How can it?
All "love" does is bring you to a crevasse and leave you there to fall alone. It leaves you alone to suffer, and it turns you bitter and cold.
Lord knows I've tried and tried, but I can't keep trying. I don't think I can take another fall, only to be left alone, crying, like I've done so many times before.
You can love your daddy, because you know that he'll always be there for you. You can love God, because He'll never leave you. But how can you love someone one day, when chances are they'll be gone the next? How can you love someone, when chances are they'll grow bored with you and move onto someone else.
That's not love.
I don't see love anywhere. All I see are divorces, fights, yelling and screaming, crying and pain, but I don't see the kind of love people dream about.
I suppose that's why it's called a dream, because it's not real.
If you want to prove me wrong, I lay before you this challenge. Show me a love that will never end that isn't the family sort of love. Show me a love that will never grow bored, never leave, never break your heart, never do anything to hurt you.
Because I'm tired of love. I'm tired of getting hurt and then being told I'm loved, because to me, that doesn't work.
All "love" does is bring you to a crevasse and leave you there to fall alone. It leaves you alone to suffer, and it turns you bitter and cold.
Lord knows I've tried and tried, but I can't keep trying. I don't think I can take another fall, only to be left alone, crying, like I've done so many times before.
You can love your daddy, because you know that he'll always be there for you. You can love God, because He'll never leave you. But how can you love someone one day, when chances are they'll be gone the next? How can you love someone, when chances are they'll grow bored with you and move onto someone else.
That's not love.
I don't see love anywhere. All I see are divorces, fights, yelling and screaming, crying and pain, but I don't see the kind of love people dream about.
I suppose that's why it's called a dream, because it's not real.
If you want to prove me wrong, I lay before you this challenge. Show me a love that will never end that isn't the family sort of love. Show me a love that will never grow bored, never leave, never break your heart, never do anything to hurt you.
Because I'm tired of love. I'm tired of getting hurt and then being told I'm loved, because to me, that doesn't work.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Invisible
When you are invisible
No one knows your pain
No one sees the tears fall
Down your face like rain
When you are invisible
No one else can see
That you are alone
With no one left to cling
For when you are invisible
The pain eats your mind
When you are invisible
You're left alone behind
No one knows your pain
No one sees the tears fall
Down your face like rain
When you are invisible
No one else can see
That you are alone
With no one left to cling
For when you are invisible
The pain eats your mind
When you are invisible
You're left alone behind
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Monday, May 11, 2009
Salvation
I feel the coldness take me in, with its long and frozen hands. I feel the coldness take my soul, and turn the my lifetime's sand.
I call for help, but I'm too far gone. Lord, can no one hear me? I feel like I'm stuck in this timeless box while everyone grows old around me.
But no one hears me, they just go on, while I sit alone and cry. I feel like a useless, pathetic waste as I sit and watch the world go by.
They see one me, I see another, one that is slowly dying. Yet I am helpless to do else but hope that someone sees me lying.
Lord, how do I fix this? How do I fight the cold, the pain? I fear I might be too late to do ought else but hope it rains.
For when it rains, it pours and just maybe I'll find a raft to cling to. And then up, up, up out of the box to where salvation leads to.
I call for help, but I'm too far gone. Lord, can no one hear me? I feel like I'm stuck in this timeless box while everyone grows old around me.
But no one hears me, they just go on, while I sit alone and cry. I feel like a useless, pathetic waste as I sit and watch the world go by.
They see one me, I see another, one that is slowly dying. Yet I am helpless to do else but hope that someone sees me lying.
Lord, how do I fix this? How do I fight the cold, the pain? I fear I might be too late to do ought else but hope it rains.
For when it rains, it pours and just maybe I'll find a raft to cling to. And then up, up, up out of the box to where salvation leads to.
Sometimes
Sometimes, when I look at you
I swear I see something in your eyes
Other times, when I glance at you
I swear you pass me by
Sometimes, I feel like
You're a fellow sufferer, a tortured soul
Other times, I feel like
You're crazy and out of control
Sometimes, I think you
See past the mask to the very depths of me
Other times, I think you
Don't have a clue what it's like to be me
And sometimes, when I look at you
I swear there is something more
But I feel like every time I get close to you
You just slam the huge oak door.
I swear I see something in your eyes
Other times, when I glance at you
I swear you pass me by
Sometimes, I feel like
You're a fellow sufferer, a tortured soul
Other times, I feel like
You're crazy and out of control
Sometimes, I think you
See past the mask to the very depths of me
Other times, I think you
Don't have a clue what it's like to be me
And sometimes, when I look at you
I swear there is something more
But I feel like every time I get close to you
You just slam the huge oak door.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Memories
Memories.
They do funny things to you.
They like to pop out of no where and torture you with coulda-beens and woulda-beens and sometimes, they pop out of no where and you can't even remember why you remember them.
Sometimes, Memories are useful, like when you remember why you shouldn't date this guy, because he's an egotistical jerk and he was never nice to you, or when you remember why you shouldn't scream bloody murder while riding bareback on a horse because you can't figure out how to make her stop galloping through trees that like to smack you around with their branches. But most of the time, Memories are nothing but a nuisance.
I think personally Memories are in line with the dryer monster who eats my socks and the gremlins who hide things like my wallet, house keys and notebooks full of these kind of writings. I think Memories just like to mess with your head because they have nothing better to do and they find it amusing.
Today, when we lost power briefly, I was attacked by Memories. I guess Memories don't like either when the ceiling fans don't work and it starts getting really hot really fast.
Memories all but had me hog-tied with an apple in my mouth. Stupid Memories.
I was sitting there, munching on dry cereal because we couldn't risk opening the fridge. (Not that I can really have milk, mind you. I'm lactose intolerant and pure milk just doesn't go.) Memories attacked me with a memory right while I was eating my cereal and singing Spongebob songs. I remembered back when I was little and Mom was at work all of the time. Daddy would sometimes get up with us before school, and we'd sit there and eat cereal--well, I would--and sometimes he'd sing the Whooping Bird song while my siblings goofed off and pushed each other around. And then I remembered the morning after the night we found out about Mom's accident. The morning our lives changed for the worse. We sat there, playing with our food. And no one sang or goofed off. Daddy was at the hospital with Mom and we were all convinced she was going to die.
And then I wondered what I could have done differently.
I wonder that about everything.
If I had done this or that, would my life have been better? Would things have changed at all, or is the outcome the same, no matter what I would have done? Is life just some path you take, and no matter how many times you try to change it, your destination is inevitable?
I'm not sure I like the idea at all.
And then I thought about the person I used to be. Man, I hate her. I hope she stays in the stupid little box I stuck her in and never comes out. She never cared about anyone else, and she was punished a lot for it. The mental scars from that time still ache, and I don't think I'll ever completely recover. I wonder if you can ever recover from your past, or if it perpetually haunts you, joining in Memories' song and dance and torturing your mind, your soul, your heart, until you just snap.
If that's the case, how do so many people survive? If I had to endure another eight years of this, I think the person I am now would effectively be destroyed. I don't think I could handle it.
I used to think of myself as this strong, unbreakable person, but I lost that illusion years ago. No one is strong or unbreakable. Some may learn how to protect themselves better than others, but we all have our kryptonite, and we all inevitably fail.
And then we grow hurt and try to seal ourselves off from the world, and we come out looking like horrible, selfish jerks, but you don't care because it keeps you safe. Or it will as long as someone isn't determined to mash through your defenses. And you give up trying, despite how happy trying used to make you.
And Memories never let you forget any of this. They never let you forget your past, your decisions, or why you've become who you've become.
C'est La Vie, mi amigos. (Hmm...is that Spench or Franish? lol.)
They do funny things to you.
They like to pop out of no where and torture you with coulda-beens and woulda-beens and sometimes, they pop out of no where and you can't even remember why you remember them.
Sometimes, Memories are useful, like when you remember why you shouldn't date this guy, because he's an egotistical jerk and he was never nice to you, or when you remember why you shouldn't scream bloody murder while riding bareback on a horse because you can't figure out how to make her stop galloping through trees that like to smack you around with their branches. But most of the time, Memories are nothing but a nuisance.
I think personally Memories are in line with the dryer monster who eats my socks and the gremlins who hide things like my wallet, house keys and notebooks full of these kind of writings. I think Memories just like to mess with your head because they have nothing better to do and they find it amusing.
Today, when we lost power briefly, I was attacked by Memories. I guess Memories don't like either when the ceiling fans don't work and it starts getting really hot really fast.
Memories all but had me hog-tied with an apple in my mouth. Stupid Memories.
I was sitting there, munching on dry cereal because we couldn't risk opening the fridge. (Not that I can really have milk, mind you. I'm lactose intolerant and pure milk just doesn't go.) Memories attacked me with a memory right while I was eating my cereal and singing Spongebob songs. I remembered back when I was little and Mom was at work all of the time. Daddy would sometimes get up with us before school, and we'd sit there and eat cereal--well, I would--and sometimes he'd sing the Whooping Bird song while my siblings goofed off and pushed each other around. And then I remembered the morning after the night we found out about Mom's accident. The morning our lives changed for the worse. We sat there, playing with our food. And no one sang or goofed off. Daddy was at the hospital with Mom and we were all convinced she was going to die.
And then I wondered what I could have done differently.
I wonder that about everything.
If I had done this or that, would my life have been better? Would things have changed at all, or is the outcome the same, no matter what I would have done? Is life just some path you take, and no matter how many times you try to change it, your destination is inevitable?
I'm not sure I like the idea at all.
And then I thought about the person I used to be. Man, I hate her. I hope she stays in the stupid little box I stuck her in and never comes out. She never cared about anyone else, and she was punished a lot for it. The mental scars from that time still ache, and I don't think I'll ever completely recover. I wonder if you can ever recover from your past, or if it perpetually haunts you, joining in Memories' song and dance and torturing your mind, your soul, your heart, until you just snap.
If that's the case, how do so many people survive? If I had to endure another eight years of this, I think the person I am now would effectively be destroyed. I don't think I could handle it.
I used to think of myself as this strong, unbreakable person, but I lost that illusion years ago. No one is strong or unbreakable. Some may learn how to protect themselves better than others, but we all have our kryptonite, and we all inevitably fail.
And then we grow hurt and try to seal ourselves off from the world, and we come out looking like horrible, selfish jerks, but you don't care because it keeps you safe. Or it will as long as someone isn't determined to mash through your defenses. And you give up trying, despite how happy trying used to make you.
And Memories never let you forget any of this. They never let you forget your past, your decisions, or why you've become who you've become.
C'est La Vie, mi amigos. (Hmm...is that Spench or Franish? lol.)
Again Poem
Again
.
I'm laughing again
I'm trying again
I think I can finally
Feel my heart beat again
I'm singing again
I'm living again
Good friends like you
Get me going again
.
I'm laughing again
I'm trying again
I think I can finally
Feel my heart beat again
I'm singing again
I'm living again
Good friends like you
Get me going again
Friday, May 8, 2009
Shoe Poem
Shoe
.
Oh, where is my fairytale prince?
He still has my shoe.
I think maybe he got a little bit lost
On his way to rescue me like he's s'posed to.
Maybe he got some difficult directions
Or maybe he’s just confused
On how to find the perfect girl
To fit into that teeny little shoe.
Don't Poem
Don't.
.
Don’t breathe
And you won’t feel the pain
Don’t think
In hopes you can forget
How it felt
When the end of the world
Came too soon
And Love
Walked away
From you
.
Don’t breathe
And you won’t feel the pain
Don’t think
In hopes you can forget
How it felt
When the end of the world
Came too soon
And Love
Walked away
From you
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Shh Poem
Shh
.
Shh, don't say a word
Haven't we said enough?
We Fight
And we yell
And so far
I can't tell
Why we even bother
To try any more.
Shh, don't say a word
Everyone's already upset.
You Lie
And I try
You argue
And I Cry
Why do I bother
To try any more?
Shh, don't say a word
Or else I'll lose my mind.
You promise
You'll try
You promise
Not to lie
Why do you bother
To try any more?
Shh, don't say a word
When I'm so ready to leave.
I'm packed
I'm Ready
But I don't
Feel I'm steady
Why do I bother
To stay here any more?
.
Shh, don't say a word
Haven't we said enough?
We Fight
And we yell
And so far
I can't tell
Why we even bother
To try any more.
Shh, don't say a word
Everyone's already upset.
You Lie
And I try
You argue
And I Cry
Why do I bother
To try any more?
Shh, don't say a word
Or else I'll lose my mind.
You promise
You'll try
You promise
Not to lie
Why do you bother
To try any more?
Shh, don't say a word
When I'm so ready to leave.
I'm packed
I'm Ready
But I don't
Feel I'm steady
Why do I bother
To stay here any more?
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Bags of Cereal
The Real Gilded Age...
I hate it when people lie, when they hide behind their gilded masks, trying to look like something they're not.
Why is it in today's society, it's the norm to be someone you aren't, rather than someone you are?
I don't understand why they walk around with gilded, glittered, fantastical illusions of the world and people, and then mock others for losing sight of "reality".
If that is reality, than quite frankly it stinks.
As I roam these lifeless halls, waiting for life to begin, I feel like I am invisible, without my glittered clothes or gilded attittude. It disturbs me to be so overlooked simply because I am real.
They say we are falling part for a variety of reasons, ranging from aliens to the econonmy, while I sit back, remove my rose colored glasses and see the truth. How is this reality? How can we blame life for the damage we have done to ourselves as people?
No one sees a person as a person anymore. Instead, we are seen as tools, bosses, workers, etc, in which we are far more robotic, and yet we turn around and critize others for not joining the autonomy of our lifes.
How is this meaningful?
How is this a life well lived?
We work so hard ever day for what? Another big screen TV? A hummer? A 2-story home? How do these things make life meaningful? How is it we've become so dependent upon these things for so-called "happiness"?
I could be happy without the TV or the hummer or the home.
Happiness is laughing with your friends at some cheesy joke you've heard hundreds of times in a variety of ways, but it's still funny because it's yours. Happiness is loving someone because you can, because you enjoy them as they are, not as what you can "mold" them into. Happiness is poking your friend in her side, knowing she's going to grumble and pout, and laughing because she cares enough to do so.
Happiness is life. It's breathing the air we breathe, knowing that God gave it to us. It's standing up and singing loudly despite who is listening or how well you sing. It's enjoying a precious moment with friends or family and thanking God you had this day to enjoy it with them.
It's sharing a bag of cereal with a friend and laughing because she has crumbs on her face, on her shirt, on her fingers, and laughing even harder because you know you have to look worse. It's driving somewhere with your friend, singing some silly song on the radio at the top of your lungs together, knowing you probably look ridiculous. It's calling your friend or family in the middle of the night for some stupid reason, and they pick up, despite the hour, because they care.
Happiness is not reliant on TVs or PS3s or Hummers or 2 story homes or the next big paycheck. It's friends, it's family, it's love, it's memories, it's dream, it's life.
I hate it when people lie, when they hide behind their gilded masks, trying to look like something they're not.
Why is it in today's society, it's the norm to be someone you aren't, rather than someone you are?
I don't understand why they walk around with gilded, glittered, fantastical illusions of the world and people, and then mock others for losing sight of "reality".
If that is reality, than quite frankly it stinks.
As I roam these lifeless halls, waiting for life to begin, I feel like I am invisible, without my glittered clothes or gilded attittude. It disturbs me to be so overlooked simply because I am real.
They say we are falling part for a variety of reasons, ranging from aliens to the econonmy, while I sit back, remove my rose colored glasses and see the truth. How is this reality? How can we blame life for the damage we have done to ourselves as people?
No one sees a person as a person anymore. Instead, we are seen as tools, bosses, workers, etc, in which we are far more robotic, and yet we turn around and critize others for not joining the autonomy of our lifes.
How is this meaningful?
How is this a life well lived?
We work so hard ever day for what? Another big screen TV? A hummer? A 2-story home? How do these things make life meaningful? How is it we've become so dependent upon these things for so-called "happiness"?
I could be happy without the TV or the hummer or the home.
Happiness is laughing with your friends at some cheesy joke you've heard hundreds of times in a variety of ways, but it's still funny because it's yours. Happiness is loving someone because you can, because you enjoy them as they are, not as what you can "mold" them into. Happiness is poking your friend in her side, knowing she's going to grumble and pout, and laughing because she cares enough to do so.
Happiness is life. It's breathing the air we breathe, knowing that God gave it to us. It's standing up and singing loudly despite who is listening or how well you sing. It's enjoying a precious moment with friends or family and thanking God you had this day to enjoy it with them.
It's sharing a bag of cereal with a friend and laughing because she has crumbs on her face, on her shirt, on her fingers, and laughing even harder because you know you have to look worse. It's driving somewhere with your friend, singing some silly song on the radio at the top of your lungs together, knowing you probably look ridiculous. It's calling your friend or family in the middle of the night for some stupid reason, and they pick up, despite the hour, because they care.
Happiness is not reliant on TVs or PS3s or Hummers or 2 story homes or the next big paycheck. It's friends, it's family, it's love, it's memories, it's dream, it's life.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Monday, May 4, 2009
Reality
Reality is nothing more than an elaborate lie we tell ourselves to withstand the truth.
This blog is nothing more than a location for my writings, for how I feel. So embark on your journey and read about life, or go click that pretty red button in the corner and leave.
This blog is nothing more than a location for my writings, for how I feel. So embark on your journey and read about life, or go click that pretty red button in the corner and leave.
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