Downfall (Rubáiyát)

How long shall I wait for you?
Does waiting prove my love more true?
Not sure what thought hurts me most
Either way my heart is blue

The past is coming to haunt me in ghosts
Asking who I love the most
My answer should not surprised at all
I hope that God forgives my boast

But you have me in total thrall
Over and over again I fall
I just hope you love me too
Or you shall be my downfall

DO YOU EVER????

Do you ever?...

Do you ever feel like taking everything you’ve ever written, drawn, typed, sewn, composed, sung, played, recorded, or just in general created chucking it in a huge bonfire and lighting the match?  I really feel like I am identifying with Salieri lately, except he was a PUBLISHED composer and had fans and was BRILLANT.  Me?  I’m just a mouthy, nobody with a blog, a twitter, and lots of opinions.  That’s why I try to create new forms of poetry, like my gif poem, or the internet concrete poem.  I figure if no one ELSE has done them I can’t be shown up right? 

Sooner or later though, someone will come around with the wits to improve my paltry ideas.  After all, there are more things in heaven and earth, right? They say there are only seven stories after all.  I wonder if they have adjusted that saying to have more gender inclusive romantic storylines.  I say romance is romance, no matter who is giving and who is receiving, or how many!  The drama of a story comes from the angst.  The tenor and tone of the story can change depending on the mores and morals of society but the basis of the story stays the same.  That is true whether you change the settings or the characters or the sex!  Romeo and Juliet could be Romeo and Caesar and it would be the same story, maybe even easier to understand! 

But I, personally, have been having writer’s block lately.  Call it the 3 M’s. Migraines, Megrimes, and Monthlies. LSIDC I do love how every time a woman is in a bad mood a man everyone blames it on her period.  I was writing that men do this but I realized women do it just as much.  We may do it in a sticky sweet, back biting, condescending way, but we do.  Men may not realize the amount of cat calling and sniping that goes on between women because a lot of it is subtext.  Thing are said that are call backs to past conversations, or said between clenched teeth, or with baited breath. Women are never going to get anything from men until we stop GIVING IT to each other!

Well, I started this post trying to clear my head so that my writer’s block.  I’m not sure if that worked.  I still feel like setting all my stuff on fire.  I don’t think I’ll do it.  It’d take too long to gather it together.  But if you see a blaze lighting up half of North America…

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Blank Canvas

I might be in over my head

This boulder is rolling down the cliffside

I only wanted to share my joy

But I might lose what I find most precious

The harsh light causes me to shut my eyes

But its warmth still causes me to smile

And reaching up, pull the shutters closed

I wonder if there is a way to have

Both the light and darkness

My indecision has cost me in the past

There are ghost that whisper my name

Hard drives can never be truly erased

Everyone has files that can’t be deleted

Sometimes it’s easier to just share space

If you don’t share all your secrets

What you don’t know can’t be held against you

I’m afraid I don’t know anything at all

I’m a student of the universe

Teach me, for I’m a blank canvas

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An Ember Burns Higher Then Flames Prodded Higher

A spark lights the way

It glows like a fay

It burns higher and faster

Leading quickly to disaster

You must prove who is the master

Or else you will pay

So as the fire you lay

Remember that they they say

As the fire blows past her

An ember burns longer then flames prodded higher

Keep this mindful, don’t delay

Whatever else you say

It must be held fast or

It spells true disaster

Because it’s true what they say

An ember burns longer then flames prodded higher

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Poems

Pieces

A broken shell

Lies in the sand

A thousand feet pass by it

A million waves crash around it

The sun beats down upon it

It waits patiently for something

But no one wants

A disconnected piece

A reminder of the past

And still it lies

Images

Wanting something more

A wanton pleasure waiting,

Weathering every storm

Together.

Tomorrow waits for no one

As a team, we trade and transcend.

Pleasure pacifies people.

As we pretend to be