its all been done

Every time I think of you I see things that slipped from my hands like sand through my fingers.

You have not one name and face, but several.

There are not many any reasons for me to turn my head and observe those landmarks which had been abandoned along the road, but none the less...I still do. I suppose for no other reason but nostalgia and nostalgia alone.

I think about them rarely, but when they surface in the corners of my mind they bring a soft pain to serve as a reminder. A reminder of mistakes.

And also as a reminder of triumph in the dark times.

I dare not say farewell to these scattered thoughts, events, and memories; for they are the fabric of which my life is woven. In whatever strange pattern they change and effect my soul...

Tending the Soul

Ground your roots deep within your heart and soul.
Feed them your deepest desires, thoughts and beliefs.
Let them lead you in the right direction, the one in which your heart finds peace and joy.

Allow your branches to stretch out to all walks of life. Let your leaves unfurl in the infinite breeze of time.

Leave your mark on everything and everyone you may come in contact with and let them leave a mark on you.

And if someone decides to trim a piece of you, bandage yourself and find the strength to to grow and move on.

Never allow yourself to stop growing toward the sky. The strength you need is already there within...all you need is to remember the power of learning and living.

Soak in the sunshine of the world around you and you will find endless possibilities.

reckless addiction

(so...I wrote this with alot of things in mind. It applies to lots of different things in lots of different ways...so i think anyone could relate to it. enjoy)



At the end of the day the long and the short of it is...I'm addicted.

It's pretty shitty.

There's a drug and I just so happen to be the addict.

You can find no high school classes discouraging its exposure or use.

No preachers are heard heeding warnings to the masses.

There is no loyal band of mothers battling against its growing hold on there youth.

There are no clinics, support groups, or rehabs available to aide in treatment.

There are no t-shirts, magazine ads, commercials, bracelets, or buttons informing the public on its dangerously altering side effects.

It's pretty shitty.

This drug is not illegal in the United States nor is it considered unlawful anywhere within the four corners of the globe.

Like any addiction its early use provides the explorers with a sense of of pleasure or some form of euphoria.

But, in the end it proves itself to be, in true fashion, an addictive and destructive drug.

I can't seem to shake its cling to my skin, nor its grasp on my soul.

It finds me....always.

It's pretty shitty.

Son Foulard

Just a glance over the shoulder and its within my sight,

Resting tightly inside the grasp of my cast iron bed post,

As always, the rush of pleasant surprise fills my head at the remembrance of its existence.

Its silly really....that such an unimportant object can coax the corners of my mouth up into such a delightful grin

But...

If I look close enough can see your tender laughter in the frayed edges as they dance playfully in the fan's breeze.

I can feel your warm palm clasped in mine as i reach upward, running the fabric in and around my fingers.

I feel the rush of you crash everywhere as I swiftly pull it from the post into my arms ...a temporary replacement to fool my heart for the present moment.

Honestly, I have nothing to truly miss....

But, for the times when I am not able to snap my fingers and have you immediately beside me this memento of "you" has done a good job of pretending.