Friday, September 19, 2014

Burdens of Flesh and Blood

Your heart, my dear, is a heavy burden;
A heavy burden but you choose to bear it.
The pride is evident when you flaunt your choices.
You take the prerogative to judge,
But don’t judge me my dear, if my heart is light,
So light that it is non- existent.

Your heart, my dear, is a heavy burden;
A burden of flesh and blood: Without respite.
And you’re welcome to bear pride in your own choices.
Just don’t judge those who don’t share your readiness
To suffer.

Carousel of Colors

They've told me: “further away can move you closer.”
 But you’re the farthest you’ve ever been and I don’t feel closer at all.
Maybe it just pertains to this mortal plane,
The place you’ve gone is substantially further— too far.

And why must I spend every day, thinking about it?
Why can’t I just move on like they say I should do?
Because everyone is imaginary,
They’re a spinning carousel and the colors smudge out.

You can grasp a horse’s lip here,
A tail, a rein, some sparkling pearls;
Well the parts are not the whole by far…
None of it makes sense until you stand still.

Sunday, March 30, 2014

Bright days in May

Bright days in May
They make my heart break
They raise the veil
From my hidden state

It‘s harder than it seems being the same
Being that girl I was before May
I left your side and walked away
Sometimes it feels like I‘m to blame

Bright days in May
when your time came
I could never decide if I was okay
I know it‘s wrong, I‘m ashamed to say

I wish for things that contradict
And the laws of reason are all too strict
You can‘t want that and then want this
But I can‘t make use of just one trick

Bright days in May
You were taken away
I fought half a battle to get you to stay
But who can I blame?

And now all I do is: I fight myself
I break myself up and I go through hell
I crumble to pieces and I still can‘t tell
If I ever did anything well

Bright days in May
But it‘s too late
A heart takes a beating
then turns to hate

If I sometimes forget the best that you shared
If I often forget to remember you cared
I can trace back each scar to a when and a where
I have perfect recall when it comes to the bad

Bright days in May
And they pass away
Every year the same
A nostalgic replay

Saturday, February 15, 2014

The Third Voice is Blind.

You better hope she knows what she‘s doing
Because all she has is venom
And she‘s part of your skin
You better hope it‘s not an act
Because you take her words
And you build on that
But you are not her words
You are more than her illusion
You can try to be your own eulogy
But it won‘t make sense
You‘re also part of her plans
And if she‘s wrong, I hope you‘ll still pick up
I hope you don’t think, that if you lose her
You lose yourself
She’s only the third voice
A notch in your shield is always a choice
You can sweep away all the meaning
And be left with nothing but truth
You shouldn’t just sit there and take it
You shouldn’t let her hurt you

Saturday, February 1, 2014

No strings attached

We live in a world of exasperation,
awkwardness, invisibility, dominance,
frustration, anxiety, stress, confusion,
seclusion, desire, disconnect
And last but not least distraction

Where there should be so many threads
each interacting, each connecting,
we have instead a shared string here and there;
Twin weights to fasten it between them,
a private world to which others
are simply not invited.

Yet others have cut their strings,
so that they are impossible to tie down.
But they do not float away like soap bubbles-
they just stay there- lone weights,
with nothing to hold down,
no purpose.

Sometimes someone will attempt
to throw them their own string
but even if they accept another's,
they will never be able to reciprocate
and it is hard to watch kindness not repaid in kind,
no matter from which end you are viewing it.

It hurts no less to be
a receiver incapable of giving
then it does to be a giver
who cannot receive.
And so the purpose of our strings
is lost.

It is my hope that one day
we all realize that you can't help a person
with no strings
by throwing her yours.
You can only try to help them
to braid a new one
and hope to all that is good
that it can be as strong
as the strings we are all born with.

To those of you out there
who for some reason live
involved in seclusion
Please, do not cut all strings.
Attachment can hurt
but it is our purpose,
without it we wither and die.
Once a string is cut it's impossible
to restore it to it's former state.
Tie your strings to as many as you can
and maybe one day
we will all be connected. 

Friday, January 24, 2014

Heart of Hearts

You were my heart of hearts
The blood of my blood
that ran through my veins
my leader and my teacher
my happiness and pain
Several times  I looked to you
To see what I would be
The roots of my tree
The trunk to my branches and leaves
You were the wind
And I‘m just the rustle
A faint echo
Of your hustle and bustle
You were most precious
And my moving power
The force that affected my being
A tower, a beacon of light
For my eyes
The light grew too bright
It blinded my sight
And now I will never see it again
My very beginning has met its own end.