Caged within white lines
Free through all time
Beaded sweat is hot
as I stretch into the blocks
Butterflies swirl and flitter
As my arms begin to quiver
Muscle tightens until it screams
Loading for explosion like a spring
BANG the race begins
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
The Highwayman - Alfred Noyes
PART ONE
I
THE wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding—
Riding—riding—
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.
II
He'd a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin,
A coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin;
They fitted with never a wrinkle: his boots were up to the thigh!
And he rode with a jewelled twinkle,
His pistol butts a-twinkle,
His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky.
III
Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard,
And he tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred;
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.
IV
And dark in the dark old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked
Where Tim the ostler listened; his face was white and peaked;
His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay,
But he loved the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's red-lipped daughter,
Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say—
V
'One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I'm after a prize to-night,
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light;
Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
Then look for me by moonlight,
Watch for me by moonlight,
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way.'
VI
He rose upright in the stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand,
But she loosened her hair i' the casement! His face burnt like a brand
As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast;
And he kissed its waves in the moonlight,
(Oh, sweet, black waves in the moonlight!)
Then he tugged at his rein in the moonliglt, and galloped away to the West.
PART TWO
I
He did not come in the dawning; he did not come at noon;
And out o' the tawny sunset, before the rise o' the moon,
When the road was a gypsy's ribbon, looping the purple moor,
A red-coat troop came marching—
Marching—marching—
King George's men came matching, up to the old inn-door.
II
They said no word to the landlord, they drank his ale instead,
But they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed;
Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets at their side!
There was death at every window;
And hell at one dark window;
For Bess could see, through her casement, the road that he would ride.
III
They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest;
They had bound a musket beside her, with the barrel beneath her breast!
'Now, keep good watch!' and they kissed her.
She heard the dead man say—
Look for me by moonlight;
Watch for me by moonlight;
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way!
V
The tip of one finger touched it; she strove no more for the rest!
Up, she stood up to attention, with the barrel beneath her breast,
She would not risk their hearing; she would not strive again;
For the road lay bare in the moonlight;
Blank and bare in the moonlight;
And the blood of her veins in the moonlight throbbed to her love's refrain .
VI
Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot! Had they heard it? The horse-hoofs ringing clear;
Tlot-tlot, tlot-tlot, in the distance? Were they deaf that they did not hear?
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,
The highwayman came riding,
Riding, riding!
The red-coats looked to their priming! She stood up, straight and still!
VII
Tlot-tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot-tlot, in the echoing night!
Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light!
Her eyes grew wide for a moment; she drew one last deep breath,
Then her finger moved in the moonlight,
Her musket shattered the moonlight,
Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him—with her death.
VIII
He turned; he spurred to the West; he did not know who stood
Bowed, with her head o'er the musket, drenched with her own red blood!
Not till the dawn he heard it, his face grew grey to hear
How Bess, the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.
IX
Back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky,
With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high!
Blood-red were his spurs i' the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet coat,
When they shot him down on the highway,
Down like a dog on the highway,
And he lay in his blood on the highway, with the bunch of lace at his throat.
X
And still of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
A highwayman comes riding—
Riding—riding—
A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.
XI
Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard;
He taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred;
He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.
I
THE wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding—
Riding—riding—
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.
II
He'd a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin,
A coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin;
They fitted with never a wrinkle: his boots were up to the thigh!
And he rode with a jewelled twinkle,
His pistol butts a-twinkle,
His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky.
III
Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard,
And he tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred;
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.
IV
And dark in the dark old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked
Where Tim the ostler listened; his face was white and peaked;
His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay,
But he loved the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's red-lipped daughter,
Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say—
V
'One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I'm after a prize to-night,
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light;
Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
Then look for me by moonlight,
Watch for me by moonlight,
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way.'
VI
He rose upright in the stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand,
But she loosened her hair i' the casement! His face burnt like a brand
As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast;
And he kissed its waves in the moonlight,
(Oh, sweet, black waves in the moonlight!)
Then he tugged at his rein in the moonliglt, and galloped away to the West.
PART TWO
I
He did not come in the dawning; he did not come at noon;
And out o' the tawny sunset, before the rise o' the moon,
When the road was a gypsy's ribbon, looping the purple moor,
A red-coat troop came marching—
Marching—marching—
King George's men came matching, up to the old inn-door.
II
They said no word to the landlord, they drank his ale instead,
But they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed;
Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets at their side!
There was death at every window;
And hell at one dark window;
For Bess could see, through her casement, the road that he would ride.
III
They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest;
They had bound a musket beside her, with the barrel beneath her breast!
'Now, keep good watch!' and they kissed her.
She heard the dead man say—
Look for me by moonlight;
Watch for me by moonlight;
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way!
V
The tip of one finger touched it; she strove no more for the rest!
Up, she stood up to attention, with the barrel beneath her breast,
She would not risk their hearing; she would not strive again;
For the road lay bare in the moonlight;
Blank and bare in the moonlight;
And the blood of her veins in the moonlight throbbed to her love's refrain .
VI
Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot! Had they heard it? The horse-hoofs ringing clear;
Tlot-tlot, tlot-tlot, in the distance? Were they deaf that they did not hear?
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,
The highwayman came riding,
Riding, riding!
The red-coats looked to their priming! She stood up, straight and still!
VII
Tlot-tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot-tlot, in the echoing night!
Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light!
Her eyes grew wide for a moment; she drew one last deep breath,
Then her finger moved in the moonlight,
Her musket shattered the moonlight,
Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him—with her death.
VIII
He turned; he spurred to the West; he did not know who stood
Bowed, with her head o'er the musket, drenched with her own red blood!
Not till the dawn he heard it, his face grew grey to hear
How Bess, the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.
IX
Back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky,
With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high!
Blood-red were his spurs i' the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet coat,
When they shot him down on the highway,
Down like a dog on the highway,
And he lay in his blood on the highway, with the bunch of lace at his throat.
X
And still of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
A highwayman comes riding—
Riding—riding—
A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.
XI
Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard;
He taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred;
He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.
Alfred Noyes
Thursday, November 29, 2012
"Dialogue" Don't use pick up lines on blonde chicks at McDonald's
Me: Hey, excuse me. What's your name?
Her: It's Ellie.
Me: Really? It seems like it should be Gillette or something...?
Her: (confused) whhaatt??
Me: Because you look like the best a man can get :) (feeling all clever)
Her: That doesn't even make sense? (blank look) (she is blonde)
Me: You haven't seen that commercial? You know... Gillette.. the best a man can get. It's a shaving thing..
Her: You're a freak. (leaves with a look of disgust)
Cut
Behind my back and under the table
Power in your hands, mind unstable
You hurt and ruin a player's purpose
Now your faults have come to surface
You crossed out my name in every note
A hemorrhage of ink in glistening coats
My blood and sweat all gone to waste
If you're going to steal, atleast have good taste
You raised me up and cut me down
Kicked me across the painted ground
The pain you caused aches down deep
The living hell when I can't sleep
The lacerations have left horrible scars
Anger clings in tissue against my heavy heart
I'm tired of hurting so I keep my doors shut
Your words and actions are like razors that cut
Sunday, November 25, 2012
Saturday, November 17, 2012
You'll See
I'm here again. The fans are whirling. Metal is clanking. I rub on icy hot. It makes my muscles feel warm and supple when really they are tight and sore. Deep breath. 5 sets of 5. My legs shake under me. The veins in my temples ripple and a single bead of sweat rolls down the side of my face. I put my hands on my knees and try to gather myself. I look at the shelves of weights. They are old and beat up. They stare back at me ominously. It's like they know I'm tired and they are waiting to finish me off. Chains rattle and pulleys tug on giant bricks of metal. These torture machines are so cruelly designed to make you hurt. I run and after I'm standing in a puddle of sweat it fills like the ground is still moving. My legs quiver and my arms weight 1000 pounds. My heart pounds in my chest. doubts flutter around in my throbbing head. "I'd love to put you in, but I'd like to win" "You're a good player, but not a great one" "Maybe if you work hard at practice you can play JV" "You run too choppy" "You're too small" "pick up garbage under the bleachers" you ask "what are you still doing? Why are you still trying?" and I'll say "You'll see"
Saturday, November 10, 2012
Behind Bars
Emotionally fate will determine my thoughts. Deadlocked.
The process. Life in prison. The Law. Survive.
The process. Life in prison. The Law. Survive.
The Library
The Library conditions captured Madison Marshall at the tower.
Vices, Virtues, Devil's clocks and a ghostly story.
Friends of the Library judging prizes to give people a chance.
Don't think. This promises to be a witches maze.
Vices, Virtues, Devil's clocks and a ghostly story.
Friends of the Library judging prizes to give people a chance.
Don't think. This promises to be a witches maze.
Sunday, November 4, 2012
Trip Down Memory Lane
I remember my dinosaur overalls and bull cut. I remember when I fell down and my head was mistaken for a soccer ball; lost my first tooth. I remember being on timeout in the mud room. I remember when I drank windex and got to go to the hospital. I remember our unfinished basement and how scary it was. I remember the worlds I created in the sandbox. I remember the birthday were all I got was Star Wars action figures. I remember when swear words made me cry. I remember when I stepped on the hornets nest after I said "I've never been stung." I remember when a spider came out of my handle bars and I ran my bike into a car. I remember the bike jumps I made in the field by my house.
Running on Fumes
I'm tired and weak
There is no strength when I speak
I'm sore from explaining myself
Explaining my story to those who don't even care
Since when are you the judge to tell me whats fair?
I'm downtrodden
A victim of injustice most bleak
I'm a knocked over sign on a dangerous street
I'm a heavy car running on fumes
There is no strength when I speak
I'm sore from explaining myself
Explaining my story to those who don't even care
Since when are you the judge to tell me whats fair?
I'm downtrodden
A victim of injustice most bleak
I'm a knocked over sign on a dangerous street
I'm a heavy car running on fumes
Thursday, October 25, 2012
Melinda
Slap the alarm off and slowly get out of bed
Despite her tired body and aching head
Covers kicked on the floor from nightmares
Heading to school she is feeling so scared
In the mirror her eyes are red and heavy
In her ears his voice is ringing already
She's there. Everyone has already assembled
Into groups-the kind of people they resemble
Looking around at the white chalky walls
Just a part of the scenery in the maze we call halls
It's hard not to feel like it's too late to change
Ever since it happened it's never been the same
If you look in her eyes you can tell that she lies
Says she's going to hang out then she hides out and cries
Her knuckles are bruised from the fight with the wall
But it's better to feel a little hurt than nothing at all
Now she's going her own way making her own tracks
To recover from the past and to regain back
The same smack that made her so strong before
She's walking out the door because - nobody really likes her anymore
Some body needs to speak up and help before it's the end
Our dear Friend Melinda really just needs a friend
Despite her tired body and aching head
Covers kicked on the floor from nightmares
Heading to school she is feeling so scared
In the mirror her eyes are red and heavy
In her ears his voice is ringing already
She's there. Everyone has already assembled
Into groups-the kind of people they resemble
Looking around at the white chalky walls
Just a part of the scenery in the maze we call halls
It's hard not to feel like it's too late to change
Ever since it happened it's never been the same
If you look in her eyes you can tell that she lies
Says she's going to hang out then she hides out and cries
Her knuckles are bruised from the fight with the wall
But it's better to feel a little hurt than nothing at all
Now she's going her own way making her own tracks
To recover from the past and to regain back
The same smack that made her so strong before
She's walking out the door because - nobody really likes her anymore
Some body needs to speak up and help before it's the end
Our dear Friend Melinda really just needs a friend
Fall
A cool breeze weaves it's way through the tree's
Stirring up change and distant memories
A pale school morning with crystals embossed
The cold Autumn ground is dusted in frost
Change is all around; look and feel what is new
Each beautiful color has it's own vibrant hue
Light golden corn fresh off of the stalk
Crisp leaves carried in the breeze crinkle and talk
Deep orange pumpkins await to be carved
Glowing candle lit faces beneath all the stars
Stirring up change and distant memories
A pale school morning with crystals embossed
The cold Autumn ground is dusted in frost
Change is all around; look and feel what is new
Each beautiful color has it's own vibrant hue
Light golden corn fresh off of the stalk
Crisp leaves carried in the breeze crinkle and talk
Deep orange pumpkins await to be carved
Glowing candle lit faces beneath all the stars
Sunday, October 21, 2012
The 7 Fingered Thing
I lie awake, late one cool October night
Close my eyes as the sheets hold me tight
I think of scary tales and old folklore
Then I hear something tapping on my door
If it were a knock I would surely open
I yelled "Hello" but not words were spoken
The fire cracked and then went down
My heart beat and breathe the only sound
A child would knock or talk behind the door
But no one ever knocked like this before
A scratching, tapping so meanly fine
So evil and ghostly; seemed to freeze time
I pictured it's hands like sharply tipped roots
Nails like a small curved sharp canine tooth
I felt it's presence, a menacing shadow
Claws clicking together in a horrific rattle
Clicking and tapping at my door
For what reason I did not know
With my shotgun and courage I wasn't taking a chance
I opened the door...
But the source of my terror was just a loose branch
It was a windy night and my imagination swirled
I went back to bed as my thoughts all unfurled
Then on my window I heard something tap
I turned to my raggety old window flap
As I parted the curtain I screamed in great surprise
to see all the fingers and crimson red eyes
Close my eyes as the sheets hold me tight
I think of scary tales and old folklore
Then I hear something tapping on my door
If it were a knock I would surely open
I yelled "Hello" but not words were spoken
The fire cracked and then went down
My heart beat and breathe the only sound
A child would knock or talk behind the door
But no one ever knocked like this before
A scratching, tapping so meanly fine
So evil and ghostly; seemed to freeze time
I pictured it's hands like sharply tipped roots
Nails like a small curved sharp canine tooth
I felt it's presence, a menacing shadow
Claws clicking together in a horrific rattle
Clicking and tapping at my door
For what reason I did not know
With my shotgun and courage I wasn't taking a chance
I opened the door...
But the source of my terror was just a loose branch
It was a windy night and my imagination swirled
I went back to bed as my thoughts all unfurled
Then on my window I heard something tap
I turned to my raggety old window flap
As I parted the curtain I screamed in great surprise
to see all the fingers and crimson red eyes
I order you to read this
You read the title and then you will scan through to make sure my post isn't too long.
Even if it's not too long you might still just skip through the words. If that's how you roll I'm really sorry. A lot of people are spending their ultimate efforts in order to have good post and they get treated like a bad add someone gives you at the store. You act interested (maybe you leave a comment) but as soon as you can, you throw it away. Then later you find out that someone took that add (which wasn't really an add) and won the lottery. You missed out. Don't miss out.
Even if it's not too long you might still just skip through the words. If that's how you roll I'm really sorry. A lot of people are spending their ultimate efforts in order to have good post and they get treated like a bad add someone gives you at the store. You act interested (maybe you leave a comment) but as soon as you can, you throw it away. Then later you find out that someone took that add (which wasn't really an add) and won the lottery. You missed out. Don't miss out.
Friday, October 12, 2012
The Wolf
A full moon rises casting dark shadows in the wood
Unleashing a hellish creature that can't be understood
They buried him with his shame in a nameless grave
Returned, he has risen, miracles would have to save
Deep in the night he howls to the black sky in a lunar spell
Boiling blood bent on vengeance, surely this hound is from hell
Barking at the pale moon, pray you've never heard him before
His cries go unheard but if you aren't careful so will yours
Unleashing a hellish creature that can't be understood
They buried him with his shame in a nameless grave
Returned, he has risen, miracles would have to save
Deep in the night he howls to the black sky in a lunar spell
Boiling blood bent on vengeance, surely this hound is from hell
Barking at the pale moon, pray you've never heard him before
His cries go unheard but if you aren't careful so will yours
The Brick Man
Wendy was home alone, she felt uneasy and found herself peeling back the blinds to check outside. The wind howled outside as the bare snarly branches scratched against the windows. Her husband was supposed to be home and as the night closed in she began to really worry. Soon she was comforted by the sound of the family truck pulling into the gravel driveway. As the engine coughed off she made her way to open the front door. Wendy's husband Frank ran inside to take shelter from the cold. He was covered in filth from his day at work. As usually Wendy asked how his day was, but Frank didn't answer. He just stared at his chalky hands blankly and went downstairs. The basement was a storage of bricks, cement, and junk. Wendy went to bed but couldn't sleep, she felt unfamiliar and far off from her hard working, loving husband. As she listened to the wind she heard the front door open. As her senses sharpened she heard something being dragged across the floor past the bedroom door. "Frank!" she yelled. He snapped, "stay in the room." Shocked and angry, Wendy couldn't speak. Then there was a loud knock on the door. "I'll get it!" Frank muttered behind the door. Wendy snuck behind to see who it was. "Frank, you are under arrest. We know who you are, we know what you do." Then a terrible cry followed by a sound like stone cracking ended in silence. Wendy ran into her room to hear the same dragging sound she heard earlier.....
Sunday, October 7, 2012
Crazy Train
"Crazy, but that's how it goes
Millions of people living as foes
Maybe it's not too late
To learn how to love
And forget how to hate"
Millions of people living as foes
Maybe it's not too late
To learn how to love
And forget how to hate"
Life and Death: Your Story
At the end of the day it's all about you. As selfish as that sounds it's true. I'm always had this idea that one day my life will be a story passed down and around by posterity, team mates, class mates, teachers, friends, you get the idea. This always defined the way I lived my life until I was overwhelmed by the pressure of pleasing.
Because, at the end of the day you can't please everyone. You need to choose who you want to share your life with.
It doesn't matter because you aren't going to be stuck with those people forever most likely. Most people in High School you will never see again.
What really matters at the end of the day is how you feel about yourself. Because you are stuck with yourself forever. You have to make the choices you need in order to be able to live with yourself and your God. (if you believe in one)
So go ahead and make your own story, but do yourself a favor, and make it good.
Because, at the end of the day you can't please everyone. You need to choose who you want to share your life with.
It doesn't matter because you aren't going to be stuck with those people forever most likely. Most people in High School you will never see again.
What really matters at the end of the day is how you feel about yourself. Because you are stuck with yourself forever. You have to make the choices you need in order to be able to live with yourself and your God. (if you believe in one)
So go ahead and make your own story, but do yourself a favor, and make it good.
Sunday, September 30, 2012
I'm Thinking About You
I think about you like dreamers think about shooting stars in the night sky
When I was with you I felt like I could do anything -- even fly
I'm thinking about you like the heavens think about the earth as a whole
Except you're the one looking down on me. That is when my heart is full
I'm thinking about you as the winds of change gently but surely pass me by
I miss you a lot and won't let you down. You are motivation. The hot tear in my eye
I'm thinking about all the great times we had. Moments swirl and dance in my mind
The walker, the halo, your cool shiny glasses all play in my head like a song in rewind
I'm thinking about you and I'm not giving up, you never did so neither will I
I'm thinking about you like a dreamer thinks about shooting stars in the night sky
When I was with you I felt like I could do anything -- even fly
I'm thinking about you like the heavens think about the earth as a whole
Except you're the one looking down on me. That is when my heart is full
I'm thinking about you as the winds of change gently but surely pass me by
I miss you a lot and won't let you down. You are motivation. The hot tear in my eye
I'm thinking about all the great times we had. Moments swirl and dance in my mind
The walker, the halo, your cool shiny glasses all play in my head like a song in rewind
I'm thinking about you and I'm not giving up, you never did so neither will I
I'm thinking about you like a dreamer thinks about shooting stars in the night sky
Bridges
Life is full of great rivers that can seem overwhelming. Sadly, many people drown not knowing that there was a way to cross.
Rivers, start out like any problem, small and seemingly harmless. A small stream trickling through the quiet woods can become a hissing and crashing force that can rip a once sturdy tree right out of the ground. Snow builds up on the mountain side all winter and is ignored like an issue we try to keep out of our mind. Then it is exposed by the sun and floods our lives with stress and frustration.
Rivers inevitable, and often very uncontrollable just like our circumstances in life. One moment it will be calm, the next it will be an icy rapids, engulfing us and taking away the things we love most. Life is a river, sometimes we have a fork where we have to decide where to go. As the pull of water takes us farther and carries us faster, our ability to choose starts to become limited. You started on calm waters and now you are being dragged to a bitter end.
How do you cross rivers? Bridges.
A colossal, dependable stretch over ice
Something that can save our sorry life
Some bridges are simply what we feel
A bridge needless to say will work all night and day
Holding out strong, always, with out pay
A vindicated hero most often unsung
Unscathed by the rivers piercing cold run
Why fear the terrible danger beneath
With the gospel of peace just beneath your feet?
Sometimes when crossing you need to be brave
But think of the bitterness and pain you've been saved
Some times you want to go your own way
Deceptively strong currents will pull you astray
Whether a leader, loved one or righteous desire
Bridges keep you safe by keeping you higher
Like an accomplishment on your shelf
You feel proud you made it yourself
Like a guarded trophy, engraved and embossed
Bridges show that life's hardest rivers can all be crossed
Rivers, start out like any problem, small and seemingly harmless. A small stream trickling through the quiet woods can become a hissing and crashing force that can rip a once sturdy tree right out of the ground. Snow builds up on the mountain side all winter and is ignored like an issue we try to keep out of our mind. Then it is exposed by the sun and floods our lives with stress and frustration.
Rivers inevitable, and often very uncontrollable just like our circumstances in life. One moment it will be calm, the next it will be an icy rapids, engulfing us and taking away the things we love most. Life is a river, sometimes we have a fork where we have to decide where to go. As the pull of water takes us farther and carries us faster, our ability to choose starts to become limited. You started on calm waters and now you are being dragged to a bitter end.
How do you cross rivers? Bridges.
A colossal, dependable stretch over ice
Something that can save our sorry life
Some bridges are simply what we feel
Some bridges are made of gleaming steel
Some are made out of ropes and wood
They are often misunderstood
Bridge, a platform of sturdy rock
One made of an idea or thought
Whether they are young or old
Good bridges are strong and hold
A bridge is the key to life's locked doors
It will take you places you've never been beforeA bridge needless to say will work all night and day
Holding out strong, always, with out pay
A vindicated hero most often unsung
Unscathed by the rivers piercing cold run
Why fear the terrible danger beneath
With the gospel of peace just beneath your feet?
Sometimes when crossing you need to be brave
But think of the bitterness and pain you've been saved
Some times you want to go your own way
Deceptively strong currents will pull you astray
Whether a leader, loved one or righteous desire
Bridges keep you safe by keeping you higher
Like an accomplishment on your shelf
You feel proud you made it yourself
Like a guarded trophy, engraved and embossed
Bridges show that life's hardest rivers can all be crossed
Sunday, September 23, 2012
Fear of the Dark: Iron Maiden
I am a man who walks alone
And when I'm walking a dark road
At night or strolling through the park
When the light begins to change
I sometimes feel a little strange
A little anxious when it's dark
Fear of the dark, fear of the dark
I have a constant fear that something's
Always near
Fear of the dark, fear of the dark
I have a phobia that someone's
Always there
Have you run your fingers down
The wall
And have you felt your neck skin crawl
When you're searching for the light?
Sometimes when you're scared
To take a look
At the corner of the room
You've sensed that something's
Watching you
Have you ever been alone at night
Thought you heard footsteps behind
And turned around and no one's there?
And as you quicken up your pace
You find it hard to look again
Because you're sure there's
Someone there
Watching horror films the night before
Debating witches and folklore
The unknown troubles on your mind
Maybe your mind is playing tricks
You sense, and suddenly eyes fix
On dancing shadows from behind
Fear of the dark, fear of the dark
I have constant fear that something's
Always near
Fear of the dark, fear of the dark
I have a phobia that someone's
Always there
And when I'm walking a dark road
At night or strolling through the park
When the light begins to change
I sometimes feel a little strange
A little anxious when it's dark
Fear of the dark, fear of the dark
I have a constant fear that something's
Always near
Fear of the dark, fear of the dark
I have a phobia that someone's
Always there
Have you run your fingers down
The wall
And have you felt your neck skin crawl
When you're searching for the light?
Sometimes when you're scared
To take a look
At the corner of the room
You've sensed that something's
Watching you
Have you ever been alone at night
Thought you heard footsteps behind
And turned around and no one's there?
And as you quicken up your pace
You find it hard to look again
Because you're sure there's
Someone there
Watching horror films the night before
Debating witches and folklore
The unknown troubles on your mind
Maybe your mind is playing tricks
You sense, and suddenly eyes fix
On dancing shadows from behind
Fear of the dark, fear of the dark
I have constant fear that something's
Always near
Fear of the dark, fear of the dark
I have a phobia that someone's
Always there
Fear of the Dark
I'm not afraid of the dark I'm afraid of what's in it. When you wake up in a cold sweat and you know a sound woke you up but you don't know what it was. You listen, holding as still as possible. You even hold your breathe, at first you are doing it so you can scope out any sounds in your house but then you start to shallow your breathes in case someone is listening for you.
When you're having a campfire in the mountains, you feel safe and warm. Then you look behind into the vast blackness. The shadows from the fire dance. You realize you can't see very far into the forest but your fire probably can be seen from a great distance. You feeling surrounded and put your cold back to the impending peril of the night.
Playing hide and go seek, you are hiding somewhere dark. As you stealthily hide under cover you begin to feel uneasy. You can't really move and something begins to crawl on you. Goosebumps spread over your skin, which becomes 10 times more sensitive to the tickling of the creatures small legs. If you move it could bite. You don't know if it's a black widow or a cockroach. You freeze and wait.
You walk alone and feel like something isn't right. You hear foot steps behind you but when you look no one is there. As your pace quickens so does your phantoms. Once again, when you look no one is there. You stop, hearing nothing but crickets and your own heart pounding in your chest.
You're babysitting and the power goes out. Something "bumps" upstairs. It's just your imagination right?
When you're having a campfire in the mountains, you feel safe and warm. Then you look behind into the vast blackness. The shadows from the fire dance. You realize you can't see very far into the forest but your fire probably can be seen from a great distance. You feeling surrounded and put your cold back to the impending peril of the night.
Playing hide and go seek, you are hiding somewhere dark. As you stealthily hide under cover you begin to feel uneasy. You can't really move and something begins to crawl on you. Goosebumps spread over your skin, which becomes 10 times more sensitive to the tickling of the creatures small legs. If you move it could bite. You don't know if it's a black widow or a cockroach. You freeze and wait.
You walk alone and feel like something isn't right. You hear foot steps behind you but when you look no one is there. As your pace quickens so does your phantoms. Once again, when you look no one is there. You stop, hearing nothing but crickets and your own heart pounding in your chest.
You're babysitting and the power goes out. Something "bumps" upstairs. It's just your imagination right?
Sunday, September 16, 2012
Thoughts Regarding Pain
Sometimes the things we love the most, are the ones that cause us the most pain. Pain is the result of our body and soul telling us when to stop, to slow down, and when to hold on tighter. It tells us when to let go, it tells us when it’s worth it or not. Life and it’s cycles can be pretty random; how we react to the pain determines the kind of person we become. What we do when things get hard, that is what defines us.
Thursday, September 13, 2012
Love: The Disease
I look at you and my heart sets ablaze
It seems like years when its been days
I was wandering and it's been awhile
Since I've seen your lovely smile
Your beautiful eyes look back at me
Your lips they speak, lies and misery
I'm choking and I don't know what to say
I'm in love with this joyful disarray
I'm hopeful and vulnerable at the same time
I'm crushed and wounded but I feel fine
Happy and sad. My heart is aching but I'm glad
Day dreams sublime but at night I don't sleep, it's bad
My conditon is undefined, call it what you will
What I need most seems to be whats killing me
Boiling red shots of emotion are filling me
I can't explain these many things that I feel
It seems like years when its been days
I was wandering and it's been awhile
Since I've seen your lovely smile
Your beautiful eyes look back at me
Your lips they speak, lies and misery
I'm choking and I don't know what to say
I'm in love with this joyful disarray
I'm hopeful and vulnerable at the same time
I'm crushed and wounded but I feel fine
Happy and sad. My heart is aching but I'm glad
Day dreams sublime but at night I don't sleep, it's bad
My conditon is undefined, call it what you will
What I need most seems to be whats killing me
Boiling red shots of emotion are filling me
I can't explain these many things that I feel
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
Day at the Dentist (freewrite)
I have an appointment with the dentist today
I love going in to see him, in almost every way
I open the steel doors to the most glorious scent
The aura of burnt rubber and cool peppermint
In the waiting room I’m watching the game
My heart skips a beat as the call out my name
They sit me down on a nice leather chair
As I lean back and relax, I haven’t a care
Sparkling silver probes tickle my teeth
No cavity or plaque is safe from their reach
Delicious foam sits on my teeth to soak
It’s so tasty I can feel it go down my throat
He is here! 8 years of college, his mind isn’t dull
He can still understand me when my mouth is full
I’ve been brushing everyday, oh how happy I’ll be
When I find out that somehow I have a dang cavity
Friday, September 7, 2012
Animal
Crawling through a jungle of concrete
Custom fit suit, walking on two legs
Shiny leather shoes cover his feet
This animal is human - or so they would say
Head held high he scuffles along the walk
Sign reads "NO JOB, HELP PLEASE"
Greedy eyes see the beggar but still he will not stop
No guilt or remorse just here to survive
Lying, stealing, killing-
It doesn't matter what you do as long as your alive
His words are venom, full of deceit
No claws but he is ready to rip you up
He'll shake your hand when you meet
Inside us all there is a choice
Between good and a hungry beast
Deep within listening to a voice
Where good is greater but chosen least
Being human isn't just being able to think
We are something more than that as a whole
It's more of a feeling than an instinct
That separates us- a human from an animal
Custom fit suit, walking on two legs
Shiny leather shoes cover his feet
This animal is human - or so they would say
Head held high he scuffles along the walk
Sign reads "NO JOB, HELP PLEASE"
Greedy eyes see the beggar but still he will not stop
No guilt or remorse just here to survive
Lying, stealing, killing-
It doesn't matter what you do as long as your alive
His words are venom, full of deceit
No claws but he is ready to rip you up
He'll shake your hand when you meet
Inside us all there is a choice
Between good and a hungry beast
Deep within listening to a voice
Where good is greater but chosen least
Being human isn't just being able to think
We are something more than that as a whole
It's more of a feeling than an instinct
That separates us- a human from an animal
Friday, August 31, 2012
Introduction (First Impressions)
You only get one first impression. If your lucky people will give you another chance. I have nothing to do with my name. (Howard Finklestein) I just want to chance, I want people to read my blog. I love writing. I'm very open to comments and suggestions that will help me get better.
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