defensive driving

Defensive driving
Is a big pain in the ass
A government scam.

Games

I don't want to play
Anymore games or riddles
I just want the truth.

I carry your heart with me

I carry your heart with me
(I carry it in my heart)
I am never without it
(Anywhere I go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
I fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet)
want no world
(for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;
which grows higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

I carry your heart (I carry it in my heart)

~E.E. Cummings

genuine

And we slip through another pleasure
And it's love and love forever
As long as it is effortless to do.
I told you my heroic tale
To admire or flip through
I said that it was genuine
But I never said it was true.

But I Had to Cut the Rope

The night is strangely quiet
When I cannot hear your voice
But I had to cut the rope
I didn't have a choice.

Perhaps it is unfair of me
To listen to you cry
But I had to cut the rope
I didn't have to tell you why.

Its not because I'm callous
Or selfish or so cruel
But I had to cut the rope
Because you played me like a fool.

I know you didn't mean to
The truth is hard for you to see
But I had to cut the rope
Because we were not meant to be.

I am searching for the answers
In my own familiar game
But I had to cut the rope
You did not feel the same.

Maybe I should have guessed
I likely should have known
But I had to cut the rope
And leave you there alone.

Fig Tree

From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and off beat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out.

I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but chosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as i sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and one by one, they plopped at the ground at my feet.

good night

In a yellow dream
Right behind the big fig tree
Her red hair blazes.

A case of you

Just before our love got lost you said
I am as constant as a northern star
And I said, constantly in the darkness
Where's that at?
If you want me I'll be in the bar

On the back of a carton coaster
In the blue TV screen light
I drew a map of Canada
Oh Canada
With your face sketched on it twice

Oh you're in my blood like holy wine
You taste so bitter and so sweet
Oh I could drink a case of you darling
And I would still be on my feet
Oh I would still be on my feet

Oh I am a lonely painter
I live in a box of paints
I'm frightened by the devil
And I'm drawn to those ones that ain't afraid
I remember that time that you told me, you said
Love is touching souls
Surely you touched mine
Cause part of you pours out of me
In these lines from time to time

Oh you're in my blood like holy wine
You taste so bitter and so sweet
Oh I could drink a case of you darling
Still I'd be on my feet
I would still be on my feet

I met a woman
She had a mouth like yours
She knew your life
She knew your devils and your deeds
And she said
Go to him, stay with him if you can
But be prepared to bleed

Oh but you are in my blood you're my holy wine
You're so bitter, bitter and so sweet
Oh I could drink a case of you darling
Still I'd be on my feet
I would still be on my feet

Night in the City Looks Pretty, Looks Pretty

Off to the land of no horizons
Where some go to follow their dreams
A place of new beginnings
Where all is seldom what it seems.

Off to the land of glittering lights
The city that never sleeps
Chinese takeout, pizza boxes
Line their kitchens in gorgeous heaps.

Off to the place to find myself
Where they only like to walk
A different change of pace from here
A different kind of talk.

What might one find in such a place
So far removed from here?
The mirror shows the same image
But might soon become crystal clear.

People's Parties

All the people at this party
They've got a lot of style
They've got stamps of many countries
They've got passport smiles
Some are friendly
Some are cutting
Some are watching it from the wings
Some are standing in the centre
Giving to get something

Photo Beauty gets attention
Then her eye paint's running down
She's got a rose in her teeth
And a lampshade crown
One minute she's so happy
Then she's crying on someone's knee
Saying laughing and crying
You know it's the same release

I told you when I met you
I was crazy
Cry for us all Beauty
Cry for Eddie in the corner
Thinking he's nobody
And Jack behind his joker
And stone-cold Grace behind her fan
And me in my frightened silence
Thinking I don't understand

I feel like I'm sleeping
Can you wake me
You seem to have a broader sensibility
I'm just living on nerves and feelings
With a weak and a lazy mind
And coming to peoples parties
Fumbling deaf dumb and blind

I wish I had more sense of humor
Keeping the sadness at bay
Throwing the lightness on these things
Laughing it all away

- Joni Mitchell

Invincible running warrior woman

It seems to me that in order to be a truly successful runner, one must be at least a little masochistic. Sure, after x amount of miles, one gets the so called, "runner's high," which doesn't seem to really happen for me that much. Or maybe I'm just not as affected by it. But be that as it may, if the runner's high is merely a means to keep one from being in pain, then I suppose that by about mile 3 of every run, I get the runner's high.

This high cannot be compared to anything that one might get from a mind altering substance mind you. In fact, it kind of sucks by comparison.

However, that being said, I have had long runs and even run races to find that a blister on my heel would have broken open without my noticing. Blisters that pop and start bleeding, pooling in the back of my shoe without me taking any notice at all. Could this be because the runner's high keeps me from feeling pain? You know, honestly, probably not. I feel plenty of pain throughout my runs. Yet, I keep going.

I am stronger than this. I am powerful. I am the invincible gazelle and I can run from the lions forever!

Yes, I think it might be the mental high more than anything else that keeps me going. That feeling of power that one gets after a long run, or that feeling of invincibility that one gets after beating your best time on a short run.

And then there are the days like today, where I meet my goal of 5 miles and feel fine. A relatively simple goal by my normal standards, yet sometimes the humidity and heat of the swamp like climate, which I live gets the best of me. One gets overheated and then she fights the urge to vomit. Ahh, but sometimes puking is the only real way to alleviate that horrible nausea that comes with being overheated or taxing your cardiovascular system anaerobically. For me today, it was horrible yet divine at the same time.

Hell, I got more of a runner's high from vomiting afterward than from the run itself. Yet, I keep going. And going. Maybe it helps to remind me that I'm alive.

" I took a deep breath and listened to the old bray of my heart. I am. I am. I am." ~ Sylvia Plath

Thanks

Hey thanks
For helping me to realize
That what I thought was connection
Were just tales and lies

Like a thief in the night
You stole away my heart
Behind your serpentine smile
You’ve made my longing your art.

So thanks
Because now I know I’m alone
Perhaps this is what you needed most
So your pain could be atoned.

But I am not such a fool
To fall for this silly game
For I can see right through you
And call you by your rightful name

And thanks
I’d rather be alone than pine
For the love that you tease me with,
Which will never, ever be mine.

Old things...

So I came across this book while moving that I started making in 2003, while I was still in art school. It is filled with poetry and drawings, and honestly, I had forgotten that I used to dabble in poetry further than haikus... they're not very good poems, but I still enjoy them. Below are a couple of my favorite excerpts from the book... the first sounds like something Shel Silverstein would have written on a bad day if he waited tables.

Dinner Rush
Salty film, body odor
You leave me with this each time
Tight shoulders, sore feet
Crusted food finger grime.
Each day I see you
A mask is worn to shield me from the truth
That I am only a robotic slave
"Would you like a table or a booth?
How 'bout some ketchup for your fucking fries,
Or maybe extra gravy?"
If the money wasn't so damn good,
This job would drive me crazy.

Feline Friend
You curiously move
Always searching
Continuously finding questions
Come sit by me and relax
You enjoy it most when you're ignored.
When you discover my feelings
Or uncover the answers
The attitude changes and you leave
Little sass.
Faithful friend.
Aloof companion.

Colored Powder
Shiny pieces of powder
Coat her wings like pixie dust
Fluttering arms in thin helium air
Weightless balloon
Effortless flight.
Higher and higher her body soars
By aid of colored powder
Catching Gaia's breath
Air gliding meadow love
Warm sunshine pollinator
Darkness' evil net will snatch her
And clean the dust from her wings
Put her in a jar
Forgetting to poke holes in the lid.
Suffocating freedom
Thick, chocking air.
No way out but to blame herself
Such a stupid butterfly
How long does she have until her sour air
Pollutes her lungs, her mind
Forever?
End it butterfly
So that maybe you'll return as a bumble bee.
Surely next time you will see that ominous net
And escape
From all this that dooms you.

Good day

Ostentatious little one
Who wears the childish grin
I wonder what will happen
If we can begin again

A man when I once met you
Now a little boy
What was I initially
but another shiny new toy?

So full of hope and inspiration
You are now because of me
I have been your back door wife
I have been your giving tree

But what says she now
Oh neglected wife
Does this boy take care of you
Or should a man rule your life?

Find solace sister,
As they're all the same
They know not what they are
Its all one big parlor game.

Where people are puppets
Some like to wear masks
Others void as empty coffins
The machine accomplishes their tasks.

So now my boy-man
What am I to do?
Wait for you to grow into a tree
So that I might stay with you?

Leave me stale no more, boy.
That is not my way
You may meet me in my journey
Or to you I say, "good day."