my silent friend

your pages are all full,
and yet pictures still fill my head
pictures that you would enjoy
and protect.

i've never bonded to an object
quite like this before.

this is my story.
and my story goes on,
our story goes on.

it will take many more pages
in many more books
before my story is ended.

my story
is a poem
about the stars falling
as i hold your hand
in the cool grass
the place i go back to
the place where
my life changed

without me even realizing it.

my story
is staying up
long after everyone is sleeping
battling myself
over too many thoughts in my head.

my story
is chaos
and simplicity.

and scary decisions
and childish goals

it is short-term sights
on long-term goals

it is you and me
and feeling time rush past us
as the world stands still.
caught in a place of our own.


all these words i would write... and now it is time for something i have never done before, now you stand open beside me.  i'm scared, but confident.
so tonight, i will spend one more night with all your secrets to myself.

and tomorrow is a new day,
but thank you for all the nights.
my leatherbound.

Sometimes words is all we have.

Dark clouds,
grey days,
I look up
and the rain comes down.

I cry,
we hope,
we hold
onto each other.

No words,
no actions,
no where to go,
that doesn't remind me of you.

Dark clouds,
grey days,
the rain comes down,
always falling.

It feels like I'm
always falling.

The days
pass by,
in a haze.

People come,
and go,
and whisper to each other.

They wonder
what to do.
I wonder
what to do.

And the rain still falls,
I feel I'll never see
the sun again.

Never feel it's rays,
never see your smile.

Even though
I know,
the sun will come back out,
and I will smile again.

Even with the dark clouds,
and the grey days,
and the rain that
washes away my tears.




   My heart is with you, my dear friend in this dark time.  You are an amazingly strong person and you have everyone behind you, supporting you.  Always know that you are never alone.  You have touched so many people's lives and we are all here for you, no matter where you are.
   All my love.

Written in the Sand (circa 2009)

There is a line,

A line no one is supposed to cross. That’s the way it is, that’s the way it has always been. But I have crossed the line; I looked at the small town fading away into the background in my review mirror and gunned my engine.

My getaway car was a ’69 white Chevy pick-up truck, the paint was peeling and the gas pedal stuck, but it took gas and went moderately fast… it went fast enough to get me out of this forsaken hole of a town.

Away from the family owned grocery store, away from the bait shop, away from the school and everyone I’ve known for my entire life. Away from everyone that knows my whole life.

I only stopped for gas, I wasn’t hungry and there was no one to force me to eat. The highway stretched before me.

Night. I was one of the few cars still driving, even the truckers had stopped for the night. But I wasn’t tired, and I still wasn’t far enough away from that town.

The highway stretched before me in a vast, empty plain. The stars shone above, and the moon kept me company as I drove.

Maybe I was being unfair; maybe I should give that rotten hole another—

What am I saying?!? I’ve given that place enough of my life.

I drove.

And drove.

And drove.

And drove.

I sang along with the radio, got some more gas and drank 5 cups of coffee, black.

The sun rose in a pale pink and golden cloud. Mist covered lakes and the world was waking up.

I drove without a thought.

Without a worry or a care in the world, except where the next gas station was. The highway was home to me, where I belonged.

I reached the ocean some time the next evening. The waves were crashing onto the shore. It was rhythmic and soothing, like driving on the highway. I parked my truck and got out of the cab. It felt good to stretch my legs.

I slipped off my shoes and buried my feet in the warm sand. It was quiet, only the waves and the distant yells of a neighboring beach. I crossed the sand and went right up to the tide line and watched the wave’s crash onto the shore. The foamy water splashed my toes, and buried my feet in the cool, wet sand.

I freed myself form the sand and bent down.

I wrote the familiar letters into the cool wet sand, I wrote the name of the stupid town.

I formed the letters quickly, and neatly.

The next wave came,

And the word washed away.

And all that was left was the smooth brown sand.

And there was nothing left of the chains that held me.

A mind in motion.

   Getting healthy is not an exercise DVD, is not made in the kitchen, or even found outside running.  Getting healthy is a complete lifestyle change, 
and a commitment to that change.
   It means eating food that is good for you (even if it tastes horrible) and ignoring the cravings for the food that is bad for you (no matter how good it tastes).  It means doing doing your exercise everyday, even if you're tired or had a bad day.  It means explaining why you can only drink water (or milk) while everyone is having beer and margaritas.
    Getting healthy means you will have your bad days where you eat whatever you want and don't workout- just because.  We're human, it happens.
Just make sure you get yourself back up.

   Getting healthy has to be self-motivated.  If there is no burning drive inside of you there will always be an excuse for why you didn't start today.
   And when you look in the mirror, don't be disappointed if your 6-pack abs didn't grow overnight.  Instead track your progress mentally; push a little harder, go a little longer, run a little bit faster.
  Days, weeks, months will pass and every drop of sweat rolling off you is another measure of your success.  Until one day someone says to you,
         "You look so toned, are you losing weight?"
   Let that pride fill you and fuel you for the next day.  Let there be unabashed happiness in your response of "Yes I am."

   Now, I'm no fitness guru.  And I don't always eat the right food or give my body the right things it needs.  I am just one person, on a journey to a healthier me.  A me who isn't self-conscious or ashamed of their body.
   I look to the people around me for motivation and support, and I am lucky enough to receive both in abundance from both family and friends.
   I am a writer, and I want to give my story the best ending I could.  When I made the decision to get healthy I was not overweight, I don't have high cholesterol, I've never even broken a bone (my biggest health problem is my "asthma").  That's why I say I'm getting healthy instead of losing weight (that's just an added bonus).
   I was simply tired of looking at myself in the mirror and knowing that I was wasting this amazing thing called my body.  I needed a challenge.

And this is it.

   I invite you to take this journey, however and for whatever reasons, to a better you.  But it needs to come from within.  You have to want it more than anything you've wanted before.
 
And when you're ready to take that journey,
my voice will always be there,
cheering you on.

i only speak the truth... if you only listen to the truth i speak

Life Happens (circa 2009)

life happens somewhere between the beginning and the end of a book. between two pieces of cardboard there is happiness and pain.  There are first kisses and goodbyes.  There are hard decisions and easy choices.  There are coffee shops and libraries, five star dinners and evening gowns.  life happens somewhere between his smile and used notebook paper.  between holding hands and driving nowhere.  life is an adventure to be enjoyed.  limits pushed and new ideas formed. life is singing while crying all the way home.  life is feeling your heart torn in in two different directions.  life is the song on the radio and his arms wrapped around you.  life happens between sunrise and sunset.  life happens behind closed doors and arguments that last for days.

 I've always loved the feel of used notebook paper and worn leather, an antique book and the connection i have with horses.  i love poetry and reading.  I love a warm blanket and a good story.  I love getting dressed up and knowing he can't take his eyes off me.  I love my cowboy boots and the whinny that greets me when I'm late feeding.  I love his smile and the way I'm not afraid to be myself.

Life happens somewhere between once upon a time and the end.  life happens through pain and after suffering.  life goes on, move past the events you cannot change- do not let them define you, rather let them teach you.  learn from every fall.  teach from example.
people are mirrors of yourself, how do you look?

life happens between hello and goodbye, between childish mistakes and adult decisions.  life happens in every breath.  life happens between the beginning and the end.  life is what you choose to show the world.

life happens.

The best part.

He says that he loves me
and I've even said those words back.
Even though neither of us knows
what love is.
But I think I'm getting the hang of it.

Love is understanding,
even when it's hard.
Smiling at the bad days,
and a hug at that lowest point.

Love is saying
what no one else will.
Love is not giving up on a dream,
instead it is ordering two tickets instead of one.

Love is being a half a world away,
and yet still feeling them
beside you.

The greatest thing about love though,
is that you never get tired of
falling in love with them.

So there's this boy,
and we're both young,
and have the entire world
   in front of us.

And we have love.
                         Always love.


Which is the best part.

this city

I don't even mind the clouds and drizzle
the people bundled up in their coats,
the push and pull of the river of cars.

I'm in love with the way the roads twist
and mingle with each other.
They dip, coil, and turn themselves around
over the river, under the river,
enjoying the grass under the sun's brief rays.

I don't mind the silence between strangers
the silent agreement among the crowd
to not say a word.

I'm in love with the way the city opens itself,
once you hit it with a hammer.
The corner pubs filled to the brim,
and filling to the brim,
and explodes out of its seam with creativity.


I don't mind the drizzle,
or the silence,
or the way everyone is allowed to be
exactly who they want to be.

Mister Radio Man

Hey there Mister Radio Man, can I tell you a secret?
Will you play this love song on your radio show?
He'll tell it's for him,
by just the words that I've wrote.
Mister Radio Man, I've never felt like this before.

And I'm dancing to songs

I've never listened to before.

And I'm singing like a fool,

running through the rain.

Mister Radio Man, can I tell you this story?

It'll only take a moment,

but I gotta feeling that this feeling is gonna stay.

Hey there Mister Radio Man, can I tell you a secret?

The way he smiles

I just gotta know,

Mister Radio Man, will you tell me if he calls?

I've gotta leave his arms,

but tell him I'll be back.

Hey there Mister Radio Man,

I just gotta tell the whole world,

that this boy makes me happy.

Mister Radio Man, will you let me do that

on your radio show?

Deming 313

the pictures are off the door
the desk is cleared of the abandoned paperclips, sticky notes, and bobby pins
the closet is empty
the boxes and bags strain at their seams.

I look at the room
that has been my home
for the past two years.

I have met my best friend,
cried myself to sleep,
sat at my desk for endless hours,
and laughed until I had to run to the bathroom.

I have made tough decisions,
easy choices,
and hid in my closet when I couldn't decide which was which.

I have stumbled into,
and out, of bed
and curled up on the floor when the bed
was just too far away.

I have talked
and listened
and I have done my best to understand.

I won't necessarily miss the 3 flights of stairs,
--and I know Dad won't miss moving me in and out--
walking down the hallway,
waving to the camera that has been the witness
to many a strange event.

I knew it was a good sign
that I got my lucky number my freshman year.

But this room is more than
what it appears to be,

and I will miss it like an old friend.

strong.

Sometimes you have to be strong,
when in reality
you're just scared.
And you use your strength
to hide the pain
from everyone around you
with "No I'm fine."
and "I'm just tired."

And you are the only one
that knows
how much of a lie
those words are.

little black words

A little black book
filled with words.

A little blue book
filled with ideas.

A mind,
a pen,
ink stained fingers.

Too many late nights
to the sound of pages turning.

But they're all just words,
words on a page,
and the ideas are just that.

And there are times
when nothing else
will ever make sense.

Cling to the words,
because that's all
there will ever be.

What I Found.

I cheated on you,
just to see if I could.
And I found something,
I could.

I found
no regret
and adventure.

Everyone treated me the same,
because no body knew.
It was my grandest creation,
this secret life I had.

I found my desperation
to be loved
in someone else.

And we reached
a sort of understanding
deep within each other.

We touched,
in a way we never had before
with anyone else.

Because we both knew
that to love each other,
to stay with each other,
would be too much for the both of us.

And so we would remain
how we always were,
holding each other's love
in our hearts,
like a candle lit briefly
but blown out by the wind around us.





   A short note on this poem: I have never cheated on anyone I have been with.  However, through different character creations I came up with this girl.  She could be anyone, male or female, at any point time. I love the dynamics of human choices and despite my personal objections, this is one of my favorite poems.  Simply because it is innocent and honest and can be read a thousand different ways.  I hope you enjoy and understand why this was written.
   (I usually don't explain my work, but I feel this piece needed to be explained.)

What my Brain looks like.....

Doodles I did during class and a meeting.... (sorry they be backwards)

Frederic

The beginning of a character introduction for Frederic (the title character for my newest story).  I'm currently working on Rasha's journey to Frederic, but I wanted to get down some ideas for his introduction.  This is still a very rough sketch for him, and most of it inspired by one of the horses I work with at school.

   The horse was fire in the flesh.  His coat soaked in the sunlight and it rippled over his muscles like silk.  He tossed his mane proudly, flattened his ears and charged her.
   Rasha rolled out of the pen and watched between the planks of wood as the horse tossed his head and ran around the ring.  He was full of spirit and was by far the most gorgeous horse she had ever seen in her entire life.
   She smiled and climbed back through the planks of wood.  The horse watched her from the other side of the ring, his ears still flat against his head in anger.
   "You're not as tough as you think you are," Rasha told him.  The horse's ears snapped forward and he looked at her.  She laughed, "Yeah, that's what I thought."  She took the rope from her belt and let it run through her fingers, smoothly looping it into a neat coil in her left hand.  "Come here beautiful."
   She could feel the eyes of all the hostlers on her, but she kept her eyes on the horse, looking away whenever they made eye contact.  Rasha moved towards him, keeping on her toes and watching every muscle, trying to predict what his next would be.
   The horse charged, his ears flattened again.  Rasha threw the rope over his ears and looped it over his nose.  The horse stopped in his tracks and turned to charge her again.  But Rasha grabbed the rope over his face and twisted it.  He stopped.
   Keeping one hand on the rope around his face, she threw the free end over his neck and tied it under his chin.  She pushed away hid open mouth and jumped lightly onto his back.  He leapt forward, Rasha kept her hands firm and her legs light on his body and soon he had calmed.  She turned him to the gate, "Open it," she told the man standing there.  His trot was swift and smooth out of the city and as soon as they were in the open fields Rasha released her hold on him and they set upon the land, racing the wind.