In words

Why is it so damn hard for people to be truthful with each other?
our words are weaker than our actions,
it’s written all over our quote books in the ink of our experience
“actions speak louder than words”
“actions speak louder than words”
“actions speak louder than words”
we’ve all seen it, and believe it enough to repeat it.
So logically that should prove how pointless it is to tell a verbal lie.

People tell their story in a thousand ways
Usually whether they want to or not.
it comes through in more than words
because we are creatures of expression
of physical contact,
love,
smiles,
and laughs
We are made of these moments
words are there to simply describe
the passage of these events.
They are there for support, to help explain
What we’ve already told the world.

Please don’t insult me by telling me
Anything less than what your truth already is.
I don’t want empty words.
I play with them all day long
And tire fast of things I know so well
I am a poet, they are my Lincoln Logs
My dangerous toys
that should come with safety warning labels

ATTENTION!!!: People with false tongues do not use with out moral supervision
WARNING: May cause choking of the heart is used improperly
CAUTION: Words may cause harm to unborn love
DO NOT disconnect words from actions, this could lead to serious shock, or burn
*if Words are swallowed without Action, call the Center for Trust Control

Words are toys with the sharpest edge,
And can be made from the cheapest plastic
I remember that my favorite childhood toy was
Also made from cheap plastic
But I loved it the way a child loves unconditionally anything that is truth.

I don’t think we have ever grown out of this
We thirst for what we want to hear
In words,
and cover our eyes to actions
Then speak the mantra
“actions speak louder than words....

....so please SHOUT your WORDS
drown out the vision of your actions for me".

I am sick of plastic toys
I want your words to echo what I see in your eyes.
What you have already told the world.
There right now is a link missing
Between the two
And that,…

That
Is what takes my breath from my chest
And makes you ask me
daily
if I'm ok
as you search for the smiles on my face
that have recently left.

I suppose give out my truth
sometimes
much to easily,
And perhaps I should learn to hold it back
because for me
my words this time
are my actions.
They are together
Connected
I offer you both in unison
All I ask in return is the same respect

To return truth to a friend
When they hand you theirs wrapped in the folds of their heart.

I fall into your words like they are black holes
Because you speak in universes.
Completely lost to why
I’m counting constellations of your actions
connecting them up with your words
and finding only mis-shape’n images
I just want to see
the picture as it really is
Just tell me
What it really is
So I can make the choice
to keep tracing your stars with the tip of my finger
Or to turn away
And find another place to fall.

too much fun

it's ok to come to my page just so's you can play with the mouse.


I do.

Play-dough papers

I have a tendency to speak in code.
I’ll open my mouth to speak
but am really just inviting that person
to tango with me – back and forth –
Why do I say things dancing in circles around what I mean?
It’s not all the time.
...but don’t ask me to speak about my heart
I wonder if it’s that
I don’t want to say anything at all
or that I want to say everything.
I doubt I’ll go for a walk tonight.
the stars are there, I know it
but they’ve decided to shine brighter
in other people’s worlds.
I take no offense
I know they’ll come back for me.
I should probably do something
more productive than write all the time.
Someone suggested I sleep.
it was a sweet gesture,
but I can’t rest my thoughts
until they have worn holes in the rubber sole of my mind
eventually they find their way onto empty pages
and leave the space around my eyelids alone.

I used to draw more
paint my thoughts to rest.
But lately they’ve been in the shape of letters
wearing a costume of words.
I’m not complaining.
I certainly don’t have a lack of things to work on
I have papers to write.
But it’s not the same
– those words are forced
writing those type of papers
reminds me of trying to create a play-dough sculpture
with dried out clay
pushing it though the crank so hard
Only to have it come out in fragments anyhow
So much work for such a pointless ugly end.
Do my professors want to know I’m intelligent
Or that I can crank out dried play-dough?

Stella has enjoyed a nap across my arm for nearly an hour
makes writing a challenge
I think my left pinky finger is loosing circulation.
but she’s happy
so I let her stay.
'I don’t write love poems', but if I did
She’d have one.
I fall in love with animals
in about .2 seconds after meeting them
I think I already miss the raccoon we saw at Stephanie’s backyard
Why do I relate better to animals and children?
Maybe It’s a comment on my intelligence
and my professors are on to something with all
the pointless papers
They could be write.
But I’d rather believe in art,
and creativity
than their version of laced words.
Anyone want to do my papers for me?

I think I should just make a fresh batch of play-dough.
And hope for the best.

The stars, and I

I went for a walk last night
I think I was trying to catch the stars in my mind.
I’ve fallen in love with them
their beauty, and mystery.
same as any love affair,

I miss them when they are gone
wonder every moment

what they’ll look like when I see them again.
How will they show their presence

to the world, - to me?
Do others see them as I do,

and is it possible to be jealous for a star?
I’m not possessive in nature,

it’s just they are my breath
when I find it hard to take in air on my own.
They have kept me from loosing tears
down the curves of my cheeks.
As now I tilt my head and hold back the urge
to let the warm rain fall from my eyes

I know there is nothing to be sad about
And so I smile instead.

I’m so small in an infinite universe
but our love is larger than the entirety of it all:
the stars and I, since I can remember dreaming.

I’ve connected the sparkle of their existence
into my own constellations
My favorite reminds me of a love I once had
but is now replaced with the shape I’ve found

I’ve found a way to draw my thoughts
Onto the night sky
and find solace in the idea that when day comes
my love does not fade,

but is only eclipsed by the suns rays

which I figure -- is really not so terrible.

It’s possible to name every star

with words,
there is no end.
As I shuffled my feet along the bridge

only 2 steps from my house

I looked over the river
and saw only my stars reflected in it’s glass soul.
The river was kind enough

to let me see them in the mirror of it's dance.
My love, the stars.
I haven’t been really lonely since I moved here
I’m convinced it’s because I can see the sky.
In Michigan

you can count your blessings slowly

if you see a star or two between the clouds.
Gray skies overcast love in a way

I could not imagine ever going back to.

It’s impossible to forget how to love
when the stars touch you though a skylight above your bed
Before I sleep I can trace big dipper lines
to the past...

I watch them sparkle

and repeat the scientific explanation

for their beauty over in my head.

In my fathers voice

comes the natural answer to their delicate faces.

giant masses of fire, have become my calm.
They have everything I’d want
And yet nothing I can reach
but I love them non-the less.
They are my true soul mates.

All of them have a piece of my heart,

and they may never even know.
I am tempted to name the brightest

after the people I’ve fallen for
but nothing could do either the stars

or the men the due justice
So I leave it alone
And continue my walk

looking up,

To love

the whole way home.

a week of sunrises

This was the sort of week I wonder if I could re-wind. And if I could play it over would I even change a thing?
I can't wrap my mind completely around each event nor can I see the whole picture.
If I believed there was a master plan, I'd be asking it what the hell it was playing at.
I'm not the type to like to simply go along for the ride.
I'm really more the stick-my-head out-the-window-so-I-can-see-exactly-where-the-road-is-headed type. *even if that means I get slapped in the face with a few branches on the way.
I know sometimes it's best to let things be. Watch them evolve as they go.
But it is a mystery how can I do this when it risks as much as it does this time around.
If I was a risk taker – I think I'd like roller coasters – and sky diving.
I hate them both.
I don't like the feeling of falling.
I suppose that is the whole picture of this week.
I don't like falling.

On Wednesday my world got flipped upside down and I realized I was 5 years old again, sitting by my mothers bedside trying to wake her. Now I'm 3,000 miles away and I still can't wake her. I've wished for super powers before – but most of the wishes were because of her. I would trade my only smile – if I could save her.
It took 12 hours for me to let go. I spent 12 hours in Lee's office – 3 of which were with Carmen mostly in silence. Tears seemed to find pathways down my face faster than I could find my own voice.
Wednesday seems a years away. So far behind me.

Lack of sleep changes the way you see the world. Seeing 6 consecutive sunrises does something to the heart beat.
But it wasn't just a simple lack of sleep. I could have slept more if I chose to. But even after I got home I would sit awake and try to convince myself to breathe, and blink my thoughts away. I could have slept if I wanted to. I could have choosen a differnt road. Wasn't I the one walking down it? Which is worse - wanting to leave? and staying -- or needing to stay -- and going?
I prefer the less complicated.
But I am complication - So it's hard to avoid the end result.
How do you process an emotion you've buried away for 3 years? And if it was buried for 3 years where the hell did it come from? Did someone unlock the casket when I wasn't looking? Who moved the stone?
This could be the worst thing – or one of the best things I could ever imagine.
But I'd have to let go first.
I haven't let go - but it's out there now. I've said too much. - or was it feel too much. The two can be so intertwined.
if I untangle... I'd have to risk falling
And I hate that.
I hate falling.
Why can't I have the super powers my name holds?
Why do people call me wonderwoman if I can't even find the truth in someone's eyes.
Or maybe the problem is I have seen it. And it's everything thats wrong.

Fireworks are terrible pollution anyhow.

So maybe – it's best I just let it all go.