Sister George

I want to say thank you,
to the ceiling,
to the air.

You've blessed me with so many blessings,
and I've conquered so many fears.

I know that's kind of cryptic.
and if Sister George would lend an ear,

would she stop by to deliver a scolding,
or would her intentions be so pure,

as to pardon my intrusion,
in a world that's solely hers,

and could she see my heart for what it is,
and take away my hurt?

I'm not sure what I am,
or where I am,
or who I've been,

I'm not so sure of what I stand for,
and I'm at the mercy of the earth.

We've not met before,
but I hear your just down stairs.

I'm no afraid of you,
and I hope you're not afraid of dares.

I dare you to find me,
make me believe that magic's there.

And if it is,
with all my might,

your finger trailing down my spine's
made me a believer tonight.

resounding

I've awoken to play you a song in my sleep.

Jagged and fluid,
the melody keeps,

memories and lyrics
and fanciful dreams.

I'll play you a ditty that reminds you of me.

The rhythm is perfect,
and timing is key,
my mind is pure madness
still peaceful, it dreams.

Not of colors or stories,
no images seen,
only shadows and tidbits
of pieces of me.

Mysteries and Monsters Revisited

Is the threat that real?
Lady Mary Ellen makes an appeal.
For she had invested in,
the heart of a man drenched in sin.

His selfish gain he sought,
and so he lied.
Because her money was,
where his heart was tied.

And then one day,
she found his box of charades.
So she served him up,
papers to break their chains.

Now her castle lies,
in the hands of her kin.
And nothing more was heard,
from the man of sin.

questions to answer

When we think about our lives from the perspective of another,
what conclusions do we draw about our character?

Are we happy or surly?
Confident or submissive?
Ambitious or lazy?
Reliable or flakey?

Let's just think for a moment,
about how strange it is to examine ourselves through another perspective.

We know who we are.
Or maybe we don't.
And does either matter?

Are our lives predetermined?
Or are we writing our own history and legacy as we go along?

When we reach the last few moments of our lives,
how would we feel about the life we are currently living?

Would we feel fulfilled?
Would we have regerets?
Would we feel like we need more time?
Are we content with the life we've lived?
How do we want to be remembered?
And on that same note,
will we be remembered?

Everything and everyone that touches our lives,
shapes us into the person that we have become.

How do we want our legacy to shape the world we will leave behind?

2-4-15 12:19am

A stiff breeze takes up its practice,
and with their heads held high,
they begin to take their leave from solid earth.

Unsure of where they were supposed to haunt,
spectral wanderings,
become lucid,
crystalized,
in ancient dirt.

--------

Bouyant specs of silence
rest on horizon,
and Little Eva beats a course for home.

Just 5 miles due south of the harbor,
a hurricane changes path
to flex its muscles on her hull.

Mother nature reclaims every soul.

just a couple questions

Do you believe in God?
I dont know. I believe is some guiding force or power.  And whether its a power outside of myself, my belief in a power outside of myself, or my own willpower disguised as an exterior force that some people would call God.  I tend to call it the Fate Monster.  I don't know why, but that's just what resonates with me.
I believe the idea of a god is good for people and humanity.  It instills a sense of morality through the classic "big brother is watching you" idea.  So I think belief in a god can have a very positive effect on humanity. But I also believe that the idea of a god can harm man and humanity when we start arguing about who has the better god.

Do you believe in miracles?
Yes, I believe miracles happen every day. I believe that if one truely believes, with every fiber of their being, that a miracle will pull them through a difficult time, it has potential to become true.  I do have a tendency to believe that most miracles, like terminal cancer that seems to magically disassapear, are a result of some chemical interactions or processes that the human brain has power to control.  I do think that our brains have the power to heal our bodies.  But with that premise, if a person believes strongly enough, that God or another spiritual being will miraculously cure their illness and their cancer does seem to miraculously disappear, well then, I don't see any reason to disaggre with the argument that a miracle has manifested itself through that person's profound belief in God or their higher power.  But when you think about it, isnt one's belief in God or a higher power controled by the brain?

I also think that it's important to recognize that medical miracles are just a small portion of the thousands of miracles that occur each day.   We call positive events that unfold with no logical explanation or against overwhelming odds, "miracles". Following this popular definition, miracles can potentially manifest themselves through anything, not just God.

moths

She has this vulnerability about her.
It draws people in.
Not because they want to take advantage of it.
But because they want to be touched by it.

Such a raw,
spiritual being.
She reminds one of the fragility of the human condition.
And we are drawn to people like her,
like a moth to a flame.

We know she may turn on us if we do her wrong.
So we must do her right,
and keep our hands strong.

One can't help but be drawn to trust her,
to love her.

Her purity makes us weak in the knees,
and her sadness makes us angry with rage.

Ready to love,
ready to fight,
ready to take her hand
and walk by her side,
in the darkest of times.

Lady Purple's Magic Kiss

She came to me last night,
with belladonna on her lips.

She said, I know that we're over,
but can you spare just one last kiss?

I know you can't remember,
but it's been a tough December.

And now it's time to clear my head,
but I can't move on until you're dead.

do not disturb

I'm sorry grim reaper.
You're going to have to come back later.

I'm writing letters to loved ones,
and it can't wait till later.

And I'm writing down vows,
to save my soul from myself.

Because as it stands now,
I'm riding first class,
on a train straight to Hell.

And it may be too late,
but can you blame me for trying?

I have too many words,
and no spare time left for dying.

paper wall

That blank page can become anything.

The first stroke decides what it is.

There's something so daunting about the power of this stroke.

But once the tip of your brush,
hits the grooves of your paper,
exhilaration takes hold as imaginations unfold

gates

Have you seen this girl?

She's all dressed up in lace,
with a faded smile painted onto her face.

How I'd live to miss her,
to love her,
to kiss her.

Sipping serotonin,
cause she's already high,
she signs her name on God's arm,
to let him know she's stopping by.

She chants to the world,
"Spread your wings!"
"You can fly!"
"Your being is still young!"
"Follow me!"
"To the sky!"

There's a Ring

There's a ring.

There's always a ring.

And as all tall tales go,
this wasn't just an ordinary ring.

It was a special ring,
just as all stories about rings are.

For when the bearer places the ring on his finger,
his veins turn to silver,
and his eyes turn to gold.

carols

on Comet, on Blitzen
on Donner, on Cupid

I can't seem to get these damn reindeers straight

I'm down and I'm broken
or I am half listening

cause chemicals play with the thoughts in my brain

hooked

ships of rocks
and rocks of ships

the gold in my hand's
has been mistaken for sex

can she feel it now in the palm of her hand?
lust becomes dust in Neverland

i'll tell you a story dear listener, now
all about a boy strung out

drunk on lust he'd mistaken for love
ashamed of the way his life turned out

so he spends his dark hours
toasting to meteor showers

blowing kisses of wishes
to keep the demons at bay

seeking salvation for the life that he leads
he bleeds music and lyrics so he can be saved