tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-231186702024-03-14T00:47:45.498-05:00Vulneratus Non Victusam Ende bin ich nur ich selbstUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger41125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23118670.post-87597635559390389492013-03-25T20:20:00.001-05:002013-03-25T20:23:51.850-05:00circus most days <br />
I am not sure what I'm doing <br />
flying or falling<br />
how quickly feelings change<br />
when you once again<br />
remember the tug of gravity <br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-GQXlZ4hFiLg/UVD33mgUN_I/AAAAAAAAATo/lruwgtUOiZY/s640/blogger-image--942820479.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-GQXlZ4hFiLg/UVD33mgUN_I/AAAAAAAAATo/lruwgtUOiZY/s640/blogger-image--942820479.jpg" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23118670.post-9779127303295636052013-03-13T20:29:00.003-05:002013-03-13T20:29:40.297-05:00regretoften<br />
I have regretted<br />
things I've said and<br />
the bitter taste they've left in me<br />
and the damage<br />
they have done to others.<br />
I have never regretted<br />
holding back<br />
words, or words about feelings<br />
even though I'm told<br />
it's best to tell people<br />
how you see things.<br />
even faced with loss<br />
I have not regretted the unsaid<br />
because those who go before us<br />
already know by then<br />
but something said in haste<br />
cannot be taken back.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23118670.post-6351940041528737572013-03-10T09:29:00.001-05:002013-03-10T09:29:52.225-05:00suchenbeyond my need to control<br />
lies the apathy<br />
I can't pull myself from the sheets<br />
<br />
there are days I give up<br />
give into the loneliness<br />
let it wash over me<br />
until I am drenched in paralysis<br />
<br />
as it dries<br />
eventually<br />
I can find the strength<br />
to sit up<br />
stand<br />
make the bed<br />
and keep searching for my place in the worldUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23118670.post-60443520591075855782013-03-07T20:11:00.002-05:002013-03-07T20:11:05.933-05:00she
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
somewhere inside</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
past the numbing of the anger</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
she wonders how much she’ll have to give up</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
to find herself in all the chaos</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
loveless lovers circle the past</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and the communion she now shares</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
was bought with the </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
death of another</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
she’s not foolish, she’s not ugly</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
wonder what she sees behind the glass</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
she is so much deeper than</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
she seems to know</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
flying high one day</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
he aches in her bones the next</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
my hand never reaches quite far enough</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
to pull her from the past</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
she’s not dragging herself out</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
just waiting for another knight</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
to give her the safety</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
she can’t give herself</div>
<!--EndFragment-->Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23118670.post-60351349665259270502013-02-03T11:02:00.005-05:002013-02-03T11:02:13.029-05:00gilded cage
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<!--StartFragment-->
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
in your arms</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
are security without peace</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
love without trust</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
an extraordinary life</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
in a gilded cage</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I could never say yes</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
still, somehow held on</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
to the idea that it could change</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I could be myself</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
pressing coffee in the morning</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
to your sweet smile</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
rather than watching your regimen</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
of medications</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and moody judgment</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I couldn’t hold us both up</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
forever</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I could never say yes</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
to living in that kind of bondage</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
tied to your self-pity and power</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
as I struggled to tread lightly</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
remain unbruised</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
unnoticed</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
your chain of indifference around my wrists, my neck</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
except when I could turn your disposition</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
to something that more resembled</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
the extraordinary life</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
that held us together</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
the vision of something better</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
that we could never attain</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23118670.post-35723081419185330352012-11-24T05:41:00.001-05:002013-03-11T19:35:56.017-05:00warteninterminable wait<br />
I think of the way you feel around mean<br />
and beside me<br />
and in me<br />
I have waited this long;<br />
why are the last days so much more<br />
unbearable in your absence?<br />
<br />
this is tearing me inside <br />
to live this life of longing<br />
confusion for what I want<br />
and what you are willing to give<br />
I don't even recognize myself <br />
in some of my choices <br />
not knowing if I can ever love <br />
and also be true to myself <br />
<br />
but when I see you<br />
these questions will fade<br />
all I will feel is your presence<br />
and my quickening heartbeat<br />
you will look at me with those eyes<br />
a mile deep<br />
I will melt into the moment<br />
forget where my skin ends<br />
and yours begins<br />
it can't come soon enough <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23118670.post-46335422932377130342012-11-20T18:38:00.000-05:002013-03-11T19:46:01.764-05:00chill<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Os6OYiODmns/UKwTOLbvisI/AAAAAAAAAOc/kjZzwby8Zv8/s1600/Elizabeth_MM1079_20121118_017_Cville_BW727.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Os6OYiODmns/UKwTOLbvisI/AAAAAAAAAOc/kjZzwby8Zv8/s320/Elizabeth_MM1079_20121118_017_Cville_BW727.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
there are moments you experience<br />
and know you will remember for many years<br />
I close my eyes and see the streaks<br />
of clouds across the sky as it lightened to dawn<br />
I will forget<br />
the cold feet, the cold fingers, the icy bum, and the way my goosebumps were unavoidable,<br />
but not the sky as it turned to daylight.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23118670.post-15258846689301730542012-11-19T21:09:00.002-05:002012-11-19T21:09:41.863-05:00so many of meI play many roles. I have many parts, many labels, many sides. Most people see only one or two. I am outgoing and friendly. I am a curmudgeon. I am exhausted but hyper. I am soft spoken. I am a good listener. I can't shut up to give you a word edgewise. I am professional. I drink at some shoots. I take photos in traffic. I hate when people don't pay attention at the wheel.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xZSyu-sLGBQ/UKrlDuBrC4I/AAAAAAAAAOA/2f1wPunZNYc/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xZSyu-sLGBQ/UKrlDuBrC4I/AAAAAAAAAOA/2f1wPunZNYc/s320/photo.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
We are all so many people. It is impossible to know someone completely. When you aren't around, they are different, even in some small way, no matter how well you know them. It is what makes us ourselves. When you accept the "whole package" of another person, you also accept those parts you'll never see - and you promise to be okay with that, not to push and pull and starve someone out until they are malleable to your wishes. It is okay to be yourself; imperfections are loveable, too, and definitely don't preclude you from a life of love and joy. It is okay to share how you feel, with respect, and not feel the need to submerge your true self beneath the surface of the "you" that someone else knows.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-T3q4HIskZIY/UKrmM24WBSI/AAAAAAAAAOI/NZPC5dknLbQ/s1600/photo-2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-T3q4HIskZIY/UKrmM24WBSI/AAAAAAAAAOI/NZPC5dknLbQ/s320/photo-2.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
We are all strong, and we are all weak. It's the self-awareness of the gray between these poles that draws me into you. I play so many parts, I can't help but being a little bit of all of these people inside me. No, I'm not crazy.<br />
<br />
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23118670.post-26785724040356071642012-11-16T19:09:00.001-05:002012-11-16T19:09:46.606-05:00Cityskyline crowds the dark<br />
watch sunset waver to dusk<br />
another day goneUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23118670.post-56706958418100776762012-10-27T18:37:00.002-05:002013-03-11T19:37:08.664-05:00Gone<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Parts of the year have disappeared. I don't know where they went. Between sickness and struggle, I lost a lot of time.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cati0hcGPMU/UIxtFHaDqhI/AAAAAAAAAAc/3MXIqz9tRcM/s1600/Elizabeth+In+Red+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; color: #2288bb; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cati0hcGPMU/UIxtFHaDqhI/AAAAAAAAAAc/3MXIqz9tRcM/s320/Elizabeth+In+Red+2.jpg" style="-webkit-box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0976563) 1px 1px 5px; background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-color: rgb(238, 238, 238); border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-color: initial; border-left-color: rgb(238, 238, 238); border-left-style: solid; border-left-width: 1px; border-right-color: rgb(238, 238, 238); border-right-style: solid; border-right-width: 1px; border-top-color: rgb(238, 238, 238); border-top-style: solid; border-top-width: 1px; border-width: initial; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0976563) 1px 1px 5px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 5px; padding-top: 5px; position: relative;" width="318" /></a></div>
It's like a time lapse exposure. The parts that resonate were painted in with a low-grade flashlight. The rest faded to black. Hard to watch another year wrap about without feeling a strange nostalgia.<br />
<br />
Photo: OttoFocus</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23118670.post-32524412655010588072012-10-25T16:34:00.000-05:002012-10-27T18:36:45.751-05:00Leaving<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
amidst the scattered remnants </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
of the life I left</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I recall seeing the clothes strewn on the floor</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
the occasional cigarette in the ashtray</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
half-drunk glasses of water on the sill</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
there so long that a film of dust covered the surface.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I recall the dim lights we supplemented with enough candles</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
to burn the building down, the romantic embraces and </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
the way you’d pull me in close as I stirred dinner</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and, the large words you scrawled over thin paper</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
we lived on each other</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
ate the sweetness as well as poison</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
we each had to offer</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
my tongue filled your mouth each night</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and I would wake up hours later</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
to find you slumped over the chair</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
more words pouring forth on paper</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
you grounded me</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and while so different from the others I’d known</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I found myself imitating you, as is my way,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
admiring you</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
wanting to be like you,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
so possessed by your passion for the storm inside</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
that it overwhelmed your life</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I wanted to know what it felt like to be driven</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and consumed by one’s work and thoughts</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
so that the rest of life, so often exploited to be important,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
would become meaningless</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
the laundry was never folded</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and I began to wash the sheets every week</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
knowing you would not</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
the dishes rotted until I rolled up my sleeves</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and I pulled matted hair </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
from the drains of the small bathroom with the cracked sky-blue
tiles</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
the ugly side of love disenchanted me</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and no crushing wave of memory,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
of the beginning,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
could dredge up those first miraculous months of lust</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
our bodies entwined still</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
but my mind wandered to other cities and the life I might
have</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
if I left you</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I had not become you</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
the chameleon changed its look and ways</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
but could never truly transform</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I could not embrace the recklessness and fever of your
passion</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and my attempts would keep me awake at night</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
cold sweat on my back</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and racing thoughts that I, yet again, was wasting this life</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I could admire, yet never achieve</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was not like you</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I packed a small bag</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
the bra that had hung on the armrest of the sofa for three
months</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
finally pressed my flesh again</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and I roughly pushed my own scattered thoughts into a pocket</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
they were written rudely on recycled postage paper,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
thoughts I could never have shared in the shadow of your
brilliance</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I made the bed one last time as you slept defenselessly on
the sofa,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
head back and legs apart</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I looked at you and knew I didn’t love you</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
not for your plain humanity</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
or the fact that sometimes you don’t shower enough</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
no, I did not love you</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
because when I did</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I loved what I saw in you</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
that I was really searching for</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
within myself</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<!--EndFragment--></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23118670.post-57356887861495141742012-10-22T16:15:00.000-05:002013-03-11T19:37:47.452-05:00New and Old<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9kTQXuFeZtM/UIXS7W511CI/AAAAAAAAAAM/5Vz7pbgalME/s1600/photo+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="color: #2288bb; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9kTQXuFeZtM/UIXS7W511CI/AAAAAAAAAAM/5Vz7pbgalME/s320/photo+1.JPG" style="-webkit-box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0976563) 1px 1px 5px; background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-color: rgb(238, 238, 238); border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-color: initial; border-left-color: rgb(238, 238, 238); border-left-style: solid; border-left-width: 1px; border-right-color: rgb(238, 238, 238); border-right-style: solid; border-right-width: 1px; border-top-color: rgb(238, 238, 238); border-top-style: solid; border-top-width: 1px; border-width: initial; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0976563) 1px 1px 5px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 5px; padding-top: 5px; position: relative;" width="213" /></a></div>
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copyright Kris Rodammer<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23118670.post-1699406537377927392012-02-22T18:28:00.001-05:002013-03-11T19:33:49.441-05:00bootsSometimes I'm serious. Sometimes I'm not. Sometimes I play nice. But really, how often is that? <br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-R4HXKfdm_2o/T0V4sZtJV_I/AAAAAAAAANw/XN5tj4DJ_xk/s1600/_MG_9684.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-R4HXKfdm_2o/T0V4sZtJV_I/AAAAAAAAANw/XN5tj4DJ_xk/s320/_MG_9684.jpg" width="214" /></a></div>
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\Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23118670.post-60954365850806371482012-02-15T18:46:00.004-05:002012-10-27T18:31:44.579-05:00beachedthese ideas rise up<br />
swell and break on this narrow strip I’ve claimed<br />
unable to discern between the <br />
natural course<br />
and the rage of the water<br />
I’ve been pacing the sand<br />
waiting for a grander thought <br />
to crush me with its weight<br />
wash away the rest of the unscheduled chaos<br />
that won’t flicker out<br />
when the sun goes downUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23118670.post-8389104866658296582012-02-11T08:26:00.001-05:002013-03-11T19:47:14.938-05:00who's that girl<br />
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© Chip BulginUnknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23118670.post-76539062106001105042012-02-09T20:45:00.001-05:002012-10-27T18:31:44.581-05:00wohinIt is hard not to wonder where this is all leading.<br />
<br />
All of the choices that have shaped my life, the people I've met, those I've let go and why, the places I've seen... all of these things alone are anticlimactic, and I feel hollow when I look at the individual parts.<br />
<br />
Where is this going? My path has never been straight. I've never been inspired to walk toward one goal, solve one problem, or achieve a particular standing. I can only surmise this is the foundation of this aimless wandering.<br />
<br />
I know I will never wake up and say, "I've arrived." I will never be there. But only recently have I woken up, just a few mornings, and been completely at peace with the state of my life, and more importantly the exact moment I lived. Why has it taken me so long to be present?<br />
<br />
Is this how is feels to wake up and feel like "I've arrived?"Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23118670.post-85916621274870209252012-02-05T22:25:00.004-05:002013-03-11T19:38:47.289-05:00move onAnother day, another city.<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KzWI4XBD66A/Ty9JCGrpHBI/AAAAAAAAAME/nZhOdXGLkEw/s1600/RestrainA.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5705859553403935762" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KzWI4XBD66A/Ty9JCGrpHBI/AAAAAAAAAME/nZhOdXGLkEw/s320/RestrainA.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 320px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 244px;" /></a><br />
<br />
© Otto FocusUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23118670.post-73563773496270239662012-01-31T21:14:00.002-05:002013-03-11T19:47:55.506-05:00moody<br />
<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OEGgcZTysCk/TyijO4g3gqI/AAAAAAAAAL4/0kmvTPd-odc/s1600/Elisabeth_9730.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5703988404148470434" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OEGgcZTysCk/TyijO4g3gqI/AAAAAAAAAL4/0kmvTPd-odc/s320/Elisabeth_9730.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 213px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a><br />
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© Kris RodammerUnknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23118670.post-31706593659352317142012-01-30T17:48:00.002-05:002013-03-11T19:50:26.182-05:00envy<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1OtJBhxIxKY/TycegCcfPAI/AAAAAAAAALs/QpRVGVf6d60/s1600/photo.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5703560988849028098" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1OtJBhxIxKY/TycegCcfPAI/AAAAAAAAALs/QpRVGVf6d60/s320/photo.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 320px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 238px;" /></a><br />
copyright Chip Bulgin 2011<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
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<i>envy is that bony creature</i><br />
<i>so malnourished and malicious</i><br />
<i>she might blow away in the wind</i><br />
<i>like thin bodies</i><br />
<i>tangled together</i><br />
<i>but to weak</i><br />
<i>to unknot themselves</i><br />
<br />
<i>2000</i><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23118670.post-87727423446993590772012-01-25T21:26:00.004-05:002012-10-27T18:32:32.557-05:00defensesit on the bench<br />
waiting for the fight to come my way<br />
reason soothes my nerves<br />
but I am always defensive<br />
always have to explain my life and choices<br />
or at least my loyalty to them<br />
<br />
wait a moment<br />
what is my obligation to make others understand<br />
where do I fit into this picture<br />
that they have framed<br />
it should be mine<br />
that I concern myself with<br />
not the offense of another<br />
not waiting for the attack<br />
already long goneUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23118670.post-49122757997188102322012-01-24T21:09:00.004-05:002012-10-27T18:32:32.545-05:00drive on<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aZlxXHt2vc4/Tx9mA2FSOWI/AAAAAAAAALg/wejowr5hvUU/s1600/E4%2Bcopy.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 308px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aZlxXHt2vc4/Tx9mA2FSOWI/AAAAAAAAALg/wejowr5hvUU/s320/E4%2Bcopy.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5701387817978050914" /></a><br />
<br />
© S Billups<br />
<br />
<br />
this road is engulfed in mist<br />
so dense I may have to pull over for a while<br />
face the fear of defenselessness<br />
and have to make peace<br />
with the consequences<br />
I stay calm and check the mirrors<br />
already planning escape<br />
should the road suddenly vanish<br />
I realize it was gone<br />
miles ago<br />
and I’ve been grinding the gears over gravel<br />
too much damage <br />
for the mechanic to fix<br />
in the short time I have left<br />
carry on<br />
watch the mist come and go<br />
sometimes I see the horizon, so far awayUnknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23118670.post-39435085104918498602012-01-23T22:06:00.002-05:002012-10-27T18:32:32.540-05:00breathesometimes I can't stop worrying<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style:italic;">inside I ache for you<br />
my bones are hollow in your absence<br />
I left the space we had carved out<br />
of flesh and stone<br />
for each other <br />
and you followed shortly after<br />
I regret the choice to leave<br />
but sometimes<br />
even when I make a choice<br />
I feel I have none<br />
hands are tied now<br />
bound until you<br />
turn your attention to me again<br />
inside I can’t help but wonder if </span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23118670.post-70237442471510707552012-01-19T21:11:00.004-05:002012-10-27T18:32:32.551-05:00fill the space between the lines<br />
finish the song<br />
interject chaos into silence<br />
<br />
sometimes my momentum <br />
takes over the sacred moments<br />
the quiet that heals<br />
and the solitude that brings<br />
meaning to the moments<br />
I have yet to process<br />
<br />
step back<br />
observe<br />
learn not to be so greedy with time<br />
snatching more into these dirty hands<br />
if only because I fear<br />
the day there is nothing in my grip<br />
<br />
wait a moment<br />
be still and silent<br />
conquer expectations and <br />
revise plans<br />
the best is yet to comeUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23118670.post-12752531173083107612012-01-18T20:10:00.003-05:002012-10-27T18:32:32.535-05:00fearrot in silence<br />
you know when the ghosts creep upon you<br />
and you won’t help yourself escape<br />
I wonder if it will always <br />
take such a toll <br />
turn empathy to apathy<br />
and corrode my will to do anything<br />
but ferment these nasty thoughts<br />
in memories of mistakes<br />
<br />
there have been so many beautiful moments<br />
if only I could let them<br />
fill the space in which this<br />
terror now lives<br />
seething and scratching<br />
like nails ripping the already bruised flesh<br />
why am I stuck in this wretched place<br />
instead of allowing<br />
the sunset over the desert<br />
rain and shine in Dublin<br />
the tenderness of a soft touch<br />
the fever of climax<br />
or the taste of his kiss<br />
take over my thoughts<br />
<br />
sometimes I fear I am scheduled<br />
to take the hardest path I can find<br />
deliberately choose pain<br />
over pleasure<br />
I might live a beautiful life<br />
full of loving friends<br />
and I’d live it with sadness and apprehension<br />
sometimes I don’t fear it<br />
so much as know itUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23118670.post-44051429840663965912012-01-11T20:02:00.003-05:002012-10-27T18:32:32.543-05:00Madnesseverything rolls, undulating ocean of moments<br />
they seem unconnected but are<br />
really tied to a picture<br />
I'm not big enough to see<br />
can't keep track of the madness<br />
in each moment I am composed<br />
but inside, reeling<br />
<br />
be careful what you wish for<br />
how damaging it can be<br />
nails sink into flesh<br />
trying to control the outcome<br />
but chaos always wins<br />
<br />
to see myself so differently<br />
those placid eyes caught in momentary sanity<br />
I know how to play the part<br />
keep the boat from rocking <br />
and put one foot in front of the other<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Image from Joe Rooney<br />
<div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-GAPDP6blcI0/Tw4xIYPWa7I/AAAAAAAAALU/ey0OSzdbQgA/s640/blogger-image--1133049829.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-GAPDP6blcI0/Tw4xIYPWa7I/AAAAAAAAALU/ey0OSzdbQgA/s640/blogger-image--1133049829.jpg" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2