These Dreams

pencil

Spare a little candle
Save some light for me
figures up ahead
Moving in the trees
White skin in linen
Perfume on my wrist
And the full moon that hangs over
these dreams in the mist

samari
Darkness on the edge
Shadows where I stand
I search for the time
On a watch with no hands
I want to see you clearly
Come closer than this
But all I remember
Are the dreams in the mist

backarch
These dreams go on when I close my eyes
Every second of the night I live another life
These dreams that sleep when it’s cold outside
Every moment I’m awake the further I’m away
hatman
Is it cloak ‘n dagger
Could it be spring or fall
I walk without a cut
Through a stained glass wall
Weaker in my eyesight
The candle in my grip
And words that have no form
Are falling from my lips
hand
These dreams go on when I close my eyes
Every second of the night I live another life
These dreams that sleep when it’s cold outside
Every moment I’m awake the further I’m away
leterbuck
There’s something out there
I can’t resist
I need to hide away from the pain
There’s something out there
I can’t resist
The sweetest song is silence
That I’ve ever heard
Funny how your feet
In dreams never touch the earth
In a wood full of princes

nomads
Freedom is a kiss
But the prince hides his face
From dreams in the mist

longroad

These dreams go on when I close my eyes
Every second of the night I live another life
These dreams that sleep when it’s cold outside
Every moment I’m awake the further I’m away
3
These dreams go on when I close my eyes
Every second of the night I live another life
These dreams that sleep when it’s cold outside
Every moment I’m awake the further I’m away

eternallove

This is what I think when I think of love.

This is what I thought of when I thought of love.

ruebanireland1

As a child it was a bird that landed in the window and flew away when I reached out to touch it.  It never stayed long.  I learned that to look at it was to scare it away.  To move towards it was to force it into flight.

I taught myself to view it from the corner of my eye.  And we lived in harmony this way.  And when I tired of that I would rush at it, flapping my arms, daring it to leave.  The fear of something is almost always worse than it actually occurring.  And sometimes this was true.  Is true.

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If my windowsill felt empty, it was only because I couldn’t stop looking at it.  Even in the dark I knew that there was nothing there.   And that space was so big and me so small.

When I think of love now I think of warmth like tropic salt water.  I think of immersing myself under the waves and feeling calm within a thundering wash.  I long for love to be the harbor, even though I am the storm.  I can’t be protected from the weather that is inside of me.  And in this place lives a tiny child who runs at the bird to scare it away and dies as she watches it soar.  A thing for others but not for her.

This is what I do when I let it all go.

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I know that out there in that vast space around me is a love that stays.  A love that forgives, forgets, and saves.  I know that out there I will find a love that holds me close and leads me towards my fears, not away.  That love will shine a light on my demons and expose them as dust bunnies and shadows.  And in return I promise love that I will always keep the light on.  The door will always stay wide to the wind.  And though I will never be whole, I will always be ready to try.

This is what I say to love when in sits in the windowsill, wings spread.

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I am sorry.  I never meant to chase you away.  I was taught that when I reached for you that you would leave.  And because of that I sat still, grew scared, and then lunged.  Thinking maybe this would be the time I could hold you in my arms.  I was wrong.  I need you know to know that your beauty has forever changed me and I will stare at my window and see your shape and hear your sound for as long as I live.  In my heart I know how lucky I am to have been so close to you and I am grateful beyond words.  I believe in you and admire your flight; it felt so wonderful to see the world from your perch, even if only for a moment.  You taught me to be brave and true.  You taught me that love is not something you can hold.  It is something that holds you, flies when it likes, and visits you when you least expect it.

This is what I think of when I think of love.

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I long for the day when I can sit in the same room with love and it stays.  It hears me cry and rage, and it stays.  It says to me that I will never leave you; I will never give you a minute of loneliness.  I will be by your side no matter how scared you get.  I don’t need to fly away because I am yours and you need me.  You are mine and I need you.

This is what I think of when I think of love.

Jerome Witkin-Native American-1974

The Tethered Heart

tiger

Why is it important for me to project the tiny light of my mind out into your life?  It would be far easier to mark up my journal with misspelled ink stain and blue verbage .  I would not feel constantly compelled to check my stats or to hope for your love.   But if I didn’t do this, didn’t reach digital fingers out towards you, there would be no way for us to talk on this level.  I wouldn’t be able to look back on myself with the clarity that only time and distance provides.  And most importantly,  there would be no spy glass over my heart.  And I need that.  I need to look in.  I need you to look in.tumblr_mliegeh3901qaiyl9o1_500

It is common to find me standing on the podium of untethered selfishness.  I write this in reference to my stance on family.  For many reasons, some relevant, most imagined, I have always functioned like a person with no natural family.   In my mind there is no blood waiting to catch my fall.  So I had better not fall.  The ledge, however thrilling, is just too dangerous for me.  In the past I have lept, landing firmly on safe ground or terribly, on my back, on a granite slap.   There is nothing unique about my struggle.  I want love.  Sometimes I get it, sometimes I don’t.  As I age the wanting becomes just as interesting as the getting/not getting.  What used to tear me up now brings a strange kind of knowledge.  You will hear the same silly saying whenever love fails.  “They are doing the best they can.”  I have said this myself.  I don’t believe it.  It makes literally no sense.  Doing the best you can means not intentionally damaging someone.  It means being fair and using your heart, not your ego to dictate your actions.  The wisdom I earn from the giving and receiving of pain is this…we are only as good as the love we give.  And if ones heart is eroded with regret and fear, the ability to be bigger than your demons is nearly and tragically impossible.  Now, stay with me here, I have a point, I promise.

bound

I held a baby.  The child of my soul sister.  This woman has been a part of every great moment in my life.  If not physically, then mentally.  She has broken my heart and healed every wound that life has seen fit to give me.  When we fight I don’t sleep.  No matter how many years flow between us we remain insanely too real with each other.  There is no artifice.  And she made a baby.  Being so far away made me think that this would be like any other baby.  Cute, fussy, and thank god I don’t have one.  And then someone shoots an arrow through your heart.  And you are made inhuman with a love so all consuming that there is no fire hot enough to burn it out of you.  Your cells meld together to become one giant heart beat that threatens to crush every iota of hate and loneliness in your soul.  And you let them, you watch in amazement as they roust the devils from your head and send them screaming out the back door.  I am forever altered by this.  I, thus far, have known no greater love.

The Red Balloon by Albert Lamorisse-1956

Rendered blind and dumb by love is a new feeling.  Wording my way around hurt and hope is my specialty.  I can strike the tallest of men down with my mouth.  I can talk myself into and out of anything.  I can lie.  And I do.  I told myself that I didn’t need a family, at least not in the commonly known sense.  I erected a stone wall around the idea of home and left it by the sea.  I only visit when I require pain.  And yet if finds me here, now.  Unbeknownst to me a family was building itself in my life.  Despite my better efforts, home came to me.   Just like the surprise I felt at meeting and instantly loving this little creature, I am shocked by how beautifully my house has designed itself.

mfer

And now I have the greatest knowledge of all.  Nothing matters in this life aside from being front and center to all of the things that come your way.  The shit, the joy, the love, the pain, they all bind us to the dream of who we hope to be.  The demons guide us just as fundamentally as the angels do.  I hope to be the bearer of love, the drinker of wine, the writer of words, the dancer with the lightest of feet, and the keeper of this love so absolute that time or distance will never come close to touching it.  There is nothing perfect about how we came to be and I forgive myself for thinking it should have been.  Welcome to the world Oliver and welcome back Josi.

run

No Church In The Wild

 

jay

Don’t mess or test your highness
Unless you just address with best finesse
And bless the paragraph I manifest

bigdaddyWhose world is this?

nas

It’s mine, it’s mine, it’s mine.

dre

Its crazy to see people be what society wants them to be, but not me, RUTHLESS.

bdp

This is just one style, one out of many.  Like a piggy bank, this is one penny.

slickrick

They did the job, the money came with ease.  But one couldn’t stop, it’s like he had a disease.

boomboxNow question is every nigga with dreads for the cause?  Is every nigga with golds for the fall?

Outkast+50_main

Here comes a flava in your ear. Time for a new flava in your ear.

leonardo

Fuck the world, don’t ask me for shit.  Everything you get you gotta work hard for it.