get out of bed. wake up
never ready to get up, but willing. 5 minutes though
just 5 more minutes
just a moment!
lets mentally slow ourselves
so i set the clock backward
wish this hospital was outdoors
free of walls, free of boundaries, softer floors
it’s just too beautiful to keep anyone left inside
outside inside. lets open the inside to the outside
i’m awake i’m awake
don’t worry
The one-sided train existed in a one-sided world. Everyone who rode the train only rode on one side. I’m straddling the middle.
What’s mine is yours to leave or take
What’s mine is yours to make your own
Spindles cover the walls. All sorts of thoughts and abilities spun around. Circling each piece, always the same circle. Wrapped around its finger. Clinging to the other’s. Wondering why it can’t be on the golden or silver or platinum spindle. Camflouged. Invisible within, but clearly an individual entity on its own. All the same thoughts continuously spun around the same spindle. So many spindles. When does the tide change? When does the super glue come in to include a different color, a different type? If what’s mine is yours to leave or take, take all these colors. Take these thoughts, my abilities and always let them shine as just one single spindle. If what’s yours is mine, let me take your spindle and make something beautiful.
Dancing in the Dark
Two hands
Intertwined
Two lovers
Laughing
Two stars
Being wished upon
Two hearts
Beating in unison
Two eyes
Dancing in the dark
Out
The whispers of the wind steadily speak to me
My eyes release a single, lonely tear
Unaware of the rain raining down
Everything fades in and out, in and out
Your image becomes but a mirror of condensation
We found yet another maze with those trick mirrors
Malleus
What’s your iambic pentameter? I won’t follow your rules. I won’t follow a theme.
I’m no poet, but those words are beautiful. All five. I’m no Ebert. Elbert. Or whatever hell a poem reviewer is called.
I can get used to this.
He said with a smile
I can get used to this.
He said.
It’s poetry to the hearer’s ears.
His heart beat slows tremendeously, leading to a sort of numbness.
The world continues to spin at the same speed, and its people continue at their variable pace.
The night almost stops, with each beat.
Slower and slower, his body becomes void of any other activity except of the heart.
Lub.
Neglect of
Dub.
everything.
Barely living, and almost reaching that verge between life and death.
They say you’re suppose to relive your memories during this time.
But slowly he internalizes.
Not the memories.
But the world…the calm, calm world.
I’m going to handle you carefully.
As if your heart were in my hands
Ever so gently I would help control and synchronize its beats
Help it breathe, make it run, let it live
Whenever I close my eyes, quickly my mind forms your image
I fill in the missing pieces with my own thoughts and you become completely molded
Yet you’re still faint and color is yet to fill out your body
You’re there though
Lifting me up and twirling me around
Nobody removes the stitches
I have the clasp that holds the whole foundation together
But I know that with time, the light will come out
To beam down on all
I took out all the paste to see what it would look like inside
I stared out at the sky and imagined someone coming to rescue us
But I know that I can make it
As I sit in the middle of the see-saw trying to keep it steady
I see those shining eyes staring at me
I slowly move towards one end of the see-saw as you come onto the other side
Nobody says the time
A car comes from Philly but it feels idealized
Beneath lays the energy that will carry us to that place
Is the question on your mind
I’m not scared of letting myself shine
So for now, it will be about me
The energy moves me, causes my foot to tap, my head to bop, my eyes to shut, my hands to conduct, my mind to wander, my everything to move
I see those shining eyes staring at me
Idealized, almost faint imaginations scroll on that screen
As the magic appears just behind it
I know
I know
The light will come out
-Marian
Rivaled by the surrounding victims
I fall to my knees and pray for forgiveness
Torches of ravaging fire appear in their eyes
Slowly the fire falls to the surrounding fields
Dampening my hands, but igniting their souls
Their sanguine faces wreaked in happiness
Sentient of my knees bent towards them
-
-Marian
I cannot believe I haven’t written for more than a week. BLASPHEMY. I’ve been working, studying, and occasionally visiting friends. Studying is the devil in disguise. He is so obvious that he looks like a cross-dresser that walks down all the avenues waiting to be picked up.
As you all know, I’m subscribed to several bloggers, one of which is my twitter friend named Merlin Mann. He wrote an interesting entry that I wanted to share. It speaks to those people who lose their time to various tasks they didn’t intend to partake in beforehand. How do you make time for people you care about and the work that needs to be done?
This is what he wrote: “If the amount of time you devote to lite correspondence with individual people exceeds the amount of time you spend on making things, then you may be in a different line of work than you’d originally thought you were. [...] Do you generate more IMs than comic panels? Have you drafted more web comments than scenes in your screenplay? Or, for that matter, do you find you’re taking more meetings than photos these days?”
Can I take my photos at the meeting? I’m fairly good at time management, but I wasn’t always at this level of control. My main problem is saying ‘no’ to people. It’s difficult because for some reason I feel it necessary to please everyone. BUT I’m learning that it’s not always about other people, and that it can be about me, me, me.
So I recently spoke with a patient about working, and this rather aged man told me that he goes to work over the weekends for 3 hours. Within that 3-hour span he stays motivated to work on everything he needs to get done. Miraculously, it works every time, and he’s able to achieve a lot within those 3 hours. Perhaps that’s what I need to do as I study for the GREs….maybe.
Since we’re on this topic of neglect, I wanted to share an article I recently read. It’s about a young girl named Danielle who grew up in poverty of the worst kind. She was neglected by her mother who showed barely marginal intelligence. She was basically locked up inside of a dark room where roaches and lice infested everything. How could a mother vitiate her daughter’s life? She kept her daughter from those important early years in which Danielle would have learned to hug and to know that someone will always be there for her. Why and how was her motherly humanly capable of doing that to someone she created? God bless those people who became Danielle’s foster parents.
SUMMARY of this NEGLECT-FUL entry:
Be there.
