Written with those who have put their entire hearts on the table for someone who cannot/will not do the same in return in mind.
I know that for a very long time
I was the person that came to your mind
in the late hours of the night when you were all alone,
and you so longingly wished that someday
it would be your bed that I fell into at night,
not for sex, but for the simple action of holding,
me holding you in my arms, or
you holding my heart if even for a second,
hoping that I will make you feel more complete
and less alone, but I am a machine,
evolved to take in and spit out hearts,
attaching myself most devotedly to those who
will sting the most, because I guess I
like the way it hurts, and the knowledge
that commitment doesn't exist when picking from
a pool of fish that always have one foot out of the
door in every relationship since the one that broke them,
and if they aren't broken yet, we'll break each other,
and I'll never be yours, because you like me too much,
because you respect me, maybe even love me,
because I don't like how you misspell things,
and quite frankly, you aren't my type,
no, not because you aren't pretty or smart enough,
but because I am accustomed to being
disposable and I don't think you
have it in you to treat me like I like it.
And I prefer a challenge.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Dating the Moon
I thought I liked the relationship we were building,
because, quite frankly, we are both very busy individuals,
and sometimes folks only have time for building relationships at night,
but I fell for you at your fullest,
and lost a little piece of you each day until finally
you became your best again,
not knowing that your gravitational pull is moving oceans
all over the world and
during the times that you were only slightly shining for me,
somewhere else, you are shining as brightly
and beautifully as you ever did here,
and all hours of each day aside from the 24 hours
that I get you once a month,
you are charmingly peeking over the horizon as unexpecting
strangers fall in love with you, not realizing
that this is a one night stand as they've howled and swooned
themselves exhausted until 27 days later when you return.
I thought I could deal with sharing you with the rest of your adoring fans,
but having the best of you only once a month,
for one cherished night only is beginning to wear me down,
and though you are the loveliest thing I've laid my eyes on,
whether it's a night you're all mine,
or a night that I can only catch a glimpse of you,
the night time you come to my window,
glowing and calling out my name,
I will avert my gaze and close my curtains,
for mine has never been the only name you called.
because, quite frankly, we are both very busy individuals,
and sometimes folks only have time for building relationships at night,
but I fell for you at your fullest,
and lost a little piece of you each day until finally
you became your best again,
not knowing that your gravitational pull is moving oceans
all over the world and
during the times that you were only slightly shining for me,
somewhere else, you are shining as brightly
and beautifully as you ever did here,
and all hours of each day aside from the 24 hours
that I get you once a month,
you are charmingly peeking over the horizon as unexpecting
strangers fall in love with you, not realizing
that this is a one night stand as they've howled and swooned
themselves exhausted until 27 days later when you return.
I thought I could deal with sharing you with the rest of your adoring fans,
but having the best of you only once a month,
for one cherished night only is beginning to wear me down,
and though you are the loveliest thing I've laid my eyes on,
whether it's a night you're all mine,
or a night that I can only catch a glimpse of you,
the night time you come to my window,
glowing and calling out my name,
I will avert my gaze and close my curtains,
for mine has never been the only name you called.
Graduation 2011
I was asked to write something for the Commencement Baccalaureate at my school this year. The theme was Community, and this is what I came up with. Sorry to those who won't get all of the random Willamette references. I guess I am more of a Bearcat than I realized.
This is for the seniors,
for the football players,
for the sorority sisters,
for the long boarders, cyclists, and rock climbers,
for the pint night drinkers,
the acapella group singers,
the late night procrastinators,
the early morning wake and bakers,
for the only person of color in your classes,
for the loud kid that thought he knew it all,
this is for the Willamette Class of 2011.
There are some people who are socked that their four years
are over and others who thought they'd never end,
some who aren't ready to let go and
others who want to leave and never look back,
but no matter how each of you feel about leaving,
there are things that you share, that we all know well,
things that you have experienced that are coming to an end.
No more wandering around Goudy hoping you'll find someone you know,
no more Tessie's wraps,
no more having to choose between walking over the skybridge
or dodging traffic on the street,
no more late night dates with Mark O. Hatfield,
no more putting on shorts because it's sunny outside
just to be caught in a rainstorm 15 minutes later,
no more ResLife and JBoard or risk of being written up,
no more meeting people at the Bistro, study groups in Smullin,
or walking up the 4 flights of stairs in Eaton,
no more lengthy peer bong tournaments on nights
when you know you should be studying,
no more aimless procrastination on facebook, twitter, youtube, stumbleupon, tumblr,
and whatever you think might be interesting to look up instead of writing your papers,
no more people blasting their music during quiet hours or people telling you to turn your music down,
no more sweaty, drunken fraternity dances, and
no more President M. Lee Pelton.
But whether you wish you had a bit more time or are ready to leave,
I encourage you all to breathe this moment in,
to know that this is one of the final times you will all be
together in this room, but not the final time you'll be together in spirit.
From this moment on, push and pull for each other,
let your experience here crash into the walls of your heart and move you,
whether it be to make someone as happy as you were here
or to make sure that they will never be as miserable.
And I hope your lives are seriously funny, spontaneously planned,
and most of all devastatingly happy,
so when the world comes knocking as it is right now,
you'll turn the doorknob excitedly, knowing that
you were somebody, are somebody, and will become somebody amazing
as you open the door with 440 amazing graduates standing beside you.
Congratulations Class of 2011. You will be missed.
This is for the seniors,
for the football players,
for the sorority sisters,
for the long boarders, cyclists, and rock climbers,
for the pint night drinkers,
the acapella group singers,
the late night procrastinators,
the early morning wake and bakers,
for the only person of color in your classes,
for the loud kid that thought he knew it all,
this is for the Willamette Class of 2011.
There are some people who are socked that their four years
are over and others who thought they'd never end,
some who aren't ready to let go and
others who want to leave and never look back,
but no matter how each of you feel about leaving,
there are things that you share, that we all know well,
things that you have experienced that are coming to an end.
No more wandering around Goudy hoping you'll find someone you know,
no more Tessie's wraps,
no more having to choose between walking over the skybridge
or dodging traffic on the street,
no more late night dates with Mark O. Hatfield,
no more putting on shorts because it's sunny outside
just to be caught in a rainstorm 15 minutes later,
no more ResLife and JBoard or risk of being written up,
no more meeting people at the Bistro, study groups in Smullin,
or walking up the 4 flights of stairs in Eaton,
no more lengthy peer bong tournaments on nights
when you know you should be studying,
no more aimless procrastination on facebook, twitter, youtube, stumbleupon, tumblr,
and whatever you think might be interesting to look up instead of writing your papers,
no more people blasting their music during quiet hours or people telling you to turn your music down,
no more sweaty, drunken fraternity dances, and
no more President M. Lee Pelton.
But whether you wish you had a bit more time or are ready to leave,
I encourage you all to breathe this moment in,
to know that this is one of the final times you will all be
together in this room, but not the final time you'll be together in spirit.
From this moment on, push and pull for each other,
let your experience here crash into the walls of your heart and move you,
whether it be to make someone as happy as you were here
or to make sure that they will never be as miserable.
And I hope your lives are seriously funny, spontaneously planned,
and most of all devastatingly happy,
so when the world comes knocking as it is right now,
you'll turn the doorknob excitedly, knowing that
you were somebody, are somebody, and will become somebody amazing
as you open the door with 440 amazing graduates standing beside you.
Congratulations Class of 2011. You will be missed.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Water.
[a work in progress]
If my heart was the earth,
you'd be the water.
You'd not only be the vastness of the oceans,
but you'd also be the trickling brooks in the center of the forest,
the morning dew on the grass,
the source of longevity for the flowers in the vase on the mantle,
the base of everything we drink,
the sixty plus percent of our humanness,
what hydrates us,
cleanses us,
keeps us alive,
but can just as easily kill us.
I will dive into you and get lost,
swept up in the undertow,
caught in the tears swept gently off of the
cheek of a broken soul,
precipitation and natural disasters,
floods and hurricanes,
running through the sprinkler
or jumping into a pool with all of our clothes on.
Water, it is impossible to survive without you,
for I become parched and weak
when you are gone.
Drown me
or revive me,
just know that your existence is
what keeps this lonely planet alive.
If my heart was the earth,
you'd be the water.
You'd not only be the vastness of the oceans,
but you'd also be the trickling brooks in the center of the forest,
the morning dew on the grass,
the source of longevity for the flowers in the vase on the mantle,
the base of everything we drink,
the sixty plus percent of our humanness,
what hydrates us,
cleanses us,
keeps us alive,
but can just as easily kill us.
I will dive into you and get lost,
swept up in the undertow,
caught in the tears swept gently off of the
cheek of a broken soul,
precipitation and natural disasters,
floods and hurricanes,
running through the sprinkler
or jumping into a pool with all of our clothes on.
Water, it is impossible to survive without you,
for I become parched and weak
when you are gone.
Drown me
or revive me,
just know that your existence is
what keeps this lonely planet alive.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Breathtakingly Beautiful.
I can't be sure what inspired it,
if it was years of being teased by the kids at school,
or coming from an nontraditional family,
or having all of America's 'sexiest' women
be pale skinned, stick thin, model types,
but she told me last night that
she is afraid to talk to men, because
she is scared that they will not think she is
beautiful enough.
Her face, pain stricken brilliance
pointed in my direction,
eyes burning through mine as
she gently stated the nightmare that she lives in,
terrified of reaching out because of what
she believes she is lacking.
And somehow her brown skin
curved over cushioned bones,
thickness over winding hips,
muscular thighs that still sway when she walks,
don't all translate to beautiful.
Lovely, don't you know that it doesn't take
blonde hair and blue eyes,
pale skin and visible ribs and hipbones,
or a perfectly placed beauty mark
to make you gorgeous?
There is love in those big brown eyes,
strength in your intellect
and passion seeping from your pores,
and if anyone ever tells you that
you aren't beautiful enough,
then they obviously have yet to learn
what beautiful really means.
if it was years of being teased by the kids at school,
or coming from an nontraditional family,
or having all of America's 'sexiest' women
be pale skinned, stick thin, model types,
but she told me last night that
she is afraid to talk to men, because
she is scared that they will not think she is
beautiful enough.
Her face, pain stricken brilliance
pointed in my direction,
eyes burning through mine as
she gently stated the nightmare that she lives in,
terrified of reaching out because of what
she believes she is lacking.
And somehow her brown skin
curved over cushioned bones,
thickness over winding hips,
muscular thighs that still sway when she walks,
don't all translate to beautiful.
Lovely, don't you know that it doesn't take
blonde hair and blue eyes,
pale skin and visible ribs and hipbones,
or a perfectly placed beauty mark
to make you gorgeous?
There is love in those big brown eyes,
strength in your intellect
and passion seeping from your pores,
and if anyone ever tells you that
you aren't beautiful enough,
then they obviously have yet to learn
what beautiful really means.
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