glue

piecing together the ends that don't fit
melting metals to merge two frames, fire lit
the process of molding and welding those two
mind and heart, where's the art in such a practice as glue?

and i don't want to make amends that aren't with my soul
feeling trapped inside a lock box and i don't have the tools
to get out or words to shout to make my heart feel full
and the brain in my skull starts to take shape of machinery
without meaning, it's demeaning to rationalize every thought
now i'm caught in a part of myself that i'm not
and i want to break free but i'm already melting
and the question is where i find to make use of this glue
because i'm going away now, and connections are new.
with experience true, and an I outside YOU
i found myself lost. i lost myself found.

i lost myself, found.

disbelief gives way to love

is there somewhere to go between bitterness and hope?
is there some place to reside inside claims of belief
that eliminate pride, but trust our insides to make our best decisions
lovely child, you're forgiven
before you even take steps
and i wonder where we're headed
the further we go
the more we lose that hope
the more we gain a bigger scope
nobody knows
and when we call something negative
that gives way to responses that won't be so positive
eliminating both words from our vocabulary
might make it easier to deal with our weariness
times are changing
all the time they do change
people ask questions like "yes? no?" and "how so?"
and the words "i don't know" are stuck repeating around
and the shower rain mixes with tears dripping down and around
and around and around, the drain, i never came to say
anything
anyway

and questions surround me
i'm convinced that i'm incapable of believing
until i reach down at nothing and look up to love to say something
and love's all i can say
love is all i live for
love encompasses my way
and i look up to love
it's my emotional gage
flipping back and forth on a singular way
of only love.

i'll take that with me.
when i can't take its recipients, i can take the origin
and it's love.

intangible journeys

intangible journeys of goals to get somewhere
and beginnings and starts and the gun fires
and we fly for a second right into the jelly
of slow motion struggle and plans to finish pushed back
so we keep pushing back
further into this glue
if we don't turn around we might freeze here forever
stubborn instead of inspired
foolish instead of exceptionally driven

intangible journeys of trying to get to tangible ones
balance the work and the fun
and the gun shot was fired
now we're getting tired
of resistance
just want
to go.

first stab at a poetry blog.

This blog is meant to be really open and revealing... I write tons more than I say, and most often in the form of poetry. Here's one I wrote a few nights ago, written as it was in my leather journal from italy:

June 29

There's an angst swirling inside me
I want to be free
I am free, I am hoping for such a great future
For such a great preface for good times
And all this swirling in my mind
At night I feel lonely
No I'm not the only
one trying to protect my insides
just wish someone would get through
Do I want to get through
another person's outside
impression? we all know impressions
Now I leave expressions all behind
want to let the world in
but ive got filters built in
right now there's a brick blocking the road from my eyes
reading words on a page
to the intricate ways of my greyscale mind
i could say i'm not fine, but who's fault is it but mine?
complainers don't gain a new frame
they're framed in
and the pressure is binding
to always be found in the finding
even when the wear is grinding you down,
you just turn around

so uncomfortable with letting go
so preoccupied, not trying to hide
nothing cheers me up, the half empty cup
lost a drop more now
filled up with "don't know how"