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Showing posts from September, 2011

B is for Acceptance

"Dear God, i don't know what my mother sees in you but... as long as she's happy, i'll be happy. good night"
That was a thought in my mind. I considered stretching it into a poetic thought but ... i think i'll leave it as is.  Pax.

B is for Love Jones

Love is not blind. It is a blindness.
I have found that when i fall for someone, two things happen: a). my whorish inclinations are quelled and b). i go into a state of blindness
It happens that while many a gorgeous girl exists, i strangely don't see them.  I may not even acknowledge their presence... much... okay at all. I am a girl that way.
It's just... it's just that my mind becomes manipulated by the prospect of this one entity that all others fade to black... or else opaque 50%.
I don't want anyone else to soothe me. Only one pair of hands will do.
Or I CAN HAVE ANYONE to soothe me. But the thought rest only in one.
And generally, this would be cool if for the fact that this blindness has come to me with a cup of ambiguity. No that's not right. It's something else. Nevertheless here i am, wearing a silk scarf over my eyes, following the scent of a single woman. a single... woman.
Love is not blind. It is a blindness.

B is for Crazy Awesome

[it's not... it's just... a thought i had once... recently]

In the darkness of the room Crazy cool longs for wicked awesome. Not for a fleeting night of comforting regret But for always And always In all ways… for always.
In the darkness of the room Crazy cool hear a string orchestra Speaking in every pen stroke Every keyboard tap Every line that now swells like a river Uncharted waters that lead to wicked awesome
In the darkness of the room Crazy cool longs for wicked awesome One filled with thoughts One lays hold to a thought And between them both is a desire to be thought of like that By someone who thinks the other as crazy cool or wicked awesome
Tracy J H September 16th, 2011 Crazy cool meets wicked awesome

B is for Can't

i won't be long. i simply shan't. but while i'm here, let me say this:  i am convinced that the word "can't" was placed in the human idiom as an escape strategy or clause. it is the ultimate vindication for laziness; it is the premier validation for impeding your mind's growth. i used to say "can't" when i thought it was harmless. i didn't think it out loud but my actions approved that message. i can't draw. i can't play music. i can't stoop and roll in P.E. Class. i can't... period. then i realised, really what it was was I WON'T. I WON'T put my heart back on the market to be devalued. I WON'T take the time to hone in my skills and learn the damn piano. I WON'T. because honestly, "iCan't" is really a person saying "i refuse to get out of my comfort zone because that looks scary" and realistically, it probably is. nevertheless, the truly scary thing is living in a state of contentm…

B is for Ms. Patti

I’m standing on this cliff. This very moment I’m standing on the edge, loose stones under these shoes. I knew I shouldn’t have worn them but I thought it best to have my feet covered with truth… so much for that. because for all the truth I wear, my lips shell out lies. Not to you. Never to you. Only to me.
Me who says, “I’m not a romantic” Me who refuses to admit that there’s something to admit… to you. Me who wants to say, “listen…. I think…. I know…. I know that this is weird but… I…” But I don’t – lest I scare you off.
Me who used strategy and lex ish principals, trying to be smooth as, calm as, wise as but the dim light in my head gets dimmer.
How do I jump from the edge without causing you to scream? How do I say these words without making your mouth dry? How can I say, he is nothing but a shadow on the wall but I am… more? How do I tell you, I have felt what you are and I know what it is and for that… you are now my craving – without the calories and the guilt that comes from the morni…

B is for World Girl

i feel the title's a little to be desired but that aside - coolness. Pax. -----------------------------------------------------------------
Once upon a time a boy fell in love with a girl And she was the world She wasn’t ‘his world’ She was THE WORLD.
And yes, the tides rose when she cried But you should see the sun rise in her laughter And her face gave comfort to these tiny miscreant deviants that come out at night Cause she was a moon
And he stood there Like a priest of some ancient cult Offering to the moon Offering to the sun Offering to the keeper of the waters Offering himself To this world
And they say, "what does it profit a man..." But have you loved this woman? Have you yearned for this woman? Does the mourning tell you, “change your condition”? Do your knights seek the instruction of the wind? That sigh, escaping her lips…
And do the rumblings beneath her calm and composed exterior, Drive you to save her? With prayers that mean much With words that say little With super-manic delibera…