Herstory

spilled: 3.7.2011


i find ease in my own words
my own heart telling me i love me
that i will be ok
that i am ok
that i am more than ok
that i am ungrateful

it's a gift God has given to me
one that cannot be described
that one may find guidance from one self, but another version of the self

maybe my past is wiser than my future, for it always knows the right thing to say.

my past comforts me without knowing nor intending.

my past is great. strong. wise.

shouldnt one only grow with time?
maybe im a melting ice cube
taking up more area, but less space
volume
of my voice
is muted
my mind's words are on blast
all i hear are inaudible therapy sessions
my heart is yearning for love
i dont know what kind of love
not love in a man
not love in a friend
i think i need to rediscover my love of God
i need to dig deep
i need to think of all the amazing and incomprehensible things He has done and given to me
i need, above all, to be grateful, faithful, and content






spilled: 3.7.2011
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Never Use the Same Title Twice

Again, a scribble of thoughts found on a musty old paper, crinkled in a notebook, deep in the hollows of neglected spills.


It reads:

I do not know what opportunities await me.
And of those potentials, I do not know which I would want to pursue.
All in all, I seek brilliance, passion, and happiness.
I can only surrender my will to God.
That is the only way to stay sane.
That is the only truth, accepted or rejected, it stands.




spilled: 2008

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Exeunt

And then the vulcano erupted, destroying with it the town of naive hopefuls praying it remained a mountain. But it was only a matter of time. They did not run. They awaited their fate with an open embrace, knowing this was always their destiny.

The molten lova transformed the green fields to a barren desert, creating a blank canvas for a new ecosystem, and wiped away the inhabitants with eyes shielded from the heat's striking bright rays. All for new, with a new sun, and a new horizon.



No longer in cold.


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jest

no post to roast what was host most.
no line to define how crime signs fine.
no words to herd lured cured.
no mirror.
no window.
no message.


only existence.



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Satin

Created with a satin finish, with nothing else to compare to, I glimmer.

Outside of fantasy I am easily out-shined, and I no longer shimmer.





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Paradiction

Holy book with blank pages
Monasteries with evil sages
Patience unveils its innate rages
Love confines to solemn cages
Seconds last for infinite ages




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Never Use the Same Title

Found in the dusty files, an old piece, spilled at a different time, by a different person. It's bewildering the change in determination we undergo, the will to be extracted from a difficult conundrum, not that a conundrum is ever easy, and how time builds glue, a strong adhesive, where we stick to what we want, what we need, despite its impossibility. My how humans change.


It reads:




water does not stay in one place. it is in constant motion. 
i have taken water as an exemplar and i will not be static. 
i will move. 
on. 
i will move on. 
i have not made any moves to remain in touch with my past, and i will not do that either. 
i am looking ahead. God knows what's in it for me. 
all i know is i will not linger nor try to create fragile fragmented means of communication. 
this ship is no longer docked.


spilled: 4.13.2010




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New

Boil comes to a simmer.
Light succumbs to a dimmer.
Paint stripped with thinner.
Celery substitutes dinner.
Loser becomes winner.



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