Okay fine, it's been awhile

A poem is never finished, only abandoned.

Who said it? I don't remember. I think that applies to all written works. Here's one of mine I've dabbled with the past couple nights. It amuses me. Also, it obviously got reformatted in the copy and paste. I'm not screwing with it. Goodnight.

KandS:

The two walked down the sidewalk with arms locked. That way if one of them tripped because the tree roots had screwed up the walkway the other could prevent a skinned knee. Or worse, a hole in a pair of designer jeans.

"Love is light," she said.
"It was darkness that brought us together."
"The glow on from your face says different."
"You can't see the hardness of my heart," he said before he has a chance to realize those words must sound absurd. "What I'm trying to say is we've been fooling

ourselves. You've been fooling me. I've been fooling myself."
"Ken, I never was smart enough to fool anybody. I just go with my feelings and if it makes me feel good then I keep following. And feeling you makes me feel good."

Me too, Ken thought. Feeling her makes me feel good. But is it because of love...or something else? Is it because I want to be her feelings that lead her where she

goes? That perhaps, I could be the one to lead her in the right direction. Call it duty.

"Listen, Shondelle. I feel like I'm just performing services. You love me because I do these things for you. You love me for what I'm not."
"No, no! I love you, Ken. I'd love you even if you did nothing for me. I'd love you if all we did was walk around this neighborhood yellin' at the hoodrats. I'd love

you if you ignored me most of the time. Just tell me you love me back."

The couple had by this point arrived at the playground. Ken grimaced at the wasp nests and missing swings. He wouldn't have used that broken down set anyway because

there was nobody to sue when he fell off and busted his arm. It wasn't sunny. It wasn't cloudy, either. Where was the weather?

The pair dangled from the monkey bars face to face like laundry out on the line to dry, but with the people still inside the clothes. Ken noticed he'd been making

Shondelle walk further than would keep her fresh. Her arm pits were drawn up alongside her face in a way that showed a viscous melted layer of deodorant. She was no commercial.

"You see what we're doing here, Shondelle? We've been hanging from these monkey bars for longer than just now. Soon one of our hands will get sweaty or I'll get tired of

smelling your stank and we'll drop to the ground in a mangled heap of despair. I'd rather let go on my own accord."

"So I'll drop with you, Ken. Don't I always? I never was that strong but with you I don't have to be..."

"See what I mean? I can't be strong enough for the both of us, Sweet Sugar. That's too much. I'm only a man."

Ken felt the stickiness of sweat seep through his palms and lather up the monkey bar. It was only a matter of time before he fell to the wood chips below where a sliver

of wood ached to infect into his thumb. His panic only made him sweat further and think foggy. He grew desperate. "Baby, please..." Ken thought he felt a breeze,

or was it a rain?

"Getting sweaty, Sweety? Don't panic, you'll only make it worse. Did you never play on these as a kid? No wonder you're so serious. Look, baby. follow me."

Shondelle maneuvered herself so she and Ken faced the same direction. She swiftly moved her right hand to the next bar in front of her. Her left hand quickly followed.

She had advanced one monkey bar forward toward the safety of the platform eleven more bars away. "You do things the right way, you're going to make it before you even

get a chance to fall," she declared. She moved another bar forward. And another. Soon she was showing off and didn't need to stop at each bar, or even have both hands

on a single bar at one time. It seemed she was in fact, a monkey. She landed safely on the platform and smiled at Ken. "Nothing to it. You can do it."

Ken was no fool. He knew what he had to do. But how? He had seen Shondelle do it right in front of him. But could it really be that easy? Life isn't easy, it's not

supposed to be easy. And yet a woman he had supposed as weak now showed the upper body strength of a gorilla. Ken thought, "I'm a gorilla, too. I'm a bonobo. Hell, I'm

a fucking human being." He loosened the grip of his left hand to see if his right one could hold on. No sweat. Then he moved his right one. A million thoughts raced

through his head. About how he was doing it. About how he was doing it for Shondelle, but more importantly himself. He did want to be with her. She proved her

strength. They could help each other. They could last. They could be somebody. Together.

In his excitement for the future he forgot to pay attention to the present.

He fell from the bars and onto his neck with such a snap that Shondelle vomited where she stood. It was the last thing Ken would see.

more than one way to go

all graduated.

next step?

how about trucker school?

wish i cared more about the things i care about.

DX Sleeps with Guys

s a
h n
a d
c s
k t
l o
e n
s e.
the cold
still fright-
ful and
complete coaxes
breath from
lungs,

the icy glue binds flesh to steel,
in turn binds hands and makes me kneel.
familiar phantoms creeping close
run fast away when near their host.
eyes fixed, ears tuned, there's little hope
the senses find the safety rope.
men of their making know not of fate
yet still achieve that "something great."
so why should i resign so quick,
lose heart and die when i'm but sick?

the hour upon us is great

So I've been told. Time and time again.

I hate that damn phrase/cliche/proverb:

live every day like it were your last.

isn't it impossible not to?

We'd forget to do that most days, anyway.

I can't recall ever trying to sleep at night and thinking to myself, "Oops, didn't live today like it were my last. Better not sleep just yet. Might not wake up. What a terrible waste of a day."

Waste of a day? There is a large chance that in any given day you have touched somebody in a way you couldn't have imagined. In other words, that isn't something you could do on purpose if you were trying to live a day as if it were your last.

I guess you could up to some extent. Such as doing a favor for somebody. However, I believe it's the times you don't mean to impact somebody that has the greatest influence.

Thank you, but I'll live each day like I'll be here tomorrow. And God will take me when he sees fit.

summerissoursweet

I've been to a couple Braves' games, participated in a few mind games. Work at a place that requires games, ain't got no energy for my own games.



Work in progress, suggestions appreciated:


Sea(son)


i have never enjoyed anything
the way an old lady enjoys
a georgia peach. she is attracted
to the sticky nectar like a buzzing bug.
her smacking lips signal the doomed fruit
to say its final prayers, and she slurps
down her first mighty gulp.
she sits alone at her oak sized table, unaware
or uncaring, about the droplets of juice
clinging to her over-powdered mustache hairs.
all but blind eyes don't notice the stains of Barbie-red
lipstick that every denture chomp leaves behind, but
her worse-for-wear tongue cannot taste its chalkiness
over the memory of bygone summers.
and so i picture myself picked from the earth-tree,
placed amongst others in a basket, and admired as a seasonal centerpiece. it will not take long before my mushy flesh
begins to bruise and my summer scent leaves on the breeze.
that is when i will be tossed, regrettably uneaten, into the sundry compost.

This doesn't mean anything

On Passing a Quiet Moment With a Pensive Moon

Sitting on a hillside with a solitary gaze
Towards the grass and trees and upwards
To the silver stars. My breath creates a humid haze
That curls into the frigid darkness and sticks to
A lonely blade of thirsty grass.
I lift a tired hand up to the North Star
And let it sit, silhouetted against its own
Blackness until it is slowly lit
By a subtle sun. And I glanced back towards
The hill and saw frost clinging for life to that silver
Blade of grass in the warmth of the coming morning.

List

I love how commercials take us for suckers. Put bright colors and nifty graphics in front of anybody and you're sure to sell your product. I'm a sucker for consumerism.

To Kill A Mockingbird is on AMC and the movie is great and the book is great. I should be doing this response for my sci fi class but I can't think of anything to write.

I went to advising for the last time ever. Need to turn in the application for graduation.

I think I'm going to Chicago for spring break.