Wind

Cool, soft wind catches you
As you are about to fall,
I watch in distress as
The wind holds only you up,
not your ideals or hopes or dreams,
those fall down a deep pit where they may never be
reached again.
I wonder if I had held you,
Instead of giving you so much, only yourself,
to hold,
I wonder if I had held you, would your Ideals, hopes and Dreams still be here?
　
Even though I wasn't there then,
when all of this started,
The shutting down, the pushing away,
I am here now and will
do whatever it takes to get what you have lost back.
I will help you
Get those things back so that
both you and I can grow and flourish
and never have to look back with regret.
I love you.

Thoughts

Please read the note at the end.


Thoughts


If I could read your words again and again
I know that I would not tire of them,
Because, when I read them, I hear your voice.

If I could fly back in time, to change what I did
I wouldn’t take that flight.
I would stand by my actions,
To not, would be below my expectations
It would be below yours.

I came to what I thought was home and found myself thinking of you
Then I found myself cold and alone and dreaming of you
You won’t leave me
But you’ve already left the country
And now that your miles away and writing poems about
Me, what am I supposed to do?


Note: I wrote this, not long ago, and wanted to give myself a safety net here, what I write about myself is true, what I write about the other person is only thoughts/ideas, hopes, ideals even, but not pure fact.

The Dance (2007)

She'll walk around him

eyeing him

wanting him

He'll stand there

eyeing her

wanting her

They will stand behind the velvet

watching her

watching him

and each taking a step

like a furl of smoke

they smooth out the steps and

turn them into Silk

she moves like a scarf

from the midnight feilds

he is poised like a cat

weaving through her

soft moves with a

'purrr'

behind the velvet,

the girls are on clouds

of a sweet lullaby

the boys smoke their joints

puff puff pass

puff puff pass

slipping

into the abyss

of the music

she and he

fall through the floor

into the dusk

behind the

screen

they gasp and

turn

to ash

Untitled (2009)

The
Cloud
Is
My
Blanket

The
Rain
Is
My
Music

The
Earth
Is
My
Bed

Life
Is
My
Love

The Search For Passion

Our passion has to be of the same kind,
How can a world exist between two people if they do not at the
Least share the same brand of passion?
I know that finding your own passion is not easy,
It is perhaps more difficult to find someone who matches your own.

When you do find that, it’s as though
The sun and moon will never chase each other again,
They don’t have too anymore,
Day and night can be united.

But that would be chaos,
The starlings would be blinded,
The owls would be blinded
The rabbits would be disoriented,
The coyotes would be disoriented
There would be no more time
No more sunsets or rises,
No more man’s in the moon.

I understand that fire would fight fire,
And I don’t care, let it come.
Let all the birds be blind and
Let all the mammals be disoriented
As long as you hold your passion inside and above my own.

The sky will ripple with ribbons of destruction and rebirth.
The Earth won’t be able to hold all the passion you have
The passion will go out to the universe, to space and separate galaxies
Then it will be grounded and come back to us, ‘
Thousands and thousands times bigger then it was when it
First left.

Find this passion, without it
You will be more lost then you
Were before you even thought of
Creating something for yourself.
　

Angel Sacrifices

toppled the city
She took the crown
Her gown is made
With the threads of
Lies that the treasure chest
held

Her slippers were made
Out of heats that were
Fed, on butterfly wings
And pieces of Gold

The jewels that she wears
Were conjured by the
Purest truths-blood

The city is gone
She sits all alone
and wishes she had
The will to say no

To shed off the lies
To heal all the hearts
To Bleed out the jewels
And let them all rot

But she can not
This city she toppled
And Crown that she took

Is the hall of sacrificed Angels.

Returning Home

From the top floor of a parking Garage,
The tops of Tall buildings seem no
Longer like a mirage

I see a church with a statue about the doorway
My curiosity is caught
I usually do not find time to pray
But I go there

The arches of the ceiling are grand
Every window holds stained glass
I feel like this could not have been planned
From their places on the pillars, faces of angels
Watch me pass

I know so little of what goes on here
But the greatness of the building has made
Me lose my fear

I light four candles for one I
Have lost
Warm serenity moves in
Shooing away the frost.

A new Goal

I have decided to set a goal for myself, write a peom a week. When I say write a poem a week I meen rough drafts, edited pieces, and final copies. So, this time next week there will be at least one new poem.

Hey! So I have chosen to create a blog about my creative process. I have no idea what will end up here-if I will even ever look at this again ( though I probably will, my mom has a blog :] ).

For Now all I will say is that I am currently attending Vancouver Film School ( Acting Essentials) and I am a writer!