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Friday, May 27, 2011
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Eleven
Eleven was my first time.
No its not what you think.
Eleven is the year I began the endless waiting. Or. It feels endless, to a point. True. They are another band in my ever going lists of bands but they mean something more than that.
Love.
Hate.
Sadness.
All of these things, the core of everyone I found within their words.
And such pretty words they are at that.
And no. I haven't seen them. But I've felt them inside of me. In my head. Making noises. Pretty noises.
Pretty pretty thoughtful noise and something of a first crush, too!
Thank you Robert and Simon and Porl and Jason. My hearts yours.
No its not what you think.
Eleven is the year I began the endless waiting. Or. It feels endless, to a point. True. They are another band in my ever going lists of bands but they mean something more than that.
Love.
Hate.
Sadness.
All of these things, the core of everyone I found within their words.
And such pretty words they are at that.
And no. I haven't seen them. But I've felt them inside of me. In my head. Making noises. Pretty noises.
Pretty pretty thoughtful noise and something of a first crush, too!
Thank you Robert and Simon and Porl and Jason. My hearts yours.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Grown Up
Does Peter Pan EVER grow up?
Do we ever grow up?
Or is our youth pulled down like a sinking boat in a stormy sea?
Youth slips away.
Like a melting sand castle.
Except just a few memories.
A few grains of sand.
Only the lucky ones can row their boat gracefully into the sea of adulthood.
Just like Captain Hook.
But he was a pirate, a master of the seas.
Maybe its true.
Maybe we never grow up.
Maybe we just skate forever on a frozen lake.
Making imprints of memories with the blades of our skates.
Until the ice breaks.
We killed our own youth.
We’re forced to grow up.
With a first kiss.
A first dance.
First time.
For everything.
We all grow up,
Don’t we Peter?
Do we ever grow up?
Or is our youth pulled down like a sinking boat in a stormy sea?
Youth slips away.
Like a melting sand castle.
Except just a few memories.
A few grains of sand.
Only the lucky ones can row their boat gracefully into the sea of adulthood.
Just like Captain Hook.
But he was a pirate, a master of the seas.
Maybe its true.
Maybe we never grow up.
Maybe we just skate forever on a frozen lake.
Making imprints of memories with the blades of our skates.
Until the ice breaks.
We killed our own youth.
We’re forced to grow up.
With a first kiss.
A first dance.
First time.
For everything.
We all grow up,
Don’t we Peter?
One Of The Boys
Her eyes poised dreamily in the mirror.
Hands combing hair.
A small, simple effort,
To look like one of the boys.
One of The Beatles.
Oh, anyone will do.
As she thought this she realized it was vanity.
Her lips turned sour.
“God I want to be a boy. One of the boys. One of The Beatles.”
She could sing, twist, and shout when she tried. But nothing could hide her red lips and a curving frame.
She would have fit right in.
On a poster with The Fab Four.
No one would ever know.
Why God, couldn’t she be a boy?
One of the boys?
Hands combing hair.
A small, simple effort,
To look like one of the boys.
One of The Beatles.
Oh, anyone will do.
As she thought this she realized it was vanity.
Her lips turned sour.
“God I want to be a boy. One of the boys. One of The Beatles.”
She could sing, twist, and shout when she tried. But nothing could hide her red lips and a curving frame.
She would have fit right in.
On a poster with The Fab Four.
No one would ever know.
Why God, couldn’t she be a boy?
One of the boys?
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