Schizophrenia

Dear Me,
   What have I done to you?
   Why do we insist on doing this to ourselves?
   Let's fix "us".

Patience for the Waiting

It's quiet...
On the open sea,
silence echoes in the change
of tides between
you & she.

It's pale...
'Neath the midnight moonlight,
Milky Way masking prisms;
colors hide between
you & she.

     Love has a funny way of bridging gaps of absence, and
     Faith has a funny way of keeping sinking ships adrift.
     Adoration has a funny way of laying a foundation, &
     Trust has a way of catching the walls it knocks down.

It's warm...
Exploring deserted bodies,
radiate passion from inside
sheets lie between
you & she.

     Love has a funny way of bridging gaps of absence, and
     Faith has a funny way of keeping sinking ships adrift.
     Admiration has a funny way of laying a foundation, &
     Trust has a way of catching the walls it knocks down.

It's calm...
Drinking in candlelight,
desire to frame
moments shared between
you & me.

     Love has a funny way of bridging gaps of absence, and
     Faith has a funny way of keeping sinking ships adrift.
     Admiration has a funny way of laying a foundation, &
     Trust has a way of catching the walls it knocks down.



c.marie

Upon a Star...

I wish
I could paint you
a perfect world.
One
in which you'll never be hurt
again; a perfect world.

No disdain,
only vibrant chains
of indigo trees
with violet leaves
& electric pops
of silver & rose
where trails of
your thoughts are
littered & lined with glitter;
up a sparkling,
winding spine.

Walk me along
the wonderland paths
of your miraculous mind;
stroll with me
always,
exploring all ways
to & fro'
Renaissance
and
modern times.

Let's fall
somewhere between the lines;
this yellow brick road
is surely paved
with dreams
& dusted with gold
amidst inviting fields
of crimson & clover.

Embark on
a safari
during which we'll walk like lambs
innocently hunting
wild Dandelions;
each upon which
I'll wish
I could paint you this
perfect world.

French Kiss

Je suis un étudiant de la langue, un étudiant de langues.
M'apprendre ce que vous voulez.

 Je suis un étudiant de mots, un étudiant de votre bouche.
M'apprendre ce que vous voulez.


c.marie 

The Age Old Tale of Youth

Root beer floats &

Tom Sawyer boats

to

beers on draft &

white-water rafts.

Man, life sure moves fast...

Winter coats &

castle moats

to

office buildings &

Geurrilla Warfare killings.

Man, life sure is billing...

Kings of the mountain &

films of Charlie Chaplin

to

assassination schemes &

broken dreams.

Man, life sure alternates themes...

Dr. Seuss &

duck, duck, goose!

to

National Geographic &

old photos in the attic.

Man, life sure goes by quick.

Shells on the beach &

sand beneath feet

to

collecting change from the ground &

feeling lost, then found.

Man, life sure does astound.

To Bed With

     I slept with my scarf
Lastnight,
     it felt good
     to go to bed with
that which kept
     a tender, yet secure arm
     wrapped around my shoulders
with a warm touch upon my arm
     guiding loose fingers
     idly interlacing with mine
sharing soft secrets into sleep.

--------------------- N I G H T M A R E S ----------------------

• Strangled. Stealing oxygen. Anxiety. Panic.
• Bled out. Transference of warmth was the scarf absorbing my  blood as a color-dye. Stealing warmth. Energy leech feeding on happiness.
• Tied up. Restricted & confined from stretching or moving to my best potential.
• Alone. The scarf had unraveled into oblivion during the night, leaving me by myself & vulnerable.

------------------- T H E  N E X T  D A Y ------------------

     I slept with my scarf lastnight.

     I woke up feeling

     nervous & unrested,

     stiff & alone.

But,

     the scarf was still there...

     Because it's a scarf.

Balcony Babblings

I look up at Saturn & think of you...
   how at times, I'm rendered speechless.
Tie my tongue, confuse my lips...
   like drinking wine from a dirty paper cup.
My lungs absorb the smoke from your aura...
   as if breathing you in would saturate my soul.

Improbable Possibilities

What if...
     one day we're fine?
     Fine again.

Pacific Northwestern

She packed up her car
Drove straight to the Pacific Northwest
Where she unpacked her car
Time to build herself a new nest
     So she hummed...
Not long to unpack her trunk
But she felt her bones needed rest
Not far to the bar to get drunk
Time to find herself some new friends
     So she danced...

     (The flames of her fire reached for the sky,
maybe higher, while the people they gathered 'round her.
The Earth moved without sound
where her feet met the ground, & the people,
they danced 'round with her.

You found her note in the plain envelope,
"Left for a life in the Pacific Northwest..." All she could wrote,
well it was less than you hoped
to read: "Don't call me and please
don't contest.")

She awoke the next morn'

Heart fully blossoming out of her chest

Feeling refreshed & reborn

Even her voice was sounding its best

     So she sang...

She grew gray & old

Lived free & unabashed with one last request

That when her story was told

It be spoke & addressed with the utmost respect
For the great open land of the Pacific Northwest

     So she breathed...

(The flames of her fire reached for the sky,
maybe higher, while the people they gathered 'round her.
The Earth moved without sound
where her feet met the ground, & the people,
they danced 'round with her.

So they breathed...

The flames of her fire reached for the sky,
maybe higher, while the people they gathered 'round her.
The Earth moved with great sound
when their feet met the ground, The People,
dancing ash into dirt.)

 c.marie

Alchemy

If souls had professions, then
we were once Alchemists.
The proof pours
straight from our hearts
out of our fingertips
in fluid streams of gold.

If hearts are magnets, then
we are each others
True North.
The proof is in our compasses;
for when one feels lost
the other guides the way
home.

If eyes are windows, then
I see life
when I look into you.
The proof is in the way you look
back at me;
with longing
& simultaneous patience.
The brightness of your eyes
is enough to blind.

If we come from kings, then
you are of Midas.
The proof is in each freckle
left upon my skin
as a map of where
your fingertips have been.
At your every touch
I am set aglow.


c.marie

Invisible Legend

Sometimes I am overcome

by so many thoughts

it's hard

to bleed them out

through my fingertips

by means of the ink

from the proverbial

mightier point.

Oh how to make

my words seep

into the day's

choice parchment,

without spilling my ponderings

into a blotchy mess of a pool?

An incomprehensible

blotchy

mess of a pool

soaked up by

thirsty fibers of empty pages.

Is it not enough,

that these blank pages

were once towering kings?

A beautiful army of trees

sacrificed

for mere availability

to senseless scribblings.

Sawed, sliced, compressed,

bleached

clean of their own

valiant history.

I have to believe that

the rings still reside

deeply encrusted

in the microscopic threads

accumulated to fortify

the history

in the fibers

that thread together

to make a piece of paper.

For the ink

we scratch across the smooth surface

bonds our own history

with the hidden messages

of forests past.

Maps

& legends

& secrets

& keys

to humanity

through the perspective

of wooden giants.

We are all

more intertwined

than we choose to acknowledge.

c.marie

Time Is Only a State of Mind

nothing is real
unless everything before was false,
prelude to the real reality;
preparation for now.
practice
digging with proverbial shovels,
words make for sharp-edged spades.
once we claw out of our ditches
we may climb
the mound of discarded dirt
so nonchalantly thrown
over weighted shoulders.

before,
given aid;
wings for weary gravediggers.
but
growth is a funny method of backwards
lessons taught by the oldest philosopher:
Time.


Media Medusa by ~Sacke-art on deviantART

"Last Night A Passenger"

"Last night I think I lived a thousand years
Caught wind of the soft song of passing winds
Swam past the seas and met a school of fish
'Enjoy class' they said, 'but keep a weather eye
Keep a weather eye out'

That sound that pulled me out got louder still,

Until salt and sea became a vacuum's mouth

I tumbled into a dark room

T'was all void and smelled of stale sea air

I said, my oh my

where on earth am I?

I've been swallowed whole

Now a passenger

In the belly of fate!

Fate!
Fate!

Last night I traveled without eyes or ears
I sat idle in the womb of elders, tense
From sailing to the Isle of Wight!
A hostage in the mouth of myth

I said, my oh my

where on earth am I?

I've been swallowed whole

Now a passenger

In the belly of fate!"

Incendiary

This thick, salty air adheres to the inside of my nose with hints of sticky seaweed; it welcomes me among brethren of starlit silhouettes hunched in heavy sweatshirts. I'll walk; admire the suspended ocean mist as it lingers, dousing tall street lamps radiating soggy weak light...


The both of us.


Glowing from the embers of leftover fire, my bones have become brittle kindling; burning quickly, dying slowly. Cozily bundled in blankets of ash, lay here in futile resistance. The coals of my heart refuse to concede. The only means to extinguish me is to be swallowed by the hunger of another lively flame.


Let us dance wildly, high above our pit of smolders. Let us lick this defiant chill away with an unruly arson. Let us hold each other passionately, for our bodies are combustible. Let us provoke diamonds from our coals.


Press against me; let us burn like napalm.


c.marie

"That's the Way"

two things came to mind when i heard this song this morning...


1- damn. this is SUUUUUCH a good song & i haven't heard it in forEVer. mmmm.
2- damn. this is playing at possibly the most heavy moment in 'Almost Famous'; which is one of my favorite movies & perhaps one of the most affecting films for my soul.


now, i know horoscopes are purely perceived in whichever translation is presently emotionally necessary for each individual... but mine have been eerily specific. citing such advice as:

"Summon up your moxie and face something that may make you feel a little uncomfortable. You know, of course, that if you try to ignore the situation, then worry will set in -- and when worry sets in, worry lines soon follow. So before things go down that unfortunate route, be bold and take care of business. This dog's bark is worse than its bite."

 "You're usually not very easy to con. You've seen it all, heard it all, and, when you were younger, probably tried it all. Right now, though, your antennae are twitching like crazy, and when they twitch, you listen -- another thing you learned way back when. You'll know exactly what they were alerting you toward when you cross paths with that certain person who's obviously trying to dupe you. Won't it be nice to grin, tell them you're not game for their game and excuse yourself?" 

enough of this. non-verbal, subconscious contemplation leaves me nowhere but in the circular ditch my mental pacing digs.

Franz Liszt

"La Campanella" - Paganini Étude No.3

 

Liebestraum - Love Dream

Train Tracks of Tangents

laying on my naked bed
fully clothed
remembering dreams;

past lives... or maybe visions of the future.

forgetting secrets
societies forged

within an overlapping circle of friends & foes.

deceptive smiles
ticking time-bomb crocodiles

tell me everything by saying nothing.

moon rains down
accented by each star shining
over an all-American river

feet dangle, feelings tangle, fear drowns in herbal water.

blink eyes hard
rub away rust from daydreams

familiar faces fade with flickering streetlights.

time travel, girl
maroon curtains unfurl

suspended in this animation of mental history

locomotive exhaust
smoke rings encompass
mind's eye waves blindly

ghost conductor lunatic smile, runaway train on a tangent mile.

c.marie

Girl Sailor

Once upon a time, there was a girl who dreamed of the open sea;
to be a girl sailor & explore the vast blue, guided only by her dreams
& Polaris. Each person she grew close to on land knew of her hearts desire,
& in knowing such deep-rooted dreams, each took a piece of her heart to be kept close to their own
(in the case that she would one day sail away). For she had a big heart and always offered her love, to those in need of love.

A day did come when the people closest to the girl, each with a piece of her heart, had changed drastically- into unrecognizable souls... the changes in each had been subtle, but added up to grand differences from their original form & nature. Taking notice, after trying to convince herself that, somehow, they were still the same people she had so selflessly shared her open heart with; she could no longer deny that they were transformed.
Upon this acknowledgment, she wept. She wept, filled with sorry & pain that her love could not suffice their insatiable hunger for contentment. She wept for nights on end & soon her tears had accumulated to form a salt-water estuary.

From this estuary, she was swept away- floating among the heron & the dolphins & all aquatic beings she once so longed to join. They welcomed her. From this estuary, she was carried past towering reeds & cattails lining its banks, so beautifully swaying to her sobs. The reached out to her as the current of her tears delivered her towards the sea. They offered their long, strong, stick-like bodies as a vessel for her in safe passage over the ocean she approached.Crafting a hand-made boat, she cut her hair which grew to the ground. Using her body-length locks as a sail, she embraced her life-long dream to travel the great endless sapphire of the world's waters.

Years passed as the girl grew to a woman, learning much from her venture; not only about the world & humanity & life, but herself as well... As these years passed, the people on shore who still kept pieces of the grown girls' heart discovered that they felt incomplete at her absence. They thought that without her presence, the pieces of her heart were not strong enough to sustain them with the memories of her love. So they individually bottled these pieces up & heavily tossed them into the sea, consumed with despair for ever taking her love for granted. Over these years, a lone fisherman began to intermittently reel in bottles with his catchings in his handmade nets... Bright, clear, gleaming bottles tinted with olive greens, midnight blues, & some you could see right through. Puzzled, he collected them hoping they would one day be complete & obvious, able to answer some age old question he held in his own chest.

One day, a tumultuous squall whipped the waters of the world into a storm of legendary proportions...

The grown girl held fast to her vessel & stared Poseidon square in his eyes. The lone fisherman, however; was dislodged from his boat, cast into the hungry waves. He undoubtedly thought he'd began his end... the blackness of unconsciousness engulfed him as his lungs could only breathe in water. He awoke the next day to sounds of scavenging gulls, hovering overhead looking to make breakfast out of anything that didn't survive the storm. The sun greeted his face & warmed his eyes open, which was when they met her. Her face, bright; cheeks red from the prior days wind-whipping, strands of long brown hair pasted to it in the most artistically strategic places... & that smile. Oh, if the sun didn't warm him, her smile surely did. Even under soggy blue turtlenecks & sopping yellow hats, they could tell right off- their souls were kindred. Servants to the great open blue, both of water & the map above that held the compass of the stars.

But as he recalled the previous nights trial, he at once was overcome with sorrow at the knowledge that his own vessel had sunk... along with it, all the puzzle pieces of hearts he'd been trying to solve. After explaining this to the grown girl, who had been listening all the while with perplexity on her face; she smiled that warm smile once again & did something the fisherman could not have expected in his most outrageous thoughts... She offered him a piece of her heart to help rebuild his collection. It was the last remaining piece, for as far as she knew, the rest were still among those she once loved on land. And then the fisherman, mouth agape, eyes wide as a blue whale's tale, understood. He was certain, he felt it in every fiber within (which were all regaining more feeling with each dot he mentally connected). He knew he had met the final piece of the puzzle, & instead of taking her heart, he offered half of his own.

It is said they still sail the seas, high & low, together... their hearts beat, together, as the tides change & the moon turns to sun, turns to moon. For if you follow your dreams, they lead you to your truth.

Sometimes we give little pieces of ourselves away. But never are we any more empty for it; just more able to house the love & care of someone who'll give back to us.

c.marie

what going deaf sounds like

that high-pitched pop that echos when a T.V. turns off.
that muffled fuzz that dilutes dialogue in a long distance call.
that "woh-woh" sound that comes from any adult in Peanuts.
that vice-like pressure on the sides of my head during altitude ascent.
that continuous ring of an unanswered phone that goes to voicemail.
that split second when i think i hear my name called by a familiar voice

that is not really here.

that laughter inside my head to old jokes no longer shared.
that ocean-mute when cupped hands are held to ears.
that tock of a ticking clock in the dead of night.
that trapped-in-a-box sound when a conversation is held in-

that trachea is talking,
but that mouth doesn't open.

that hum from a kazoo.

that fluid in my ears,

that drains to my nose,

that drips down the back of my throat,

that causes me to spit up phlegm when i'm sick.

sick of the silence.

c.marie

"And It Stoned Me"

for when things get to a point where the echo of a message reverberates throughout your entire body. when the force of moment or lesson or epiphany or memory hits you so invisibly hard.... for when it stones you to your soul.

my mom used to blast this from the stereo when i was a youngster... but still, in my undeniable youth, i felt that i understood what it meant (except for the jelly roll part, which i now know is in reference to an old motown singer from back in the day). every time my mom had some van morrison bumpin', i knew it was "feeling" time. i would sit back & listen & watch & f-e-e-l (except when it came to 'gloria' & 'brown eyed girl'- yes, these were always songs to shake it to & sing at the top of our lungs).

i've been missin' my ma terribly, lately. i've also been experiencing some surprising personal revelations... for these reasons, van morrison has been gracing my speakers intermittently the past few nights. let's just say, "i'm feelin' it."

The Fire in Frost

A man named Frost wrote mostly of winters.
His words oft caused thoughts
to stick like splinters;
under tips of tapping fingers
that linger,
on wooden desktops.
Peel away the veneer.
Discover what lies under the surface,
dear.
Freshly infected questions
burn with curiosity
from within;
the desire for answers sears
just beneath the skin.
Let the heat from these tiny fires
radiate,
satiate the mental appetite.
Fight the sloth named
"I don't care",
cross boundaries.
Fortune & knowledge favor those
bold enough to dare.

So dare to dream,
for in the realm of possibilities,
nothing is as it seems.

c.marie

In the Rubble

These shy walls keep secrets
spoken to them in the dead of night.
These shy walls have seen
the front-lines of fights.
These shy walls receive the brunt
of verbal force.
But these walls are not too shy
to deny remorse.

These shy walls are
too timid to talk back.
They're not well enough acquainted
to recognize what lacks.
These shy walls are fortified
in silence.
But these walls are not too shy
to learn self-reliance.

The walls next door
are not shy at all.
The walls next door
cause shy walls to fall.
So all the walls around
fell down; they did so
with resolute sound.
Revel in the rubble,
in awe of open space.
Revel in the moment of feeling found
in the sun rays that warm a shielded place.

c.marie

Sparks

I think shadows are attracted to light.
I think there's a battle only shadows
want to fight;
to engulf all in darkness & keep
truth out of sight.
But I think
I know
the might of a single street lamp...
I see it shine
through my balcony at night,
it burns away
the questions & doubt
that darkness may entice.

I think a flickering candle however,
draws questions like moths
to its flame.
Tiny little ponderings of
life's little aims.
Is it possible we're never meant to
return from whence we originally came?
Even if humanity is completely predestined,
one can't help but wonder all the same.

Sarah Connor believed
"There's no fate but what we make."
Well I hate to break it to you baby
but ours are not the only actions
to equate...
There are innumerable other
factors of give-&-take.
We work for what we get;
do the best with what we've got,
and from that
we are able to create.

c.marie

Rachael Cantu "Make A Name for Me and You" with Camila Grey

"Hard Lovin' Woman"

Well I'm learnin' to be myself again
and I'm learnin' where to find my voice
when I'm done listenin'. It's liberating
to finally have the choice, again.

But I'm thinkin' maybe it's too soon
for me to be whistlin' that happy tune;
the one that's sung by lovers
under a full moon.

Oh raw Juliette, beset them with a song
they won't forget.
Help them remember it won't be long,
til I am ready for my duet.

c.marie

Sticky with the Sixties

Today, I followed my feet- as if they were a needle to my hearts compass; guided by unseen magnetism, toward one of my life-long dreams. I followed my nose- as if it were the snout of a bloodhound; trailing the scent of soul food. I followed my ears- they heeded the call of a soundtrack [posted at the bottom] of different tracks listened to throughout the afternoon that exemplified my mood. The below is a recounting of the sequence of beautiful events that ensued:

I woke up naturally around 9:27a.m. I opened my eyes to the bright glow of immaculately clear blue sky, highlighted by a vibrant sun shine; both were mellowed through my maroon curtains. Feeling unusually rested, & immediately restless, I moved about my room a bit... knowing not what my feet had planned for me, but understanding that they were acting of their own accord. First to the shower in an attempt to face the day as blank photo-paper; cleanse myself to make space available for the imprint of today to seep into my skin- develop me. Turn on iTunes: blaring "L.E.S. Artistes" by Santogold, my hands effortlessly picked the apparently predestined clothes for this day from my closet. Gray tank w/ teal peace sign, cut-off corduroy shorts (which frays tickle my knees in the wind), blue vans authentic's. Hmm... I want coffee.

Turn right on California St. in downtown Ventura. There's a public Polynesian festival radiating ukulele strums from Crown Plaza by the pier... good thing I brought my longboard, Zephyr (named for what I feel while gliding around on it: a slight breeze...& yes, my blog URL was named after my longboard... which was named after a breeze). Park Duke (my car, which was named for a famous founding father of surfing... also, a chain of tropical restaurants) in the structure, thus allowing Zephyr as my primary transportation. First, to Chill... Brianna makes me my standard white mocha & tells me they're looking for help (see you in the morning!)... Zephyr skates me down to the Polynesian fest... enjoy some music, dancing, & the rest of my coffee on the strip overlooking the pier.

Time to glide up Main St. where consumers are actively sustaining downtown businesses. There's a Hippie (whether he was homeless I knew not) sitting on the cool concrete of an abandoned entrance to a vacant shop window. He is weaving macrame; hemp bracelets. A small, old looking green ceramic bowl sis next to his hankerchief of a table-cloth on which his handful of creations are displayed... I dig into my pocket, stuck to my leg after a steadily pedaling uphill; I empty all my change into his bowl with a nod & "S'all I got, brother." He smiles in humble appreciation.

Then, my feet led me into the CSU Channel Islands art gallery on Main; for the first time, despite having the desire to explore it for months. [ "The Minnow & the Trout" is playing by A Fine Frenzy upon entering]. Spending more than 30min inside has left me in awe of the displays accumulated, from present students & some alumni; praising works that have oozed inspiration into me. [ During my perusing, I unconsciously hummed along to "The Scientist" by Coldplay, & "Better" by Regina Spektor] I have a lovely chat with the recent graduate girl, Bethany, at the front counter. We talked about A Fine Frenzy & art & the idea of taking my kids on a field trip there. Thank you! Nice to meet you, see you soon. I step outside, reach into the newspaper dispenser & retract an issue of the V[entura]C[ounty] Reporter: John Lennon coolly gazes out from its cover... Happy Birthday, John. Now I sense the invisible force guiding my body is the same essence of the man who stares up at me from the paper.

The urge to play in Santa Monica perfectly overcomes me & I make my way back to Duke. We blasted No Doubt's album "Tragic Kingdom" to initiate take-off... Perfect. PCH is beautiful. There's no traffic & the Pacific is so blue! Halfway there, cd switch - Nelly Furtado's "Folklore". YES... Perfection again. Oh look... Paradise Cove, so conveniently on my way to SM, invited me with a call I answered in search of where the song "Droplets" by Jason Reeves & Colbie Caillat was written/ recorded. That was a fun pit stop :)

Santa Monica is packed. It takes 20min to slowly proceed 4 blocks downtown through the 3rd St. Prominade foot traffic to the parking structure. It's an easy feat with the likes of The Who & Ted Nugent gracing my speakers. Stretching upon shutting the door & securely throwing my backpack over my shoulders, I spritely took the stairs to ground level, & reveled in the sound of Zephyr's wheels hittin' the pavement. Carefully weaving in & out of pedestrians along the sidewalk for a few blocks, I finally reached my starting point (in a sense). One of my favorite vistas in memory:

I carve the pavement in wide slalom-like motions given the wide berth of the path. Even around the frequent pedestrians, there is enough room for long pedaling strides. I stick to the sidewalk of Ocean Ave. for about 1 mile until I reach a parking lot I recognize from my childhood- one of which I can distinctly describe the memory of toting boogie boards & towels to the sand with my aunt & sister, though I can't exactly recall my age: a group of guys were on rollerblades playing street hockey in a somewhat vacant area of the parking lot. I wanted to play so badly to play (it must have been around the same time as "The Mighty Ducks" movie based on the hockey team). But as we neared the bike path I gawked at the traffic of skateboarders, rollerbladers, & cyclists alike, with whom I so desperately wished to join; all streamlining up & down this glorious path which parallels the great, blue, Pacific.

Smiling with nostalgia, I step back on my board & zoom down the driveway's hill, waving to the lot attendant/ toll guard as I roll onto the smooth concrete of the path that curves along the beach... It was at this moment exactly- simultaneous with my first giant pedaling stride in the south bound lane- that the realization of a life-long dream had just occurred. I was now among the streamliner's I had dreamed of joining 15-or-so years ago. I embarked on my sidewalk surf-session with no need for headphones. I was enjoying the music of the world, the many sounds carried by the sea breeze: laughter, street performers, battery-operated boom-boxes, bicycle bells, seagulls, intermittent beach restaurant patio chatter, the light crunch of sand under my left shoe with each push for inertia. All of these sounds came together in a symphony of public collaboration to the drum of the faint crashing tide some yards away. I couldn't stop smiling: at people, at life, at the sky & the trees & the curb-squatters & the lot-rats of the parking spaces, at children (not in a creepy way... but more in that won't-you-let-me-share-my-exuberant-happiness-with-you sense).

Following the lovely path with the beach on my right & the pleasant knolls of comfortable looking well-kept grass separating me from the Venice boardwalk of legitimate business vendors & street peddlers on my left, I took notice of a girl. I recognized her face, not as someone I know, but more with regard to her expression & following movements: with large, but fitting, sunglasses & little more than a picnic-checkerboard bandana for a top paired with her brown gaucho pants & golden brown skin... she lifted each eyebrow as she slightly peeked from left to right, checking her surroundings atop her red blanket (strategically placed on a down-slope of the lawn). She peacefully raised both her hands to her mouth as if in prayer, cupping something small that made a clicking noise. All of this in a span of 7 seconds as I rode past her releasing an approving, "Yeeeeah, girl." that was only audible to her. Looking up, she exhaled with a funny sputtered laugh & quickly called after me as I rolled by, "Want some!?". I raised my arm, thumb up, u-turned my board 10 yards away, & skated back to introduce myself to Jennifer. "Nice to meet you! Glad you stopped.. Hey man, gotta share!" With her stoner laugh through a dolphin smile of perfect teeth, she handed me her pipe. It smelled rich & fresh; I thanked her after my hit, relinquishing her piece. "Nah, girl, you can have another. It's so beautiful today, I can't help but spread the love... That'll have you feelin' good!" We parted, both thanking each other for sharing such a lovely moment with equal understanding.

Now, seemingly floating about 50 yards along the path, my ears perked up with excitement as I looked out across the sand to witness a medium sized circle of people. They had gathered in kindred spirits playing drums of all sorts (accented by a harmonica or trumpet here or there) with a central dancing man- he looked of Mayan or some ancient Latin heritage. The man was glowing with the warmth of the sun as sweat covered him while he danced; non-stop with vigor, pounding his feet, waving his arms, & simultaneously shoveling sand out his dancing pit with his toes. Amazing.

After my brief enjoyment at the drum circle, I continued my skate journey. After a few minutes, I recognized I had entered Muscle Beach (a famously historic location in Venice, Ca). I skated through the basketball courts where several pick-up games were in session, past the boxers using the punching bags & pull-up bars, zig-zagging through the far walkway that led back to the bike patch after observing all the athletics. I greeted a homeless squatter burning incense under a blanket while following the maze with an, "Evenin'!". His reply was, "hey, wha'ss happ'nin, slim!" in a voice reminiscent of an smokey jazz lounge skeet guy. Awesome.

I turned around after the next parking lot, beginning my 4 mile trek back to West Santa Monica. This time I traveled along the Venice boardwalk, weaving again through pedestrians (offering skate-by-high-fives to those I could feel would reciprocate) & street performers & vendors haggling sunglasses or t-shirts, (& in some cases "medical marijuana") as residents in their studios above the street businesses looked down. They watched at what I can only imagine to be a daily environment in amusement. Being too crowded for my desired cruising speed, I jetted across an open quad area back to my previous path, this time heading north. As it was now close to 5pm, the wide path was nigh empty but a few cyclist's far between... giving me room to really sidewalk-surf-slalom around the white dashes dividing the lanes as I was dropped almost knees to my board, leaning slightly for my quick in-&-out motions (this earned a few impressed hollers from surfers packing up their trucks in the adjacent lots... which, truth be told, I thoroughly enjoyed).

Back up on the 3rd St. Prominade, I was direly parched with an inescapable craving for lemonade. I sauntered up the walk & waited in line at an outdoor cafe. In my peripheral, I noticed an amazonian-height black girl with a deliberately messy fro; strategically placed fluffs & bangs & tufts stuck out through a presently-fashionable thin indie headband... She was being followed by a camera man, though I did not distinguish whether he was filming or taking photographs; I kept trying to remove myself from any shots of which I was clearly in due to the angles he was planting his self in... But alas, he re-aligned his angle to include me in the background (it felt more like I was the intended back drop). Another customer asked her why she was being photographed & apparently she is a musician with a website whence she posts various daily activities. Maybe I'll check back to see if I'm in any photos... can't help it :
http://margoworld.com/welcome.cfm

By the time I reached my my car, I was slimy with sweat & sticky with the sixties-esque air I had been sailing through all day. It didn't take me long to be free of Santa Monica traffic calmly enjoying the sunset along the Pacific Coast Highway. Even still, it felt like my smile would be permanently affixed to my face as I headed home to Ventura toward the setting sun.

 

SOUNTRACK to SATURDAY:
1) l.e.s. artistes - santogold
2) paper bag - fiona apple
3) the minnow & the trout - a fine frenzy
4) the scientist - coldplay
4.5) better - regina spektor
5) different people - no doubt
6) sunday morning - no doubt
7) powerless - nelly furtado
8) com uma forca - nelly furtado
9) picture perfect -nelly furtado
10) santa monica - everclear
11) baba o'riley - the who
12) stranglehold - ted nugent
13) it's dare - the gorillaz
14) bigger than the sound - yeah yeah yeah's
15) two tickets to paradise - eddie money
16) gimme some truth - john lennon

c.marie

"Painters" by Jewel

Eighty years, an old lady now, sitting on the front porch
Watching the clouds roll by
They remind her of her lover, how he left her, and of times long ago.
When she used to color carelessly painted his portrait
A thousand times-or maybe just his smile-
And she and her canvas would follow him wherever he would go
'Cause they were painters and they were painting themselves
A lovely world.

Oil streaked daisies covered the living room wall
He put water-colored roses in her hair
He said, "Love, I love you, I want to give you mountains, the sunshine,
the sunset too
I want to give you everything as beautiful as you are to me
'Cause they were painters and they were painting themselves
A lovely world.
So they sat down and made a drawing of their love, an art to live by
They painted every, passion every home, created every beautiful child
in the winter they were weavers of warmth,
in summer they were carpenters of love
They thought blue prints were too sad so they made them yellow
'Cause they were painters and they were painting themselves
A lovely world.

Until one day the rain fell as thick as black oil
And in her heart she knew something was wrong
She went running
through the orchard screaming,
'No God, don't take him from me!,'
But buy the time she got there, she feared he already had gone
She got to where he lay, water-colored roses in his hands for her
She threw them down screaming, 'Damn you man, don't leave me
with nothing left behind but these cold paintings, these cold portraits
to remind me!

He said, 'Love I leave, but only a little, try to understand
I put my soul in this life we created with these four hands
Love, I leave, but only a little this world holds me still
My body may die now, but these paintings are real.'
So many seasons came and many seasons went
and many times she saw her loves face watering the flowers,
talking tot he trees and singing to his children
And when the wind blew, she knew he was listening,
and how he seamed to laugh along, and how he seemed to hold her
when she was crying
'Cause they were painters and they were painting themselves
A lovely world.

Eighty years, an old lady now, sitting on the front porch
Watching the clouds roll by, they remind her of her lover
how he left her and of times long ago, when she used to color carelessly,
Painted his portrait a thousand times, or maybe just his smile,
and she and her canvas would follow him wherever he would go
Yes, she and her canvas still follow
Because they are painters and they are painting themselves
A lovely world

By the Faint Shine of Garden Lights

Feathers rained down,
falling like a soft, warm snow
tickling you into happy sneezes;
leaving you breathless with giddy.
And I will breathe you in.

We have dimmed the lamps,
with sheer, maroon scarves,
& midnight blue curtains.
We have left the bright lights off,
only to watch our desire
dance by the faint glow
of hanging garden bulbs;
miniature orbs, dressed in tissue paper
with beautifully modest marks
painted on.

I see you. Luckily,
I see all of you; through these frames
that are too over sized for my face.
Every dip,
every curve,
every line,
every inch of you
shyly boasts beauty
under this mild
flattering light.

You feel like cashmere,
head to toe-
inviting,
warm,
soft,
precious.
I feel like a Christmas gift,
the way you look at me;
unwrap me with careful haste,
for my heart beats inside.

c.marie

Picture a Picture

Flashbulb sparks fly,

with the blink of an eye,

mental memories capture still frames of life;

blinking orbs float in the after-ether

as mental polaroids develop,

your smile envelopes me.

c.marie

frozen

i can't sit in silence the way i used to.

not without you.

thoughts of you hang in suspended animation,

bits of mist

in a fog so thick, every breath aids the corrosion

of my heart.

plunge through the icy surface 

of your memory

submersed & stabbed by the ghosts

of your fingertips.

it used to be a pleasant silence...

one that wasn't so silent.

we were quiet & smiling,

on my front porch facing the field;

& kids would be laughing

& birds would be singing

& music would be playing.

it was a warm silence.

we were warm, in silence, together.

but now the air is so cold

bones shiver.

lungs quiver & breath freezes

as it leaves lips.

c.marie

Lost Boy

Stone cold, sandstone;
stand still, engage no thrill.
Wind breaks down,
sandstone to ground;
tears glue you back together...
My tears.

I weep for you & your broken heart;
your lonely soul,
your devious art.
Your beautiful, devious art.

Fade into air,
let it carry you anywhere
you dream.
You still dream,
don't you?

I know they're dark.
I know they leave you
lying awake;
alone.
Hopeless.

Is it enough
if I have hope
for you?
If I have dreams
for you?

I know you live in the dark;
shadows are easy to love
when they follow you
everywhere.


Without a second thought,
I would willingly
give you my light;
despite the cost.
Don't stay lost.

c.marie

Brief & Bitter(sweet)

We run in different circles.

We walk in different lights.

I smoke your shake to breathe your ghost.

I sing your name in silent plight.





c.marie

"In Sleep"

 I lay awake at night and pray
Not to see the light of day
I wonder how to behave right
He has left me such a mess
Counting to protest
My mind can't get no rest

Fast asleep where I keep my memories
Calling me out in dreams,
He visits me
What will be
Will I see him again soon
oh oh oh oh

Why am I so terrified of waking
He's gone and I'm feel I've been forsaken
In sleep is the only place I get to see him, get to love him

The scene, a city after dawn
Becomes a field of corn
And I've had this one before

Fast asleep where I keep my memories
Calling me out in dreams,
He visits me
What will be
Will I see him again soon
oh oh oh oh

Why am I so terrified of waking
He's gone and I'm feel I've been forsaken
In sleep is the only place I get to see him, get to love him

I know that when the story ends,
the one that's in my head,
Well I'll be alone again

Why am I so terrified of waking
he's gone and I feel I've been forsaken
in sleep is the only place I get to see him, get to love him
Be with him
I love him, I love him, I love him

Lissie- 'In Sleep' video

Beatnik

Sometimes,
I speak
in rhymes
to make people think
rather than mime
the times in which they live.

I'm the beatnik cousin
who's inhabited more than a dozen
places with people
from all generations
outrunning temptations
brought by
the infestation of greed
& those who need
reassurance...
when the only thing that matters
is self-endurance.

A vagabond, a vagrant;
migrant worker changing
as constantly as the seasons
rearranging my tetris life
infusing dreams & reason
to conquer strife.

Black sheep, steer clear
forked tongues
make shiny shears.
try to cut my fleece,
better
learn to sleep
with one eye open,
here's to hopin'
you stall
at ground level
stuck on the first rung:
social chutes & ladders.

c.marie

Tuesday Morning

Upon touching my face, the rosy fingertips of dawn
welcomed me awake by gently cradling my cheeks.
 ------------
Light shone, a dim glow through burgundy curtains.
Eucalyptus & exhaust waft, intoxicating. Toxic.
 ------------
Midday shower, noon on the dot.
Clean up, set off; find a calm introspection spot.
 ------------
Ethan makes a white mocha shake.
I setup & read my horoscope for the day:
     "You've been somewhat restless recently -- and when you get this way, you need to find ways to liven things up fast. Rather than firing up some new drama, it occurs to you that a change of venue could also get the job done -- without the fireworks! Don't let anyone tell you that you're just trying to bypass the real issues. You're not running away -- you're instead trying to rejuvenate yourself. This is something your intuitive side is screaming at you! You have reached a finish line today-- but don't rest too long on your laurels. Are you an artist -- or do you just want to try your hand at something new? Today is perfect for exploring your creative side in earnest, even if you haven't sketched a face in years."
 ------------
I can't stop jack-hammering  my leg.
My thoughts race from one unresolved issue
to the next, and on, to the next, and on,
to the life I've begun to build here...
Without anyone from my last camp.
 ------------
Excommunication. Dramatic retaliation.
Phone lines echo with silence.
Independence replaces reliance;
conversations exchanged with those
who were once true
& kind
& also searching
 ------------
I'm 24.
I should have started my life sooner.
Better late than never.




c.marie

After the Sunset

This song's a lesson to you, who can't seem to choose.
Don't gotta be so mean, fighting your battle of endless in-betweens.
Givin' hope a false start, Indian-givin' away your heart.
The moon, she don't smile so wide anymore.
Not since you've made her your whore.

     Who stole the moon?
     Malice & Greed said it was you.
     Oh, what a fool.

So she slipped into the sea, secretly sought her missing gleam.
Queen of the sky, searched for her smile as you kept sailing
towards no-man's isle.
When the wind learned of the news, took from your sails
what it lent to you.
Stranded before the glow of escape, red hands thwart clean getaways

     Who stole the moon?
     Envy & Arrogance said it was you.
     Oh, what a fool

     She won't go quietly.
     She's not submissive, she
     Is the moon. Don't be a fool.
     A wicked fool.

     You tried to steal the moon.
     Pride & Regret tried to warn you.
     Oh what a fool.

A captive in the seas of high, held hostage for lying to the sky.
When will you learn, if you don't give you only get nothing
in return.
Instead let me explain, turn to thievery & empty hearts so remain.
The moon rose just beyond, your desert isle
That's where she found her smile.

     You tried to steal the moon.
     Now Shame & Exile have stolen you.




c.marie

The Third

I realized, that I'm in love with you.

I love you.
More certainly than I've ever been in love before-
(I've only ever been in love twice.)
That makes you "Three", but you're the only
One I could ever associate with "marry".
When it comes to that, I can't see past you, &
honestly, your the first I've ever even considered.


I toy with the idea sometimes, when I drift:

     into daydreams
     out of my mind
     on to tangents of the heart

that start with thoughts of breakfast. Writing. Art. Smoking. Chinese food. Bicycles. Bass. My heartbeat. My heart beats faster (and slower) around you. You. You & me. You & me on a front porch. We're smiling in our chairs & watching the world spin as we rock. We're old. But, now, we're so young. Am I allowed to think that far ahead? Well, sometimes I do anyway... Like when you smile at me with your eyes; bluer than a crystal ball- it's no wonder I can imagine my future in them.


I see all the adolescent innocence in your smile;
though you claim none remains in you,
when we look into each other.
Brief moments when your soul sparkles through
the cracks in the play-doh walls
of the childhood fort you'd built
around your heart.
You took down the sign
"No girls allowed" long ago,
but the walls still stand, just for show.


You may be my Third Love,
but I fear this Third
is not the charm.
We have too many plans
for things to come,
& come undone
with the potential compromise of
wandering hearts.

And yet, still...
I know in some lifetime,
we're perfect.

c.marie

Earth Atrophy

TREES:
Futile flutters,
substitute for a heartbeat;
four chambers encaged
by tissue paper.
Illusory decor
distracts from the deterioration
of a once strong muscle;
thick
red-blooded with love.
Now so fragile
its beat alone
could tear it
to shreds.
On the verge of being ripped
to oblivion,
follow no rhythm.
Boxed in by beautiful
colored paper walls-
death never looked
so lovely.

WATER:
Toxins plague
a once-functional liver;
healthy, bright-green
bile turned against its organ.
Sticky blob
riddled with infection
so dark the color doesn't exist.
Suffocated, liquid
thicker than oil erodes
no longer able to purge poison;
self-consumed by disease.

AIR:
Smoke monopolizes,
exhausting lungs.
Charred ash is the new pink.
Elasticity lost,
functionality error,
apply respirator.

We kill this Earth everyday.
When will we realize-
we do so with a double-edged sword?




c.marie

Celebrating with Strangers

As I swallowed,
The Green Fairy sunk its teeth in:
the biting aftertaste of absinthe
stung my tongue.

Thoughts, or feelings,
I can't decipher which;
manifested into vision. You appeared here,
in front of me.

Spoiled with hallucinations of
tangible protoplasmic beings: spirits
swam through my imagination.

Another sip of champagne,
the bubbles turned to intoxicating
freckles that sparkled behind my closed eyes;
a familiar face that haunts my dreams.

Ice stunned my lips
quickly, I caught my breath.
The piercing chill mimicked a pair of eyes
that have paired with mine for lifetimes.

Feeling lost, I found out
celebrating with strangers
allows for affection
appreciated in distant perfection.



 
c.marie

A Day in the Life of a Mouth

Part I:

Lips were stained violet with malbec,
tongue was bruised with honesty.
Teeth were chewing on grave words,
mouth was tired of standing up for itself.

--------------------------------------------------

Part II:

Breath was screaming with silence,
voice was strategically muted.
Smile offered an unspoken lie of agreement,
chin squared by clenched jaw.

-------------------------------------------------

Part III:

Emotional eruption of speech,
pouring out with the blunt force of truth.

------------------------------------------------

c.marie

The Lure of Lust

   Swaying at the suggestion of the sea, which teased my feet
shifting the granular ground; I stared...

   I stared across the silky blue blanket of the Pacific,
pretending to ignore her not-so-subtle winks...

   She winked with invitation,
danced with "come-hither" undulations;
playfully begging me to come in and explore...

   "Come in and explore my depths",
she enticed with whooshing breaths
tempting my curiosity...

   Curiosity tripped me into submission as
I warily waded into her alluring waters;
I must admit- her uncharted territory is
bliss...

   In the midst of bliss she claimed,
"I would be remiss if I did not insist you
let me wet your lips; let me fill you up,
let me quench your thirst for love."

   Thirsty for her love I realized I was,
therein parting my mouth letting her liquid
tickle my tongue.

   Tongue lashing, desire crashing in waves,
I soon accepted I had met my grave; for
I was drowning in her
intoxicating taste.



 
c.marie

Going Rogue

I'm sprinting away from the proverbial Third Eye, escaping its view by seeking the cover of darkness. I'm darting from shadow to shadow avoiding its gaze; for if the Third Eye aligns with my two, it will unlock my door of inner pandemonium upon undeserving souls. Thus the disconnect commences. The preparation for long-term "goodbye". I intend to embark on this journey independently & without council. For sentimental words spoken only tenderize an armor made of pride.

Being naught but discreet in affection, feigning all with comforting smiles. But to bare happy teeth to my own reflection will turn teeth hostile- tear my flesh away for being guile. So turn me inside-out, lend me not the chance to hide; rather skin me alive. Strip me to sinew so that I may shed disguise and before the Third Eye confess my goodbye's. For if I bid "Hello" anymore, it will empty me to the core.

c.marie

Roleplay

To emulate the Sun. To wish to be that bright, burning, ball of orange & yellow. To want to radiate like that light which perpetuates energy. To be credited for sustaining the lives of whom you are involved in. To be like the sun; to endure solar flares of temper tantrums, scatter escaped embers that scar the vulnerable hearts with a tiny singe. To rise in fire is sure to fall in ash.

To flow as the river. To be a vessel of passage & deliverance to weary, traveling, lost souls. To want to wash over like the cleansing agent which purges confusion from a heart. To be credited for re-birthing the lives of whom you have come into contact with. To act as a serene guide, secretly steering with the current of your undertow. To be like the river; to drown the disobedient with the rage of wild rapids. To swell with the fury; saturate the land to soften it & influence its shape to your liking. To sink in defeat or swim in victory.

To conquer dragons. To slay with sword, defend with shield; a heart guarded by chainmail. To charge a fee of protection: obedience. To wear a shiny armor enticing others to follow your lead. But the armor negates life- the ability to feel. Don't be surprised when a mutiny arises.

All these roles played out on a stage only a gullible audience would attend. Be the light of your own life. Choose your own paths. Hide not behind the armor of sword & shield, pen & paper- for broken hearts grow back bigger.

c.marie

Wood Nymph

She travels the forests of the world;
visiting peacefully, her vessel of passage is the breeze.
She dances in the shadows of midnight.
She is the whimsy in the wind; a
collection of cherry blossoms whisked across
ancient lands, lending the secrets of life to the
remnants of what was once
Abundant enchantment.

She invented make-believe,
whispered the first fairy tale to the trees.
She lends herself to the
Lady of the River at every full moon in an
aqueous transportation of wisdom.
She is each individual petal shed from the
Lotus flower.
She showers delicately, upon a flowing surface;
letting the Lady of the River deliver her in
pieces of knowledge to the banks of
Waters Far.

She is dew in the morning mist,
thick with leftover sleep.
She is the yawn that yields youth to
schemes of the sandman;
She is the wink that wakes the world from dreams
in the first gleams of morning sun.

She lives in the core of Redwood, the aroma of the Eucalyptus, the strength of the Sycamore.

She is the unshakable presence in the
seemingly empty glades & thickets;
She is the rustling of the leaves in the
low brush & high canopy of the forest.
She is the sorrow in the rain,
mourning the murder of uncorrupt lands.
What once was rich and bountiful in the woods of
wishes and happily-ever-after's is now naught but
silent & barren.

A raped Mother Earth stands stoic,
holding-fast in her faith rested in her daughter,
Wood Nymph.
Prevailer of nature's pureness.

She is the whispers in the breeze, She is the
network of roots among all trees, She is the
soil of love that will bring you to your knees.
Infallible, impenetrable, fortified in the continuation of
wildlife-

She is...

The Wood Nymph.




c.marie

The Light in a Black Hole

On her way to Earth, on the day of her birth:

A black hole spoke to her, softly. Not in the manner one would assume a black hole to speak; that loud, rapid-inhalation, vacuum vibrato all would imagine. It's closer to an underwater whisper. It said, "Girl, give to me your heart so that you will be free of pain. Let me send it through the galaxies; warp it in an interplanetary fashion to avoid the weight of love."


She thought for a moment-- index finger to chin, furrowed brow and all. "No disrespect, I'm sure it's quite a big job being a black hole & all... but may I ask if you have a heart yourself?"


It let a murmured sort of wheeze escape, what she could only imagine to be a sort of laugh? "No child, I am only an infinite mass of blackness. I am everywhere- in between stars, in between one thought & the next, in the split seconds which people blink, I AM the endless in-between's. I am the resonating silence while you sleep, I bounce off walls & float in suspended animation & eat the nothingness. I have no heart, I fill only empty space & recycle it to become more of what I am... and what I am not."


Perplexed, she quizzically asked, "Then why is it that you ask for my heart? Surely if you are all the in-betweens, you feel nothing that comes before or after them?"


If black holes could smile; smirk even, she is most certain she caught a glimpse. "And so you have my answer in your question. If I am infinity due to what I do not feel; what I cannot feel, does it not entice you to join me in the endless in-betweens as well?"


Without hesitation, "No. In all absolution, no. How can you know you're alive if you can't feel alive? Everything I feel has collected to make me who I am in all my mortality. What good would it do me to know who I am & recognize what I feel, what I see, what I learn if I had not the opportunity to share it with others? I would choose a limited span of time with love and pain and everything in between those feelings over eternal in-betweens of what lies between humans any day."


Now I'm quite sure I recognized a pause in the black hole's fluidity. "Hmm. I suppose with all the time I have, I could have conjured a better argument. Let me then try another approach. You see, my mass of nothingness is built up, grown rather, by the abandonment of hope in hearts. I, if you can imagine, engulf hearts and fill the empty space in a person's chest with my dark blackness. Through all of time, this has been my way. And before the time of humanity, your substitute would have been baby stars; for they knew not what they surrendered. That is why some are dimmer than others." And in all of its charming whisper, the black hole continued. "Since you now know my ways, I can not possibly release you whole. But now I must forcibly take what beats in your chest, and fill the all of the space in between with some of me so that I may persist in my conquest."


The black hole's opening became more agape than before (if that's possible), and before ascending upon the girl, she spoke again. Calmly, "May I suggest an alternate solution?"


Entertained, the black hole paused with, "Now that's a new one... You have my attention, young one. But my appetite is insatiable and I make no promises to hear you out completely."


With a bow of her head, "Fully understandable, you have many other people to offer your services to. First let me say that I will not contest if you choose to continue with your original intentions. However, I would willingly offer you half of my heart, if you will allow me to keep the other half securely in my body..."


Now it was the black hole who was perplexed. "You're bargaining with me? Have you not noticed you're not really in a position to negotiate? Why would I accept only half of your heart when I am capable of taking all of it?!"


In a stoic manner she replied, "What I am offering to you is not for sustenance's sake but for your personal reserve; a connection to understand, if not experience, the vast pool of feelings we incur in all of our in-betweens. What I am presenting is an opportunity, if you would consider it so, to grow in a different aspect- if that is even possible in all your current greatness. Surely infinity must be lonely at times? To feel what I feel may occupy a piece of your perpetual void, & vice-versa. To know that you occupy a space that is shared, would it not make you feel so alone?"


Not to be insisted upon that there were things the black hole did not understand; for it considered itself to be infallible in its knowledge of all things, it added a condition to the presented offer. "Child, you bring forth an interesting concept. One which I would like to explore that would only add to my wealth in the knowledge of all things... under one condition."


The girl, stood serenely still, demonstrating her full attention to the endless mass of darkness.


It continued with, "I accept your measly offer under the term that which upon the end of your short, fragile, life- you relinquish the remainder of your heart to me."




In this mutual binding verbal contract, the black hole commenced the dissection of half of the girl's heart. Once he opened up her chest, a blinding light (to any being other than a black hole) spread to everything in the vicinity. It was such a powerful source of light that the black hole could not find any space between to occupy. Momentarily baffled, it proceeded with the extraction. Almost as quickly as it had started, it was over; the girl felt nothing amidst the duration of which. She was left as she had arrived, minus half a heart and save for a new freckle on her chest to represent the event. Without any further exchange of words, the girl & black hole parted ways.

They lived on, in their own ways & in each other. Given all the extent of infinity, sometimes the black hole would forget about his encounter with the girl. That is, in between the fleeting moments when he "felt" something palpate and instill something only a human would describe as "emotion". There is even secret talk that the black hole gained more than he bargained for... Hushed assertions that some of the girls light that was so hot-white bright, was left aglow in hidden corners (if there are any) in the black hole.


When the girl, who was now an old woman, approached her last day; the day the black hole had marked for the surrender of the rest of her heart... the black hole was thwarted. For what it did not realize was that in every tiny moment that he felt the girl's heart briefly bestow within it a beat or two, those were moments when she gave pieces of the rest of her heart to others in her physical life. On the day the black hole crossed paths with the girl again, this time in her ethereal form; it was only able to collect her heartskin. For everything that had filled it, belonged to the people she left pieces of herself with in her earthly time.

And so was the tale of the girl and the big black hole.




c.marie

We Are All Made of Stars

Miniature freckles of light
Make up our mass.
Insignificant specks explode,
Accumulate an inner glow.
Touch another life,
Let the radiation grow.

Nebula's and supernova's;
Intergalactic wormholes,
Link us through time.
And love.
And life.
And loss.




c.marie

Afterglow

The Dusk:

And so the sun sets on another rat-race day,
Making stellar room for the moon.
The world spins madly on.

Become refined by letting go of what defines.


And so my soul churns like the tides,
Cleansing the surface of the shores.
Smoothing the sand for a new tomorrow.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------


The Dark:


Shadows engulf with insatiable hunger. It's sometimes too easy to get lost in the dark... But it's also easier to find the cracks in the infinite blackness- the slivers of light in the deepest middle of the night. Stand fast, hold steady; chin up, eyes forward, arms ready. Throw the armor to the wayside, it'll only make you an anchor. Vulnerability- the fool's negligence, the hero's glory story.




c.marie

Nursery Rhymes for Grown-up Times

Dandy little lions
Dancing in the breeze.
Natures gymnasts soaring,
Navigating an air trapeze.

Softly roaring
Confidence exudes,
Radiating innocence,
Not to secrets, but imagination elude.

Miniature Marry Poppins' umbrellas
Fuzzily float from
Yesterdays dreams to
Tomorrows hopes.

Spoonful's of sugar warn:
"Do not take with alcohol;
May cause drowsiness".
Soon imagination becomes a jaded mess.


Waste not, want not,
Rely on heart's true thought.
Fear not, fret not,
Encage the brain in iron wrought.

Steel the mind,
Steady the core.
Focus the desires,
Balance the soul.

Decide favored flavor &
Fill your own spoon full.

c.marie

The Tortoise & The Scared

Like a rabbit, your actions are quick & swift; acting only in the interest of the rabbit. Then, like it's counterpart the tortoise, retreat into the shell of your words. Tangible, colorful, elaborate words. Empty words. Preconceived, prepared; practiced in the occurrence that you may need to talk your way out of a corner. A corner you backed yourself into. They lull the gullible, they sway the weak. But they won't penetrate the meek. For the meek know better than to rest their faith in only letters- irregardless of the intricacy of the speech. So jump back down the rabbit hole, where you seem to be much more comfortable. A den in the dirt that you've made home, you'll soon see- you are alone. For the bunker will house only one.

c.marie

Fluid Velvet

Entertaining intermission-
Watching the miniscule bubbles,
Cling to the inside of the bottle.
Watching the level of red,
Reach for the bottom.

c.marie

Please! Don't Feed The Animals...

If you want friends, just feed the animals chomping at the bit.
I'm 346 miles away...
There's nothing I can do anyway.




c.marie

Fire Thief

A cheat & a liar,
Stealing heat from a true blue fire
To fuel your escape.
Burning bridges in the getaway...

Only to cry when the smoke
Drowns your eyes.
In perpetual hopelessness,
Fall to your knees.
Weaker than wax
Made from the buzz of killer bees,
The hum of whispering secrets...

No damage control can fix the flame you stole.




c.marie

"Shit on the Radio" -Nelly Furtado

You say good things come to those who wait

I've been waiting a long time for it

I remember the days when i was so eager to satisfy you

Be less then i was just to prove i could walk beside you

Now that i've flown away i see you've chosen to stay behind me

Still you curse the day i decided to stay true to myself

You say your quest is to bring it higher

Well i never seen change without a fire

But from your mouth i have seen a lot of burning

But underneath i think it's a lot of yearning

Your face the colors change from green to yellow

To the point where you can't even say hello

You tell me you'd kill me if i ever snob you out

Like that's what you'd expect from me like that's what i'm about

I remember the days when i was so eager to satisfy you

And be less then i was just to prove i could walk beside you

Now that i've flown away i see you've chosen to stay behind me

And still you curse the day i decided to stay true to myself

It's so much easier to stay down there guaranteeing you're cool

Than to sit up here exposing myself trying to break through

Than to burn in the spotlight hoping fine

Turn in the spitfire hoping fine scream without making a sound

(hoping fine)

Be here and looking down

(hoping fine)

Because we're all afraid of heights

I remember the days when i was so eager to satisfy you

And be less then i was just to prove i could walk beside you

Now that i've flown away i see you've chosen to stay behind me

And now you curse the day i decided to stay true to myself

Myself myself myself myself myself myself