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My Woodcutter and IThe other night, my younger sister, my mom, and I somehow got on the topic of princes. They decided I need a prince to come sweep me off my feet. I have since decided I do not need nor do I want a prince. A prince would be too formal, too flashy, too ornate, and too busy; not nearly as comfortable as I would like to be. I want a woodcutter (Do not say lumberjack because a lumberjack and a woodcutter are two completely different things in my head. My fella doesn’t wear plaid and overalls, thanks very much.) I want someone quiet-like but goofy, slightly awkward like me, someone I can snuggle with and not have to worry about looking good enough or having others watch us. I want someone simple. Not simpleminded, but simple. I want a little wood house deep in the forest where me and my woodcutter can live. He can chop wood during the day and I’ll keep a garden and clean the house, go draw water from the creek that will naturally be by our house (because wells just haven’t
The Pen CapThere is a pen cap stuck in one of the holes in a pew on the fourth aisle up in our Chapel at Church. We put it there. Or at least one of us did. I don’t know how or when it got there, but ever since it got stuck there, it has marked my family’s pew at Church. We have sat in that same row every Sunday for at least 10 years, except those days in which we are too late to get our usual seat or are on vacation. However, a little while back, maybe two weeks, maybe two months, who knows, we found the pen cap missing. We were immediately disappointed, as it seemed to match our family: loyal, faithful, but slightly askew, quirky, idiosyncratic, you know, just kind of…weird. Fun. A little bit irreverent but still respectful. The fact that that little signature of ours was suddenly gone distressed me for more reasons then one: It marked change. It meant moving on, and growing up. I am 21 and therefore, I am almost finished with my Bachelor’s Degree. My two older siblings
Pretend it's MorningThis morning I had to wake up at 5:45 in the morning to get ready for work. All types of feelings were aroused in me by this: anger, irritation, exhaustion, hatred for my boss, etc. Until I realized something: It was quiet. In a house with 7 people, there are rare moments when all of us are home but the house is quiet. I reveled in the silence. The house was so peaceful there, with the moon peeking in through the window, as if to check in on me before leaving for its hiding place behind the sun. The stairs creaked unnaturally loud, groaning in exhaustion, as I crept up and down while getting ready. I love those edges of the day, right before its deathly night, when everyone is just entering Dreamland and those precious moments before the sun awakens, when Dreamland is starting to drift away, and it creeps out of your head leading you to consciousness. I loved creeping around the house at that hour, quietly making my breakfast and saying hello to the sunrise while everyone else was just
There is a houseThere is a house, where stairs creak, and windows squeak. The house lies forgotten, dust embedded in every corner, age written upon every stair railing and piece of rotting wood. There is a house that lies in a place beyond sight. The only way there is through those that know the house already, and those people never speak of it. Only in hushed, reverent tones, in the silence of the night can the house be spoken of. The house is a memory, which cannot be reminisced without the bitterest and sweetest sorrow. There is a house that no one speaks of, for fear of the house disappearing from memory forever. The house is a dream, an elusive picture that fades as one tries to catch it. People may stop and rest, but they may never stay. There is a house, a house that bring peace, rest, and joy. There is a house that is so familiar people ache with the memory of it, for the house is home. And home is within the heart. There is a house that is a heart, a heart of a person that has forgotten, who
There is a meadowThere is a meadow, where the wind dances through the trees, and the sound of leaves rustling echoes back through the wind. The leaves chase the wind, exulting in the wind’s excitement. There is a meadow, where the sun shines and stretches itself as far as it can reach. The sun relaxes, enjoying its safe haven and sharing its glory with all that it touches. Warmth emanates from the sun’s rays, brightening the meadow. There is a meadow that has a river. The river has rocks, colorful rocks, plain rocks, rocks that have seen dinosaurs, have been stepped on by every kind of animal, have been tossed by playful children, and have used as stepping stones. The water rushes over the rocks, cleansing them in its hurry to get somewhere only the water knows. There is a meadow where flowers grow and birds sing. Dandelions flutter in the breeze, and birds soar through the sky, plucking at bushes and singing of the joys of the peace of the meadow. There is a meadow where the gate is a brea
In case I ever forgetIn case I ever forget myself:
In case I ever forget myself, and lose who I am in the chaos around me; in case one day I wake up and forget that I was once alive; in case one day I drown from the noise in my head; in case one day someone tells me who I should be and I believe them; In case one day I think I'm not good enough and start to believe it:
I like rain walks. I like to feel the water on my skin and the smell in the air and the raindrops clouding up my eyes. I like that I feel alive and close to the earth as I hear the skies rumble and the nonsensical rhythm as the rain falls, not caring where or how it lands.
I love the beach. I love that I never feel too big for the ocean, and that I always feel slightly threatened yet safe standing in the tide. I like the feeling that this world is bigger than we could ever understand.
I love music that makes me cry. That pulls at my heartstrings and refuses to let go because it's what I feel inside. I like when I don't understand how I feel
I am twilightI am the sunrise and the sunset.
I don't shine like the sun or radiate like the moon.
I just hang in the heavy air of twilight.
Beautiful ThingsThe end is coming and we both know it.
The exuberance we show is nothing but a mask. A facade to hide the truth we both know: This was never meant to last. It is foolishness to pretend otherwise but the sunset is to beautiful to give up, so we cling to its rays with a desperation that makes the angels cry. This is the most beautiful thing we've known, and beautiful things never seem to stay.
You Told Me That You Loved MeYou told me that you loved me
And breathed life in to my world
You told me that you loved me
And you’ll always be my girl
You told me that you loved me
That I’m such a special man
You told me that you loved me
And we were part of His plan
Now you tell me you don’t love me
But you still let me believe
You tell me you don’t love me
And you never let me grieve
You tell me you don’t love me
That we can only be friends
Then you tell me you still love me
But never speak to me again
I hear it all
What you screech
Every line repeats
Until I fall in my defeat
Can I ever stop
The barrage of words
That crumples me down
Onto the floor?
What gives you the right
To drag my face through dirt?
Why, oh why do I listen to you,
Who brings so much hurt?
Your words bring tears,
Heat rising to my face.
I run out in humiliation,
Sobs coming as I race.
My heart is bleeding
My ears are ringing
My chest is pounding
My sorrow astounding
I can't take it
Enough is enough
The smile is cracked
The mask now gone
I'm finally beaten
Is that what you want?
I'm just a human
I'll never live up
Never reach what yo
Are running out
Like the future
That my heart
My black eyes
Her gorgeous march.
Breaking my hopes
Was our last
She ran away
My life turned grey
Living a plastic life
It’s easy to watch
An entire society
Like bricks in a wall.
Let me stay
Here with you.
I don’t belong
There to them
It was a mistake
Believe that I
My tears spillMy missing you,
my wanting you,
my needing you still,
my tears spill.
it´s all been said before,
you´d just walk in the door.
My love for you,
my dreams of you
oh if it could only be,
then I´d turn back the hands of time
and you´d still be here with me.
By Suzanne Karbach 19th July 2014
Secrets and PromisesI am here because of the past,
Because of a promise that is endeavored to be kept.
I can only hope that this dread won't last.
Since the past is also what's killing me the most.
But no one knows,
What goes on in my head.
The painful woes,
That have not yet gone away.
Secrets that can not be shared,
Buried deep, and very far.
Only if anyone cared,
But God knows no one ever will.
Hiding the truth may never feel right,
But I am only doing it for the best.
I am not going to win this fight,
For what is left of me, I'm broken.
Wedding VowToday, my love, I lay my hand in thine
And vow to spend forever at thy side
The path that lies ahead of thee now mine
My strength to bear thy cares and match thy stride
Today, my love, I wear thy wedding ring
I pledge devotion, heart and soul, to thee
I share what joys and sorrows time will bring
And cherish thee for all eternity
Today, my love, I pledge myself thy wife
And take thee as the husband of my heart
I gift thee all the moments of my life
That nothing in this world tear us apart
Widows FearsIn a graveyard a widow stands
Remembering her lover who lays below
Under the stars
Weeping like a willow
The sky starts crying
In sync with her tears
This is why she had quit trying
Why she’d fallen into her fears
Keep your head up.The weight of the world is sitting on your shoulders,
crushing you down,
and making you smaller.
The more you struggle,
the heavier it gets.
My advice is:
Keep your head up.
When it pushes,
And when the world gets the message,
you will fly.
And when you fly,
you will finally understand what it means to be alive.
And that is,
to keep your head up,
and look at the challenge without flinching,
and once you rein dominance,
you hand it over to another that is giving up.
No one deserves what you previously felt.
See you later~Cold wind biting my ankles,
causing my jacket to flow in the current,
a river of air,
traveling around my body,
until it lifts me into the sky,
higher and higher,
taking me away from your hands,
and taking me into my own.
I will see you all later.
I shall be gone,
and in that week,
I will find myself..
Remembering YouI remember your smile when you looked my way.
It gave me confidence every day.
I remember your laugh when it was free from care.
It rang out full and filled the air.
I remember your hands as they stroked my hair,
As you chased away my every fear.
I remember your face when I sleep at night,
And I ponder how to make your burdens light.
I remember your love wherever I go,
And I hope you know I love you so.
Southern modernizationBlack comedy market economy, banana peel political humour, cards with the cartels, the solution free room service and credit the union. Bolivar twist, ding dong dollar under control, valley of the coin desert with no value. Gangsta paradise, the victims are the people. Big mac and cold conflict interference a part of it all. In little Mexico you’d need a high horse to jump the great border wall that boasts its peak.
Viracocha melts waters unlike those it rose from, making waves of out of metal oceans to overtake the current south, re-steel, re-take, tech-mechs the entire south into neo-Machu Picchu, cyberpunk music moulding, reshaping old society into an new age, iron dynasty, fresh coat for an old, ancient look. The coattails of Quetzalcoatl if he were a modern man pull together the merge of future and long passed past..techno temples and the like.
SolaceShe never slept well in the dark,
not without the children of the sun and moon
to guide her weary lids home.
Guided by the aftermath, she was always two steps behind.
What did the world look like to the girl who had been through it all?
Braved the heaviest of storms,
yet skipping over cracks in the pavement.
They said her eyes were the wisps of clouds before the storm.
To him they were reflections of pages overlooked.
She said it was like she lived the life of someone she had never met.
Laid out to dry, yesterdays news.
He knew her as the girl who was built to never collapse.
He wished he was too.
He loved her more than words could say, and yet her pain was such,
that at times, he feared she wouldn’t make it.
But on nights like these, even when it threatened to consume her,
he became convinced that somehow she would.
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