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Let Me, Tell MeWhy do cynics
think of themselves as more enlightened
than those who still smile at sunsets
and the antics of small children?
Why is being realistic
so much more lofty
than being fantastic?
Why are words like "forever"
and "love"
so silly,
especially when placed together?

I want to smile at small children and sunsets.
I want to fill my mind with fantastic dreams
and read books about things
that I'm told are impossible.unrealistic.
I want to write "forever love"
and believe it enough
to take you in my arms
and feel no shame.fear.

(It can't all be fantasy --
Every tale starts
with some truth.)

If you think

Make it FitMy greyblue eyes
are underlined in ash,
as though to emphasize a point
I must have forgotten,
like childhood androgyny.
I stare at their blackhole centers,
trying to fit them
in my round child's face.

TV says "Would you run away with me?"
I pause for a moment to appreciate
the idea of escape
before remembering that the reality
could never remain as beautiful
as the idea.

"What are you thinking about?"
"Walking in front of a car."
I place myself there,
wanting to push her out of the way,
wanting to stand beside her,
wanting to understand
what God hath wrought
and why He wrought it
this way.

...one for each day since I fell apart...
I toy w

Notes for Lilith -Top Words-God is not a Man
or a Woman;
God is our name
for the best qualities of both,
wanting to believe
that at least the intentions were good.

Love is not dead, my daughter,
not yet or ever, and anyone who says so
is a coward, or a foolish cynic.
Love is what makes us like the angels,
Daughter of Men, Daughter of Women,
and even the angels linked together atoms
to express their Love
the way we do.
Never let anyone convince you that Love is wrong,
but do not make it an excuse
to be careless.

Daughter, you were named for the seldom-mentioned First-Woman,
who, wanting an Equal, not a ruler,
left the Perfect Garden
in search of Love.

The GrottoI'd been searching for the narrative stream
of angel-headed hipsters,
walking straight and sweaty streets,
wondering where the empty guitar cases
and their young, poor, semi-talented
but enjoyably beatnik players were
when a yellow-stained finger hooked mine
and showed me the mystery-marring light
at the corner of a southern no where
where the best minds of my generation are laughing,
burning bright cherry pinpricks in a welcome cancer cloud.
That night, hiking up four flights of stairs,
the blackened ache in my chest
felt only like a fair price
for my stay in this seedy underworld of light companionship.

J. Alfred was wrongthey say that love is a glowing thread
tying us together.
I have no twine,
but your letters are lights
in the darkness
that does not befit this spring.

sadness is overrated,
and none of the true songs
say enough about time.
I only want a little more;
please, sir, may I have another
moment?
I will not lie
and promise one;
I would not be satisfied with years
of moments,
though weeks
will have to do
for now
but I promise
with my weak poet's power
to dig a hole in the continuum
and hide us there.

self-gratuitous love poemwhen we are time-wise old together,
if you're not as super-hero strong as you are now,
I'll push your wheelchair around Disneyworld
and we'll still laugh at all the funny people
from behind our mismatched hands
because we'll still be the hopers
who talked on a public dock until the sun rose around us
and I'll still tug the shoulders of your shirt with my teeth
and you'll still lift an eyebrow and ask, "Oh really?"
and we'll still go home and make crazy, passionate young-people love
because we'll really only be time-wise old
and souls are the parts that actually do the li(o)ving.

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Intimacybetween the dream of perfection
and the reality of pain
between the need for the moment
and the moment of loss
falls the shadow

life is very long

the ideal was not there
there was no ideal there
in that valley of falling stars
in that tearful valley
that broken emblem of the lost kingdom

but life is very long

so i prayed
the lips that would kiss
would find my fading star
and take me from the wasteland

Jesus SmokesI've decided
that if Jesus came to Earth now,
he'd probably smoke cigarettes
and always fall in love
with the wrong person.
If we wake up at night
and can't get back to sleep,
I could teach him
how to un-love his neighbor
and he could tell me
what the salty water feels like
under his feet.
He might wear his hair in a ponytail
and his eyes would crinkle when he smiles,
and I would smile too,
then pause
and in a small voice ask him what hell was like,
and is there any way to get someone back
if they've already gone too far?
He would take a drag on his cigarette,
nod kindly at the two boys holding hands,
and say that hell is more a state of bein

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Hard Timesby ~oracle-of-nonsense

Scraps

"It was a town of red brick, or of brick that would have been red if the smoke and ashes had allowed it; but as matters stood, it was a town of unnatural red and black like the painted face of a savage."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Herein lay the spring of the mechanical art and mystery of educating the reason without stooping to the cultivation of the sentiments and affections. Never wonder. By means of addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division, settle everything somehow, and never wonder."

--Hard Times, by Charles Dickens

Brilliant book, and this photo made me think of it.

~weepingconk Aug 5, 2010

wow that looks like the buildings described in the book

~oracle-of-nonsense Aug 5, 2010 Student Writer

I know! That's what they made me think of when I saw them.

!whitefox00 Aug 23, 2009 Hobbyist Writer

Aww. That's sad. The sky isn't even blue.

~oracle-of-nonsense Aug 23, 2009 Student Writer

I know. It's great though, for the theme.

!whitefox00 Aug 23, 2009 Hobbyist Writer

For the theme, yes. But it's still sad.

Those last few pictures you've taken have been awesome. They're on another level, all of them. I dunno why, but they're all sort of... dreamy, maybe? There's something similar about them. Maybe because they're all in Wilmington? Or the buildings? Something. Well, and the one of you, too. It seems sort of dreamy like the other ones. But that doesn't seem like a good enough word to describe it.

~oracle-of-nonsense Aug 23, 2009 Student Writer

It is.

Thank you. I'll chock that up to a perfect balance of setting, lighting, and editing. And of course, me just being awesome.

Maybe I've been in a dreamy mood?

The pictures of the buildings are actually from a while ago. I simply neglected to put them up.

!whitefox00 Aug 24, 2009 Hobbyist Writer

You are awesome, but those other factors probably had something to do with it. Either way, they all seem to have some common factor, and they are all really cool. Perhaps it is the haziness. It just seems strange that you recently put up a mix of new and old stuff, and a lot of it seems similar.

~oracle-of-nonsense Aug 24, 2009 Student Writer

Probably.

It could be perhaps the over-all mood I was in whilst taking/editing them. That tends to have some effect. Similar as in repetitious, or otherwise?

!whitefox00 Aug 24, 2009 Hobbyist Writer

Uhh, yeah, I'd say the mood was about the same. Reminds me of the first line of "The Raven", actually: "Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary..."

The "dreary" and "weary", especially. The buildings themselves seemed sort of resigned, especially the one by itself. All of the pics seemed sort of thoughtful. So yeah. W00t for literary reference. And w00t for my spell-checker telling me that 'w00t' is a word....

~oracle-of-nonsense Aug 25, 2009 Student Writer

Really? That's interesting, as I picture the Raven being much less industrially "dreary" and "weary".

Partially because they're old, and partially because of the way I edited them. I had old London in mind, I believe. It said that's a word???

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