2 New Pieces

Comic Tragedy (October 3, 2010)

This role is like none I’ve ever played before.
The cues are unfamiliar and memorization holds no sway in the lines I deliver.
Improvisation reigns.
Yet I am not the first to play this role and I will not be the last.
Bur right now, in this moment, the role is mine and I must play it as I see fit.
And if the audience disapproves
because it cannot
or will not understand,
such is the risk of the role.
I play it for my own satisfaction, to my own pleasure.
The only approval I seek is my own and that of the one who plays opposite me.
And as the production plays out,
from it comes growth,
from it comes happiness,
from it comes life.
The fruits of my playing prosper and no standing ovation can replace it, for that is my all.
This role is like none I’ve ever played before,
Yet I shall play it ‘til the end, until my final curtain call.


Wide Open and Bright-Eyed (October 6, 2010)

Nothing could have prepared me
for the joyous love I’ve known
since you opened up those eyes
that said you were my own.

Grey as a misty rain
and blue as the calming sea—
Changing tides they rise and fall
and light up just for me.

And the stories they’ve told and the stories they’ll tell
are the ones in which words have no need.
For your eyes have a voice which can fully express
all your thoughts and your wants which I heed.

Wide as the west from east
and bright as a rising sun
are the eyes so full of love
of my young and little one.

A Fight for Me

Every now and then I ask
who and what are we?
And what is it exactly
you see when you see me?
Am I lover, friend or ally
or someone to beck and call?
I'm standing here and ponder:
Do you see me at all?
My presence goes unnoticed
and my words can go unheard.
Is it absentminded focus
or do I overstate my worth?
In this dark and crafty world
I would not have us live a war
but at times the question probes:
Is this life worth fighting for?
My thoughts turn to seduction-
your attention quickly fades.
Duty's call no longer tugs.
Desire floods your gaze.
There will still be times I wonder
who I am what you see.
But I'll know despite the call of war
in the end you will see me.

Puzzle

How long have you been searching for the final piece?
And how many times have you attempted to force the fit?
Take a look at your hand.
See the piece it holds?
Guess what?
It’s not the right one either.
You think you know what you want and you’ve convinced yourself that it’s right.
So why are you still alone?
Why does that hole still beckon, taunting you with its emptiness, mocking you with its uneven edges that reject your every endeavor?
Your eyes and ears are open but you refuse to hear or see.
Listen to me!
I understand your stubbornness—it is a malady from which I too suffer
And therefore I can appreciate it.
But the piece you hold does not fit.
Turn it left, turn it right, upside down and on its side.
Your tenacity falls short.
So leave it.
See it for what it is:
Extra weight that only drags you down and holds you back and prevents you from seeking that which you lack.
A polygonal shape that has no known name—such is what you seek.
Not a circle that will roll contentedly behind you, nor a square that will bend to your will.
You’ve tried those all before.
Yet what do I know?
Who knows better what you need than you?
But you do not want what you think you need and what you need is not what you think you want.
If you did, you wouldn’t be holding this piece, just another in a long line of pieces, trying desperately to fit it to your form.
And you wouldn’t be hating me.

Contract

**just a note: This piece was written very quickly. It is very instinctual. It is directed at a very small, very specific group of people. It is not meant to be taken as a general outlook on life that I hold, because I don't. Please read it with a grain of salt and cynicism, for that's how it was written. Thank you.**

I'm the boss.
What I say goes.
Don't like my rules?
Hit the damn road.

Wanna know why?
Because I said so.
No. You can't just...
Just do as you're told.

My word is law
So deal with it.
Don't like my way?
I don't give a shit.

I don't want to hear
Your reasons or thoughts.
I'd really prefer
If you'd shut the fuck up.

And the moral of the story is:

If you can't deal
With you're wrong and I'm right
Then do me a favor:
Get out of my life.

Ink

Nothing so exciting yet at the same time
nothing so daunting
as a blank page
beckoning...
enticing...
waiting to be filled up
with a flood of black ink.
But what if your pen has run dry?
Or even worse, your muse?
Staring at the unending brightness of white
desperate to leave a mark
just to prove you can.
A racing mind, each new thought discarded,
not worthy of your time, your talent.
And at that moment when despair has nearly won
when you're ready to rip the page
throw the pen
walk away
a dim hue on the horizon flickers,
a dam breaks
and a river of ink stains your page
with rhythm or rhyme or rhetoric
and your story unfolds.
And as you view what you've written
waiting for a critique,
there is nothing so exciting yet
nothing so daunting
as that full page stained with black ink.

Assurance

Since I was you, I've wanted you.
You've always been my desire.
Long time coming, for years and years
Thoughts have revolved around you--
Your features, your character, the manner in which you'll grow,
Who'll you become.
I've imagined and dreamed
A time times a thousand
My pride, my joy, my love--all attuned to you.
Now you are no longer a dream.
You've come into being.
I know it's been rough, a hard patch of time,
But please understand that I'm scared.
You are the door, an entrance into an unknown world
And I have no choice but to cross the threshold.
I don't know that I'm ready.
Can I ever be?
But know this:
My love for you overflows, a current strong and unstoppable
And I am pulled along, unable and unwilling to resist.
Never doubt that you have become my life
And I would give mine for yours.
When you sense my distress
And worry that you're wrong
Stop!
Never believe that, for you are as right as can be.
I will get through, past the weeks and the months.
And when you're finally in my arms
A quiet calm will descend
And you will know as well as I that you've finally found your home.

Learning Environment

Who's to say what's for my own good?
Certainly not you.
My actions are my own, confined to a screen that flickers and flits.
I suffer not from the faces and spaces and ramblings and wit.
The information computes
Recognized by the reality of the 90's.
And only in rare circumstances do I sink that low
For perfection is an everyday occurence for me.
If they are led to distraction, it is only because they peek around corners and hide behind doors.
If they kept that which is meant to take in air between the covers
And those that are meant to read between the lines
Then just maybe they could keep up.
Yet I am punished.
My freedom to search is eliminated
Given up for the good of many--
For those who are either too foolish or unwilling to take charge of themselves.
No matter.
My loss is also my gain
For my frustration furthers me to greater heights
And I shall surpass them all.
My own good? I think not.
But I shall make it so.