I'm sit on the park bench in my own world as a series of notes wash over me with more force than and ocean way.
Flowing through my body and filling my soul with the passion to dream.
To be the creator of such magic would be an honor.
As I tap my foot to the tempo and sway gently as the wind sends my hair in a dramatic whirl, I smile.
I feel warm and cozy. Right were I belong in the embrace of my lover.
Look in the mirror.
Look in the mirror.
Are you sick at what you see?
I can't speak for you, but I can and will for myself.
That I an completely and utterly shocked at what I see.
I'm healthy. Have a home. A family. Food and water.
Yet I complain.
I feel like I could be on a reality show for the third world kids.
They would laugh and be in disgust at my so called,
I would be their the Kim Kardashian.
And it hurts.
Being good, is not good enough.
When a human being, your equal can not even be sure of their next meal,
I'm afraid to even stand in front of the mirror lest it crack from reflection.
Because what's reflected goes much deeper than your cover.
You cannot help the way you came into this world.
Some more fortunate than others.
But you can change how you leave it.
In the Clouds
My heads in the clouds.
Have I ever felt better?
"No darling no, not ever not ever" says the voice in my mind.
"Not ever please stay and be mine."
"Such eloquent words surly don't mask insensitive lies!"
My heart pleads an my body cries.
My heads in the clouds my reason sent tumbling to the ground.
But I don't care and watch it fall down.
I lay masked in the glow in the arm of a lover.
Left completely exposed and wrapped in wonder.
If this is real then I'm am at ease.
But Lord rest my soul and here my plea.
I'm giving it all, have none left to give.
I have loved and am being loved,
Oh let this be real.
But something a tingle won't settle my mine and I wonder if I will follow my reasons back down into the depths of life.
A feeling one feels usually in their lifetime.
The chase, the hunt, the succumbing to your intentions all along.
The blushing and smiling and late night talks.
And the hurt and pain of nearly being at loss.
But all people who feel this and make it in the end.
Have forever a soulmate and a lifelong friend.
Hard to describe, but easy to feel.
Hard to explain, but never felt more real.
I guess will call it, love.
I forever feel the tingling of butterflies inside of me.
I've been shown feelings never felt before, surely love is an open door!
My heart it thuds a thousand beats at the mention of his name.
The thoughts whirling through my head would render me insane.
I awake every morning with a little sweet message.
And go to sleep every night in my own little heaven.
How ever I went on before I don't know.
Because a day without would total my soul.
I feel these things and so much more.
Indescribable pleas no foreseeable woes.
New emotions released from within.
And all because of my love for him.
Observation Journal #1
I was sick of the idea of being the norm. I was sick at the thought of trying to conform. So I'm un-conforming.
My name? Just call me Night Poet. My message, be you. No labels no charades.
I look like my normal everyday self. My chestnut hair in a waterfall braid over my shoulder. My favorite yellow sundress and my violin of course.
Ok guys lets see how it goes.
I started out with Vivaldi's Spring. I played and smiled and people stopped. And watched. Smiled took pictures the whole thing. Then I stopped. Then began to play A much more vigorous and loud piece in which I composed myself. Jaws dropped and the crowed was shifted out completely until the group consisted of homeless people and street wallflowers.
"Darling are you sure. I mean lime green".
Thus commenced the dying of my hair. And about five hours and three hot topic stores later here I am. On my street curb ready to play. But this time I advertised. And about 50 older people are standing around with skeptical looks on their faces.
Could be the Lime green hair. Black eyeliner. Purple lipstick and my long black dress with black boots.
Not me I know. But let's see.
This time I started with Beethoven No.9. The faces weren't as skeptical as in the beginning and once I finished a number of elderly women invited me shopping. I objected of course but not with out receiving several bills for clothes.
It was finally time to conclude my findings.
Now anyone can say that they aren't influenced by the way of the world or the fad of the day. But truth is you are and it's hard not to. I'm just a small town girl. A violinist. Chestnut brown hair and green eyes. A southern bell. And when I was in front of those people I played. As expected and they loved it. Until I played my second piece. And the crowd slimmed down. Was it what I played? How I played it? Was it not what they expected? Isn't all music art? Obviously not. Well it was to the homeless people who valued the show. Maybe if you don't have the most popular electronic or the best clothes it doesn't matter. And both songs I played were equally liked and appreciated. One can only wonder if that would change if those people had money to keep up with the worlds crazes. Then my make over took place. Yeah the dye won't be coming out for awhile. And I wasted my earning on the outfit I'll probably never wear again but that's besides the point. I was the same me. In different clothes. It turned people who appreciates me before away. Why? Because of appearance? Because I wasn't like you? I played the same beautiful music I was praised for but because of how I dressed it was a problem? Well wake up people. Not everyone can afford what you can. Can have what you have and be blessed in the same way that you are. If I've learned anything from this experiment it's that you shouldn't expect less if someone for what they have, but in the content of what they have to give. We have millions of people in the world. Which equals millions of talents. And it is a SHAME to think some people can't shine because they are blocked out by the "norm" and "ways" of the world.
End of my observations.
Thanks for reading. I'll enjoy any and all comments!!!!
The love who raised Innocence
Her name was love.
The babies was innocence.
Their mother a drunk.
Their father unknown.
Many a night mother came home wasted.
And love was shown how bitter blood tasted.
But peacefully, beautifully Innocence rested.
Their mother became worse.
But love showed no remorse
Whilst suffering the blow
Her voice became hoarse
But not her cause
That got her and Innocence along.
It was not but 15 years later
That Love's new future awaited her.
She shined dazzling and radiant in her Ivory wedding gown.
And Innocence wipe her tear away and held her arm.
"I know it was you".
"That kept me from harm".
The little mermaid’s bottle.
She pretended to be
Ruler over all the sea
And longed each summer day
To be spent amongst the waves
That doubled as her adoring people
With the power and force of its roar
She then brought out her blue little bucket
As far as she could so that the waves wouldn't cover it.
And sat while her daddy
But remember it's her fantasy
So while her prince made a tail over her legs with the sand.
Once finished her mother
Who was also the queen
Would decorate her tail with the prettiest of things
And as the sun met with the ocean
The royal family sat and remembered the day
The daughter remembered
Her kingdoms glory
The mother remembered
Reading her princess stories
The fathered remembered
Their faces and smile and what made it all worthwhile.
They day was done
And memories were made
To go in the bottle
The princess sent away