my first assignment...a collaboration I guess you could say...the lovely Evan Park to thank.


Light Up the Sky

Your lips roll off mine
with the words of your heart
like beads of rain from the sky.
I can taste the stars and the moon
in your eyes that shine
like light in the distant heavens.
Those eyes, brown as the color beautiful
could shatter the world if you blinked.
Close your eyes my love
and break the ground
that keeps us here on earth.
Kiss me as the clouds roll back
when the only sure thing
is you and me.

This Day In Age

I'm glad we don't fit
the old time image
of old time lovers
and old time ways.
I was starting to get tired
of those old time stories
where the hero never fails
to save the day.
So sing to me
a new age lullaby,
let's rewrite the books
and change love for all time.
Let's paint a new picture
of how love should be
and promise eternity
that you'll always be mine.

loosechangeman02: you are so nice and cute and silly and friendly and OMG i love you


I don't think I've ever talked to him without having a smile on my face.

Butterfly Kiss

We shared a tender kiss,
a butterfly kiss,
and our lashes locked
like our fingers
as our palms embraced.
Your heart must have been beating
in your hands
because I felt the warmth
flowing through your veins.
Your lips met my ear
and you whispered
so the stars couldn't hear.
It was a like a sea shell
that tells you the secrets
of the world
and of your heart
when you rest it to your cheek.
And I wished
you would whisper forever
and tell me the secrets
of our world
and your heart.

The Dreams of Your Face

I sometimes wonder what life would be like
if I was always asleep,
or my eyes were always open.
If by closing my eyes I dreamed of you
and by being awake I saw the world around you,
I would never stir in nights,
or never blink in the sun.
The life I would know
would be love
and your face.
Nights and days
would be one in the same.

Time Heals all Wounds

I haven't cried a tear
since your hand touched mine.
My eyes have been dry
since your fingers crossed that line.
Even my watch is stuck
in that moment of time,
It's own hands
will tell the story
of the moment that yours touched mine.
My luck that it's frozen,
the watch stopped,
but just in the moment
my heart started.
How can I cry
for the lost time?
My tears won't fall,
knowing that your hand touched mine.

mabeldurr: sometimes it is good to feel liked

I Can't Get My Feet Off the Ground

This bold streak runs thinner than the blood in my veins.
I try to be daring but fail for the pain-
too scared to fall from this heightened sensation,
too scared to fall from my mind's own creation.

this one is the only one not written by me. but since he is one of my best friends, I will pretend it is mine...

this is written by David Burget
The Lady Over the Sea

these voices raise questions like oceans raise waves,
your face like a memory, lost in the haze,
i look to your picture, lost in your smile,
my heart will stand idle, and wait all the while,
an ocean the barrier so placid and blue,
my strength to cross it, i find in you,
it starts with a memory, and turns to a dream,
what happened then, is not what it seems,
these visions bring answers like sad songs bring tears,
what rain falls from my cheek, you must find sincere,
you laugh and you smile and you twirl as you dance,
you say i dont love you, just give me a chance,
i found you so lovely, i lost you the same
.....
-to be continued by David Burget who is wonderful in every way.

Sharing a Wall

I would wake up to the sound of Tim
hitting the wall in the house next door.
When he needed medicine or his mother's help
he wiggled on his mattress
and the headboard jolted the wall.
I never liked the abrupt awakenings
that kept me from sleep at nights
but because the duplex walls were thin,
I didn't only wake to Tim's fits.
Through the single layer of dry wall
I could hear his laughter,
his stories,
his music,
his cries,
his dreams.
Countless nights I had woken up
to the awkward cries through the wall.
Through those nights I grew to love
the lullaby of Tim.

Through Clenched Teeth

My mother is making me apologize
for pulling your hair on the playground today.
I was just playing, and I didn’t mean to hurt you.
Don’t tell your mom on me.
I am sorry.

My mother told me to apologize
for being so late today.
We had a conflict with time
and traffic didn’t really cooperate.
Don’t hold it against me.
I am sorry.

My mother taught me to apologize
even when I don't want to.
But Boss, I had the best intentions of doing my task.
There has been a mistake.
Don’t let me go because of this.
I am sorry.

My mother hoped I would apologize
if I ever got into this sort of trouble.
But really, I am not sure the wreck is my fault.
Accidents happen.
Don’t call your lawyer.
I am sorry.

My mother wished I would apologize
to all the people I have hurt through the years.
I have already said the magic words.
I shouldn’t have to say it twice.
So she doesn’t ask me again,
I am sorry.

Heaven on a Magazine Rack

It pains me that you bought that lie.
The magazines that preach a Modern-Gospel
cost you more than your wallet should be willing to sacrifice.
Five point sermons full of self-improvement commandments
grace the covers and find their way between advertisements.
Did you realize that each time you touch the glossy finish
of the pages, you leave a little of your self behind?
You come off with each page you turn,
but I assume the glossy finish that remains on your fingers
is what gives you your shine these days.
That, my friend, is a bona fide tragedy.

katapillerscheme: always thinking on your feet
HockALuigi: that's why my brain is attached to my hips


kris...nice try. I really do think that was an excellent line to finish with. but no way can you top the ultimate. keep going for the gold though, or the pink(lemonade in the shade?)

Night Life

The girls stayed up late last night.
Or, later than their Mother knew.
It was one of those evenings
that the crickets played
their square dance music
and the fireflies had a social
flitting by the porch screen.
Those fireflies were the life of every party,
with sparkling personalities
stealing the lime light
and playing hard to get.

The girls made themselves comfortable
on three cots lined up on the back porch.
Whispering and telling secrets
they waited for their mother
to fall asleep inside the house.

At the sound of mother's soft snoring
the girls creeped from their cots
gathered by the swinging door
and slowly pushed it's hinges,
cringing in anticipation
fearing they would wake mother.

The girls were silent and cautious,
wallflowers standing close to the screen.
Then the crickets struck up the music,
the fireflies began their dance,
and the girls took flight
chasing the streams of light
through the yard,
joining in the firefly follies.

The Mighty Jungle

underneath the darkened
green canopy
upon the shimmering
dew dropped earth
unaware of the light steps
of the young wide-eyed hunter
thumbing redwood arrows
a stout
iron gray elephant
rests

Mask Vignette

He just meant to be the messenger.
The more messages he shared, the more he felt why he was needed.
She was the kind of girl who could take the wits from a man.
He was certainly dumbstruck.
“He is safe.”
Or so thought his friend when he was asked to win her for him.
He pretended to be speaking for his friend but after her kiss he couldn’t play on.
Had he stolen her from his friend?

     brief pleasure

     a one night stand

     under thin sheets
     in chilled darkness
     bodies embracing
     frozen in
     between space
     kept in rest

until


     child mouth wants more
     flavor ice

One Thousand Ways to Lose a Love

She stopped on the sidewalk by the oak tree and counted the leaves as they fell from the shaking branches. The air was still and chilled. As her body shivered she closed her eyes and imagined herself lying on the cement below the bow among the fingers of the limbs covered by the leaves that fell this time of year. She was trying to distract herself from this day when Matthew called to her from the peak of the oak's body and startled her from her momentary dream. He paused before he spoke again, giving her time to regain her sense of reality. "Here is comes. Try to catch it, Sarah." he yelled as he threw the frisbee from the tree. She made a step to catch the disk but her cautious steps weren’t quick enough and it fell against the concrete with a hollow sound. "Maybe we can work on your arm a little...you will get better at throwing it, catching, too. I promise. Just let me teach you." He hopped from the branches and landed on both feet. He walked to stand in front of her. "Sarah,"
She remained silent, her eyes transfixed on his feet.
"Sarah. Will you look at me?"
She hesitated to make his eye contact, but brought her gaze from the ground to his face. He took a step towards her and was now only inches from her body. Now his eyes faltered and he paused before he spoke again.
"Sarah...you know that I would do anything for you? I would get a thousand frisbees from the thousand tallest trees and carry them down one thousand times and walk one thousand miles to your door and stand, and wait, and call to you until you opened the door and let me inside. "
He brought his arm from his side and offered his hand to her. His pleading eyes were peircing in the stillness.
"Sarah...why won't you let me inside?"
In silence they stood. Matthew brought his hand back to his side dejectedly and took a step backwards. He looked at her once more and conceded to her silence. He stepped backwards, his eyes never breaking from hers until he fumbled on the frisbee laying on the ground. He bent over to pick it up, and when he stood again, his head remained lowered. He quickened his pace and began to run, away from Sarah standing there.
She was breathing so deeply that with every exhalation a cloud of condensation formed in the air around her mouth and nose. She felt a pain of regret. The words came to her mouth with the warm breath she released, but by the time they escaped the trap of her mouth, Matthew had long been out of sight.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Matthew...I just can’t open the door."
She stepped forward, and grasped her arms around her shoulders, pretending to feel the chill of the breeze through the wavering branches of the tree that stood above her. But in the secrets of her heart, she felt a longing for his arms to be wrapped around her, and the chill that kept her frozen there was the fear she had to fall. She was frightened by the nightmare that if she let herself love him, she would only lose him, or worse yet, hurt him. She stayed away and safe by counting leaves and walking too slowly to pick up the things that fell.

Green Beans Aren’t Just Cheap Food


Parker’s wife sat on the porch snapping beans. In her 34 years of living, snapping beans was the only practice her family exercised cooperatively. Her mother was a non-practicing Jew and her father was a stay at home dietician who believed in the food pyramid according to cost efficiency. Her mother spoke a language of gibberish she fondly called Yiddish. When speaking to her husband she took care to be misunderstood. It was a game she played “in fun” but it was know by all that she just resented her husband’s stinginess and raily body. If she couldn’t buy her lamb chops and veal, he shouldn’t get the pleasure of understanding her. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a non-cuisine-experiencing tooth. Father in earnest believed that the best meal could be purchased and prepared for under $3. He designed charts and shopping guides, which were hung from the walls and ceilings by recycled Scotch Tape pieces. He didn’t believe in waste and was bound by his conscience to maximize resources. His life practices conflicted with her fantastic dreams but there was a point between their worlds where the reality of their extremes collided.

Mother had a rebellious spirit so from her youth on she made an effort to be a challenge. Her parents were casual attendees of the synagogue only making appearances on Jewish holidays that excused their absences from their workplaces. Mother inherited their defiance. She developed exquisite taste for apparel, food, music, and art. The only aspect of this equation that wasn’t balanced was her choice of men. After all, she found her husband who was by no means anything worth bragging about.

Her husband, on the complete opposite end of the spectrum, was a simply spoken fellow who didn’t mind being told what to do. He quite enjoyed his wife’s deliverance of opinions.

They were not a picture perfect couple but they respected each other’s differences. It was quite a prosperous arrangement. She carried the whip and reigns while he pulled the cart, uphill and barefoot. They almost understood each other, or managed to build an oddly balanced life together. Even the stork was so perplexed by their relationship he was hesitant to drop their new child at their doorstep, but mother forcefully demanded the child. Mother knew what she wanted and father just followed her lead. However, as different as they seemed to be, they shared a common pleasure beyond the enjoyment of their daughter.

Father was the leader of the family’s grocery store excursions, being the wallet carrier, breadwinner, and health guru. This was the only circumstance in which mother’s aggressiveness was pacified. The corner market was the parallel universe wherein mother had no interest in dominance. She held their little baby anxiously, awaiting her pleasure. Father loved green beans and his treat to mother was what every Jewish girl ought to eat: ham. Green beans and ham cost all of $2.35. The perfect meal.

To prolong the delight of their shared pleasure, Mother and father made an event of snapping the beans. Mother would dress up and take a seat on the front porch of their house, sitting in a rocking chair to keep the baby silent so that everyone might consider the wonderful event taking place without distractions. Father would sit beside her quietly gathering the snapped ends of the beans and setting them in one bowl and the beans in another. They didn’t speak much during these times for they didn’t intent to ruin their closest moments with words. However their daughter heard loud enough that this time was something special.

Since these weekends spent silently snapping beans with Mother and Father clumsily loving each other, Parker’s wife made a tradition of the occasions. On this particular day years later, after she grew to be a woman herself, she snapped green beans bought from the corner market and waited for her husband to return from the city. She sat and dreamed of the sole act of togetherness that her parents shared snapping the ends and pulling the ends from their awkward love.

celtic 206: maybe we are walking in the shallow water until we are ready for the ocean

Xandr05: fierce is the word gay's use for hot/neat/cool
Xandr05: that's so fierce
katapillerscheme: neat
katapillerscheme: he had a fierce look in his eyes
Xandr05: gotta say it with a lisp
katapillerscheme: he had a fierth look in hith ice
Xandr05: there ya go

A Friend

I don't know what to say to you
to tell you that I care
to show you what you mean to me
to make your heart aware
of all the charming, selfless, daring, caring things you've done
to share with me your loving smile
and give me strength in times of trial.

Through the Grapevine

Poetry rests upon the earth
among the beads of silkened dew
covered by the viney growth
awaiting the hour of moon's descent.
At the touch of sun's warm rays
against the face of the dormant sky
life begins to stir beneath
the bed where Poetry did sleep.

The drops of dew are guided down
from leaves that stretch their fingers out
to catch and hold the stirring wind
that races through the twisted veil.
Milky clouds go quietly by
waltzing with stiff legged blades
of grass that stand alert and stern
to guard the dance of Poetry.

Poetry does walk amidst
the grapevines climbing playfully
to kiss the fruit upon each branch
and taste the sweetness of new life.

Channel 32 on Highway 9

Your radio tuner just won't change the station.
You don't really have anything against jazz
but the big band blocking the intersection
could be a road hazard
for people who accelerate
when they tap their toes to the beat.

How many tires will blow out before your bank account falls in?
These off-road reunions are getting too frequent
but at least you don't have to buy the hotdogs
for the tailgate parties
on Highway 9.
Can you buy hubcaps in packages of 10 like the buns?

You had never been on a safari
until you found the jungle in the median.
To save the whales
they started hanging traffic lights from trees.
You never expected to watch the Discovery Channel
from the interstate, did you?

Just remember that musicians roll in enough dough
to replace your tires
buy the hotdogs and buns
adopt Free Willy
and take you on a wildlife adventure.
Take pictures at their next concert.
The Discovery channel may do a special on them.

Late at Night He Writes to be Forgotten

At 10:00 pm the candle flickers
and the wick abandons the flame
that lights the dusky room wherein
the newspaperman sells his name.
He writes the stories to fill the pages
of headliners that made news that day
but no one sees his fairy tales
on the sections that get thrown away.

Second Hand Smoke

He was smoking in the car that night.
At least he wasn't drinking,
but smoking right in front of me?
What was my best friend thinking?
His awkward calm gave me a sense
that he hadn't made a mistake.
I guess he wanted me to see
the path that he'd chosen to take.
Forever I assumed he'd be
a person I would love,
until that day he drew away
and chose the cigarettes over me.

A Dream to Build a Trip On

My best friend and I plan to go to Australia some day.
We dream of travel and adventure,
the sun on our backs and the wind in our hair.
We want to rent a shack,
which he and I will cover with psychedelic colors.
Both of us are terrible painters but it is our shack to share,
and we will be the only ones to see the clumsy walls.
But Australia won't be about surfing and the waves,
the kangaroos and dingoes,
or the hundred sunrises or sunsets,
but that he will be with me
and we will share those moments together.

Bend the Spork With Your Mind

Just a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down
the long forked tongue of the serpent
slithering under the mattress that Connie and Body spooned on
after feeding each other chicken without a fork.
They studied their images in spoons that reflected like mirrors at the fair
past the fork in the road
where the blind man makes music slapping spoons on his knee
as busy people hurry past flattening forks on the pavement.

As they walked, Petra boldly reached out and took hold of Bean's hand as if they, too, were lovers or at least friends who liked to stay close enough to touch. To her surprise, he did not pull his hand away. Indeed, he gripped her hand in return, but if she harbored any notion that Bean was capable of romance, he instantly dispelled it. "Race you around the pond," he said, and so they did.
But what kind of race is it, when the racers never let go of each other's hands, and the winner pulls the loser laughing over the finish line?

-Shadow Puppets by Orson Scott Card

Each Morning

My dream is to find love.
I hope to wake up each morning
in the arms of someone who cares
about me as deeply as I do for them.
Someone who isn't embarrassed or hesitant
to feel hopelessly devoted to me,
who will hug me
and kiss me,
and mean it.
My nightmare is to meet loneliness.
I fear waking up each morning
in the arms of a cold feeling
that drags me to despair,
losing me in a sea of discouragement.
Where people don't see me
or touch me
or kiss me,
and mean it.

katapillerscheme: you know what i was thinking yestderday? i just didnt tell you
BuRgEy100: what is that?
katapillerscheme: that you are a handsome guy
katapillerscheme: AND you smell good
katapillerscheme: just in case you had forgotten or something
BuRgEy100: how.... embarassing
BuRgEy100: i am not handsome
katapillerscheme: are you telling me i have...bad judgement?
BuRgEy100: FUCK YA YOU DO!
BuRgEy100: OH MY GOODNESS!
BuRgEy100: I AM SO SORRY
BuRgEy100: I MEANT FREAK

haha, so you give a boy a compliment...and all hell breaks loose.

Modern Nomad

I pack my bags
and board a bus,
a plane,
a train to somewhere
I've never been
and haven't seen
until I make my way there.
I'd say it was an easy life,
not having a fixed home,
or anyone to answer to
except my stirring bones.
But honestly,
between you and me
I wish I had an anchor,
some place,
some thing,
someone to miss me while I'm not here.

Forget Me Not

I was asked to forget
the rainy nights,
the bitter fights,
the burning lights gone dim.

I was asked to forget
the empty lies,
the foolish guise,
the broken ties of friends.

I was asked to forget
the awkward smiles,
the painful trials,
the endless files of sins,
of which you know,
I will always know,
those things I was asked to forget.

Two Minds of One

He has the most beautiful hands.

With all the strength of his body,
with all the charm of his character,
with all the gifts of his talent,
with all the shadows of his mind,

his hands speak more than his words ever could.

Keep the Suitcase Open

Mama needed a weekend.

She left lasagna in the oven, instructions on the counter, and her departing words on the doorstep.

Mama needed a day without pearls.

She packed only two outfits for her trip and secretly took pleasure in the wrinkles and creases. She wouldn't touch an iron for a while.

Mama needed to wake up one morning without the boys.

She drove quietly with the windows down. She left the radio off, humming instead with the engine.

Double Exposure

Your little baby is growing up-
he has his daddy’s eyes.
But don’t forget that precious smile...
he was blessed with his momma’s wild side.
Your baby who needs you was born independent-
he’s already out of your arms.
Learn the rules of shadow tag,
it’s as close as he’ll let you come
to mussing his hair and pressing his clothes,
goodnight kisses will be far between.
He will always love you, he just won’t want to show it
until he is as old as me.
So keep this picture on a shelf but hold him in your heart
until he lets his daddy’s eyes shine,
his wild side is only the start.

Xandr05: lol, i love the debate thing
katapillerscheme: haha...thanks. you were great
Xandr05: he was kicked in an alleyway with steel tipped boots
Xandr05: all because he wanted a rainbow
katapillerscheme: everyone hated that queer

i am glad no one kicked you, and i am sad that you lost the office.
wait...it wasn't real! but that's what you get for being gay. (kidding!!)
i miss you, alex. i really do.

-a smidgen of the lovely aaron daniels-
loosechangeman02: katy, i love you so much
and you know what
i am proud to say that
i think that i am going to run around the house naked and scream, "I LOVE KATY THOMPSON!!!"
katapillerscheme: hehe, come and run around MY house naked and scream "I LOVE KATY THOMPSON!!!"


loosechangeman02: i never had a date that invovled going to arkansas
i can tell this is going to be fun

I remember as a kid, I was always so anxious to pull my teeth when they were loose. A nervous sort of anxious...I was very much against pain. I guess that would justify me being a wimp. Secretly I admired the brave kids. The ones who would yank out random teeth, just because they could: "So what, they aren't loose? Well...I'll just show that sucker! Tooth fairy here i come! Cha ching!!"
On the other hand, I was a "waiter". I was afraid to pull them out myself. It just...wasn't my thing.
Totally out of character, on Friday I helped a girl pull out her first loose tooth. No telling what came over me, but I was this little girl's cheerleader. This tiny girl, Marissa, is possibly the gutsiest kid around. She had a tumor on her pinkie, but it didn't phase her at all. She had a pink cast, so it was cool. You should have seen her with that tooth. Well...you should have seen us with that tooth.

I have a funny feeling. A good feeling! It is just a feeling that everything is going right. I can't help but wake up and smile. I am so happy, and about nothing in particular. We will see where the feeling takes me...I guess I can get used to this.

loosechangeman02: Katy... she is an excellent source of protein. Like in English class she would sit across the room from me and we talk and talk and talk in our secret language of nothing. Sometimes when we were reading books we would look at each other and laugh for no reason what-so-ever. That is how she is. It's like we are neighbors now and that is freakin' rad. Sometimes I will go to her house, I haven't yet, and we will just hang out. What I am really trying to say is that, Katy is a damn freakin' AWESOME girl. She is so cool the way she wears her glasses, and when I say "Katy" I mean "K-T."

thank you, aaron. father my children?

leah is here!
wow. july is an incredible month for leahs.
halelujiah!

I'll Pick You Up at 7?

he slipped her daisies through the mail slot
pressed his eye to the peep hole
and listened to her singing
on the other side of the door

she buckled her mary janes
moving with the second hand tick
waiting for a knock
on the other side of the door

her pearls gleamed in the moonlight
the smile on his face reminded her that she was lovely
tonight she would tell him
this was a gift she would treasure

her eyes twinkled in the moonlight
the smile on her face reminded him that she was lovely
tonight he would tell her
she was a girl he would treasure

I believe that all men are created equal and that everyone has within himself the power to make a better world.
---The Lone Ranger's Creed
adios and thank you for the inspiration and the quote, Cody Hill!


Happy Birthday Leah! You kick my ass! 15 years. ow ow!
You are my hero, lu, and I love you.

Oh, Mexico
It sounds so sweet with the sun sinking low
Moon's so bright like to light up the night
Make everything all right
-James Taylor


Sing it Sweet Baby James

We are back from Mexico, but part of me wishes we had never left.
It was an incrdible time of playing, watching,
talking, singing, swinging, laughing,
hugging, working, relaxing, learning,
teaching, changing,
and I couldnt have had more fun doing it.
Maybe it was because of the 100 Mexican children,
always at our feet or crawling into our arms.
Maybe it was the 100 screw holes into sheetrock,
or the 100 strokes on each mudded and taped seam.
Maybe it was the 100 times Aaron growled
"You gonna' eat yo' cornbread, boy?"
Maybe it was the 100 times we heard Fabio say "Amen"
...at our share times.
Maybe it was the 100 dishes we had to wash after every meal.
Maybe it was the 100 tresses we made into a jungle gym
to jump on, a seat to talk from, a bed to lay across,
a support for the roof of a house we built.
Maybe it was the 100 times we had to walk from our dorms
to the 2 houses we worked on.
Maybe it was the 100 times the electricity failed us.
Maybe it was the 100 cows that were hunted.
Maybe it was 100 bottles of joya we drank with delight.
Maybe it was the 100 degree weather that kept us hot and still.
Maybe it was the 100 words we knew in Spanish.
Maybe it was the 100 crashing waves at the beautiful beach.
Maybe it was the 100 pictures we took
of the 100 colors in the sunsetting sky,
or the 100 stars we could count before our eyes got lost,
or the 100 smiles that never tired,
or the 100 people who brought the smiles,
or took the smiles,
or loved the smiles.
Maybe it was the 100 things that God blessed each of us with
at each moment that we were too dizzy to see.


commentary:
All these maybe's add up to one thing i am sure of:
I had an amazing time.
I learned things about myself and about people I love. I learned to love things about myself and people I didn't love. I learned how people feel about me (more good than bad). I learned how I feel about new people in my life I can love. I learned about God, and in ways, I am closer to him than ever, but still, I find myself distant. However, I also learned that God is patient with my imperfections, and he is teaching me to be patient with mine as well as those of other people. I just love God, even when I don't feel close to him.
So, Mexico was beautiful and lovely. Different, yes. But wonderful all the same.

today, i got my first sunburn of the summer. ouch.

Main Entry: de·tached

Pronunciation: di-'tacht, dE-

Function: adjective


1 : standing by itself


As a tool of survival in many societies and tribes, the members therein practice exclusion of the weak. Survival of the fittest-Darwin would be proud.

On sport teams, when a player is injured, he is sidelined. Obviously, because he can't perform the duties required to be on the field.
In schools, students are put on probation from extracurricular activities when their grades or behavior don't meet certain requirements.

In litters of piglets, the runt is pushed aside when milking from the mother. With the exception of Charolotte's Web, the runt has a slim to none chance of survival.

In army batallions, when a soldier is promoted or leaves for some reason, the soldiers of the betallion hold a "Hale and Farewell". The leaving soldier is praised and presented with gifts and sappy goodbyes, being wished "best of luck" by his fellow soldiers.

When a person finds themself in a position to leave a place, they often experience some sort of hale and farewell. A comfortable good-bye party with friends, a formal farewell at a workplace-some form of closure. But often times, the misunderstanding occurs when the friends say the good-byes too early.

It hurts a little less to let someone go when you break away slowly.
What's the purpose in maintaining what was there if it will soon be gone anyhow?

It hurts no matter how slowly you let go.

When you take off a band-aid, you can follow one of two techniques. You can peel the band-aid slowly from your skin, or rip it off in one quick motion. Of course, there is no right or wrong method, however, it is my personal experience that when you peel a band-aid slowly, it hurts as you go. No matter how quickly you take it off, you are still left with a sting. Sure it will end up off your skin by some means or another, but I would rather experience the fast flash drive-thru of pain with a side of ouch, than a sit-down, 5 course menu of agony, followed by the house specialty sting.

The tribesmen don't often consider the pain of isolation until they find themselves in a similar position themselves, excluded from the tribe and written off.

The benchwarmers on the team, or the players on probation watching from the sidelines, don't feel as much part of the team as the players in uniform on the field.

The runt piglets experience a death by starvation and malnutrition.

In the army batallions, they hold the hale and farewell a short while before the actual departure. For several days, the soldier walks around with good-byes and a feeling that they are already gone.

When friends say good-bye too early, thinking to avoid some pain, the person leaving becomes detatched. In the time between when the person leaves and the good-byes are said, or more often felt, it is a terrible thing to be standing by oneself.

Has the Sun Set?

I really wish I could see the stars from here.
What does the earth look like from space?
I wonder if you could see all the lights
from our houses and businesses, and Las Vegas casinos.
It seems silly that we clutter our own sky with so many lights
then wonder why we can't see through the haze.

commentary:
summer breeze was fun, of course. i think more than anything, i really enjoy watching the people watching the music. don't get me wrong, i really do love the music, but i consider it to be more of a background to the real entertainment. i didn't see Leroy there though. i was a bit disappointed, but andy almost filled his place. thanks for going with me andy!

katapillerscheme: you make me happy robby!
AtTheShow719: katie you make me robby

christie! hey woman.

As of May 27, I became a working girl. I'd like to say I felt an earth shattering change, but coming home after that first day on the job, it felt more like a birthday, only I had turned 100 and still had the little kids at my birthday party. I work at Summerscope, which is a kid's day care sort of thing through the summer. So far, it has proven to be tiring work, but the kids are great, and it's an exciting job.

I looked forward to the day they would look forward to me. Growing up as a kid enrolled in the summer camps at my own church, I had plenty of camp workers to look up to. I always wanted to be near every one of them. I wanted their attention, and when I got it, the angels sang from heaven above. Or...I stopped crying and whining, which I'm sure constitued for some sweet choirs of angels rejoicing. On the other hand, however, I always wished that someday, there would be kids who felt the same way about me. I wanted them to want me. I think that kids can see that, or feel it with their super human powers.

I have been told I have a way with children. I'm not sure what qualifies a person to be "good with kids" however, if it were a legitimate title, I think I could wear it proudly. I'd sign my checks, Katie "Good With Kids" Thompson. "Good with kids" may be translated more realistically as meaning "good with making kids be good", or "being so kiddish yourself that you meet them right on their kiddie level". However it may be defined, I think it is safe to say I have a gift. I am a tamer of the wild beasts, however, I don't abuse my authority as a grown up.

So it's off to another exhausting day of children following me closer than my shadow. Exciting....

But in all reality, I really do look forward to it.

katapillerscheme: but the worst part is that i missed most of the saturday morning cartoons!
CeLtIc 206: but its friday
katapillerscheme:
CeLtIc 206: silly silly girl

Bright Eyed Fool

You've charmed my heart into believing
love is just a fool's conceiving.
Your clumsy aim at flattery,
your blushing pink sincerity.
The silly tales I've twice now heard,
you capture me with every word.
Your childish curiosity
lights a spark of life in me.
I eagerly await your touch,
the fumbled hugs I love so much.
Your kisses dancing on my lips,
your hands embrace my fingertips.
Your laugh is light and wildly free
your smile is sweet simplicity.
I see, my love, these simple things
and can't yet say what joy they bring
for each new day I love you more.
What bright eyed fool had this in store?

Don't Forget the Sunscreen

My reflection in their cloudy eyes is cheap and far from real.
My silhouette is darker than my dreams that they conceal.
Stepping from behind the clouds, I hoped to see the sun,
The burning rays were peircing then, I had no strength to run.
The time I have is darker when I spend it on my own
yet, they make me feel more lonely than had I stayed alone...

i just want to appologize..
to every wonderful person to whom i have failed to be as wonderful. sometimes i forget myself, and in my forgetting, i lose the people i care for.
so, i am sorry..

Cmitch1028: you only find the perfect people when you dont want them

but more often, you only find the perfect people when they don't want you.

so.
im 16.
when does it get good?

make life rise into this
soft clouded dream,
that winter would bloom her full vision
playing day through moons..
every dance above dawn turns night
to dark poetry.

skywalker135: don't worry what any one else thinks, because after the show you can kick their stupid asses, just say it, get it.
because you just don't care
and that not caring
allows you to kick some major ass.

on days like these, i find my eyes hiding under a gray veil

choose your words wisely
don't you know what you speak?
your ego won't save you,
your intentions are weak.

you've rallied up forces,
an open eyed sea
of eager young faces..
dead unceratainty.

until you've heard weeping
and sobs from the graves
speak not of other's dreams..
a patient tounge saves.

lusamaha: its so sad what avril lavigne has done to ties
lusamaha: i was looking at this limited 2 catalog and they had them in there for like 10 yr olds!
katyshak216: i know. she raped their greatness and left them dirty.
lusamaha: gawd i am so tired of corporate america and their enforced conformism

the dappled gray sunrise sweeps the horizon
even your eyes are clouded by rain

to explore distant lands,
to sail to the sun,
to hide with lost moonbeams,
to speak with my hands,

to capture a smile,
to disect true love,
to swim with the raindrops,
to sing for a mile,

to dance with an old man,
to drink with a saint,
to find fault with genius,
to believe that i can

do all things impossible
for dreamless fools
who worry of failure,
to weak to break rules.

i think if dreams were colors, my pallete would be blank.
a white wall wash of empty sky,
a well of inspiration dry.
my mind is home to little more than...

my lips were dry of words to say
so i will try my hand at talking.
today was such an awkward day,
i felt a cloud was stalking
me through the maze of corridors.
it followed as my eyes
retreated to the tile floor-
the squares must have been spies
for only mirrors glancing back
could echo my distress.
his quickened pace reserved no slack,
he crept with such finesse.
i wish the beast would leave me here
to weep beneath the sky
of cement strokes, all void of cheer,
where peaceful chaos sighs.
yet in this darkness all i fear
is that the beast leave me
alone to drown beneath my tears...
my cry a hopeless plea.