we came from the sea. true to the last once of the word and solid to the last clean jar in the pantry. That is all I ever knew.
Take to the sea when I grow grim about the mouth and feel like nocking people’s hats off, and when I find myself gazing blankly into coffin factories, that is where I go. Truth be told I got here when I am content soemtimes to find the worst surrounding the nobility of the ocean, its tradition often mocked by petty pride and rediculous need. I long for the ocean that is true, and when that constant call of the waves becomes more painfull, I indulge it and my respect is called into question before that final departure that we could never picture. Leaving me finding my self covered in dust feelng lonesome and wrong. Wrong isn’t enough. I always felt ashamed and never able to dive to the bottom of my questions, simply lost and wading through all that was hidden from me all those years.
wouldn’t it be nice to find someone, I supose I always have known that, in the end it helps to ease the insanity and wilt the leaves of those thorny spires that constantly prick at my sides. But a prick indead is what I may inevitably wind up with, for no one would want to spend hours with me by the sea shore or in the rivers, no one looks long enough to find the words hidden in the picture, or see the glass around the shells, for all the dirt is precious but no will ever know and that is the worst, and maybe my only purpose. Who knows maybe a quiet gentle young soul will stumble in to my life and hopefully this time around it won’t be soley comfort he’s seeking, for I no longer can be the nurse, the mother, the jail keeper, and the foot soldier of a hit man. instead just Anna would plainly do for I have lived up to being a woman of many trades.
I took to the woods it is easy enough to say, my intentions were nothing less than animal, finely attuned to where I needed to flee, I fled simple as that.
Quiet the leaves calm and transform the heathen impurities into the roughest calluses that have the softest beauty. That’s the light’s job, because anything appears beautiful when doused in the sweetest shades of peach, all is softened and brought back to the begining dreams that we all have in common. Those uncontrived notions that were snatched from us still exists and more deeply and alive they exists beneath the heathen pines that are so strong and kind to those with uncontrived hearts.
It’s those days that I remember the most, when the light transformed me the best. When all I needed was my feet to carry me, and I found friends amongst the heathen forrest.
For once I arrived and noted it is that I am happy, happy without horror, happy without plastered smile and without doubt living. living without screams internally nailing my sides with uneasy spines, but instead I can hold my head up high, instead of ungreatful hands, and the hands I chose are ones that care and care for me, I am no longer the nurse or the footman of the carrage I am simply allive for what I should live for. I think and speak, I thrive and care for what I do in all intances, it is not a waste to say that I am animal, and animal in all instincts and actions and for once it is ok. I am ok, and when I found this out to be true and in action it is time for me to return and act again as a snail an animal yes but a snail, and in all honesty this snail is ready for the sea to set out and be, being in the bes sence of the word which is always writen and living for someone. That someone wants all the happiness that am part of to continue and that happiness is what drives me to be unhappy for quite sometime in order to earn that true happiness. I can’t shouldn’t have and won’t ever again take any instance for granted, I promiss that, to myself in the name of happiness.
Once there is nothing left to say, you would hope all purpose would fade o teh sea, and all that we hold dear would find it’s way to our hearts, but seldom does that truley happen. When speaking your self breathless finds mimic in the wind and all that was supressed dissapates into the grass laidened heavily with dew and drifts into the ocean. sometimes it would be nice for an ear to catch that breath and cary it to a softly lit room where like a melville or Hawthorne it could be rebirthed and transformed into a painted story held dear by someone else for a change, wouldn’t that be nice. Expectations can be great indead, but all that falls to the wayside when more important matters take precedent are those that pain more in the end. When knots untied and snarls combed, being left looking back upon lost time is hard and all that can not be amiliorated sting, but like all things that stinging is managed by wind and water and all that call my name.
sweet bolinda holds a hand full of rage tempting you to defy it.
the mathametician begs her and preys her out on the street
sifting through the melodies of wrongs
she finds it in her stomach to get back on her feet
and so all is kept quiet, throgh the silence in her step she finds it easiest if her face follows suit and too the ribbons wrap around tightly,
constantly keeping her reigned in
those prison walls will never touch her more than they already have,
her self constructed prison keeps those deamons at bay and staires them down till they crumble at her feet
and like the paint on that old wooden skiff they too will wash away with everything, out to sea.
what else is there left to say
when all angry compreshions have faded away
from the paint on the skiff to the back boards of cobbled streets
nothing left for me to say i’ll let it all fade away
tell me more, embrase me again, let me hold your hand, cause i miss my haustile friend
leave you once and slam that door twice keep everything quiet and nice
so when the music stops, pathetic words won’t cloud your brain,
covered over signs that you were insane
untill elequent and tall she strode upon the left exited to her abode leaving me in a cloud of dust
i wouldn’t want them pipes to rust
but forget about me i have nothing left to say all bad memories have faded away.
The color yellow followed me today
and met me finally at the top of the staires
when accompanied with grey meant entrapment and despaire,
we noticed that it’s golden gleefull heartfealt tones danced around us everywhere
followed us with tones so dull in harsh grey morning light,
continuing to brighten when the darkness met our delight
longing for color in whirls of gray and white,
leaving us flat in peacfull dreams where we no longer nead the light
when stamps on lanterns and great pines give us nostaligia and hope,
and all around our permenant delight ties us in like rope,
with all that it gave us today our final spot in enwrapsured in mirth and gold
giving us a resting place sifting the day away comforting with the old.
longing for alignment
keeping up with all surrounding me, we all slow down
quiet light leads me to believe its around that stone corner
watching the sweet smells and soft movements of the existing pasts plotting their departure she is still here i just might always be too, just as it was said by him, I now say
the glow against his head is beyond the meager words I can find, he is the sweet smells and strong movements that keep me happy and alive,
his barn and garden are proof of all his good strong hard work, and in a way I am too, leading me to his honest life that I too love to live and only to make him proud is my small part in his great beautifull picture that he constantly paints
from beards and hats and cains and sun tans,
all is lost if nothing remains through speach, said with closed fists and open hearts in back room with on-looking ambrosia covered ladies proudly standing with sturdy intent and with hands on hips giveing a swatt on the back of the head to any dirty word escaping from the mouths of their husbands and brothers, so they won’t corupt the fucking kids, and to think of nothing simpler than a word or two about growth, hard work or integridy when sitting on stairs and when the color seems to run you run to your favorite spot upon the knee of your own who finds the joys in those simplisities and enjoys them as much as you do and keeps them dear and all is quiet when youre when with him, filled with colors and smells and sounds, all waits for times worth smiles and laughter and stories and forever memorized in dialogue energized in colors smells textures and hands hopeing for life to slow down for this moment to be saved in light for this is what you work for
