tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-85600130816467497622024-03-13T14:37:14.129-04:00Kevin Pees BlogMy name is Kevin. I love music and writing and reading. Creativity is in my blood. I love blogging.kevinpeeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16790320951095086576noreply@blogger.comBlogger94125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8560013081646749762.post-64330154801520989992013-11-30T09:22:00.000-05:002013-11-30T09:22:16.844-05:00Seascape<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span id="docs-internal-guid-278cb7ce-a960-1d20-1eac-59f39b42a2fc"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">i watched through a screen<br class="kix-line-break" />porch the pelicans<br class="kix-line-break" />swallow fish and the summer sky<br class="kix-line-break" /><br class="kix-line-break" />waves rushed over the shore<br class="kix-line-break" />i breathed in the aroma<br class="kix-line-break" />of salt<br class="kix-line-break" />and a north carolina sunrise<br class="kix-line-break" /><br class="kix-line-break" />shrimp boats dotted the horizon<br class="kix-line-break" />with that ole fishing pier<br class="kix-line-break" /><br class="kix-line-break" />kelsey and adam and i<br class="kix-line-break" />we ran with our boogie boards tucked<br class="kix-line-break" />in our pre-teen fingertips<br class="kix-line-break" />across the paved street<br class="kix-line-break" /><br class="kix-line-break" />the hot sand sunk beneath<br class="kix-line-break" />our feet like fire<br class="kix-line-break" />we ran and jumped into<br class="kix-line-break" />the cold ocean floor<br class="kix-line-break" />where we used to swallow<br class="kix-line-break" />the sunset<br class="kix-line-break" />annually<br class="kix-line-break" /><br class="kix-line-break" />the first chill of the ohio winter<br class="kix-line-break" />ices my windows and<br class="kix-line-break" />i wonder if that place is still<br class="kix-line-break" />the same as it <br class="kix-line-break" />was when i was young</span></span></div>
kevinpeeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16790320951095086576noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8560013081646749762.post-56793835195824207332013-09-03T20:50:00.000-04:002013-09-03T20:50:09.164-04:00Ode To Autumn<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Colored leaves dancing like spirits among<br />
the treetops and swirling through<br />
the air<br />
huddled under warm hoodies<br />
pulled tight around me<br />
slim jeans worn and faded<br />
pumpkin<br />
spice coffee on cold mornings<br />
and that smell of the crisp air<br />
before you slumber and<br />
after the sun awakens you<br />
the smell of rain on<br />
trampled and damp leaves<br />
leaving you breathless<br />
the whispers of ghosts and demonic<br />
beings and the<br />
fear in teenagers eyes as their<br />
imagination takes control<br />
the salivating tongues of kids so<br />
desperate for their candy<br />
and the colored leaves<br />
dancing into our<br />
rituals<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
</div>
kevinpeeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16790320951095086576noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8560013081646749762.post-9855711402930136252012-11-17T16:55:00.000-05:002012-11-17T16:55:37.127-05:00the big bad me<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
show them your teeth, <br />she says<br />i turn away and run into the dark night<br />biting my lips until liquid<br />spills out<br /><br />let them see your eyes,<br />she says<br />i plug my ears and take<br />shelter in the depths of the waxy canals<br /><br />make them feel your talons,<br />she says<br />i pinch my skin to maintain<br />self-control until my nails meet flesh<br />and flesh meets blood<br /><br />expose them to your true skin,<br />she says<br />i try to bury myself away<br />from her but<br />end up burying her<div>
next to all the other secret skeletons</div>
<div>
<br /><br /><div>
<br /></div>
</div>
</div>
kevinpeeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16790320951095086576noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8560013081646749762.post-10512737398155846532012-07-16T19:32:00.000-04:002012-07-16T19:32:33.283-04:00Andover<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
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roseate dusk dots the<br />
settling skyline<br />
in flushed blossom winks<br />
around ole andover</div>
<span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">a town i didn’t grow up in<br />
and know nothin’ about<br />
<br />
the waves of the musky lake<br />
dance to the<br />
rocky shore, moving<br />
with the wind<br />
<br />
the tall trees in<br />
the stretching distance<br />
dive far into the <br />
foggy horizon like the<br />
knights of the sky;<br />
like birds breathing in<br />
the world underneath their<br />
winged swords<br />
<br />
i listen for the sound of<br />
familiarity, but silence surrounds<br />
me in silhouetted shadows<br />
of the unreachable<br />
the unobtainable <br />
the mirrored masks of mystery<br />
and discovery and<br />
the pristine <br />
memories that echo<br />
loud like in valleys<br />
but i’m deaf to those<br />
‘cause this town ain’t<br />
nothin’ i know about<br />
and i didn’t grow up here<br />
<br />
the seagulls sure love<br />
to sing me their melodies<br />
and the trees sure love<br />
to shiver their songs<br />
over the littered cigarette butts<br />
caked in ash mud n’ dirt<br />
that tell me stories<br />
and i’ll embrace this<br />
moment, but this moment<br />
ain’t mine</span><!--EndFragment--><br />
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i’ll marry the stars, here<br />
and we’ll dance with this wind<br />
just listen<br />
t o<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>t
h e<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>s
u n r i s e<br />
‘cause in the morning<br />
i’ll be far, far away<br />
but those blue orbs,<br />
her skyline that i<br />
love to fly through<br />
they will be there<br />
we will be there<br />
embracing and dancing in<br />
our own moments<br />
in our own town<br />
<br />
and that stretching distance<br />
of time and memory and love,<br />
our future,<br />
i know nothin’ about<br />
and i didn’t grow up there<br />
but that moment,<br />
it’ll be ours<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
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</div>kevinpeeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16790320951095086576noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8560013081646749762.post-61268415110640033952012-05-23T21:26:00.000-04:002012-05-23T21:26:11.620-04:00Childhood<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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do you remember the hot <br />
sun beating down <br />
across the chalk-covered <br />
pavement? ‘cause i do<br />
the concrete cracks were<br />
like fate’s spider webs <br />
catching us whole<br />
for the digestion of design<br />
<br />
me and matt<br />
and danny and adam<br />
we liked to run and<br />
pitch golden crab <br />
apples the size of baseballs<br />
at the stop sign<br />
in front of my yard<br />
and we’d watch the swarm of bees<br />
flood out like shooting stars<br />
across the sky<br />
they’d chase us<br />
and it was just a game <br />
back then, do you remember?<br />
‘cause i do</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
some days i like to watch cars<br />
drive by, and i’d<br />
think back to when we <br />
would sit in lawn chairs<br />
on the side of the road<br />
under the heat of<br />
the summer sun sipping<br />
on our kool-aid and <br />
we’d wave with screams<br />
to honk like it <br />
was the law or something<br />
do you remember those days<br />
‘cause i do<br />
<br />
and sometimes i look<br />
into the vast sky and watch<br />
the lemon squeeze it’s <br />
juice upon the earth<br />
in it’s bright color galore<br />
of sunrise and sunsets<br />
and i take a taste of the <br />
citrus memories of lemonade<br />
daydreams, thinking back to when <br />
we would walk around the <br />
neighborhood with the little<br />
red wagon and sell to the <br />
thirsty weekend-yard-working <br />
dads who would buy a cup<br />
for a quarter, and we’d collect it<br />
all in that jar that summer<br />
that we were saving <br />
up for a club-house.<br />
it ended up in the <br />
childhood digestion design<br />
of our stomachs <br />
‘cause those sweets<br />
were smiling at us in<br />
the dairymart down the road<br />
and our pockets were <br />
so heavy from those quarters<br />
do you remember?<br />
‘cause i hope i don’t forget</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
i like to think back to<br />
when we’d be swallowed<br />
by the forts we’d build<br />
and get lost in the<br />
digestion of design<br />
of blankets and pillows<br />
and those little green<br />
armchairs <br />
do you remember falling<br />
asleep inside of those?<br />
‘cause i do</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
sometimes i like to<br />
let the memories consume<br />
me for those few<br />
moments, when the design <br />
of my childhood’s <br />
digestion swirls me <br />
around, i wonder if<br />
you remember the good<br />
old days, ‘cause i <br />
know i’ll never forget<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
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<!--EndFragment--></div>kevinpeeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16790320951095086576noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8560013081646749762.post-76009837718230091612012-05-01T13:03:00.001-04:002012-05-01T14:11:36.144-04:00Morning Ritual<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Can you hear that, too?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>the
tick-tock of a heart beat speeding as the <br />
alarm clock screams</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
the drip-drop of<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>warm water pelting flesh<br />
in a morning ritual</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
the sizzling of bacon grease on a
skillet <br />
shushing the nighttime away</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
the swishing of saliva swirling<br />
around the morning mouth of chomping teeth like<br />
a Merry-Go-Round full of dancing children</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
the gulp of coffee burning down the
throat and<br />
the yelp, “OW!” as it settles in the stomach<br />
<br />
Can you smell that, too?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
the after rain scent and the
crystallized bulbs of dew<br />
attaching to the blades of grass like<br />
children in the arms of mothers</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
the fresh shampooed hair and <br />
soap-scrubbed skin</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
the bacon and coffee collecting <br />
in the air welcoming the morning in around the house <br />
<br />
Can you see that, too?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
the sheer look of terror in<br />
those voids of sight as they surrender sleep</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
the soul-smiling gaze as pondering <br />
thoughts transpire in a calm, morning baptism</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
the bacon sizzling on the stove <br />
and the coffee boiling in the pot </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
the de-stressing smile of
satisfaction<br />
as the coffee drizzles down the throat and</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
the impression of pain as it burns <br />
its way down but a smile of contentment soon after</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
and the de-smiling look of
realization<br />
that it’s Monday morning and work is calling names</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
and the reddish-orange and yellow
sunrise</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
with purple tints and blue shading around the clouds</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
making the dread of work somehow okay</div>
<!--EndFragment--><br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>kevinpeeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16790320951095086576noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8560013081646749762.post-83243035639233029982012-03-29T10:26:00.000-04:002012-03-29T10:26:05.865-04:00I Would<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', HelveticaNeue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">Sometimes I wish that I could just drive far, far away. And not to run away. Not to any specific destination. Just drive and keep driving wherever the road takes me. Some days I just want to leave the suburbs and get lost in the world, only the stars as my guide. Can you imagine what that would be like? Leaving the city, abandoning the roots of your life for an adventure? If only life could be lived like that.<br style="margin-top: 0px !important; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" /><br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" />I would take the 7 seas<br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" />in the stars and sail<br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" />across them until the moon<br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" />calls me home <br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" /><br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" />I would drive down<br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" />the empty trails<br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" />that lead to nowhere<br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" />and everywhere I’ve ever dreamed of<br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" /><br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" />I would abandon myself<br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" />at the house of my youth<br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" />and explore the stars in<br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" />wonder, listening to their stories<br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" /><br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" />I would run through the forested <br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" />plains, and jump through the <br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" />rivered valleys, skipping stones<br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" />that dance on a rippling surface<br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" /><br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" />I would breathe in the words of God<br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" />and this world. I would love, I would dance, <br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" />I would live, and I would learn to <br style="margin-bottom: 0px !important; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" />actually see what I left behind </span></div>kevinpeeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16790320951095086576noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8560013081646749762.post-50115659734545073602012-03-08T17:03:00.000-05:002012-03-08T17:03:26.149-05:0026th Sunset of February<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:OfficeDocumentSettings> <o:AllowPNG/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves>false</w:TrackMoves> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing> <w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing> <w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery> <w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:DontAutofitConstrainedTables/> <w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/> </w:Compatibility> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="276"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--> <!--[if gte mso 10]> <style>
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<div class="MsoNormal">Dance with me under<br />
the blue moonlit canopy</div><div class="MsoNormal">of stars, our souls glide<br />
<br />
through those marshmallow </div><div class="MsoNormal">mountaintops our souls linger<br />
in perfect rhythm</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">with every planet<br />
pulled in by the gravity</div><div class="MsoNormal">of our beating hearts<br />
<br />
a true melody<br />
in violin promises <br />
a summer smile,</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">unceasing passion<br />
in perpetual motion<br />
of three syllables </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
oh, we’ll run to the<br />
endless edges of the world<br />
and chase the sunset<br />
<br />
So run, run, my love<br />
into the great big ocean<br />
I’ll swim in your eyes<br />
<br />
And let’s paint the sky<br />
every sunset that’s caught us</div><div class="MsoNormal">on fire, my love<br />
<br />
We’ll walk through the flames<br />
in silhouetted starlight</div><div class="MsoNormal">our footprints ceaseless </div><!--EndFragment-->kevinpeeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16790320951095086576noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8560013081646749762.post-53161358120186511512012-01-08T08:35:00.000-05:002012-01-08T08:35:51.081-05:00Bloody Mary<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">"the darkest wombs exit the heart,"</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">she said</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">i listened to her somber voice</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">like a ghost</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">in my blood</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">the moon was swelling</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">the sweetest melody</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">in cricket violins </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">and the wind</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">as she screamed</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">murder, murder</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">i laid atoned </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">in my own blood</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">the mirror telling no lies</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">bloody mary, bloody mary,</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">bloody mary</div>kevinpeeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16790320951095086576noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8560013081646749762.post-77064280059608919372011-12-02T17:22:00.009-05:002012-03-07T15:23:42.778-05:00DISCOVER part III (seeds of death: a metamorphosis)<div style="font: 15.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="font: normal normal normal 19px/normal 'Times New Roman';">i a m </span>the echo of rain<br />
on cracked blacktop <br />
and the cracked blacktop painted<br />
over with middle school designs<br />
in powdered chalk<br />
all in a beautiful array of<br />
sky blue strawberry red tangerine orange <br />
hot pink and white <br />
and the cracks in the <br />
chalk of hopscotch foursquare and<br />
four fingered families on the playground<br />
over at echo hills on <br />
stow rd </div><div style="font: 15.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 17.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 15.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="font: normal normal normal 19px/normal 'Times New Roman';">i a m </span>the silhouette of stretching shadows<br />
in the eyes of God<br />
and porn stars<br />
the darkness of death in<br />
every pink sunset and<br />
p e r i p h e r a l sunrise</div><div style="font: 15.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">cutting through the milky<br />
cotton ball puffs like <br />
the beauty of birth inside<br />
every carcass in graveyard wombs </div><div style="font: 15.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">they are wrapped in linen under six <br />
feet of f o r e v e r providing<br />
nutrients for the soil and the worms and<br />
the dust from the dust<br />
beneath the new roots of the grass and<br />
the old roots of that ancient maple<br />
over on 91 that stands guard<br />
with the pearlescent moon<br />
against the coyotes of the night <br />
<br />
<span style="font: normal normal normal 19px/normal 'Times New Roman';">i a m </span>the slaughtered pigs<br />
crying in the puke of<br />
the vegetarians and i am the<br />
smiling rose on the casket<br />
and the moaning dogs of<br />
sherwood acres <br />
and i am the ghost of<br />
that old slide that burned<br />
down a few years ago<br />
in sherwood acres park<br />
only the dogs can hear <br />
my cries <br />
<br />
<span style="font: normal normal normal 19px/normal 'Times New Roman';">i a m </span>the decomposing deer <br />
in the woods over in<br />
sherwood acres park<br />
staring through an empty <br />
window and i am <br />
the gathering flies and the<br />
animals that devour the<br />
remnants of the deer<br />
<br />
<span style="font: normal normal normal 19px/normal 'Times New Roman';">i a m</span> the first frost of winter<br />
and the last leaf of fall<br />
and i am the milk inside <br />
every maternal breast<br />
and the honey inside every hive</div><div style="font: 15.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 17.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 15.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="font: normal normal normal 19px/normal 'Times New Roman';">i a m </span>the life and death<br />
between dreams and wake<br />
discovering the world between<br />
fiction and reality<br />
and i am the ghost<br />
of the robin hood over <br />
on east main street<br />
they say you can still hear<br />
the hums of the local bar bands</div><div style="font: 15.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">in the wind<br />
<br />
<span style="font: normal normal normal 19px/normal 'Times New Roman';">i a m </span>the thin strawberry <br />
blonde girl with skinny jeans<br />
and a plaid winter coat<br />
purple lips curled in<br />
an evasive smile<br />
walking towards the 12 story<br />
library in risman plaza <br />
<br />
<span style="font: normal normal normal 19px/normal 'Times New Roman';">i a m </span>the smell of turkey<br />
in the oven and the<br />
image of the gray smoke pouring <br />
out and curling as it hits<br />
the ceiling</div><div style="font: 15.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 17.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 15.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="font: normal normal normal 19px/normal 'Times New Roman';">i a m </span>the beautiful girl chasing<br />
the o h i o sunset<br />
and the boy <br />
watching the o h i o sunset<br />
whose drawing pictures in<br />
his mind's playground <br />
caked with cracked chalk<br />
of future sunsets<br />
<br />
</div><div style="font: 15.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="font: normal normal normal 19px/normal 'Times New Roman';">i a m </span>the smiling fat<br />
cat in the photographs on <br />
the wall and the paw prints<br />
unsmiling and i am the<br />
halt of the engine <br />
at the stop light and the<br />
bench at fred fueller park<br />
where the young man sits<br />
listening and the writhing <br />
worms under the rock <br />
and i am the black pen set in motion<br />
<br />
<span style="font: normal normal normal 19px/normal 'Times New Roman';">i a m </span>the freckle on the fly<br />
in the doorway of the <br />
student center and the cigarette <br />
butt on the ground before <br />
satterfield and i am the stars<br />
that twinkle in the vast horizon <br />
of a poets eye swallowing<br />
the depth of o c e a n s <br />
and i am their mmms and ohs <br />
intoxicated with the staggering<br />
drunkenness of words<br />
and none of that watered down shit<br />
<br />
<span style="font: normal normal normal 19px/normal 'Times New Roman';">i a m </span>every song ever bled<br />
and swallowed in and out of key<br />
in green hymnals and white ipod buds and<br />
static radio airwaves and marching bands<br />
and i am the seed inside every blooming smile and the smile <br />
in every teardrop echoing against blacktop <br />
and i am the garden metamorphosing into every color<br />
and i am the scarlet rose on the<br />
mahogany casket in the garden my<br />
soul has been reaping</div>kevinpeeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16790320951095086576noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8560013081646749762.post-67598663931679467592011-11-30T00:53:00.001-05:002011-11-30T00:57:41.908-05:00DISCOVER part II (ode to the earth)<div style="font: 14.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="font: 18.0px Times New Roman;">m u c h </span>like the silver moon<br />
glimmers in the meadow<br />
and the starry night<br />
dances in twilight’s gleam<br />
painting ancient pictures<br />
on an ancient canvas<br />
of heroes and myths</div><div style="font: 14.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 16.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 14.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="font: 18.0px Times New Roman;">m u c h </span>like the golden sun<br />
sets fire to the ocean<br />
and the life with in<br />
to the painted sky<br />
and the ancient birds<br />
dominions and kings of the clouds<br />
all in reddish galore<br />
an explosion of terrifically <br />
beautiful color<br />
and to those ancient birds<br />
humming their ancient tunes<br />
with the trees</div><div style="font: 14.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 16.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 14.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="font: 18.0px Times New Roman;">m u c h </span>like the fuzzy bumble bee<br />
pollinates from a golden sunflower <br />
and collects the nectar for her young<br />
and to that golden sunflower<br />
that glimmers in the silver meadow<br />
and catches fire under<br />
the blooming sunrise<br />
and as the winter approaches<br />
begins to deteriorate and fall back<br />
to her mother’s womb</div><div style="font: 14.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">like the sun every night<br />
and the lifeless body of<br />
every beautiful carcass<br />
plant animal human<br />
<br />
<span style="font: 18.0px Times New Roman;">m u c h </span>like the drift of an autumn leaf<br />
and the snow of a dandelion seed<br />
soaring through the silver meadow<br />
so is the discovery of life and death</div>kevinpeeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16790320951095086576noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8560013081646749762.post-55646084642930250932011-11-28T21:39:00.000-05:002011-11-28T21:39:29.024-05:00DISCOVER part I (i was there)<div style="color: #333333; font: 13.0px Arial; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="font: 16.0px Times New Roman;">i w a s t h e r e</span> <br />
when little 7 year-old jacob andrews <br />
looked up to the esteemed, autumn sky</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">painted blue on a canvas</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">of the harvested earth</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">the sun a golden flame shimmering</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">with waves of red and orange</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">the emerald grass, blades cutting through</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">the cracks of the ancient design</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">the trees, mahogany tall and thick in their splendor</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">speaking in their ancient tongue</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">whispering fictitious tales to each other<br />
<br />
he smiled at his old grandpa-pa</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">with his little lit-up 7 year-old piercing blue eyes</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">that made even the damnedest souls </div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">dance in spiritual galore</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">he smiled back with that half-smile</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">his old soul dancing in birth<br />
and decay</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">they stood on solid ground</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">on the green grass that stretched</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">for miles on an empty field</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">the blades of grass weaving and waving</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">in patterns of puzzles: unsolved</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">discovering un-discovery </div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 16.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">i w a s t h e r e</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">when little jacob andrews and his</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">old grandpa-pa stood among</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">the old trees just listening </div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">they got down on their knees</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">and began to dig deep</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">little jacob andrews held in</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">his tiny hand a red acorn</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">and dropped it in the hole</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">planting a seed of discovery </div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 16.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
i w a s t h e r e</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">when little jacob andrews <br />
watched the little red oak tree grow into </div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">something not-so-little </div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">something tremendous and alien</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">a monster of beauty in form</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">the branches like arms stretching</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">towards heaven</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">he saw his face in that tree<br />
his aspirations, the branches</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">his heart, the roots</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">his soul, the autumn leaves</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">he watched those leaves for many moons</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">following the reddish-orange fires spread</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">and float all around the fields</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">the earth pulling them back towards her</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><i>back to the womb from where they came</i>, </div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">their gravestones will read</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">he caught one in mid-drift making a wish, </div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">his eyes piercing into the decaying beauty:<br />
the veins were like a map of the living </div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">and the dead, </div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">the wind was like a compass</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">for the souls</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="font: 16.0px Times New Roman;">i w a s t h e r e<br />
</span>as the tree stood taller than</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">any tree for miles</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">in the fall as the furry brown squirrels <br />
stole the red acorns and collected<br />
them for the approaching winter<br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">in the winter, when the white snow</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">buried the thick, tall oak </div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">in a blanket of crystalline white</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">making it look nothing extraordinary</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">just ordinary like every <br />
snow-covered tree<br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
in the spring when the hummingbird </div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">discovered the tree and when the </div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">dandelion seed heads sprouted <br />
up around it, </div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">when jacob andrews pulled </div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">one from the ground and blew on it</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">watching the cotton-like fluff <br />
spread the seeds of dandelion snow</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">near the big hill in the backyard</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">that overlooks the little lake</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">with a small, forested island in it<br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">and a month later when </div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">the dandelions bloomed, </div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">jacob andrews uprooted one,<br />
twisting the stem around his finger</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">pinching the flower with his thumb</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">and sang <i>momma had a baby and its</i></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><i>head popped off</i> and laughed <br />
as the flower was de-headed by his</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">prepubescent humor<br />
and when his grandpa-pa</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">yelled at him for uprooting </div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">the dandelions because they were </div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">mother nature’s reminder of</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">the beautiful mundane things this </div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">world has to offer<br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">and in the summer jacob andrews</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">wanted to explore the forested island<br />
so old grandpa-pa</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">and jacob andrews went on a little</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">hike carrying wood up that<br />
dandelion-covered hill like jesus christ</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">carried his cross up mount calvary </div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">they carried it to that little lake<br />
as little old grandpa-pa was heaving,</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">his joints aching, his gray hair balding,</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">with the little life in him,<br />
he wanted to explore with jacob andrews</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">his brow was dripping with sweat</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">as he pounded and hammered away</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">starting a bridge</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">he stopped, looking at his </div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">grandson square in the eyes</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">piercing blue into piercing</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">blue, and he told him that</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">they were selling 3/4ths of the land</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">that their home was to become</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">a graveyard</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 16.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">i w a s t h e r e </div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">when jacob andrews threw a fit<br />
and when grandpa-pa smacked</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">him in the face <br />
and kissed him where he smacked him</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">saying, “son, graves are homes for<br />
our bodies, and bodies are vessels<br />
for our souls…” <br />
his voice was calm and collect<br />
almost like a song in tune<br />
with the world at this moment<br />
as the sun was spotlighting him</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">he continued<br />
“sometimes the world brings <br />
gray clouds that turn to thunderstorms</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">and if you look at the world with gray eyes, </div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">you will only see it in<br />
shades of gray and you’ll never<br />
see the rainbow in the thunderstorm<br />
because son, sometimes the rain <br />
brings on the blooming”</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 16.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">i w a s t h e r e</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">when grandpa-pa, got up<br />
leaving his work unfinished<br />
and walked over to the tree<br />
kneeling beside it<br />
whispering to it</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">with his last breath</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 16.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">i w a s t h e r e </div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">when the ancestors and brothers<br />
of the oak tree were dug up<br />
and sacrificed <br />
when the grass become not <br />
just grass but “<i>hair of graves”</i></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">and when that oak tree became<br />
haunted with ghosts and lonely, <br />
somber melodies hummed in the wind</div><div style="font: 16.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 18.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="font: 16.0px Times New Roman;">i w a s t h e r e<br />
</span>when that unfinished bridge<br />
became broken from years<br />
of decay and rotting wood<br />
when jacob andrews’s grandson<br />
jacob andrew the III discovered the <br />
lake, and the tree, and the grass,<br />
and the dandelion<br />
<br />
the tree housed many ghosts<br />
that night, as jacob andrews the <br />
I listened to it<br />
but he, magnificent oak, <br />
wasn’t screaming</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">wasn’t crying<br />
he was laughing</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
and when jacob andrews<br />
sat down against the tree<br />
he watched it dance naked<br />
under the harvest moon,<br />
stripping red yellow and orange<br />
he listened to him speak old-wives <br />
tales about the dead</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">and even though jacob andrews <br />
gray hair was sprouting out<br />
of their grave and his eyes cold and<br />
dead, they were still piercing<br />
blue sapphires painting pictures<br />
of a well-lived life</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">he whispered to the tree<br />
like his grandpa-pa with his last<br />
breath and a leaf unattached itself<br />
like a detached soul soaring through<br />
the stars and heavens and<br />
<span style="font: 16.0px Times New Roman;">i w a s t h e r e</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="font: 16.0px Times New Roman;"><br />
</span>he was buried at the base of the tree<br />
his gravestone read<br />
<i>back to the womb from where he came</i></div><div style="font: 16.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 18.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">jacob andrews the III grew older,<br />
like the tree,<br />
his body ancient<br />
and the graveyard became<br />
over-crowded<br />
and lively with death</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">they cut down the old oak tree<br />
and jacob andrews the III and<br />
his grandson bought the wood</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 16.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">i w a s t h e r e</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">when they carried the<br />
wood stained with memories<br />
over the hill to the lake<br />
and built the bridge</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">that carried them to the other side</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">discovering un-discovery</div>kevinpeeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16790320951095086576noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8560013081646749762.post-9195450828037565312011-11-21T20:45:00.000-05:002011-11-21T20:45:10.021-05:00Money (an ode to my cat)<div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Money</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">is my cat, golden brown, <br />
white, and mahogany </div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">she walks through brown-carpeted halls</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">her kingdom, her terrain,</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">fat and looking for week-old crumbs</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">on the un-swept kitchen floor</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">too lazy to crawl downstairs<br />
and consume her cat food </div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Money slurps up the water</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">from the empty bathtub</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">she prowls around the house</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">chasing her shadow on walls</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">and sees me watching her,</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">she meows, meows and meows</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">until I walk over and give her</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">her everyday fifteen minutes of fame</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Money is a beautiful, annoying beast<br />
she tries to distract me when </div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">I watch T.V. and read and study</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">jumping up on my lap</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">her brown eyes beg me please</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><i>please pet me</i></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">when my door is cracked open </div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">while I sleep, Money knows</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">she must have some kind of</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">kevin’s-door-is-cracked-open-</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">must-go-wake-him-up radar</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">I let her jump into my arms</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">and I pet her before I let my dreams</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">seize me from my wake</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">she licks my face, and I kick her out</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">her clawless paws pound on the door</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Money hurts her leg and</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">she prefers not to walk much</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">we move her food and water bowl</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">and litter box upstairs</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">her leg heals, and she goes about </div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">her business consuming crumbs <br />
her fur clumpy, meowing at her domain<br />
a paper box in a paper world</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
Money loses a lot of weight</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">our other cat, the skinny white one</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">becomes the fat one</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Money stops meowing</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">and her decaying flesh</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">starts rotting inside of my heart</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">her eyes grow very tired and sad</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Money, my cat, can barely walk</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">her back legs become paralyzed</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">my thoughts become paralyzed</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">hope becomes paralyzed as she</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">refuses to eat, my brother and I </div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">take turns holding her in our arms</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">and we march like a funeral parade</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">out of the door Friday, November 18th</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Money looks so beautiful</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">cuddled into my arms</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">rain falling from my eyes</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">her rotting flesh, dirty fur,</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">painful eyes are so grotesque</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">in the most beautiful kind-of way</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">her brown eyes beg me please</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><i>please pet me</i></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">but I kiss her head and</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">don’t even hold her</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">I run for the empty house</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">not looking back, too afraid</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">everything will turn to salt</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">and dust gathers on the walls</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">that used to display shadows</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">of life, they crumble dead onto me</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">I leave my door cracked slightly open</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">but nothing wakes me</div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
<br />
</div>kevinpeeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16790320951095086576noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8560013081646749762.post-88087673686274989452011-10-31T12:38:00.000-04:002011-10-31T12:38:42.311-04:0012 hours until I sell my soul to NaNoWriMoWell folks, this is it. My end has finally approached near. I have approximately 12 hours left with you, but goodbyes are not necessary. Good riddance is not required. And for the love of God, please do not start singing s<i>o long, farewell. Auf Wiedersehen, adieu.</i><br />
<br />
Dead? <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;">No. More like face down, bloody, burnt, and rotting from the inside out, 6 feet under the dirt in the depths of Hell. Is that how I should describe it? Nah, this next month is just going to be a very exciting, yet extremely challenging experience for me. It'll be heaven minus the eaven with a bunch of ell o-v-e. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"></span><br />
<div style="font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">For those of you who are lost wandering the river Styx of this entry, I'm surprised you are with me so far. Starting the first day of November I am doing this thing called NaNoWriMo, which stands for National Novel Writing Month. I don't want to enthrall you with the details, so here is my own personal brief synopsis of it. Nanowrimo is a nonprofit organization, where every year in the month of november you dedicate and dictate that month strictly for writing. You write about 2,000 words a day so by the end of the month you have 50,000 words. You accomplish this by doing no editing whatsoever. You just keep writing. And there's deadlines. The deadlines are what is going to kill me, you see. I am really bad at deadlines, and I've never been able to finish something I've started. So this will be a real challenge for me. I don't care if I don't win the competition, I'm basically doing this for myself so I can actually finish writing a novel. </div><div style="font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8PUPLzZNi_s/Tq7JCc_7GnI/AAAAAAAAACI/KCig1MZBoKk/s1600/nanowrimo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8PUPLzZNi_s/Tq7JCc_7GnI/AAAAAAAAACI/KCig1MZBoKk/s320/nanowrimo.jpg" width="229" /></a></div><div style="font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Details for nanowrimo: http://nanowrimo.org/ </div><div style="font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">I guess you can wikipedia it as well. </div><div style="font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 19.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">So for the next month, I am going to be balancing out school (studying, homework, etc) and work with writing 2,000 words a day--let's not mention the new band I am called Play Onwards where we have 2 shows in november and need a few originals by then. I feel like this is going to be really hard.</div><div style="font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 19.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">And let's not forget, I have to write poetry practically everyday. Now, I'm not saying that's a problem, I am just saying this is going to be a lot of writing. </div><div style="font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">I'm extremely excited for this, despite all of the stress. Despite the lack of the sleep and the hours spent cooped away in my room, isolated from my friends. This will be a new thing for me. A challenge. I am really excited to stay up late hours of the night typing away on my computer (I wish it was a typewriter). </div><div style="font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">My novel is a rather complicated one. I don't want to give away too much on here for fear someone might steal the idea, but I will give a very brief synopsis. </div><div style="font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Basically it's about these 3 friends who are attending this college. They are part of this bigger group of friends that always hangs out, go to concerts, study and eat together, until something happens that tears apart the group. The main three friends last together but watch as their friends fall apart. Until the main character falls off the deep end and starts hanging out with another girl who they've never met. Things happen, and the main character discovers something HUGE that changes the entire novel. Another thing happens, even bigger than before, that puts her in danger of her life. Something that unites the big group of friends back together. They discover secret journals that the main character kept hidden and have to figure out what they mean, who this other girl is, and what she discovered in order to save her life. </div><div style="font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">So, there's...wow, now 11 hours and 20 minutes left until the writing begins. I'm ready for the coffee and the coffee stains, the notebooks filled with ideas, and the hours of literary abandon. Let's not forget the carpal tunnel I'll probably receive from this. Wish me luck!</div><div style="font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
</div>kevinpeeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16790320951095086576noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8560013081646749762.post-88949160897804718692011-10-03T23:57:00.002-04:002011-10-04T09:20:27.951-04:00Compass To My Heart<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Follow the compass to my heart.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Will you get lost,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">like I do everyday? Do you lack direction like</span><br />
<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:OfficeDocumentSettings> <o:AllowPNG/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves>false</w:TrackMoves> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing> <w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing> <w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery> <w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:DontAutofitConstrainedTables/> <w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/> </w:Compatibility> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="276"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--> <!--[if gte mso 10]> <style>
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</style> <![endif]--> <!--StartFragment--> <div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> my feet that run and walk<br />
and glide on roads<br />
not even written in maps?<br />
<br />
Some days we take the wrong <br />
battered and beaten path,<br />
dusty and worn or <br />
clean and barren, and end</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">up in places we never intended</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">that were made for us, alone</span></div><!--EndFragment--></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Follow the footprints in<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">the sand on the shores of my soul<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">before the ocean swallows the<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">memories. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Sometimes the miles<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">we travel over time<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">can never<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">compare to the<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">distance in each other's <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">hearts<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">through uncharted waters, dark blue<br />
and deep and damned in god-knows-what, <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">and burned bridges—black like the <br />
ashen faces of every heart <br />
we once loved—<br />
follow into the depths<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">the golden compass to my poor heart<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
let the northern wind<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">guide you, and the southern<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">sea swallow you<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">and let the eastern sunrise<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">consume you<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">and the western sunset<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">take you home<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">because some men will never<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">stop to ask for directions,<o:p></o:p></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">but most women will </span>kevinpeeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16790320951095086576noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8560013081646749762.post-80275414981688585872011-09-21T14:14:00.000-04:002011-09-21T14:14:04.757-04:00Chapter 5<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:OfficeDocumentSettings> <o:AllowPNG/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves>false</w:TrackMoves> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing> <w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing> <w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery> <w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:DontAutofitConstrainedTables/> <w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/> </w:Compatibility> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="276"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--> <!--[if gte mso 10]> <style>
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<div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">PRE-PRELUDE</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br />
*<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"> </b>I hate poems about break ups *<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">PRELUDE</b><br />
<u>July 20<sup>th</sup></u>:<br />
The plot is thickening, like<br />
my blood pumping in my veins, my <br />
heart under siege. Milky flags fly up like </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">clouds in my blue eyes that begin to </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">overcast a 99% chance of scattered<br />
showers. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Have you looked outside,<br />
yet</i>? (I can hear them ask) <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">It’s beautiful</i>. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">But I can<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">barely see through these<br />
clouds of gray. <br />
<br />
I’ve sewn the seeds, reaped<br />
for four months, now these <br />
weeds have uprooted out of <br />
nowhere, it seems. <br />
Today I say what I’ve always<br />
said, and thought I would always<br />
say, but hours of silence I <br />
have received.<br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Kevin, we need to talk</i><br />
<br />
I swallow back vomit and the<br />
thousand tears I thought<br />
we’d share. <br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">CHAPTER 1<br />
</b><u>March 12th</u>:<br />
Fingers interlocked, we<br />
skip out during intermission<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">and speed home. I smile at the<br />
sad smile in your eyes. Something<br />
I figured I’d never be<br />
able to fix, not that I<br />
even wanted to. Some how<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">in the silence,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">our lips lock for the first<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">time. Your eyes, brilliant brown,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">avoid mine. I wonder why.<br />
I notice your smile,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">half-hearted, beautiful, the best.<br />
I make a goal right there,<br />
to make your hate of everything<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">disperse. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">That night I change my relationship<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">status on Facebook. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><u><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">March 16<sup>th</sup></span></u><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">:<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Celebrating for the 20<sup>th</sup><br />
time, the day I came out<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">of my mother, crying, coated in <br />
blood.<br />
They say birth is a beautiful thing.<br />
<br />
Those brown eyes, engaged<br />
in their own world,<br />
stare right through mine.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">You follow the path to<br />
my soul with such precision;<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">no one’s ever made it there before.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">And you hand to me a home-made </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">crafted cake, with a painted face<br />
of my favorite band. Let’s face it, </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">everyone knows you <br />
can’t bake, but you<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">perfected it.<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">CHAPTER 2<o:p></o:p></b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><u><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">April</span></u><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">: <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">The days roll on, as<br />
does our feelings. Our friends <br />
have become friends, somehow, </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">someway. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">By chance? By Fate? By </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">God? My heart wants to rush</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"> to say those forbidden words,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">but as a hopeless romantic,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">I know better. And you lecture me:<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">when the time is right, we will know.</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">We’ve slipped so many times on these </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">slopes. Sometimes I just want to slide </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">into the uncharted depths below to the </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">center of your heart, and let <br />
fate pull me down.<br />
<u>April 12<sup>th</sup>:<br />
</u>I’ve come to respect the little <br />
things in life: the bugs, the trees, the<br />
wind, the days. <br />
Happy one month.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">CHAPTER 3<br />
</b><u>May</u>:<br />
Your brown eyes, brilliant, always<br />
searching for meaning, I have<br />
fallen in love with.<br />
The way you write and word <br />
everything with your witty remarks, <br />
I love that. Your progressing novel.<br />
It’s the way you say my <br />
name, and smile when I kiss you.<br />
It’s the way you grin when<br />
you speak out of the side of your<br />
mouth. I love that.<br />
I want to say it. I am ready to say it.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Exams. We both are scared. <br />
You have no reason to be. You’re </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">brilliant.<br />
<br />
<u>May 12<sup>th</sup></u>: <br />
Happy Two Months, I love you.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">CHAPTER 4</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br />
<u>June</u>:<br />
Enjoying summer with you, everyday it </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">seems. In a couple of weeks I<br />
am taking summer classes at Kent.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">My favorite time of day is <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">when you and I sit out<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">on your porch and read. Just read.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">I love sneaking peaks over there,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">you in your chair, stretched back,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">your eyes pondering the pages, painting<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">profound pictures in your brilliant mind.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">You are quite the artist, dear.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">I love your family. Your brother. Your </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">mother and father. We dance out under <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">the moonlight with our lack of <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">rhythm. You call me white. (You can<br />
say that again.)<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">You take me to the lake in your </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">neighborhood. I think it’s going to be </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">some poetic place full of pretty scenery.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">I stare at feces of geese floating on <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">murky water. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">We talk about the future. You </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">say your if’s, and I say my when’s. <br />
I know what my heart wants.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><u><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">June 12<sup>th</sup></span></u><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">:<br />
Happy Three Months, darling,<br />
I love you. So much. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">CHAPTER 5:<o:p></o:p></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><u>July 4<sup>th</sup></u>: <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">You seem so happy. Always smiling<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">with that disarming charm of yours.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">We sit out in your half brothers back </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">yard, watching the neighborhood<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">ignited in patterns and colors <br />
from the house across the street.<br />
We all sit in a circle, on those white, </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">hard plastic chairs, sitting around a well-</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">lit fire. Staring up into the sky, watching </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">the neighbors, as you guys do every </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">year. You are holding my arm,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">smiling. I’ve never seen you so happy.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">In the company of your family, of your<br />
lover. I smile because you are smiling. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><u><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">July 12<sup>th</sup></span></u><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">:<br />
You invite me over. I give you <br />
that hardcover copy of the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Jonas </i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Brothers On Tour</i> since you are<br />
so obsessed with them. <br />
I take you out, despite you<br />
begging me not to.<br />
<br />
You give me a mint.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Happy Four Months, babe, I love you.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><u><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">July 19<sup>th</sup></span></u><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">:<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Today is the first time<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">you get mad at me. I talk about how<br />
I am sad to watch Borders go, <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">you say that I am too afraid of change<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">and “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">it’s not you, it’s me.</i>”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Two attempts in, I’m<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">questioning your motives. Today<br />
you are someone I’ve never<br />
met before. What’s your name?<br />
Attempt three.<br />
<br />
My eyes are sleepy, my heart<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">heavy. I love you.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Talk to you tomorrow.</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"> (A cold chill<br />
runs down my spine).<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">That night I choke back the<br />
imagination of my mind<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">in liquid chapters. My eyes tell <br />
the story through the storms<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">of gray, suffocating the blue.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><u><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">July 20<sup>th</sup></span></u><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">:<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Good morning, I love you.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">The morning is new, the heat </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">unbearable. Beautiful blue skies,<br />
puffy white clouds, I<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">smile waiting for your reply.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Hours later. Babe? <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">A plague of some sort begins to<br />
spread through my blood<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">into my heart, poisoning<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">my perception. I can hear<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">the clock.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Tick.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Tick.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Tick.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">The story unfolds in the deafening <br />
silence. Chapter after chapter, <br />
scene by scene. I’m sipping on coffee, <br />
trembling over thoughts that tear<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">through my heart.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Three hours. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">This silence speaks for itself:<br />
chapter 1<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">chapter 2<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">chapter 3<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">chapter 4<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">chapter 5<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Kevin, we need to talk</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">That night I sit in chills, while<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">people complain about the heat.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Silence. Darkness. Damnation. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Kevin Pees went from being in a </span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">relationship, to single. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">EPILOGUE<o:p></o:p></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">August<br />
<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" /> <!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" /> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">September <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">I run into you on campus. Your </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">complexion is godly, you smile, bringing<br />
a thousand tears to my eyes. Those </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">brown crystal bulbs still the same.<br />
The gods call it paradise<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">I call it paradise lost<o:p></o:p></span></div><!--EndFragment-->kevinpeeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16790320951095086576noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8560013081646749762.post-29160980656271681262011-09-15T17:30:00.002-04:002011-09-15T17:30:57.344-04:00The Subject Of My Subtle Sorrow (lyrics)<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:OfficeDocumentSettings> <o:AllowPNG/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves>false</w:TrackMoves> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing> <w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing> <w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery> <w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:DontAutofitConstrainedTables/> <w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/> </w:Compatibility> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="276"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--> <!--[if gte mso 10]> <style>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">I trace the memories with my fingers in the clouds<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">The faces of your heart, my heart fade to the ground<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">With your brown crystal bulbs, staring holes in the pavement<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">You can save it, your tongue-tied nots knitting my noose and<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">These leftover feelings left inside, burned to a core, a corpse<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Where I hoard these past thoughts, that rot to the floor<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">A valentine, that could never be mine<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">A somber song, sober at the core, drunk in it's words<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Blue turns to gray, and gray turns to black<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">These flowers I gave you, you will never give back<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Shut off your TV, I can still hear the static<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">In the racket of our heart beats, you're so melodramatic <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">You flood to your past, the comfort of the arc <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Of a crooked smile, that can break two hearts<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">There's no comfort in color when it's cold in the 50's<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">but these autumn leaves have never looked so pretty<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">In this city of scars and broken hearts so hurt, you<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">you can't say break up without the breakdown first<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Blue turns to gray, and gray turns to black<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">These flowers I gave you, you will never give back<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">No matter how poetic, my tongue still stutters <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">When I say you and I, I know we could never be lovers<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">To hell, to hell with what you think<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">You sell your soul for all those cliques<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">And click they don't, you're on the brink<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">of a breakdown, so let's break it down<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">One more sunrise that our eyes can never offer<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Two more hearts, buried in the slaughter<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Three more tears drowning memories in the water<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Four more weeks, and I still want her<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">So to hell, to hell with what you think<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">You sell your soul, to dreams in faded ink<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">The love you waive, you wave goodbye<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">So here's to all that could have been, has now died<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Blue turns to gray, and gray turns to black<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">These flowers I gave you, you will never give back<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">No matter how poetic, my tongue still stutters <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">When I say you and I, I know we could never be lovers</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div><!--EndFragment-->kevinpeeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16790320951095086576noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8560013081646749762.post-54557283288300256372011-09-13T08:26:00.001-04:002011-09-13T08:47:34.004-04:00To All WritersDear writers,<br />
<br />
(Before I let you continue reading this, this is a very boring article about why you should write, how you should write, what you should write. It is poorly edited, and written in a time restraining span. This is just for writers, aspiring writers, and those who believe they are writers.)<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mSsJyz4vWxM/Tm9QJhqNTlI/AAAAAAAAACA/LmKAy4De6uU/s1600/writing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="216" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mSsJyz4vWxM/Tm9QJhqNTlI/AAAAAAAAACA/LmKAy4De6uU/s320/writing.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>"[About writing]...I've also struggled and felt like giving up. While the moments of magic happen, writing, for me, is hard work and at times incredibly frustrating" (http://www.salon.com/life/feature/2011/09/12/writing_reading_imprint?utm_medium=referral&utm_source=pulsenews).<br />
So true. Every time I sit and listen in a writing workshop, I think, wow everyone here is better than me. I should probably just give up. Then I remember, these people are probably thinking the same exact thing. Listen, don't ever give up on your writing. Don't stop. Don't store it away. Keep writing, because someone somewhere out there wants to see your stuff. It may change their life, you never know.<br />
Just yesterday I sat in my poetry class listening to the poets utter life into theirs magical words that caught fire in my heart. I sat admiring, probably google-eyed, thinking to myself that I could never be half the writer that they are. That no one could EVER appreciate my work like theirs. I thought, wow, all the novels I want to write, they all are awful ideas. All my poetry, it's just a bunch of jumbled words on a paper. I am not a good poet nor a good writer. I should just give up. Crumble up my ideas and feed them to the sharks. Run away and never look back.<br />
But I didn't and I won't. I can't just give up. I have a long way to go. I am still a young writer, I have a lot to learn. And when I say a lot, I mean A LOT. My professor made a comment yesterday, though older in age he is, and wise beyond his years, he still learns to write every single day.<br />
I guess you can say that writing is a learning experience. You need to travel the worlds of literature, every sea of poetry, and all the galaxies of writing to be able to craft YOUR own style, your own voice. And even then you won't be able to master it. You are always learning, and I love that. I love learning.<br />
So writer's, I ask you this: why do some of you choose to not read? You say that reading is pretentious, yet all you've read is Charles Dickens, Shakespeare, George Orwell, and all your required reading. Have you honestly sat down to read something in your spare time? I swear you will learn something by feasting your eyes onto a modern day-and-age book, and digging yourself deep into the pages. You will experience worlds you've never dreamed about. You will be blown away by words you've never heard. And most importantly, you will learn. You will learn the different styles of writing, new words, the voice of different authors. And by doing that, you will find your own voice. Because your writing voice comes from what you've last read, I hate to spoil it for you. So right now, what you try and write, is all of your high school required reading. It's all the poetry of the poets you read. It's the lyrics of your favorite band. Go find your own voice. Be yourself.<br />
I have to admit, I call myself a poet but I barely read poetry. I read poetry when it is required, or when I run into it online. So I promise, if you promise, to read it. So read my friends, it is a beautiful learning experience!<br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZxEW4WqTwkM/Tm9QiBiHufI/AAAAAAAAACE/oiFdZWwDBy4/s1600/education_clipart_boy_writing.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZxEW4WqTwkM/Tm9QiBiHufI/AAAAAAAAACE/oiFdZWwDBy4/s1600/education_clipart_boy_writing.gif" /></a> Also, you need to keep in mind a few things. When you write, don't always write for yourself. You need to have an audience in mind. Don't just write some self-indulgent text. People don't want to hear about how awful your life is. If you are going to write about that, it will soon disappear over time. Write about yourself, but have some ulterior motive in mind. If you choose to write about the weather, personify it to some degree and compare it to something that is important to you and the reader. Draw the reader in, be aware of their intentions.<br />
<br />
Writing is hard. It is frustrating. It is annoying. And you almost always want to give up. But don't. Keep writing. Keep up the good work. Keep pursuing your dreams, friends.<br />
<br />
Yours always,<br />
Kevin Pees<br />
<div><br />
</div><div>P.S. I really and disturbed by the fact that people call writers only those who earn money for doing so. Sense when does writing have to be JUST an occupation. Can't it be a hobby as well? A dream, an aspiration? What are your thoughts? What do you call a writer? I'd love to hear your ideas. </div>kevinpeeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16790320951095086576noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8560013081646749762.post-34903690440366550112011-09-12T15:46:00.000-04:002011-09-12T15:46:03.745-04:00blank page (a letter to my class)<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:OfficeDocumentSettings> <o:AllowPNG/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves>false</w:TrackMoves> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing> <w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing> <w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery> <w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:DontAutofitConstrainedTables/> <w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/> </w:Compatibility> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="276"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--> <!--[if gte mso 10]> <style>
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">to my classmates, my professor, my peers, my elders,<br />
<br />
i write to you now, staring at a <br />
blank page of porcelain:<br />
my thoughts, pale like the <br />
marvelous moon reflecting <br />
from the soul in my eyes.<br />
<br />
can you see it? the blue? the emptiness <br />
inside these blank thoughts<br />
behind these full frames<br />
of dark?<br />
<br />
i sit here, completely attune to <br />
this woeful world, here<br />
in this “silent” study-room<br />
<br />
these people breathe like lions <br />
roar. they chew on pencils<br />
like prey, engraving<br />
their murderous marks with their<br />
pearly whites, stained with the remnants of <br />
this morning’s coffee, this afternoon’s<br />
tea. chomping. chomping. chomping.<br />
they crumble on paper<br />
piercing theirs nails into the <br />
grooves of it’s flesh, twisting<br />
their terrible fingers<br />
crinkle. crunch. crack. <br />
<br />
i stare at these “silent” <br />
studiers, screaming SHUT-UP <br />
in my head, <br />
which, by the way, is engulfed<br />
in furious flames of rage<br />
and riot<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">and i am staring, still, at a<br />
blank page<br />
<br />
that girl in the corner, wearing<br />
that faded gray hoodie, hiding<br />
behind thick frames, is in texting galore<br />
gallantly giggling in girly<br />
high-pitched shrills, sending shivers <br />
through my spine. <br />
and not those cutsie-wootsie shivers,<br />
it’s those ones that creep and crawl under your skin, <br />
like devils of the damned<br />
that make you scream in your sleep<br />
into your puffy pillow. <br />
and class, you can’t see it,<br />
but my neck is bulging,<br />
my eyes are narrowing<br />
<br />
and that boy next to me, consumed<br />
in british literature<br />
is fondling his book, playing with<br />
the pages. crinkling all the notebook paper,<br />
bending back the covers<br />
ruining the spine, folding the corners<br />
into dog ears,<br />
and my mind is playing <br />
on repeat, me bending <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">his</i> back,<br />
ruining <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">his</i> spine, folding <br />
back <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">his</i> fingers. let’s see how <br />
he likes it, because as we all know,<br />
every book has feelings<br />
every book has memories<br />
every book has a soul<br />
<br />
and i’m staring at a blank page<br />
<br />
things that should have said,<br />
hey class, music is my soul<br />
and my soul is what i like to speak<br />
and speaking is not my specialty so i sing<br />
and singing i do with words on pages<br />
and pages i paint with poetry<br />
and poetry i read and write and love<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">but hate i do those who hate beautifully <br />
structured sentences, seamed together <br />
with brilliant design<br />
unlike this blank page that has <br />
consumed the blue behind these <br />
crystals i stare through<br />
<br />
so class i ask again, do<br />
you see it? the blue? the emptiness <br />
inside these blank thoughts<br />
behind these full frames<br />
of dark?<o:p></o:p></span></div><!--EndFragment-->kevinpeeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16790320951095086576noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8560013081646749762.post-87513660266855982552011-09-11T18:01:00.004-04:002011-09-11T19:11:58.946-04:00A Decade Of Distress, Reminiscence, And Respect (We Remember) Isn't it amazing how our long term memory works? I bet you that you can't remember what you were doing ten days ago, let alone ten hours ago, but ten years ago? I guarantee you that most of you can recall that like it happened seconds ago, at least to a certain point. It's a common question that we all get to answer: "Where were you the day of 9/11 when you heard the news?" and often we like to recap it. We like to tear it out of our memory, dress it all nice and pretty, and present it with some detailed description of our own accurate account. Our memory is a brilliant thing. The fact that we can recall this event because it was so HUGE is just, brilliant. But this is not about our memory. This is about the reflection, about our respect, and about honoring those who died.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-atpdqW_bYKs/Tm0t451PzyI/AAAAAAAAABk/SAk7uI5fObI/s1600/Picture+67.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-atpdqW_bYKs/Tm0t451PzyI/AAAAAAAAABk/SAk7uI5fObI/s320/Picture+67.png" width="320" /></a></div> I'm just honestly blown away by the fact that it's already been ten whole years. I, though the memory is faint because I was but a little lad, will give you what I remember about that day. And in doing so, I hope to hear your recap on this tragic day that we will forever hold dearly in our hearts.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-O6FrUzh5M0M/Tm0uPxUCftI/AAAAAAAAAB4/1ZjQndCwQIA/s1600/Picture+72.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="237" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-O6FrUzh5M0M/Tm0uPxUCftI/AAAAAAAAAB4/1ZjQndCwQIA/s320/Picture+72.png" width="320" /></a> Ten years ago, a ten year old boy I was. And an egocentric little boy at that (like every little kid). I was wearing my dark blue pants and a required, tucked-in collared shirt of some color, with the words "Redeemer Christian School" imprinted on the left breast. The school uniform. I was in my 5th grade class when the principal walked in and asked the teacher to step outside for a few seconds. Except, my teacher didn't step fully outside of the classroom. She did that thing where half of her body was still in the classroom and half of it was in the hallway. This pretty much implied, "Hey class, while yes I am currently speaking outside, I am still physically in here as well." So the entire classroom went quiet. We weren't sure what was going on. In fact, we didn't want to talk anyways. We wanted to listen and hear what was going on. We are all confused. Usually they would call you down from the loud speaker to the principal's office if someone was in trouble. But this time the principal physically came up to our room. Was she, our teacher, in trouble? Were we in trouble? Did something happen in the school? We tried listening, but all we could hear were muffled words here-or-there, a pitch entirely too low to make out. But the way they were talking, the harsh staccato whispers, the body language, it all spoke for itself. Something was wrong. Very wrong.<br />
She stepped back into the classroom, and our hearts began beating rapidly. There was something in her eyes. A different color perhaps, like a shade of gray that we had never seen before. Her face had gone completely pale. Our nerves were on fire, at least, mine were.<br />
She looked up at us, forcing a smile to her face to not show vulnerability. "Well class, that will be it for today." We've called your parents and they are on their way to come pick you all up." We looked at her like she was crazy. The day practically just started. We were excited and yet nervous at the same time.<br />
Someone gathered the strength and asked her, "Why? What happened?"<br />
She looked down to avoid the gaze from our eyes, "That I can't answer, students. That is for your parents to answer as they please. For now, let us sit in silence." So we sat there, apprehension coursing through our veins. What could be so bad that even she, our teacher, couldn't explain?<br />
I sat there, looking around. Shaking vigorously, because I've always been a worried spaz. I was so scared. I thought I had done something wrong so we were all being sent home to be punished, because like I said, I was very egocentric. The world revolved around me. I was too young to understand and too self-centered to realize this had nothing to do with me. It had nothing to do with the class.<br />
Silence surrounded the classroom. No one talked, no one spoke. Everyone just sat there making up stories in our brains of what could have happened. Then the parents came.<br />
I remember it precisely. The parents gathering us in the gym. I saw my mother -- my brother already by her side -- and there was a look in her eyes. Fear I'm guessing, and maybe thankfulness that my brother and I were all right.<br />
"Mommy," I started, "what's going on? Why are they sending us home?"<br />
She looked at me, unsure how to answer it. "Just wait till we get to the van. I'll explain there."<br />
That's it. I did something wrong. I knew it, I could just tell. It was the way she said it. Her articulation spoke for itself. I was in trouble. She wanted to scream at me in the van. But what did I do?<br />
We got into the van, and she drove towards our home in silence. No radio. No screaming. Just her uneven breaths and this deafening silence. But it wasn't just that. It seemed like there was a silence of some sort running through the streets. It hung dead in the air for all to see and notice. Through the trees that shivered in the wind. Through every home that held families gathered around. It was there, and it was terrifying.<br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5euoA2rKJ4A/Tm0uO_uQSOI/AAAAAAAAAB0/MrH5vNXGOdQ/s1600/Picture+71.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5euoA2rKJ4A/Tm0uO_uQSOI/AAAAAAAAAB0/MrH5vNXGOdQ/s320/Picture+71.png" width="239" /></a> "So today something happened," she began. "While you were in class a plane crashed into of the world trade center towers in New York City. A little bit later another one crashed into the other tower. They are saying that this was a terrorist attack. Every news station on Television is airing everything. A lot of people are dying and have died already.<br />
"They shut down every Federal Building and every airport is being closed. No planes are allowed to take off."<br />
"But what about Dad? Isn't he supposed to come home today? We're supposed to go over to his house this weekend."<br />
"Yes, but he hasn't taken off yet. He is still stuck in Louisiana [Don't quote me on that, could have been somewhere else.] until further notice. You can call him when we get home."<br />
So we did. He told us that everything was all right, that he was fine, that he would be home whenever he could.<br />
Then we turned on the news. I remember sitting at the Dining room table, ten whole years ago, doing my math and social studies homework, but barely being able to concentrate on it. I was watching the news. Watching the Trade Centers crumble, feeling hope start to crumble. I remember being so full of interest and fear and confusion, that I just put my homework to the side. I joined my brother in the family room and watched the planes crashing into the building. All that smoke. All that fire. The buildings falling. All that debris. The screams from the people inside and from below. The fear in the reporters' voices, trembling. America was terrified. And through all that noise, confusion, and smoke, we were all silent. Happy to be alive, protected by the safety of our families. Protected by the safety of God. Silent.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HOuCc2IyOjo/Tm0vf-C2ruI/AAAAAAAAAB8/r_jrbovHShA/s1600/Picture+69.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HOuCc2IyOjo/Tm0vf-C2ruI/AAAAAAAAAB8/r_jrbovHShA/s320/Picture+69.png" width="320" /></a></div> I remember my mom asking me if I had my homework done and I just sat there, too scared and confused to do my homework.<br />
<br />
And I remember the next day after. The halls were silent, every conversation was at a low whisper. Everyone avoided each other's eyes. We all were in disbelief, fearing for what may come next. The teacher in stead of teaching us a lesson, had a discussion about what had happened.<br />
Hope seemed lost. America seemed to be coming down with those towers, at least our morale was. But hope wasn't lost, and America was not crumbling at the seams. We stood taller after that, higher than the towers ever stood. We sang songs, and still do, honoring those who lost their lives. Chills may run through our bones now, but it is not out of fear, it is out of respect. To the innocent who lost their lives, this ones for you. To the firefighters that braved the storm, climbed the tower to save innocent lives knowing they were probably going to die, this ones for you. We were not defeated, no, we were merely awakened. So this blog is written for all of those who do remember. All of those who have a story. What is your story? Where were you when the twin towers fell?<br />
Do not give up hope, my friends. The world is sad and times are tough, yes, but you need to have hope.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Helvetica, Arial; font-size: 11px;">"Everything is gonna be alright. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Helvetica, Arial; font-size: 11px;">Be strong, believe" - Yellowcard "Believe"</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Helvetica, Arial; font-size: 11px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Helvetica, Arial; font-size: 11px;"><br />
</span><br />
So I leave you with a video from my youth. A song that kept me strong, helped me stay believing that we could defeat terrorism. A song that helped me believe in myself as well. It was written after September 11th, and it was track number 11 on the album. I remember listening to it on repeat multiple times, listening to the beautiful melody and the powerful lyrics.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/L6eXIQ3f8Zw?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Helvetica, Arial; font-size: 11px;"><br />
</span>kevinpeeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16790320951095086576noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8560013081646749762.post-8502204530169002122011-09-08T20:20:00.003-04:002011-09-08T20:21:01.323-04:00stow away then burn at your funeral pyre<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">this place grows dead with</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">rotting tongues that spew fire and</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">burn down bridges that</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">souls may never rest on (ever again):</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">a wasteland for the broken,</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">a suburbia for the sick</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">you call yourself gentle</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">servants? your hearts are made</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">of ice, your eyes of ash</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">from the dead:</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">soon you shall join them in</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">their quest, oh wanderers</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">you can spread your disastrous</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">disease, but plagues</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">will reign down from the scorns</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">of heaven, scorching</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">all flowers in bloom with the</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">seeds that were sown by</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">these fools of folly: your minds</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">deceive your heart. you're cunning</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">craftsman</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">but lovers you will never be </span>kevinpeeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16790320951095086576noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8560013081646749762.post-37393326541447297722011-08-31T22:41:00.001-04:002011-09-04T10:28:39.754-04:00Even Slender Man Likes Punctuation (Journal Entry 1 [college writing 2 prompt])My professor assigned my class this writing prompt that I found very exciting and quite interesting. I want to post on here my prompt so you may see into my head and appreciate the beauty of sentence structure. Then I want everyone of you to do something. I want you to do it yourself. Challenge yourself. Open up your mind, expand your creativity with flexible rubber-band-like depth. Go beyond what you can normally do and try this prompt out. It definitely is challenging and a little hard, but it definitely gets your creative juices flowing. So please, if you will, leave in a comment your entry. I want to read all of them. Here are the rules that my professor assigned:<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px;">Rules: Write one paragraph, maximum of three sentences, using these 13 punctuation marks: apostrophe, brackets, colon, comma, dash, ellipsis, exclamation point, hyphen, parentheses, period, question mark, quotation mark, and semicolon. You may use a punctuation mark more than once.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px;">My entry:</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">He stood, towering like a tree – that damn devilish fiend, no friend but foe; “Slender Man” was what they were calling him – staring with his pale, porcelain face into my soul . . . he was eyeless. From the get-go I knew I must’ve been marked (but why? [Slender Man always, ALWAYS had reasons!]), and I didn’t know how I could survive this creature and his psychological haunting: cryptic, elusive, ambiguous. He wore a dark suit, the night concealing his presence, the trees taking him as their own; I blinked, and I was alone.</span></span>kevinpeeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16790320951095086576noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8560013081646749762.post-85579580269142051482011-08-01T14:23:00.000-04:002011-08-01T14:23:01.857-04:00Writer's Block<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal">my thoughts hang in<br />
the gallows,<br />
suppressed by what was<br />
and what will never be<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" /> <br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" /> </div><div class="MsoNormal">shadows stretch across the<br />
horizon of my <br />
imagination obscuring <br />
my vision<br />
<br />
love, let’s cry</div><div class="MsoNormal">through<br />
loveless eyes</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">tomorrow won’t be better</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
filled with an<br />
empty embodiment<br />
inside</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">words, they can’t<br />
escape<br />
clouded in billows <br />
of smoke,<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" /> <br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" /> </div><div class="MsoNormal">my ruins, </div><div class="MsoNormal">my thoughts</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">dead</div><!--EndFragment-->kevinpeeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16790320951095086576noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8560013081646749762.post-12203402250026707892011-07-18T20:16:00.000-04:002011-07-18T20:16:10.998-04:00HAUNTED - Chapter 1 (A short, creative non-fiction series of events)<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">HAUNTED</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">All the events depicted in this are VERY true. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;"><br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Chapter 1: Bloody Mary</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>1997, in the dungeon of an old Lutheran church, four boys huddled in a dark corner of the bathroom, and I was one of them. It was early morning, sometime in the weekday. We were all just little boys then—second graders. We all attended this church/school, which lasted from pre-k to eighth grade. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The four of us—Zach Carley, Devin Burnside, Matt Francis, and myself—slipped out of the early morning Day Care called Child Watch and snuck ourselves through the dark, unlit kitchen into the bathroom. Mind you, going in through the kitchen and bathroom without permission was extremely forbidden. (“OFF LIMITS WITHOUT ASKING FIRST.”) That was surely to earn you a time-out, a slap on the wrist, or worse… time in the principle’s office. <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It was rather easy for us to slip out since one lady had to keep an eye on about 50 kids. So when four boys disappeared from a table chock full of kids playing Domino Rally, ducking behind the kitchen counter, and crawling their way into the bathroom, it was like no one disappeared. Well, at least not <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">yet</i>. Hopefully. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The memory is feint, but I know I was scared. That much I can remember…or am willing to recall. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Come on, Kevin, don’t be such a wuss,” snickered the four-eyed, shaggy, dark brown hair, Zach Carley. “It’s only just a stupid myth.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“All right, fine. But don’t tell my mommy about this. She’ll make me count to over 500 on the stupid steps again if she finds out. Last time I was there for over an hour.” They all snickered at this, and I shrugged my shoulders oblivious to why they were laughing. <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Devin Burnside – a brown haired, brown-eyed, one-month-younger-than-me (to the date) boy – extinguished the light. I squished my way closer to them, huddling in their personal space, not caring about the Kevin-likes-men comment I’d soon get after that. I didn’t care; I was terrified. We all were. <br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It felt like that moment where you’re sitting in your room in the middle of night, terrified of the raging storm that’s keeping you awake. The thunder’s roaring, the raindrops are pelting your window, and the lightning keeps cutting through the darkness with bright bolts of electricity. So you turn on your lamp to feel safe, but then the power goes out. And it’s not just that vivid darkness creeping over your eyes that scares you. It’s that noise the power makes when it turns off. The shutting down of every conscious perception of safety. That’s the noise I heard when Devin flicked the switch off. The powering down of my heart. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Matt Francis – the light brown, dim-witted (when it came to school) ladies man even as a boy – was the leader of our expedition, this crucial crusade. Matt, the eldest of the four of us, told us briefly what we were supposed to do. He stood to my right, Zach to my left, and Devin to his left. My pupils were starting to adjust; it had been well over a minute. We were so close to the mirror that our noses were almost touching the glass and our breath was fogging it up. <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Y-you guys ready?” Matt asked loudly, trying to be as stern as possible failing to hide the fear in his shaky voice. It had been two minutes. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yes,” we responded simultaneously. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Okay, then. On the count of three we will begin.” My heart was starting to pound recklessly at this point. I could feel myself starting to shake, convulsing in a fear-elapsed panic. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“One.” Shiver down my spine.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Two.” Sweat dripping from my brow.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Three.” Gulp. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>At the top of our lungs we all bellowed in unison, “BLOODY MARY! BLOODY MARY! BLOODY MARY!” We chanted, screamed about 20 times. And that’s when things got real…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">* * *</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I’m a little boy. I’m a second grader. My neighbor, Josh Zivny – whom is one year older – is over with his dog, Annie. She’s a beautiful golden retriever. Adam – my 13 month younger brother – and Josh and I are all sitting in my family room looking out at the deck. The screen door is open and our feet are hanging out of it, planted on the polished wood. The stars and moon are hidden behind the dark, grey clouds. It’s blacker than black outside. Darker than dark.<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Josh is over because his parents and my parents are all out doing something. So us three are stuck here dog watching. Alone. <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The only light on in the house is coming from the Television to our left. It’s at a very dim-lit brightness and a low volume. The silence is quite deafening, to be honest. We’re all talking in hushed whispers as if we’re trying to listen. As if something is listening to us. <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>We hear a rustle in the distance. Even the trees are shivering. The TV starts to flicker off, then on, then off again. For a moment we’re completely consumed in darkness. It turns on again. We all freak out, shivering out of our skin with bone-rattling terror. Josh, still sitting next to us, asks where Annie went. I didn’t even notice she disappeared. <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Annie!” we all call out. No reply. We call her name again. Josh walks out of the room into the other dark corners of the house looking for her.<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“There she is!” I manage to gasp out, jabbing out my index finger toward a silhouette of a dog. She is walking up the steps of the deck, staring deathly at me in the eyes. “Josh, she’s out here.” I step out into the night, feeling a sudden chill run down my spine. Goosebumps. The lurking darkness fiends it’s way into blue eyes, into my soul.</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .5in 40.5pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I step forward reaching my hand out toward Annie. But something’s wrong about her… different. It’s her, definitely her. The same shaggy, golden brown hair. The same long tongue hanging from her mouth. But there is something about her eyes that throws me off guard.<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Annie, come here.” She doesn’t budge. I step closer. She remains petrified, frozen in her tracks. I approach closer now, inching my way forward. My hand is out, whether to pet her or for my own protection, I know not. <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“GRRRR!” She starts growling viciously. I take one step back, remembering my fear of dogs. <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Josh, come get your dog!” I yell now, scared and angry. The boyish me just wants to run away and never look back…or to shoot the damn dog. <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“What are you talking about?” Josh’s voice appears feint, muffled by the walls of the house. He must be in a different room. He continues, his voice getting loud and closer, “Annie is right here, Kev…” His sentence cuts off as he appears at the doorway looking out at this dog. Annie, calm and reverent, is at his feet.<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>RUFF. RUFF. RUFF. Annie starts barking wildly. Fear erupts my eyes, my heart shattering to fragments. I turn back around to face my foe. <br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The eyes. Those damn eyes are red. She growls again, this time in my face, barking back at Annie. I could see her teeth now. Sharp razors. And then I see her.<br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>A little girl. White dress; dark, curly black hair. Pale skin, paler than the moonlight. About 10 years old. She has black eyes. She is grinning, petting the replica. A damn hellhound. There is menace in her little black eyes.<br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The hellhound barks this time louder. I notice now the distinct difference between the two. The size – twice of Annie’s; the smell – of death, decay. She’s a monster, salivating with a hungry look in her eyes. This time, shining her razor-sharp pearly whites at me, she begins to bite down deep, piercing into my flesh. The little girl laughs as a blood-curling scream evokes from my lungs. <br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Blood is splattering, staining the mouth of the beast. I’m screaming bloody murder, and I can feel my bones crunching, breaking. My limbs are being ripped out, licked clean. My screams echo through the night.<br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></i></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .5in 40.5pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">* * *</span></div>kevinpeeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16790320951095086576noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8560013081646749762.post-83577194585681097742011-06-14T10:51:00.001-04:002011-06-14T14:36:36.330-04:00Catch The Golden Bug<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Catch the golden bug<br />
that floats in your eyes, spinning<br />
webs throughout your mind<br />
<br />
Can you see the sun<br />
cascading off of the lake, <br />
setting in your heart?</span></div><span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">We all see beauty<br />
within that vibrant color<br />
of the brand new night<br />
<br />
Can you see what I<br />
see? Oh dear goddess of love,<br />
this night is now ours<br />
<br />
The blue moon rises<br />
full in shape and the color<br />
of your pretty dress<br />
<br />
And flies of fire<br />
burn bulbs of orange and yellow<br />
and gold in our hands<br />
<br />
Let us set them free<br />
so Night may capture one, and<br />
catch the golden bug.</span>kevinpeeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16790320951095086576noreply@blogger.com1