Another Sleepless Night...

Here I am again,
though it does not surprise me.
Will this never end,
my constant pursuit of sleep?

My brain is tossing and turning,
though my body is still as a board.
Those memories constantly churning,
while my brain only hoards.

It's like one of those old flip books
that comes to life as the pages fall.
Oh, how I long for that lost nook,
where comfort and warmth covered all.

Restful sleep brings with it internal peace,
even if only for a few hours.
An angel drops down giving the softest kiss,
as the ringing ends in bell towers.

The end of the ringing signals time for slumber.
Most drift off without batting an eye.
But for me it requires such labor,
for awake in bed I quietly lie.

Night after night I struggle with thee;
Lashing and striking with all my might;
At those ever present demons that wont set me free;
They would rather haunt me every night.

Enjoyable to them I am sure,
this Tango-like dance that we share.
Ah! But one day I shall find the cure,
to rid me of these demons that haunt my nightmares.

Cursed to lurk in the night,
like an uncivilized savage.
With no one understanding my plight.
My heart and mind are unguarded against their ravages.

These persistent demons holding me captive,
each night pull harder and harder.
Not knowing the ability i possess to be adaptive,
for so deep is my desire for great ardour.

One day I shall find their weakness,
as they have surely found mine.
And then their defeat shall end my bleakness,
so that I can be free to feel the divine.

That long, lost tender love,
where I felt so safe and secure,
before I met that mourning dove,
and my heart was still so pure.

Betrayal

Beware of that sneaky demon,
known to most of us as betrayal.
It sails in swiftly as an able seaman,
and gives the sense of safety with its portrayal.

But soon it shall strike like a snake,
filling your heart full of its' venom.
And all in its' path it will forsake,
leaving their souls in delirium.

Beware those acts of kindness,
that can be morphed in treason.
When asked, we give with complete blindness,
without asking rhyme or reason.

Only to find ourselves manipulated
amidst the violent implosion.
For the rules were never clearly stated,
and suddenly our hearts become victims of corrosion.

A Beautiful Day...or perhaps simply unchained lunacy.

I came across this one today in my journal and actually laughed at myself. I can't believe I wrote this. Let me clarify for those who read it that I don't believe hurricanes or earthquakes and the such are sent to us as punishment. It is simply nature, intertwined with our own nature to a degree. Oh, and please, never put a blue anything in your house! lol


What a beautiful day this is!
The occasional cool breeze wisping by,
The sun peeking in and out of the clouds in the sky,
Birds chirping their beautirul songs,
Dragonfly's landing here and there
and frolicking in the air,
The beauty of the magnolias in full bloom.

If only I could smell the odiferous feast through my clorox high,
I have scrubbed and scrubbed that blue tub that for now,
shines like the stars in the sky.
Seriously, who would put a blue tub in a house?
So hideous that I want to cry.

It amazes me how I can see all this beauty.
That which disguises all that is ugly.

Humans believe they rule the world.
Occasionally, Mother Earth sends us a reminder.
As we siphen that valuable oil,
and mine her beautiful stones,
She reminds us that it is her world in which we toil.
Taking and taking, then polluting.
This is how we treat such beauty.
Mother Earth sends us hurricanes,
and toxic soups to stew in,
still no lessons learned.

We continue to rape her soul.
It is humans that are toxic,
Destroying beauty every chance they get,
for a green piece of paper.
Money, that which drives mankind, in it's emptiness,
It gives us only what destroys our world.
And yet we seek it more and more.

We destroy each other and discard the corpses,
Thrown to the side as if they never existed.
Someone loved them, but who?
Are they also thrown to the side?
Fighting and squabbling over that black crude
Which fills Mother Earth's belly.
Sucking her dry every day,
Until she decides to show us her own way.
Her own way of self-preservation.
Destroying those who wreak havoc on her,
leaving trails of destruction.
She will find her revenge,
humble us if we are not too blind to see her lessons.
And eventually destroy us.

Shifting plates,
rumbling thunder and lightning,
wind and rain,
hail and walls of water crashing down
as she demonstrates her power to us.

But who is truly listening? No one.
Humans, mankind will destroy it all
to line their pockets until she rinses them empty again.
Reclaiming that which was stolen from her.
Pillaging the Earth until she has retrieved all of herself,
including the rotting flesh that lays waste on the side.

Oh! What a beautiful day can disguise!

Searching...

Wandering on the edge of insanity,
she is all alone with her impurities.
Buried deep inside her heart,
lives a memory in the dark.

Lika a Ghost in the night,
the memory haunts her every sight.
Its' embrace consumes all that she is,
the constricting pain imposed is relentless.

Her breath is taken away,
when she wakes each and every day.
The morning haze lifts and reality becomes clear,
she has nothing left to feel.

Nothing left but all the pain,
that which the Ghost completely reigns.
A King he had wished to be,
and it is her soul he holds in captivity.

She doesn't know if she will feel again.
Not how, nor where, nor when.
She seeks any feeling besides pain,
while her tears fall harder than any rain.

She follows the sun and stars,
everyday searching within her heart,
for peace to come in any form,
and save her soul that has been ripped and torn.

The storms come, the tides rise, land is inundated by the sea,
carrying her away to a place she has never been.
As the moon driven tides ebb and flow,
she drifts helplessly to a place unknown.

The brackish water covers all her tears,
and stings those wounds, disquising all her fears.
Fears that keep her bound to her Ghost,
the shackles of iron that she loves the most.

The pain of a mother completely entombed,
by the very son who came from her womb.
The son in life she so tightly embraced,
just as the breath that the Ghost takes.

From her flesh and blood he grew,
becoming part of her soul that only she knew.
Neither can let the other go,
and the sea shall soon swallow them whole.

These bonds are too strong,
and together forever they belong.
This pain that only a mother can know,
for it is the fruit that only she can sow.

She remains that eternal lost soul,
seeking out others who might also know.
Those who will know without a word,
the sharp edges of that wicked sword.

Someone who might see in her eyes,
that soul that can no longer shine.
Who can see in her eyes the desperate pleas,
for her lost son who chose to leave.

Sinking deeply into that great abyss,
trapped in a cesspool, deprived of any bliss.
The reflections of the sun are fading above,
as she sinks deeper towards her love.

Her stolen love that will never heal,
and never release her so that she might feel.
To feel anything but the pain,
as it is all of him that remains.

Unable to save herself, her eyes begin to close,
as she gives in to the pain in her soul.
Then something changes, she is alone no more,
another lost soul takes her to shore.

Like an energy encased in similar pain,
it carries her to shore unexplained.
An unseen force with a heart of its' own,
buried in its' pain, yet unknown.

I've heard that as one door closes, another will open,
the sun gleaming so brightly it blurs her vision.
A faint rhythm begins to fill the air,
filling the empty space, but coming from where?

The melody is growing in intensity,
different -- not affected by lividity.
Not the Ghost holding her tightly,
but another being in a similar plight.

The rhythm turns into a familiar beat,
and brings with it an immense heat.
A heat that warms her blood,
a long lost feeling that is so good.

A hand reaching into her heart,
that has completely fallen apart.
As this being draws nearer,
his rhythm begins to fill her.

Not just a tympanic symphony,
but a rhythm so strong it is felt throughout her body.
With each step closer that he takes,
she feels his heart begin to race.

They share the same pains and fears.
As he comes closer it becomes so clear.
Not one glance into each others eyes,
but yet their souls still collide.

The beating of their hearts entangled,
a convoluted mix that is mangled.
Incoherent when initially combined,
yet clearly understood inside their minds.

Like the waxing of the moon,
his heart begins to swoon.
Then as the moon wanes,
the soothing in her heart begins.

The convoluted mix of entangled hearts
coordinates into one symphonic art.
Their hearts become finely tuned,
like the beauty of the new moon.

Inexplicably, two hearts each other hold,
a sensation that all words have left untold.
Untold because there are no words to define,
two haunted hearts trapped in time.

Politics

I am rather exhausted with the entire political scene right now. With the inauguration today, it is all that you see on the news.

I spent yesterday afternoon at a town meeting with our Governor, Bobby Jindal. I was surprised that he actually reminded me of our soon to be President Obama. Very charismatic, genuine, and upbeat demanding change to improve our state.

Not to mention much more handsome in person. lol

He actually met with each person individually. I didn't realize politicians did this. He took plenty of time, no rushing, and listened intently to the people there. It was quite refreshing.

I must share the most unusual qoute from the meeting by Governor Jindal. "I'm from South Louisiana, what part of a chicken is inedible?" lol He was referring to a discussion with an alternative fuels processor who makes diesel from inedible chicken parts.

I start a new semester in nursing school today and hope to be able to post something new this afternoon. :)

Almost Monday Morning

Here I am again,
chasing that elusive sleep.
I keep trying in vain,
for sweet slumber and I to meet.

Perhaps it's the alluring moon
that keeps my mind in motion?
Synapses firing in the brain making me into a loon.
A condition that cannot be cured even by that wonderful potion.

It's commotion with a preconceived notion,
but in this state, the notion remains hidden,
triggered by my deepest emotions.
Those that, even for me, remain forbidden.

My brain, constantly riddled,
no matter night or day,
or even how much I've fiddled,
these demons I cannot slay.

If I run faster instead of laying waste,
maybe I can catch that blue moon
and hold it in my warm embrace,
perhaps convincing it to sing my tune.

Shall I dare try again?
Oh, this monotonous dread!
Possibly this relationship we can mend,
for I shall again try to slumber in my bed.

Por Mijo, Mi Amor

(written 5/17/2008)

Today I will visit your grave,
and that familiar facade will remain.
For the world, I will appear so brave,
yet inside, my soul will scream in pain.

At your feet, I will strongly stand,
staring at your name etched in marble.
I will shake as I softly place my hand
over your drawing and marvel.

Your art is forever displayed
on the stone that remembers your name.
Your shape is forever preserved
on the vase that signifies your fame unattained.

Your soft hands holding the guitar
that you so skillfully played.
The strings attached to my heart
echoing the sounds that your hands made.

Under the beautiful oak tree, you will forever lay.
The moss hanging down all around your grave.
And the river you face will bring serenity
when the overcast skies bring in the choppy waves.

Off the river comes the sweeping winds.
Softly blowing through the moss that hangs,
yet coldly brushing across my skin,
drying the unseen tears that leave the salty stain.

For today, you would be only fifteen.
But fate chose another path for you.
A life barely begun before it saw its end.
A path that the Lord and You only knew.

Who will blow out the candles from your cake?
My own breath lacks the strength.
The winds from the river shift and fluctuate,
extinguishing the candles as if you sent them.

I will pray before I turn away,
that I will see you under the moon.
The wind makes the moss sway,
as I hope slumber brings us together soon.

I can only see you in my dreams,
under the twinkling stars whose names you knew.
Impatiently I wait for that slumber so sweet,
under the beaming light of the blue moon.

It is then that you still feel so real.
Your smell, your skin, your hair.
As if you were still near.
All this waiting, it is so unfair.