** write about one moment **

[E-girl]

I have a fun little project for anyone who needs some inspiring.

I find that many of us write most often about something that JUST happened to us, or that we are CURRENTLY feeling. Its not often we go back and write about something that happened some time ago.

So here's the project...

Think back, at least a year.... pick just one moment. Any moment. It doesnt have to have significance, or importance, or anything spectacular about it. Just one moment. And then write from the heart.

here's mine.

----------------------------------------

Your Bed

What i liked most about my room in the old apartment
Was the way the sun streamed in through huge bay windows
On every wall, every morning.
My life outside those walls was everything short of sunny,
But for one waking moment every morning,
There was something to smile about.

But sometimes day turned into night
Without the closing of my eyes
and many of them were because the other side of the bed
Lay empty where he should have been
When he said he'd be there.

But one particular night
All these things,
Which had never before that night existed,
Were brought to my eyes,
And i saw for the first time
What a fool i'd been.

I remember when, in the early morning hours,
I couldn't bare the beautiful sun,
And i crept into your dark room,
Where you lay sleeping beside the guy i thought was your soulmate.
And i crawled into bed with the 2 of you,
Snuggled in between you both,
And fell apart.

How many hours did I cry?
How many times did I pick up that phone
And make the call that i thought would change my life,
Only to have no one answer,
And there i was...
With everything i needed to know to save my heart,
And there was you on my right,
And Jay on my left,
Telling me how to get through this,
And what I had been so blind to.

That should have been the morning that I turned my life around.
It should have been the morning where I did a lot of things.
The sun should have shone into my room brighter than ever that morning,
The morning I decided to do the thing,
Which took me way too long to do.

Your comforter was purple and green
There was a picture of dolphins on the wall that we used to gaze at
There was Sabba's crunching away in the adjacent room
You were wearing turtle flannel pj bottoms
And jay was wearing his ICP shirt.
Tears fell for hours that morning
And the drive to a Perkins in Hazleton that should have change my life,
didnt.

I often wonder how my life would be different,
If i had listened to you that day.
I wonder if there would have been less heartache,
More of something better.
I wonder if i would still be the person i am today.
And i wonder if i would still be able to crawl to that room down the hall,
Any morning i couldn't face the sun.
I wonder if you still have that purple and green comforter,
And how many tears have fallen onto it since i left.

I wonder....

 

[Chaotic Action Man]

lol great post hon. i was going to post a haiku i wrote the other night, but read this right before posting. since my haiku stretches way WAY! back to when i was 5 in Ireland i'll post it here to contribute.

"seaside"

Chasing crabs in the rocks
The laughter rolling off the barnacled boulders
And the waves

 

[Altered_Soul9]

"MY black hole"

I stare in a dreary black....something
Why does it beckon me?
I know its intentions. I know its motives.
But the intentions are motivated by something...someone else.
My sinewy hands run over the ruff edges of the pain, that is indeed ready to enter me with astonishing force.
Ripping me as if I was not even there.
Should I allow?
Should I be raped by the hurt and pain?
It answers yes, and I fear its harsh voice....my voice.
To stare into this is to stare into death
death of mind, soul, flesh.
I resist, i hurt, i cry.
I need not this pain that I once thought to be overwhelming.
Life is mine, and I am life.
To take life is to do what few can do and what many can only imagine.

 

[jeebus13]

Great idea, and one I don't consider often enough. I am usually too concerned with myself or some current half-infatuation to refer to times past. Here goes:

"Deja Vu"

The forest is alive and I feel dead...
a five and a half hour hike up fifty degree inclines
tends to wear me down.
The scenery has been beautiful,
but nothing more than a few footprints
left by something I will never understand...
and then I turn a corner past a tree
to approach the single most familiar place
I have ever seen.
A deep gorge opens up to reveal
boulders that sing of their birth
in a soft soprano
while birds nest in the trees
whose limbs climb higher than I can hope to
though I am here to go rock climbing with my father.
The floor of this serene forest
seems almost empty in comparison
with the barely blazed trail I have been following
and I can almost hear my own voice
from years ago,
though I have never been here,
echoing off of these same boulders.
"Have we ever been here, Dad?"
"Well, I only found this trail about a month ago."
"I guess not, then."
But I HAVE been here,
these trees know my name,
I have slept under these enormous granite boulders
in endless nights of spring rain...
but I have never been here.


I am here now.

 

[E-girl]

another moment

"Do you have any idea"

I'll never forget that night we ate AMT
And then lay in my bed
Under the big white fluffy blanket
And talked til morning.
It didn't have much effect on you,
But i remember burning up with a fever
And laying there shaking
And thinking about how i'd never try that drug again
And thinking how nothing good would come of that night.

Funny, how i am writing about it now,
As it stuck in my mind like glue.

I can still see your face as you loomed over me,
Looking me right in the eyes,
And it was the only time in 2 years that you confessed your feelings for me.
Just that one sentence...
"Do you have any idea how much i care about you?"
No, i didnt.

I'll never forget that night.
That look on your face.
Those words.

 

[ButrosButros_Grantos]

I do not find the above to be true at all, as writers we all write about things that hae occured at some point in our lives, after all writing what you know works best. Everything I have offered so far has been distant hurts, nothing recent...

 

[.dR spgeddi]

^i write from imagineation too tho.
often it has nothing to do with my experiences, or my life.
sometimes its just an observation or a feeling i observed.

 

[neverwas]

nice thread hun i spent at least ten minutes tryin to figure out what to write about and after deciding not to derpess myself i wrote about a fellow bluelighter who has done soooo much for me more than he realises and who is very dear to me and i love to death

for someone specail...

who would of thought from what was only words,
stemmed something so powerful.
thats only grown
since the day we met.

may times of seeing you online
to the time when i rang you.
then you hung up on me.
or so i thought...
thanks to the battery in your phone.

i remember the time i fell asleep
holding my phone in my hand.
resting to the sound of your voice.
i remember the time i fell asleep
being held in your arms.

our friendship it grew day by day.
from our first talk
to our first walk.
to our first kiss.
i remember even our first hug.

with me came baggage.
with me came a lot of emotional shit.
but you took me on.
you took me in.
your love is something that cant be replaced.

your my closest of friends.
in you in find solace.
in you i find relief.
in each other we've found a friendship
one that i will always hold dear.

 

[rewiiired]

Clarity Beneath a Dark Ohio Sky.

"What we once enjoyed and deeply loved we can never lose, for all that we love deeply becomes part of us."
-- Helen Keller.

“Love is strong as death; jealousy is cruel as the grave.”
-- Bible, Song of Solomon 8:6.

Clarity Beneath a Dark Ohio Sky.

It's the same as before
just a game and nothing more to you
silently, subtly I try and open your eyes,
so broken blue,
till I meet my old friend futility:
and how the bloody fuck are you?

And I see there's just no way to break through to you
chanting horrid obscenities to myself again
cradling the chaos in my brain,
building up armor for my heart's reckoning
my shadow side's finally breaking through,
inhibitions only slightly intruding,
and the more I drink the more I find the less I notice
how dreadfully I'm loosing to the fate that takes the form of you.

Free will's fate in the war against destiny was to burn
and leave me in the ashes of old delusions,
so I swallow the dark,
too stubborn to let it choke me again.
So I let it flow in and out of me in a lighter way.

I'm lost in this evening's reminiscing and long-desired scenes,
riding the waves of these metaphors, ironies and synchronicities:
the evil twin during high school that we just talked about
shows up at the bar out of the blue and disappears just as quickly;
the American Standard toilet reminding me of that one
song Cumbersome that you once said explained
our relationship to a tee;
the pool table, the three of us – the Detached, the Guitar Guy,
the girl with California sun sparkling in her eyes –
just like the day I met you.

And so on, and so on...

And I can only blame myself
for the way it's always been
but tell me,
is it pride or fear I'm choking on here?

Time to give myself the Heimlich anyway,
as your gaze from such close proximity
-- but such distance --
gives my dead hope CPR; gives a little rhythm to the
steady tone that's been dominating my days,
because what's death when you can prolong suffering?

Such cynicism. Oh, who fucking cares anymore.
No one to blame for today, no more than every hour
of every day that came before.
I’m the one that made my life shit, time to
cough up the courage to do the best I can with it.
What is simply is, and this is what pessimistic,
isolationist, overly-complex bastards do to it.

And yesterday?
Yesterday -- I felt like nothing
and you were everything,
but I've been gaining on you, my dear,
I'm closing in on you.

One day, like you, I’m going
to be a beautiful someone,
full of that bright, simple
beauty and strength in you that I fell in
love with since the very day I met you.

This evening is so much to me, almost
the sense of a full circle, head to tail,
they're almost kissing, like years before, but now
it's the other end that's backing off in ambivalence.
It's the other end that's yelling for the smoke blown in it's face,
but this is no basement, and there's no leather black couch
and a heavy metal band where we are.
There's billiards again, and the three of us, like years before,
but your hair's gone from pink to dirty blond now,
and we're all smoking and drinking and in this bar.

You, two kids later.
Me, a few addictions and psychotic episodes.
Him, a few drummers, bass players and lead singers.
One moment it seems that everything has changed, even
I've gotten more insane, but another nanosecond passes us by
and I get the contradictory sense that it's all the same in the underneath.

`The same place, at a different level,' a voice in me says,
`peer down on the spiral, when her
California sun rose into your dark Ohio skies,
and she cut her crescent moon through those thick clouds
that hung above your skull, oversized and overweight and spinning
with your heavy, disorganized thoughts, and warmed your frigid swamp
and lifted you from the old earth, and back down
to break some new ground.'

The moon beast entrances me again.
No, it’s just the pheromones.

You laugh, tell me to get out of your face, and you keep on laughing,
perhaps only half aware that there two forces at work here:
one is the part of me that is trying to devour you, the other
is your eyes drawing me in.

It's just those pheromones again.
Those fucking pheromones.

I buy you another drink, watch you get hit on for the hundredth time.
Half of me a turtle wanting to withdraw into his shell and
half an A-bomb wanting to line the world with charred remains,
but now there's something between those two states, blossoming,
or maybe I've just drank a little bit too much this evening.

You laugh and tell my to get out of your face once again
still not realizing that it's your eyes, they're pulling me in
fuck it, it's true and clear, I'm trying to size you up here,
show my strength against my need for you, my delusional need.

And I can only blame myself
for the way it's always been
but tell me, is it pride
or fear I'm choking on here?
Fear, it's fear, it's the same as before
just a game and nothing more,
but I'm learning not to be such a sore looser,
because perhaps, just perhaps,
I'm gaining something more here.
And silently, subtly I try and open my eyes,
so broken brown,
and choose my destiny,
it's my free will
to move forward or let myself break down,
and I'm still trying to break on through to me.

I find it funny,
all I've got to do,
is look into your eyes,
and I'm suddenly overcome with clarity.

And how the bloody fuck are you?

 

[neverwas]

E-girl sweety you should sticky this thread so it doesnt disappear.

 

[chrissy]

Re: Clarity Beneath a Dark Ohio Sky.

"What we once enjoyed and deeply loved we can never lose, for all that we love deeply becomes part of us."
-- Helen Keller.

“Love is strong as death; jealousy is cruel as the grave.”
-- Bible, Song of Solomon 8:6.

Clarity Beneath a Dark Ohio Sky.

It's the same as before
just a game and nothing more to you
silently, subtly I try and open your eyes,
so broken blue,
till I meet my old friend futility:
and how the bloody fuck are you?

And I see there's just no way to break through to you
chanting horrid obscenities to myself again
cradling the chaos in my brain,
building up armor for my heart's reckoning
my shadow side's finally breaking through,
inhibitions only slightly intruding,
and the more I drink the more I find the less I notice
how dreadfully I'm loosing to the fate that takes the form of you.

Free will's fate in the war against destiny was to burn
and leave me in the ashes of old delusions,
so I swallow the dark,
too stubborn to let it choke me again.
So I let it flow in and out of me in a lighter way.

I'm lost in this evening's reminiscing and long-desired scenes,
riding the waves of these metaphors, ironies and synchronicities:
the evil twin during high school that we just talked about
shows up at the bar out of the blue and disappears just as quickly;
the American Standard toilet reminding me of that one
song Cumbersome that you once said explained
our relationship to a tee;
the pool table, the three of us – the Detached, the Guitar Guy,
the girl with California sun sparkling in her eyes –
just like the day I met you.

And so on, and so on...

And I can only blame myself
for the way it's always been
but tell me,
is it pride or fear I'm choking on here?

Time to give myself the Heimlich anyway,
as your gaze from such close proximity
-- but such distance --
gives my dead hope CPR; gives a little rhythm to the
steady tone that's been dominating my days,
because what's death when you can prolong suffering?

Such cynicism. Oh, who fucking cares anymore.
No one to blame for today, no more than every hour
of every day that came before.
I’m the one that made my life shit, time to
cough up the courage to do the best I can with it.
What is simply is, and this is what pessimistic,
isolationist, overly-complex bastards do to it.

And yesterday?
Yesterday -- I felt like nothing
and you were everything,
but I've been gaining on you, my dear,
I'm closing in on you.

One day, like you, I’m going
to be a beautiful someone,
full of that bright, simple
beauty and strength in you that I fell in
love with since the very day I met you.

This evening is so much to me, almost
the sense of a full circle, head to tail,
they're almost kissing, like years before, but now
it's the other end that's backing off in ambivalence.
It's the other end that's yelling for the smoke blown in it's face,
but this is no basement, and there's no leather black couch
and a heavy metal band where we are.
There's billiards again, and the three of us, like years before,
but your hair's gone from pink to dirty blond now,
and we're all smoking and drinking and in this bar.

You, two kids later.
Me, a few addictions and psychotic episodes.
Him, a few drummers, bass players and lead singers.
One moment it seems that everything has changed, even
I've gotten more insane, but another nanosecond passes us by
and I get the contradictory sense that it's all the same in the underneath.

`The same place, at a different level,' a voice in me says,
`peer down on the spiral, when her
California sun rose into your dark Ohio skies,
and she cut her crescent moon through those thick clouds
that hung above your skull, oversized and overweight and spinning
with your heavy, disorganized thoughts, and warmed your frigid swamp
and lifted you from the old earth, and back down
to break some new ground.'

The moon beast entrances me again.
No, it’s just the pheromones.

You laugh, tell me to get out of your face, and you keep on laughing,
perhaps only half aware that there two forces at work here:
one is the part of me that is trying to devour you, the other
is your eyes drawing me in.

It's just those pheromones again.
Those fucking pheromones.

I buy you another drink, watch you get hit on for the hundredth time.
Half of me a turtle wanting to withdraw into his shell and
half an A-bomb wanting to line the world with charred remains,
but now there's something between those two states, blossoming,
or maybe I've just drank a little bit too much this evening.

You laugh and tell my to get out of your face once again
still not realizing that it's your eyes, they're pulling me in
fuck it, it's true and clear, I'm trying to size you up here,
show my strength against my need for you, my delusional need.

And I can only blame myself
for the way it's always been
but tell me, is it pride
or fear I'm choking on here?
Fear, it's fear, it's the same as before
just a game and nothing more,
but I'm learning not to be such a sore looser,
because perhaps, just perhaps,
I'm gaining something more here.
And silently, subtly I try and open my eyes,
so broken brown,
and choose my destiny,
it's my free will
to move forward or let myself break down,
and I'm still trying to break on through to me.

I find it funny,
all I've got to do,
is look into your eyes,
and I'm suddenly overcome with clarity.

And how the bloody fuck are you?

i just HAVE to say.. absolutely brilliant... every letter of it

 

[brothermarcus]

they were silent
nervous and unprepared
and i was there to lead them

i took them up from the morning dew
as the sunlight shone on the land
and made them their breakfast

we broke bread and filled up our canteens
then took to tools with strong hands
as sweat dropped from our brow, smiles shone on our faces

observing in silence the labours of the day
a simple nod of acknowledgement the only communication needed
as we all sacrificed together to turn the land

shovels, wheelbarrows, rakes, and plenty of water breaks
under the sweltering summer sun
a group of boys slowly learned to become men

they were silent
reverent and understanding
and i was there to lead them.

 

[Frosty da snowman]

lick u

so there we were all concrete and stiff
dusty and smooth
that wide long tunnel
others had been here of that I’m sure
prepping for me
lubing your metal
laying their tracks
making their marks
but we’ll have this little secret
that little soft
my smirky smile
your indifference

 

[E-girl]

sticky it? ok.

 

[Chaotic Action Man]

i wrote this a while back and it only had three reads, so i hope you don't mind me posting it here. relevant to the theme of writing about the past.

"half in two worlds" (was running from the light *bleh*)

I never wanted to be here.
When they announced that it was my time,
All my loved ones threw a party.
During the wake and christening I hid.
So well did I hide,
It took them two and a half weeks to find me.
They were not angry but understanding.
Still, I was forced into this vessel all the same.

It was not painful.
To be born.
But it was the cold that made me cry.
And the bright lights so
Disorientating.
I longed to go home and,
The friends who helped me hide,
Longed for my homecoming.

There were numerous attempts.
The most serious was in Rome
When this vessel was only four.
In the jail cell where they held both Peter and Jesus,
They hid under a manhole.
This manhole covered access to an underground river,
The river that both men would daily lower their cups in to drink.
When I stepped on this cover
My friends flipped the lid,
Grabbed my leg,
And tried to pull me under.

The nuns were horrified and shocked.
“It was suppose to be locked,”
They said to my mother in broken English, as she
Clutched her son to her chest in protection.
My foot wet, I knew better.
I could feel their disappointment,
Mixed with mine,
That we had all failed once again.

But as the years grew,
The attempts receded.
Many of them were forced into vessels themselves,
And we catch sight of each other
Every now and then.
And truth be told,
As the years stretched out,
I minded less,
The day I was forced into the vessel that I am.

 

[onlysweetpea]

Unraveled

saying goodbye to kc...

And off to LA you go.

And I find myself in a different doorway kissing a different man long and hard before the sun has even come up. Before the world has an inkling at all on what is going on. I stuck my finger in the hole in your t-shirt and pressed it against the warm skin of your back. God, it was so cold out. Fall, Winter, even the promise of crushing brown leaves under my feet did not excite me this grey morning.

"You're unraveling me," you said.

"Hmm?"

He pointed out that the hole in the seam behind his arm that my finger was hooked in and the threads becoming undone around it.

"If you want to destroy my sweater, woah, pull this thread as I walk away...", I sang jokingly.

I was worried about prolonging the whole goodbye, but I didn't care.

I wasn't going to be the first one to let go.