This is my ending song to you
The storm
Is coming
It rolls across the sea
Crashes on the shore
My eyes
No longer a beacon
In the night
Will guide no more
Your words
Will no longer
Carry me
To your arms
My futile hopes
See reality
I am no longer here
I have left my post
Let the sirens call
Their sweet song
Enticing
Into their arms
I will not
Wait
I will not
Stay
I am
Where I belong
Away from the shore
-Christine
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Running Away
Think logic
Take emotion away
Dreams are no good here
They only lead to nightmares
-Christine
Take emotion away
Dreams are no good here
They only lead to nightmares
-Christine
Thursday, August 28, 2008
A Hot Night In Reality
*warning: if you are easily offended by language and crude humor, i would advise you to not continue reading. this is a short story i wrote for a class last quarter. if has been revised and rewritten a few times and i think is finally where i kinda like it. it is written like this because our teacher really wanted us to write like our character would talk, so this is how i felt my character would talk and interact. enjoy, or don't.
A Hot Night in Reality
Damn it’s hot, I thought as I sat alone in the deserted Third Avenue 7-11 convenience store, happy for the air conditioning that flooded my already greasy, sweaty face. This night, or should I say early morning considering it’s almost 3 a.m., is a particularly hot summer day in the city of Spokane. You know those mornings when you walk outside and see the dew sitting on the grass and feel the crisp, cool air brush across your face, giving you an energy and good outlook on life. Well, today is not that day and hasn’t been for sometime. Right now as stare out the window, I am graced with the thick, hot smell of sweat. Right now, I hate life.
Here I sit wasting my life, working five days a week during the middle of the night through to the early morning for a little above minimum wage and meager medical benefits that won’t even pay for my replacement arches in my shoes so my feet don’t give out on me. This damn job ruined my arches and causes my back to ache day after day. You’d think they would be able to pay for some shoe support for my flat feet. But no, pretty much if you get sick with a deathly illness, you might as well die because it would be the only thing you don’t have to give an arm and a leg for as co-payment. Death is a better choice then getting sick, in these situations, because then your family is the one screwed over and has to pay that damn medical bill.
I hate this job. It’s a joke. Me, a “shift manager,” is a nice title that tries to make me feel better because I got suckered into and got screwed over to work this damn graveyard shift. “Manager” of course I’m the manager of this shift, I’m the only one who works this god forsaken store during the middle of the night, fearing who is going to step through those doors and bust a bullet through my head. I am the manager to myself risking my life night after night serving slushies and cigarettes to addicts waiting for someone to hold me up at gun point demanding all the money I have in the tills. Every person who walks through those doors makes me nervous. I just wait for the feeling of burning flesh as a bullet courses through my body. To be honest, I actually don’t know what it feels like to be shot, but maybe it does feel like burning flesh, and then the inevitable blood flows out.
As my imagination drifts off to see my body lying on the ground in a pool of blood behind the till, I get my fifth customer of the night and at the sight of him my senses heighten. As he walks in, I greet him with a hello and the customary “how you doing?” even though I really don’t give a damn how he’s doing or what he wants. What I really want is for him to get the hell out of here. I’m not sure I trust him. I stop to look him over and try to get a drawing in my head of what he looks like so that I can describe him to the police later on if things go bad. He is a tall Native American, most likely from the Reservation a few miles away. He’s got long black hair tied into a loose pony tail that lies across his gray tank top and goes down almost to his cut off jeans shorts. He looks like most of the Spokane Natives, and yet there is something different about him. I can’t quite put my finger on it. Maybe it’s the basketball shoes he’s wearing which are surprisingly very white and clean.
As I look him over, I notice him doing the same thing to me. He first notices my name, Logan,on the damn stupid name tag. What’s he got to know what I look like for? Is he trying to size me up to know whether he can take me? Can my 5’11”, medium frame take him? He stares at my face, taking in my black rimed glasses that cover my dark brown eyes. My hair, needing to be cut, is dark and curly. His eyes then move down to the tattoos that peak out from under my sleeves. By looking at my tattoos, I’m sure he begins to size me up. My tattoos aren’t the hardcore, punk, or rocker kind. They are lyrics to songs and famous quotes. He recognizes that I’m no listener of death metal, but rather of Death Cab For Cutie. I’m the type that sits at home and reads, listening to music and wishing to be out of this god forsaken shit hole of a place.
“Can I help you with anything, Chief?” I ask so as to break his stare of me.
“Chief, huh?” The Native glares at me. Fuck! Did I just say Chief out loud? Shit!
“I’ll take that as a compliment. But you should feel lucky I didn’t bring my 9mm with me.” He says smugly. “What you scared? I’m just playin with ya!” He laughs. I’m not amused.
“Yeh,…well, what can I help you with?” Is the only response that comes to mind.
“Yeh, I’m lookin for something cold in this fuckin heat! What ya got?”
“Check the freezer.”
“Lot of help you are. Duh! Something frozen would be in the freezer. I’m Native, not retarded. You really suck as a sales person, ya know. Can’t you even pretend to care and help out a lost and lonely customer find a frozen delight in this deathly heat?”
“Damn!” He starts again. “I hate that I forgot my 9mm. It’s these jean shorts, ya see. They are way too tight to hold this beautiful package,” He points to his balls, “and a gun. They don’t allow me to pack that much heat. These babies alone back a lot of heat, and a gun…watch out! You are one lucky son of a bitch. You should be glad I chose looks over killin.”
“Haha.” I give a sympathy laugh, hoping he’s just joking.
The Native doesn’t stick around to long. After a little bit of wandering around by the freezers and giving me shit, he buys a Creamsicle and leaves. I guess tonight might not be my night to die. He thinks he’s damn funny though, trying to mess with my head or something. Making me think he was going to kill me when my back was turned. I hate these types. Don’t they know that one of the highest death rates in America at the work place is convenience stores? Clerks at convenience stores all over the country are dying every night. I guess I’m just waiting for my turn. I hate this damn job. I ended up giving him the Creamsicle for free just to get him outta here. Peace and quiet again. Only two more hours to go, and then home.
Home. Not quite home. I don’t really have a home. I’ve been staying with my girl friend for the past couple months and that is definitely not a home. It’s more like, I have no where else to go and need some place to stay. I don’t even have a key to her place. If she’s not there I get to just wait on her steps until she gets home. I don’t think she trusts me. It’s ok though, because I don’t really trust her. I don’t really trust anyone. I have been screwed over to many times and seen some crazy shit go down. What’s there to trust in anyways? Everyone always lets you down.
They say that is what makes a relationship, trust. It’s ok though, our relationship was doomed from the beginning. Right now it’s just a ticking time bomb, waiting to blow. Hopefully, I get a place to stay before that happens though. I don’t really have anywhere else to go right now. I’m still trying to save money so that I can get out of this city and move somewhere else far away from here. I don’t really care where it is, but somewhere far far away.
The hours seem to pass by incredibly slow. I get the typical early morning regulars who are looking for their 99 cent cup of cheap shitty coffee on their way to work at their crap paying jobs. Buzz comes in right at 4:30 to get his regular breakfast that consists of a glazed donut and a cup of coffee. I don’t really know much about Buzz other than that he recently got divorced. He used to beat his wife and kids, and one day his wife couldn’t take it anymore and packed up all their things and left town. I only know this because I watched it all go down in front of the store in the parking lot. His wife and kids first stopped off over here before leaving town. I’m guessing because they needed to get some food or something. Well, anyways, as he was driving around looking for them, he must of drove past this place and saw the car. Some crazy shit went down and it ended up with her leaving and him coming in to get his usual donut and coffee. A few months later they were divorced.
Buzz was my last customer for the morning. When the next shift started, I packed up all my stuff and left to go to my girlfriends, to get some sleep and watch my day start all over again. Same shit day after day, waiting to get enough money to get out.
Fifteen minutes later, I find myself rounding the corner to my girlfriend’s house. The hot night seems to be turning into a hotter day. Sweat begins to drip down my face as I knock on the door to my temporary home. As I knock, the sun is just beginning to come up and wake everyone else in the neighborhood from their restless sleep in the heat. I hear my girlfriend’s steps approach the door. As she opened the door, she welcomed me in and as I stepped over the threshold, her little poodle bit my leg and it started to bleed. I cry out in pain and kick the dog off my leg and then watch it sail into the wall. Instantly I realize that that was a really bad move. I turn around just in time for my face to meet the hand of my girlfriend, accompanied by a loud slapping sound. Pain courses through my body from two wounds, a slap on the face and a bite to the leg. The convenience store might not kill me but the girl and her damn poodle will. I realize that this is my time to be quiet and hold my peace. There is no moving out right now. Not when I am so close to getting to where I want to be.
Where, one might ask. Anywhere, but here. I’ve grown up in this damn town. I’ve always lived in a 2 mile radius. Same damn neighborhood. I needed to get out! Fuck this neighborhood! Fuck this town! I just need to get out and see the world. I’ve been saving for sometime and I think I almost have enough to hit the road and say goodbye to everyone forever, no looking back!
My girlfriends cries bring me back to reality. And damn, is she ever without a stick of gum in her mouth? A constant chewing and smacking, its enough to drive someone mad! Every morning when she wakes up, her teeth must wake up and demand a stick of gum instantly. She’s never without her gum. I guess it’s to kick her smoking habit, but it’s damn annoying!
“Logan! What ya do that for?” cried my girlfriend.
“Hey, I’m sorry! It was just my gut reaction. When I feel pain, I try and find where it is coming
from and try and rid myself of it. Ya, know it’s like when the Doctor hits your knee with that hammer thing and your knee kicks out. That is what its like. Just a reaction to the pain. Damn, Pinky bit me hard. Look, I’m bleeding!”
“Oh, alright. I’m sorry I slapped you. Bad, Pinky!” As she said this, she turned and spanked the dog like one would spank a child.
As this initial conversation comes to a close, I begin to pat myself on my back for the nice save. The bomb could’ve exploded today, but instead I think I saved myself some time. I only have to wait till the end of summer and hopefully I will have enough money to rid myself of this town and follow my dreams. I’m just so close.
“Come here and let me look at it.” My girlfriend said as she waved me over to the couch.
We sat there for a few minutes while she examined the wound, then she stopped and looked me in the eyes. It was a look I had never seen before, a look of timidity and tears. She started,
“I don’t know how to tell you this, but I promised myself that today was the day I was going to tell you. I can’t keep this to myself any longer. You have to know. You are apart of this too.”
“Apart of what?” I asked.
“You are apart of the being that is growing in my stomach. I am pregnant. And it’s your baby. It’s our baby.”
“You’re what?”
“I’m preganant.”
“How?” I said with a glazed look over my face.
“Well, you were there so I think you know how.”
“Well I get that, but…”
“Look, I don’t expect much from you. I know you are not planning on staying here long. I know
you can’t wait to get outta here, but I thought you should know. I also think you should know that I am going to keep it.”
“Keep it?!?!”
“Ya, keep it. I was set on riding myself of it, but when I went to the place, I met one of those fanatic Christian people and they showed me a picture of what my baby already looked like at three months along. I couldn’t do it. But, listen, I just thought you should know. You don’t have to stay. You are free to go whenever.”
“Keep it...” I said this more to myself than to anyone else.
“Ya, keep it. Oh and by the way. I had a key made for you. It’s over there on the counter.”
“I have a key?”
“Ya, sorry I didn’t get it sooner. Sorry you had to wait outside all that time. I’m not going to lie.
I didn’t trust you before now.” She said this honestly.
“And you trust me now?” I asked questioningly.
“Well, I thought a good place to start with this whole pregnancy thing was to start trusting the father of my baby. I don’t want it to grow up living in a home without trust. Shit, trust is what makes or breaks a relationship.”
“So, you want a relationship? A real relationship?”
“Look, I said ‘relationship’ meaning friendship or parentship. Any relationship needs trust. I don’t want my baby’s mom not even trusting its father. Remember you are free to do whatever you want to do.” She said, her eyes spoke only honesty.
“A baby?” I still couldn’t get over it.
“Ya, a baby. It’s yours. What are you going to do?” She asked me with tears streaming down
her face.
-Christine
A Hot Night in Reality
Damn it’s hot, I thought as I sat alone in the deserted Third Avenue 7-11 convenience store, happy for the air conditioning that flooded my already greasy, sweaty face. This night, or should I say early morning considering it’s almost 3 a.m., is a particularly hot summer day in the city of Spokane. You know those mornings when you walk outside and see the dew sitting on the grass and feel the crisp, cool air brush across your face, giving you an energy and good outlook on life. Well, today is not that day and hasn’t been for sometime. Right now as stare out the window, I am graced with the thick, hot smell of sweat. Right now, I hate life.
Here I sit wasting my life, working five days a week during the middle of the night through to the early morning for a little above minimum wage and meager medical benefits that won’t even pay for my replacement arches in my shoes so my feet don’t give out on me. This damn job ruined my arches and causes my back to ache day after day. You’d think they would be able to pay for some shoe support for my flat feet. But no, pretty much if you get sick with a deathly illness, you might as well die because it would be the only thing you don’t have to give an arm and a leg for as co-payment. Death is a better choice then getting sick, in these situations, because then your family is the one screwed over and has to pay that damn medical bill.
I hate this job. It’s a joke. Me, a “shift manager,” is a nice title that tries to make me feel better because I got suckered into and got screwed over to work this damn graveyard shift. “Manager” of course I’m the manager of this shift, I’m the only one who works this god forsaken store during the middle of the night, fearing who is going to step through those doors and bust a bullet through my head. I am the manager to myself risking my life night after night serving slushies and cigarettes to addicts waiting for someone to hold me up at gun point demanding all the money I have in the tills. Every person who walks through those doors makes me nervous. I just wait for the feeling of burning flesh as a bullet courses through my body. To be honest, I actually don’t know what it feels like to be shot, but maybe it does feel like burning flesh, and then the inevitable blood flows out.
As my imagination drifts off to see my body lying on the ground in a pool of blood behind the till, I get my fifth customer of the night and at the sight of him my senses heighten. As he walks in, I greet him with a hello and the customary “how you doing?” even though I really don’t give a damn how he’s doing or what he wants. What I really want is for him to get the hell out of here. I’m not sure I trust him. I stop to look him over and try to get a drawing in my head of what he looks like so that I can describe him to the police later on if things go bad. He is a tall Native American, most likely from the Reservation a few miles away. He’s got long black hair tied into a loose pony tail that lies across his gray tank top and goes down almost to his cut off jeans shorts. He looks like most of the Spokane Natives, and yet there is something different about him. I can’t quite put my finger on it. Maybe it’s the basketball shoes he’s wearing which are surprisingly very white and clean.
As I look him over, I notice him doing the same thing to me. He first notices my name, Logan,on the damn stupid name tag. What’s he got to know what I look like for? Is he trying to size me up to know whether he can take me? Can my 5’11”, medium frame take him? He stares at my face, taking in my black rimed glasses that cover my dark brown eyes. My hair, needing to be cut, is dark and curly. His eyes then move down to the tattoos that peak out from under my sleeves. By looking at my tattoos, I’m sure he begins to size me up. My tattoos aren’t the hardcore, punk, or rocker kind. They are lyrics to songs and famous quotes. He recognizes that I’m no listener of death metal, but rather of Death Cab For Cutie. I’m the type that sits at home and reads, listening to music and wishing to be out of this god forsaken shit hole of a place.
“Can I help you with anything, Chief?” I ask so as to break his stare of me.
“Chief, huh?” The Native glares at me. Fuck! Did I just say Chief out loud? Shit!
“I’ll take that as a compliment. But you should feel lucky I didn’t bring my 9mm with me.” He says smugly. “What you scared? I’m just playin with ya!” He laughs. I’m not amused.
“Yeh,…well, what can I help you with?” Is the only response that comes to mind.
“Yeh, I’m lookin for something cold in this fuckin heat! What ya got?”
“Check the freezer.”
“Lot of help you are. Duh! Something frozen would be in the freezer. I’m Native, not retarded. You really suck as a sales person, ya know. Can’t you even pretend to care and help out a lost and lonely customer find a frozen delight in this deathly heat?”
“Damn!” He starts again. “I hate that I forgot my 9mm. It’s these jean shorts, ya see. They are way too tight to hold this beautiful package,” He points to his balls, “and a gun. They don’t allow me to pack that much heat. These babies alone back a lot of heat, and a gun…watch out! You are one lucky son of a bitch. You should be glad I chose looks over killin.”
“Haha.” I give a sympathy laugh, hoping he’s just joking.
The Native doesn’t stick around to long. After a little bit of wandering around by the freezers and giving me shit, he buys a Creamsicle and leaves. I guess tonight might not be my night to die. He thinks he’s damn funny though, trying to mess with my head or something. Making me think he was going to kill me when my back was turned. I hate these types. Don’t they know that one of the highest death rates in America at the work place is convenience stores? Clerks at convenience stores all over the country are dying every night. I guess I’m just waiting for my turn. I hate this damn job. I ended up giving him the Creamsicle for free just to get him outta here. Peace and quiet again. Only two more hours to go, and then home.
Home. Not quite home. I don’t really have a home. I’ve been staying with my girl friend for the past couple months and that is definitely not a home. It’s more like, I have no where else to go and need some place to stay. I don’t even have a key to her place. If she’s not there I get to just wait on her steps until she gets home. I don’t think she trusts me. It’s ok though, because I don’t really trust her. I don’t really trust anyone. I have been screwed over to many times and seen some crazy shit go down. What’s there to trust in anyways? Everyone always lets you down.
They say that is what makes a relationship, trust. It’s ok though, our relationship was doomed from the beginning. Right now it’s just a ticking time bomb, waiting to blow. Hopefully, I get a place to stay before that happens though. I don’t really have anywhere else to go right now. I’m still trying to save money so that I can get out of this city and move somewhere else far away from here. I don’t really care where it is, but somewhere far far away.
The hours seem to pass by incredibly slow. I get the typical early morning regulars who are looking for their 99 cent cup of cheap shitty coffee on their way to work at their crap paying jobs. Buzz comes in right at 4:30 to get his regular breakfast that consists of a glazed donut and a cup of coffee. I don’t really know much about Buzz other than that he recently got divorced. He used to beat his wife and kids, and one day his wife couldn’t take it anymore and packed up all their things and left town. I only know this because I watched it all go down in front of the store in the parking lot. His wife and kids first stopped off over here before leaving town. I’m guessing because they needed to get some food or something. Well, anyways, as he was driving around looking for them, he must of drove past this place and saw the car. Some crazy shit went down and it ended up with her leaving and him coming in to get his usual donut and coffee. A few months later they were divorced.
Buzz was my last customer for the morning. When the next shift started, I packed up all my stuff and left to go to my girlfriends, to get some sleep and watch my day start all over again. Same shit day after day, waiting to get enough money to get out.
Fifteen minutes later, I find myself rounding the corner to my girlfriend’s house. The hot night seems to be turning into a hotter day. Sweat begins to drip down my face as I knock on the door to my temporary home. As I knock, the sun is just beginning to come up and wake everyone else in the neighborhood from their restless sleep in the heat. I hear my girlfriend’s steps approach the door. As she opened the door, she welcomed me in and as I stepped over the threshold, her little poodle bit my leg and it started to bleed. I cry out in pain and kick the dog off my leg and then watch it sail into the wall. Instantly I realize that that was a really bad move. I turn around just in time for my face to meet the hand of my girlfriend, accompanied by a loud slapping sound. Pain courses through my body from two wounds, a slap on the face and a bite to the leg. The convenience store might not kill me but the girl and her damn poodle will. I realize that this is my time to be quiet and hold my peace. There is no moving out right now. Not when I am so close to getting to where I want to be.
Where, one might ask. Anywhere, but here. I’ve grown up in this damn town. I’ve always lived in a 2 mile radius. Same damn neighborhood. I needed to get out! Fuck this neighborhood! Fuck this town! I just need to get out and see the world. I’ve been saving for sometime and I think I almost have enough to hit the road and say goodbye to everyone forever, no looking back!
My girlfriends cries bring me back to reality. And damn, is she ever without a stick of gum in her mouth? A constant chewing and smacking, its enough to drive someone mad! Every morning when she wakes up, her teeth must wake up and demand a stick of gum instantly. She’s never without her gum. I guess it’s to kick her smoking habit, but it’s damn annoying!
“Logan! What ya do that for?” cried my girlfriend.
“Hey, I’m sorry! It was just my gut reaction. When I feel pain, I try and find where it is coming
from and try and rid myself of it. Ya, know it’s like when the Doctor hits your knee with that hammer thing and your knee kicks out. That is what its like. Just a reaction to the pain. Damn, Pinky bit me hard. Look, I’m bleeding!”
“Oh, alright. I’m sorry I slapped you. Bad, Pinky!” As she said this, she turned and spanked the dog like one would spank a child.
As this initial conversation comes to a close, I begin to pat myself on my back for the nice save. The bomb could’ve exploded today, but instead I think I saved myself some time. I only have to wait till the end of summer and hopefully I will have enough money to rid myself of this town and follow my dreams. I’m just so close.
“Come here and let me look at it.” My girlfriend said as she waved me over to the couch.
We sat there for a few minutes while she examined the wound, then she stopped and looked me in the eyes. It was a look I had never seen before, a look of timidity and tears. She started,
“I don’t know how to tell you this, but I promised myself that today was the day I was going to tell you. I can’t keep this to myself any longer. You have to know. You are apart of this too.”
“Apart of what?” I asked.
“You are apart of the being that is growing in my stomach. I am pregnant. And it’s your baby. It’s our baby.”
“You’re what?”
“I’m preganant.”
“How?” I said with a glazed look over my face.
“Well, you were there so I think you know how.”
“Well I get that, but…”
“Look, I don’t expect much from you. I know you are not planning on staying here long. I know
you can’t wait to get outta here, but I thought you should know. I also think you should know that I am going to keep it.”
“Keep it?!?!”
“Ya, keep it. I was set on riding myself of it, but when I went to the place, I met one of those fanatic Christian people and they showed me a picture of what my baby already looked like at three months along. I couldn’t do it. But, listen, I just thought you should know. You don’t have to stay. You are free to go whenever.”
“Keep it...” I said this more to myself than to anyone else.
“Ya, keep it. Oh and by the way. I had a key made for you. It’s over there on the counter.”
“I have a key?”
“Ya, sorry I didn’t get it sooner. Sorry you had to wait outside all that time. I’m not going to lie.
I didn’t trust you before now.” She said this honestly.
“And you trust me now?” I asked questioningly.
“Well, I thought a good place to start with this whole pregnancy thing was to start trusting the father of my baby. I don’t want it to grow up living in a home without trust. Shit, trust is what makes or breaks a relationship.”
“So, you want a relationship? A real relationship?”
“Look, I said ‘relationship’ meaning friendship or parentship. Any relationship needs trust. I don’t want my baby’s mom not even trusting its father. Remember you are free to do whatever you want to do.” She said, her eyes spoke only honesty.
“A baby?” I still couldn’t get over it.
“Ya, a baby. It’s yours. What are you going to do?” She asked me with tears streaming down
her face.
-Christine
three plus three plus more
i try
i can't seem to
get you out of my head
every image
bitter sweet
bitter hurt
-Christine
i can't seem to
get you out of my head
every image
bitter sweet
bitter hurt
-Christine
only fooling myself
i tried not to believe you
and those words
that flowed freely
from your lips
i didn’t want to fall
for those lies
i didn’t want to let myself
hope
cover upon cover
i built a shield
and placed it over
my heart
penetrated
somehow
it was not strong
enough
i believed you
and your lies
i hoped
i hurt
-Christine
and those words
that flowed freely
from your lips
i didn’t want to fall
for those lies
i didn’t want to let myself
hope
cover upon cover
i built a shield
and placed it over
my heart
penetrated
somehow
it was not strong
enough
i believed you
and your lies
i hoped
i hurt
-Christine
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
they are words made of tears the heart writes
words fall silent.
they make no sound
as they tumble down.
they pour out
thoughts of
confusion, questions.
emotion
has not found them.
empty they fall.
lost in translation.
from thoughts
to ink.
ink, tears,
that the heart uses
to write.
write what it feels.
not knowing the reason
the outcome.
words fall silent.
they know not
what to say.
words,
know not
what to feel.
-Christine
they make no sound
as they tumble down.
they pour out
thoughts of
confusion, questions.
emotion
has not found them.
empty they fall.
lost in translation.
from thoughts
to ink.
ink, tears,
that the heart uses
to write.
write what it feels.
not knowing the reason
the outcome.
words fall silent.
they know not
what to say.
words,
know not
what to feel.
-Christine
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
She Should Have Been A Boy
Sometimes when I look into her eyes,
I see someone I hate.
I see me.
-Christine
I see someone I hate.
I see me.
-Christine
i was vile
she kissed my lips
shyly meekly at first
not knowing what to feel
not knowing what it meant
hesitant
slowly
succumbing to my touch
my lips
her body found
a temporary home next to mine
she was quiet
she was beautiful
she didn’t mean a thing
to me
-Christine
shyly meekly at first
not knowing what to feel
not knowing what it meant
hesitant
slowly
succumbing to my touch
my lips
her body found
a temporary home next to mine
she was quiet
she was beautiful
she didn’t mean a thing
to me
-Christine
T-Rex and Toilets
Elaborate Jurassic Park chase scene.
Where to I go from here?
These aren’t my words.
These aren’t my dreams.
I know no dinosaurs.
I know no chase.
I know no elaboration.
Other than that which was
My life.
-Christine
Where to I go from here?
These aren’t my words.
These aren’t my dreams.
I know no dinosaurs.
I know no chase.
I know no elaboration.
Other than that which was
My life.
-Christine
Thumb Pointed Skyward
Alone.
Tired.
This pack on top of my back,
It weighs me down.
Feet sore.
Mouth dry.
I watch the sunset over the horizon.
The mountains vast and bright.
Hungry.
Walking
Down the side of a street.
Freedom I’ve never known.
Found me,
Roaming wild,
When I looked to the world
For the knowledge unknown.
Poor.
Adventure.
Wanting to get to where I’m going,
But enjoying every step of the way.
Thumbs up.
Headed North.
Cars pass me by.
Whatever happened to trust?
Insane?
Thrill seeker?
Axe Murderer?
Rapist?
No.
Hitchhiker.
-Christine
Tired.
This pack on top of my back,
It weighs me down.
Feet sore.
Mouth dry.
I watch the sunset over the horizon.
The mountains vast and bright.
Hungry.
Walking
Down the side of a street.
Freedom I’ve never known.
Found me,
Roaming wild,
When I looked to the world
For the knowledge unknown.
Poor.
Adventure.
Wanting to get to where I’m going,
But enjoying every step of the way.
Thumbs up.
Headed North.
Cars pass me by.
Whatever happened to trust?
Insane?
Thrill seeker?
Axe Murderer?
Rapist?
No.
Hitchhiker.
-Christine
Thoughts On How To Run A Country, By Mr. President
all these thoughts inside my head
which one’s right
which one’s wrong
what to do
what is next
the weight of this country
on my shoulders
the murder of hundreds
on my hand
do we leave
do we stay
what to do
what happens next
-Christine
which one’s right
which one’s wrong
what to do
what is next
the weight of this country
on my shoulders
the murder of hundreds
on my hand
do we leave
do we stay
what to do
what happens next
-Christine
Monday, May 19, 2008
Little Brass Bed, Your Time Will Come
Little brass bed
Sits in a box, all broken down.
Waiting for time to pass.
It still holds up.
It still has use.
But not for the one who put it in a box.
To her,
It only lives among the dead.
Her oma.
It has become part of her past.
Away in a box.
Stacked in a closet.
It is kept company
With everything that once was,
Everything that has been replaced.
The handmade blanket still warms.
The small mattress still forms,
To the tiny lifeless bodies.
Little brass bed,
A doll bed,
An heirloom.
-Christine
Sits in a box, all broken down.
Waiting for time to pass.
It still holds up.
It still has use.
But not for the one who put it in a box.
To her,
It only lives among the dead.
Her oma.
It has become part of her past.
Away in a box.
Stacked in a closet.
It is kept company
With everything that once was,
Everything that has been replaced.
The handmade blanket still warms.
The small mattress still forms,
To the tiny lifeless bodies.
Little brass bed,
A doll bed,
An heirloom.
-Christine
Saturday, May 10, 2008
the ugly
the ugly
words fall through me
always wound me
i can’t react
i’m picking up pieces
trying to work it out
i don’t understand
standing here in uncertainty
i’m closer
than i’ve ever been before
yet so far away
if I have something to say
i better say it now!
cause it’s my chance
to even up the score
my chance to say
what should have been said before
and as these ghosts begin to fall
their blind ears will hear
their hollow eyes will see
the pain
of the unwanted
the ugly
the undesirable
why did you reached out
to take my hand
but let it go
my silent song sings along
to words
that plague my head
words, lies
lies, my shadows have consumed
if i have something to say
i better say it now!
say it now!
say it to you now…
-Christine
words fall through me
always wound me
i can’t react
i’m picking up pieces
trying to work it out
i don’t understand
standing here in uncertainty
i’m closer
than i’ve ever been before
yet so far away
if I have something to say
i better say it now!
cause it’s my chance
to even up the score
my chance to say
what should have been said before
and as these ghosts begin to fall
their blind ears will hear
their hollow eyes will see
the pain
of the unwanted
the ugly
the undesirable
why did you reached out
to take my hand
but let it go
my silent song sings along
to words
that plague my head
words, lies
lies, my shadows have consumed
if i have something to say
i better say it now!
say it now!
say it to you now…
-Christine
Monday, May 5, 2008
A Pair of Death
Worn out all over.
It bleeds the memories
Of many footprints,
Many adventures,
Many places went.
The tred of its sole
Vanished with time.
The color that was once there
Has thinned out with its sole.
Leaving but a glimpse
Of what it once was.
The laces are still tied together.
Two bunny ears
And a knot.
But its lifeless form
Will no longer be graced
With what belongs inside.
Two feet.
Ten toes.
-Christine
It bleeds the memories
Of many footprints,
Many adventures,
Many places went.
The tred of its sole
Vanished with time.
The color that was once there
Has thinned out with its sole.
Leaving but a glimpse
Of what it once was.
The laces are still tied together.
Two bunny ears
And a knot.
But its lifeless form
Will no longer be graced
With what belongs inside.
Two feet.
Ten toes.
-Christine
They Can Not Stay Captive Within Her Head
Words hit the page
Slowly, cautiously, at first.
They take form.
Representing.
Something
In the form of a paragraph.
The writer never really knows
What to say.
Or why.
Some how it makes sense.
All she knows is that
These words must get out.
White meets black.
Black meets white.
-Christine
Slowly, cautiously, at first.
They take form.
Representing.
Something
In the form of a paragraph.
The writer never really knows
What to say.
Or why.
Some how it makes sense.
All she knows is that
These words must get out.
White meets black.
Black meets white.
-Christine
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