Statement of Education

Restless Pens and tired minds

Exhausted thoughts trailing behind 

Jet lag of the brain is the ultimate climax

So much more to go

Never ending sleepless tremors 

Always parallel structured tenure 

Frequent lapses of unfitted rest 

Pass on,

Pass on this final exhibit

All I ask is a moment of silence

To reminisce in solemn quiet 

But there is so much more to go.

And all they want is perfect product 

Molding my work to fit requirements 

That I’m not sure who put in place.

Following rules, equations, formulas

This is the secret to success. 

Would we have electricity if Franklin had followed the rules?

Who would have given us the car had Henry not defied society?

Thus, success comes only in great rule breakers

No, mediocrity does not satisfy the thirsty soul

Succumbing to popular opinion never got anyone anywhere…

Yet this desk lamp grows dim as the sun sinks to hide beneath the stars

And mind grows weary under harsh conditions

Over informing is a day-to-day happening 

And hands rub raw in frequent use. 

But with baggy eyes and weary soul

Books stack up in quick succession 

And though hearts ache for hurried relief,

There is still so much to go.  

"Define my heart and call it yours;

Remember the light inside my eyes, 

Cherish the firework stares.

Burn your breath upon my skin;

Pull me tight into your dreams, 

sing me deep for all the world. 

Wrap me up and love me silent;

Weave your threads between my fingers, 

Paint your life onto my walls. 

Seal my lips with vibrant color; 

dance through swirling starless skies, 

catch moon tears from falling black. 

Paste my soul into your flesh;

Squeeze me into existence,

show me the wholes inside your heart. "

                 *But still I ask:

                 What happens when it's over? 

       What happens when the sun rises and sheds light 

                           on this 

                     bittersweet tragedy? 

                  What will we have become? 

*Please rid me of these memories, 

            and give me the emptiness I long for. 

Scars

Bleeding remarks pierce my soul.
                
                      *But you are alive in me.

Say what they want, but when the time comes
only we will know whats best.

I'm terrified of the mistakes I will make tomorrow-
               for anxiety is a force to be reckoned with.

But no one can cross these lines we draw-
          *When will we learn stubborn mindest gets us nowhere?

So speak in colors of burnt red & August yellow-
Paint me a kaleidoscope of heartfelt remorse.

Travel across time and erase cruel words from all consciousness-
Let the sunset on presentday troubles.

Take my scared heart and cradle it in your palm-
recognize the sown-up stiches from wounds you first inflicted.

And when time has passed and the stale air becomes fresh again-
Take my seared hand and let me stare
                              into your sorrow-glazed eyes,

Then cry in out in silence as I hold you gentle.

                                   * And finally know we are new again.

Purple Chalk Smiles and Summer Memories

The last memory of summer is imprinted on my window. As I approach my parked smoldering car, a vision of that most exhilarant night comes swimming back into my soupy thoughts. A beautiful reminder of shinning eyes bright with the radiant joy of youthful exuberance, nothing ever fades so quickly. But as the sun sets upon the heat of August, I almost cry as that lopsided purple smiley face stares back at me, its beamy little chalk eyes pentrating my hardened soul.And as I recall the times of our disolving summer; the nights we spent laughing deep into the night; the concerts and the lake trips and the neverending rummy games- I smile. 3 familiar faces materialize behind my tightly shut eyes, filling the empty spaces hiding between the memories that are already becoming stale from reminiscing much too often. Instantly my heart bleeds at the thought of letting go of our days in the sun. The realization that these beautiful moments will fade into the background of our busy Fall sends instant panic pulsing through my heart. And though for a while my bones will ache with the faint noise of stale laughter falling to the ground amidst the browning leaves, I know that nothing could ever replace these waning moments. As a single tear flits across my eyelashes and rolls fluidly down my flushed cheeks, I once again come face to face with that loaded symbol of my entire summer. The purple smile sits silently upon the tinted glass, glistening in the sun. And though it will fade and rain will come and wash its shining smile away, forever will its meaning be imbeded in my heart.


*Because nothing could ever replace these times-
                          
                                    These times we felt alive.

Night Sirens

*With one foot inside the open car door and the other planted firmly on the slick, gleaming pavement, I realize I'm stradling a decesion that has already been made. I contemplate the stars dwindling silently above the screaming city streets as I wish one more time for a sign. With a slam of the car door, I find myself staring out at the moon. Craters seem to mirror the exact image of my silent stone heart, casting their glowing shadow upon the crowded sea of faces below. As the car pulls away from the curb, I faintly hear the sound of aimless sirens waning in the background. And still I cling to the idea that somewhere out there, you're doing just the same. 

Leaving

 *Fill Up my Heart with 

                                          ancient TIMES   and   

                  Lost   goodbyes,

                                    *Please wait on my reminiscent sorrow. 

*Dont Forget 

            to grab your bags,                          

                                                 put out  OUR TRASH 

                         & call a cab-

Cause the morning's but a night away, Love;

                                                     *And tomorrow's gonna come too soon. 

                                                                                     

Perfectly Undescribed

Ink Prints LEFT UPON MY HEART-

             Please   COME   ERASE these Burnt out memories. 

*And don't forget to wake me in the morning. 

Autobiography

My name is Beautiful. 

I come from believers in ancient star gazing. 

I love to pretend. 

Souls are always worth dying for, and make believe is my reality. 

Sometimes I break in midnights relived. 

The comfort comes knowing the crying stops with the rise of the morning sun. 

Light has power not only in sunshine, and smiles brighten eyes to my core. 

But despite all things left unsaid, I know truth lies in uncertainty. 

And though I'm bound to my convictions-

Still your name is *Beautiful. 

Summertime Realizations

Summertime has never traveled so fast as in the sticky Southern air. Anxiety begins to haunt me as the end draws nearer, reaching into the back of my mind, whispering lies of perpetual doubt. Who will I be when our time runs out?

Summer is the real me. The cold long winters bring confusion of souls, and I lose all sense of myself in the frigid months of darkness. But as warmth lingers in the background- as heat finds its place again- I wave hello to the girl I know so well and we embrace with surrender and find our place. And I smile with radiant life: For I've found myself again. 

So as the cool months loom in the crevices of Summer, I find myself wondering... Who will I be this side of the seasons? Can this time be different? Will I somehow manage to keep hold of my summer self, despite the grasp of winter's tightening fist? 

And what about you... 

-oh, you... 

Will I see your face again? 'Cause I'm awful scared when it comes to this matter of Faith. For if I'm only honest, that's what truly makes me myself: *my identity in you. 

Yes, sad as it may be... 

But for now I must not worry... Even though it's all a loser's game as I wait on this porch basking in July's unhealthy sun- Still savoring each and every day. 

Falling

PART I


Falling Up. 
Backwards- Sideways. 
Original context brings submerged feelings to the epicenter of my surface. 
Realzing my precious soul scars easily-
Learning intricate life lessons on one long seemingly meaningless journey.
So hurry now, before I'm gone. 
Before I finally notice -
These bruises left on the inside. 


PART II 


Falling Up.
Somehow I find myself dancing in our midnight clouds 
as this misty condensation trickles down my sinking skin. 
Air suffocates my silent scream as I watch life itself vanish into remote vastness.
This is not the way I pictured it. Never in a million years would I have guessed you would be the cause of this lonely contradiction. 


But look at me now. 
Here I am. 


Just *Falling Up. 

Flying

Create me in color. 

Soar across my life and teach me how to dance. 

Learn in me the ability to love with arms wide open. 

Laugh in my vivacious youth.

Trace my heart in distant air and sing me the soft lullaby of your vibrant life. 

Follow me through ornate lies.

I never imagined falling could feel so good. 

But look at me-

**I'm flying. 

Avoiding

I'm avoiding, I know. Please don't remind me. And don't think I haven't already noticed. 

Isn't it strange though? How the  words that flow through my blood stream beating my heart with every breath seem to fail me now? How the very thing that fuels my existence, the raving passion that swims in the depths of the oceans of my soul is suddenly: 

GONE? 

....Why?

I am a writer, this I am sure of. This isn't just something I know- It's something increpted in my DNA. It's been bound within my weaving chromosomes and branded into my heart- It is my Home. That it chooses to fail me now only causes me to question my motives. Am I too exhausted to write? Has inspiration gone on vacation? Do I need to take a break myself? 

Then, the dreaded, ghastly, but unfortunately inevitable question:

Do I even want to write?? 

GASP!!! 

Of the answer to this I am sure- Absolutely. I wouldn't be doing all this over analyzing if I weren't positively sure. Which leads me to another point:

**When has over analyzing ever gotten anyone anywhere?? 

Answer: NEVER.

So then what the heck am I doing!?!? And how do I STOP!?

But then I hear your voice: Let it be. 

And suddenly, it's as simple as that. I've realized what it takes. And I breathe.

 Put down the pen. Empty the trash can of my wasted paper. Throw open the windows. 

*And know that I am free. 

Ready

I'm ready to create with feeling.
I'm ready to move desperate souls into existence.
I'm ready to dance across the sun's horizon & feel the cool
of the moon against my skin.
I'm ready to inspire a world of non-dreamers & non-believers.
I'm ready to be raw & real & vulnerable in every way possible.
I'm ready to get up and just go.
I'm ready to fly.
I'm ready to open my eyes.

*I'm ready to live.

But shouldn't have I?

*Maybe I shouldn't have. 
But that last cupcake just looked so good sitting on that shiny gold platter basking in the kitchen light and so what if my stomach is now bursting at the seams? 


*Maybe I shouldn't have. 
But those shoes were just sooo cute and on sale 30% off and who cares that they were still $67 and that I now have overdraft charges on my checking account... right? 

*Maybe I shouldn't have. 

It seemed so harmless at first... And then I would have missed out on all the fun everyone else was having. 

*Maybe I really should'nt have. 
But sometimes I just get so angry and you know how to push all my buttons... 


*Well, Maybe I shouldn't have. 
But you were just sooo cute and the color in your eyes made me melt like butter.
*But maybe I shouldn't have.
And suddenly, falling in love wasn't quite so avoidable.


*Maybe I really shouldn't have...


Because now I'm left with a thousand broken memories of what used to be and ohhh how the times change too quick.


Could it all have been avoided? Is a shattered heart better than not having any heart? Does heartache feel better than not feeling anything at all? 


Answer: ......




***So maybe I really shouldn't have. 

Goodnight Wishes

And when the night escapes me, and time withers in my hand, it helps to know someone's out there, somewhere. The comfort of a sleeping world, tucked safely in their beds, has never been so real to me. And now the moon lays raw against my skin and I've lost all sense of myself again. Who am I in this midnight quiet? Nothing but a lonely dreamer drowning in a sea of reality.


And the trees echo back as I whisper goodnight to the moon-


Sweet dreams, my love.

Night Scribling

Isn't it funny how nothing seems to change as you go through the motions of your everyday life, but when you look back, everything is different? 


Nothing stays the same for long (or maybe not long enough). If I have learned one thing in my short time in this world, it is this. Oh, and that people make you who you are. Even if you don't realize it at the time. Or even ever. 


Some may argue that you are the only one who can dictate who you will become. I choose to disagree. The experiences you create with those you surround yourself with are truely what makes you into... well, you. And that is something worth consideration.


So chose your loved ones carefully, knowing ahead of time that you will find yourself within these relationships. Settle into a rhythm of life, soaking up every experience as you mold your heart into it's own beating pattern. And be thankful for them too. You could not be yourseld without them. 


But also know that change is enevitable. People may come and go, but in truth, you will always have the part of them that made you who you are today. And that's where I find comfort: Knowing that every memory can be held deep in the quiet of my heart as I shape my life into who I'm meant to be. 

Survival of the Fittest

Time has come full circle. 

I never imagined I would be who I am. This is neither good nor bad. I am not boastful of my short comings; I am not conceited in my acomplishments. I am simply content to be at this place and time, still (for the most part) in tact. 

I have always been excited for the future. I learned quickly how often the vast unkown can welcome beauty into the coldest of hearts. Now I wander and roam through this unmeasureable limbo called youth as time forges onward. It seems as if the exploration of minds has become my second nature. I guess you could call it a personality trait. 

But what happens when fear comes knocking?

August 2009. Petrified. Standing with a heart of stone- no one to turn to, nowhere to run. I quickly learned that time does not stop for hitch-hikers. It only accelorates at the face of fear. And though I'm hesitant to admit it, these road blocks are worth the present troubles. Sometimes the lessons learned on detours are what carry you through the rough pactches on the beaten trail. 

**And the memories made along the way are often worth the heartache.  

So just let it be. Let time persevere. Let life move you on with racing color. Let the wind rush past your aching soul. Learn to laugh at change. Hold your head high as your heart breaks. Accept bruises with an open heart. And know that oneday, it will all be Eh-OK(:

Because in case you haven't noticed, 

     out there- 

          

               It's survival of the fittest.

Disney Legend

I woke up this morning to the buzzing sound of the living room television wafting through the air. As I slinked out of bed, my cold feet hitting the itchy, stained, carpet floor, Hannah Montana continued to belt out unreachable notes at the top of her lungs. What a way to start the day.

Pardon my negativity, but I do feel rather strongly when it comes to subjects concerning pop culture. Not even accounting for the fact that she cannot carry a tune in a bucket, you could certainly say that Miley Cyrus is not my favorite person (and that's putting it nicely). I almost feel sorry for girls in situations similar to her own- being forced to grow up too fast by a society that practically breeds immoral values. It must be almost immpossible to resist succumbing to the ways of this seemingly flawless world. It preys on the naive, innocent souls of the young women who oggle over it's sugar-coated lies. And that is why I take pity on these girls. They think they've got life all figured out- while the rest of us stand on the sidelines, shaking our bowed heads in silence.

As I crunched my frosted flakes, watching Hannah Montana dance her flirty self through a seemingly perfect life, one word entered my mind: HYPOCRITE. These "role models" parades along, acting as if they are wholesome, virtuous "just like you" kids, while I stare at their scantily dressed bodies plastered across hundreds of tabloids

sold in grocery stores across the nation.

This led me to a profound question: What would Walt Disney think if he were still around to witness all that his company has become? Would he be proud of the Disney empire that he built from the ground with his very hands? Would he applaud his successors for their efforts in promoting the principals and values he founded his enterprise on so many years ago? Hmmmm....

I do not mean to particularly pick on Miley Cyrus. She has shaped the music industry in a way never done before, and has gained much popularity in doing so. And for that, I must give her credit. In fact, this principal can be applied to almost an situation. It raises an uncomfortable topic of discussion: Would your successors be proud of all you have become? These thoughts are probably better left for you to ponder as you slurp the last drops of milk out of the bottom of your cereal bowls.

Midnight Writer

Have you ever stopped to realize how quiet Midnight is? Listen.

Nothing much has changed about this space in time. It ticks past every night... not too slow, not too fast.

*And at last, vivid imagery seems to be the case, so here goes nothing.

If not for faulty ice machines, the silence of my Midnight house would go uninterupted. You can almost feel the frozen chunks clunking into the freezer's plastic reciprocal, somehow not waking a single soul. The hummm of our air conditioner circulates tiny particles of loosely fitted space as the shadows of dainty ceiling fans dance along the moving walls. Glowing light bounces through every foggy mirror as our computer recuperates from an exhausting day of human interaction. Time is standing still. And these moments seem all too similar as I listen to my house preapare for the early dawn.

You see, Midnight is a funny time. All the hours feel the same during this odd space between night and day. Time meshes and moments run together- That's why memories are so easily forgotten. Please don't let it drive you mad.

Sometimes it makes me feel as if I am a part of something special, something secret- Some ritual of sacred beauty that has been passed down through generations of Midnight Writers not unlike myself. I'm almost giddy with excitement.

I have found a certain pleasure comes from writing during this funny time, knowing I can accomplish *anything* while others lay semi-unconscious in their nicely folded sheets. As I toil away into the dark, molding my precious knack for the fine art of night writing, I seem to find myself. And I wonder,"why now?" as my eyes are slowly opened. It is almost better to call it soul searching- something I also find much better to do deep in the night.

I let the minutes tick by, I let my brain reassemble.

Find comfort knowing I am here, writing lonely as the dark hours pass on-

And may all Midnight Writers everywhere prosper until the morning dawn...