~~Monday, March 29, 2004~~

Ordinary days are impossible....to achieve self- gratuity take each day individualy and look at your triumphs, mistakes and results. Thus, an individual discovery of self- worth will be discovered, and the world will not seem so mediocre


Merrily, Merrily, Merrily
Life can make you scream


And I feel I owe you this
The sun today will rot and fall into the sea
The stars will cry of utter brutality
The land itself will crack and die
And all I will do is sit and cry
Not for death, not in lieu
But just for all the pain I've caused for you

~~Wednesday, March 24, 2004~~

Needs a title. . .


Chapter One

Perhaps I had lived to long to remember what childhood was supposed to be. Perhaps indeed, I had been man for far to long to have any boy left in me. Cora was the same. Her small body was fragile, especially for a girl of 10, but when I looked closely I could see the old woman inside, gasping for breath and hunching over so many burdens and so many memories. Cora and I lived in such a different time then now. Our time was 100 years ago, 1850 back in Wyoming out on Poppa's farm. It had been a happy time, an era of wealth, prosperity and a myriad of friends and family. Cora and I were but young children, mere babes as I see it now. 10 and 12, Cora and I respectively had helped Poppa on the farm, doing chores, cooking and greeting the unending river of friends stopping by in rushes of hugs, warmth and fresh bread. I still recall those days with a satirical laugh. Such naivity and freshness we had exuded, Cora and I often lament, such easy prey we were.
I remember the day he came. "Tall man!" Cora had whispered in a awed, hushed voice and she darted into the barn. I was gathering Chicka's eggs and sat down on a bench and wiped my brow with a dirty hankerchief as I had seen Poppa done a thousand times before. "What's this about?" I asked solemnly. Cora had a way of creating myths and fabrications, and thus I was not alarmed. Her dark brown eyes opened wide and she tried to measure this man's length with her pale, slender arms. "Bigger than the horses!" She crowed, brown eyes dancing and sparkling. She danced around and twirled her arms, sending tumbles of dark black hair tumbling out of her bonnet. "Coraline Maria Solden!" I admonished loudly, standing up and knocking over my basket of eggs. I yelped as they tumbled out, rolling over the hay and across the dirt. Cora laughed and we both plopped down on the ground to start retrieving them. I crawled around on all fours and was just about to scoop up the last little white treasure when it was picked up for me. I remember his hands being the first thing I saw, and already I knew something was wrong. Long, pale, sharp fingers. Fingers the color of milk, unlike the tanned, calloused fingers I was used to seeing around the farm. They transformed into long arms, covered with a stiff black suit. So long, so lean and so wrong for our sunny, informal home. I rose slowly, letting my eyes soak in the abberation. "Here son, you dropped this," The voice was stiff, as though mechanic and not oiled properly. I took the egg from the outstretched fingers, careful not to touch them for fear of catching the length disease this man obviously had. I looked up and gazed at his face. Pale as his hands, if not paler. Wavy black hair, black as Cora's tied into a neat ponytail at the nape of his neck. Pale lips, thin and parted slightly to reveal two perfectly lined points of white soldiers ready to fight. A thin, slanted noise pointing down sharply, black eyes, blacker than coals or midnight. He rose to at least 6 feet 6 inches, from his black boots to his coarse, brown felt hat, maybe more, for as a child I was inept at measuring distances with my eyes. I muttered a weak thank you and fell back in line with Cora, who looked just as forlorn as I. My father stepped out from behind the man, wringing his hat and refusing to look either of us in the eye. "Kids," He said in a fallaciously cheery voice, "This is my....friend Lukander Voss" Poppa tried to meet my eyes but couldn't. "He's going to be...staying with us for a while- he has business in town." Cora and I exchanged furtive glances. Business in our town of 5,000 consisted of a new plow or buying live stock- neither of which Mr. Voss seemed familar with. Mr. Voss coughed uncomfortably and shifted his feet. His boots scraped on the dusty barn floor, sending up a cloud of dust. "Well, I'm very happy to be staying with you!" His voice was loud, and out of place. I looked over to see Cora wince slightly, my reaction as well. As he and Poppa stepped out into the sunlight, Cora and I sat down heavily, leaning against Chicka's pen walls. She led out a whoosh of air and I merely nodded. As we look back on these times of trivial youth, we become furious with our past selves for not beingmore aware of the ominous feelings we were both having.


Prologue

"Cool night," I whispered to her, shaking sand from my hair. She was next to me, silent and noble as a cliffside and merely nodded. "Do you think they know?" I whispered quickly, almost frightened. Her form moved slowly so I could see her whole face. She sank one hand into the cool, damp sand and began to sift it thoughtfully through her fingers. She gave me a comforting smile- always so affectionate. "No, my dear,"she said slowly, as though words were a burden, "They have no idea. Let us rest now." I turned my gaze away from her and back to the ocean. Vast and powerful, it raised its mighty fists and surged great white stallions ahead, careening them dangerously into the mountainside. So quiet, I thought, so quiet on such a painful night. I kicked off my scuffed shoes, tossing them towards a blanket we had set up, then forgotten. My feet wriggled into the cold mush of sea water and sand. She looked over, shot me a glance and opened her mouth as though to ridicule, but then closed it promptly. Her mouth made a loud popping noise as it closed and I giggled. She looked suprised, but then laughed faintly, turning back to watch the ocean. I leaned against my palms and began to rise. "Parker," She said softly, "Oh Parker, where are you going?" I stood up, brushing the sand from my faded trousers and shaking my limbs as a boy of 12 does. "Just to go feel the water, Cora" I said in an almost pleading voice. Cora's eyes turned upwards towards me. The moonlight lapped in those dark, serious pools, "Oh...please Parker, just stay with me and wait." Her small form pleaded silently with me.I sighed loudly, an exasperated sigh but a defeated on at that. I dropped to the ground, sending a spray of sand into the dark night.

~~Monday, March 22, 2004~~

And I'm the kinda girl who doesn't take anything for granted
And I'm the kinda girl who leaves a scar
And I'm the kinda girl who wears black with white and doesn't leave you behind

My name is love
My name is vengeance
My name is the words that men utter right before they die

They call me killer
They call me bitch
They call me two minutes in the fast lane

Brown eyes
Brown hair
White skin

I am myself





And lately I'm been thinkin I don't give a shit
Lately I havent found anything new to hit
All of a sudden my world is black
All of a sudden you've turned into an attack

When the world's colors drain away
I'm just left livin in yesterday
Trying to get to where I should be
But what's really the point of dying to be free

Heavy black boots
Used to walk all over people like me and you
That's what they're given
That's why my eyes can only see Night




There's a cure for you and me
There's a little thing we never did see
Deep inside each of us
Is just a little bit of soul
Worrying about everything will take it's toll

So my friend why do you worry
About the constant scurry
Life is full of it
Can't you just take it all in turn
Baby just watch the sun burn

A little sun and a little rain
Take it all in place of pain
The sun can cast a shadow
But just take it as a pleasure
Laying in shade is a happiness you can't measure

~~Tuesday, March 16, 2004~~

Tribute to My Ancestors
dirt land hit hard with triumph
for we are the chosen neanderthals
who toil under plastering sun
for we are the endless ants
that carry our burdens silently
the soil may look plain to you
But Oh! let it be heard and proclaimed
It runs deep within our veins
Like a river of wealth
we feed from our own calloused hands
Here is our oath to nature
and to ourselves
Let our forefathers remember
a time of toil, heat and work
a time of thanks and blessing

~~Wednesday, March 03, 2004~~

For we Are the Fortunate Few
sometimes my view of the world seems slightly askew
Sometimes I see dreams float away
When they should have never been lost
Sometimes I watch men and women weep
For companions that should not have died
Sometimes I watch the news
To forget about my happiness

~~Monday, March 01, 2004~~

Constellation going up, let's forget about our problems, and baby we'll just run, just to watch the heavens and have a little fun


Playroom
A childhood dream
manifested into plastic happiness
A playroom built for these little darlings
Feast upon their innocent minds
A cube of color, sound and light
Designed to enrich and love
Their own little room
They whispered
Pigtails bouncing, shoelaces tripping
Bright chrome doorknob opens into the womb
Inside their toys giggle and breathe
The door clicks behind them
Hard metal sliding into the lock
They giggle and pretend as the lights turn off
A silent hand takes their screams
Their pasted smiles cut off
As the darkness turns into a growl
What was supposed to be a electronic mother
A safe living quarter
Decided not to let her children ever leave again
Better they stay safe in the dark, still and quiet
then have to brave the outside world
Their parents lay sobbing on the outside
Pounding on the metal walls
Begging for their offspring
But the circuits shook their head and tapped their foot
No, no she crooned
Their safe, and so so quiet now.

"To prepare a face to meet the faces you will meet"
- e. e. cummings

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