I dreamed of you today.

I dreamed of you today,
You where so beautiful to see,
And I thought that i heard you say,
That perhaps you dreamed of me.
I drank this morning away,
Into this bitter cup I dwell,
And it's no wonder to me at all,
That you forgot to say fairwell.

I fought with myself last week,
I fight in this hour,
I battle my urge to seek,
To seek you in your tower.
Where I'm not privileged to speak,
Or even show my face,
You are the queen,
And I am not in that place.

To me you are a bitch,
But to you I am worse,
I ran off with out a hitch,
And my poisen has taken its course.
On you I won't snitch.
For I'm still kind,
You on the other hand are not,
And so have become blind.

Rambling

Ok. So I know I have been almost obsesive about you, and you know who you are. I have filled this with my pain about you. No more. In fact I am no longer going to use to inspire me in ANYWAY! If i can't write anything on here for awhile its cause I am trying to keep myself from putting more pain on here. So, this is all I am going to say. The music video, down below is a tribute to you and Jody, though I don't you'd ever read this Jody. In fact I don't think your going read this either, and again you know who are. So let me end with. I WOULD follow you into the dark. No matter what.

Wow... You all have to check this out.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7s2hPkTT1lA

I will follow you into the dark

"I Will Follow You Into The Dark" by Death cab for cutie

Love of mine some day you will die
But I'll be close behind
I'll follow you into the dark

No blinding light or tunnels to gates of white
Just our hands clasped so tight
Waiting for the hint of a spark
If Heaven and Hell decide
That they both are satisfied
Illuminate the NOs on their vacancy signs

If there's no one beside you
When your soul embarks
Then I'll follow you into the dark

In Catholic school as vicious as Roman rule
I got my knuckles bruised by a lady in black
And I held my tongue as she told me
"Son fear is the heart of love"
So I never went back

If Heaven and Hell decide
That they both are satisfied
Illuminate the NOs on their vacancy signs

If there's no one beside you
When your soul embarks
Then I'll follow you into the dark

You and me have seen everything to see
From Bangkok to Calgary
And the soles of your shoes are all worn down
The time for sleep is now
It's nothing to cry about
Cause we'll hold each other soon
The blackest of rooms

If Heaven and Hell decide
That they both are satisfied
Illuminate the NOs on their vacancy signs

If there's no one beside you
When your soul embarks
Then I'll follow you into the dark
Then I'll follow you into the dark

aye there is yet hope

A little hope after all,
For me there is.
I feel freedoms call,
And i can't refuse it.
A ruined chance,
I have given up,
For the fleeting glance,
At what in my I'll find.

I let it all go,
I feel it all slip by,
And finaly I know,
That from this task I can't hide.
I want to feel loves kiss,
On my cheek of my will,
To know foolishness is bliss,
And run for a fleeting moment,
Into the sun.
To know nothing,
Other then the freedom and the warmth of my run.

I searh for you

We all have had those days,
When nothing goes as it should.
We look for the suns rays,
And find storm clouds in our hood.

I search for you all of my day,
I dream of you all of my night,
When I'll find you is difficult to say,
But I hold on to that I might.

So this is the hopes I carry,
That I will be as to you as you are to me,
A unsinkable ferry,
To take us to an island where we can be free.

Free from the rains,
And from memories bitter winds,
Were our only pains,
Will be the playfull slap on our shins.

I felt happy again today... It was nice... Thanks Erin.

My ramblings

Okay, so it's like this. I have been hurt. She's taught me two things. The first is that I DO have to stand up for myself, cause people will run all over you otherwise, including the one's we love and who claim to love us. The second is not to trust anyone. All it does is allow people to cut you deeper with a larger blade. These are fine lessons, and ones that I have taken to heart, but here's the problem. I met a girl who is great. She's confident, gentle, and in a strange way gives me a peace again. A different kind of peace, but a peace none the less. And she is also sexier then I can describe. Though I know that she's someone special, I just can't let her in. I try, but all I do is feel like I'm selling her a ruby and giving her red plastic. I know that I can do so much more. I can be so happy and fun loving like I used too, but I'm having a difficult time doing that. I'm not actually looking for feedback here, I'm just venting. I hope that I can do this... And if you read this, just give me time please, and be patient. Neither of us are wanting an instant relationship, but I know I can be so much more than I am... I just need a little while.

A little boy goes to his dad and asks, "What is Politics?"
Dad says, "Well son, let me try to explain it this way:
I am the head of the family, so call me The "Prime Minister"
Your mother is the administrator of the money, so we call her the Government.
We are here to take care of your needs, so we will call you the People.
The nanny, we will consider her the Working Class.
And your baby brother, we will call him the Future.
Now think about that and see if it makes sense."
So the little boy goes off to bed thinking about what Dad has said.
Later that night, he hears his baby brother crying, so he gets up to check on him. He finds that the baby has severely soiled his diaper. So the little boy goes to his parent's room and finds his mother sound asleep. Not wanting to wake her, he goes to the nanny's room. Finding the door locked, he peeks in the keyhole and sees his father in bed with the nanny. He gives up and goes back to bed.
The next morning, the little boy say's to his father, "Dad, I think I understand the concept of politics now."
The father says, "Good, son, tell me in your own words what you think politics is all about." The little boy replies, the "Prime Minister" is screwing the Working Class while the Government is sound asleep. The People are being ignored and the Future is in deep shit."

Three Spirits

One day as I walked out my door,
I found three spirits who took my breath away.
The first had the alluring body bar room whore,
And a face you could stare at for forever and a day.

The second was not a tangible image,
But more of a sense,
With many happy emotions that on you could binge,
But with an underlying feeling that was tense.

The third was an old man,
With knurled hands, and a weathered face.
He looked on me as only an all knowing being can,
And from me, never wandered his omnipotent gaze.

Then they all said in turn:
"You who have been love's lover,
We wish to give you what for you yearn,
For we are all powerful beings who love as a mother."

The first said to me with eyes that in I could bask,
"I would give you passion,
If only you ask,
And from me you need never hear the word rashen,

"For in my presence,
You will never be short,
Of loves essence,
And I know you have no retort."

The thought was appealing,
But before I could give it much thought,
The second spirit was competing,
So my ear to was brought.

"I am the very spirit of the heart,
I am a rollercoaster of emotions,
That tear the weak apart,
But to whom poets pledge devotions,

"I offer you myself,
To which you will write,
Of these things that offer you a health,
And to which you will conquer with your might.

"With me you will always have something to say,
And I will be there with you always,
Every night and everyday,
But you will live in a constant haze."

This was appealing, but gave me a scare,
And again I head a voice not unlike that of a bird,
The third spirit spoke with a voice to raise hair,
And from him this is what I heard.

"I am the voice of wisdom,
And my voice doesn't rhyme,
And nor should it,
For this is what I have to offer.

"I offer you a life with love.
But this is no easy life.
You will be a lover,
And one who will continually be in pain.

"For though you will fall in love,
And you will know love,
You will also know that sorrow,
Is never far behind it.

"I offer truth,
To a seductive life of lies.
With me you will know the happiness of self,
But share it with another.

"And in the end you will die
A lonely death.
But upon your grave,
Everyone will know of you, and what you lived for."

Now what would you choose?
The seductive paths of those who please,
Or a the bitterness of loves abuse?
To which would you cease?

Knowing grace

You call her a sinner,
You call her a whore!
You invite God for dinner,
Yet your evil to the core.
She gives herself to those in need,
And relaxes with a drink,
She has sex for more then to breed,
And so from her touch you shrink.

You call him a savage,
For he knows not how to read,
But he's the one who won't cringe,
When it comes time for him to bleed.
He believes in many strange things,
Like brother eagle,
Or in protection rings.

You call each lover a heathen,
For they live together and are not married.
But God has not stuck them down for breathen,
Nor has he taken the burden you carried.
They go on making love at night,
And you carry on and suffer,
And try as you might,
They are happier then you or any other.

To all these people you say,
That it will be different up there,
For they too will die one day,
But I have one last thing to bare.
You call him a strong believer,
Because he can quote the bible,
Cause he supports and doesn’t question either,
But at night he's quite liable,
To go killing in the name of God.
He murders two young men,
One named Tom, and the other Rod.
He kills them in each others arms and to make it worse then,
He writes die gays die, above their heads in blood.
Then he goes to church the next morning,
And call you bud.
While the gay couple's family is mourning.

When will you see,
That what we do matters not.
Its the heart of you and me,
And the love that through it is sought.
What would a father curse more,
A son who drinks and has lost face,
Or a son who's evil who only wants more?
Don't you know the meaning of grace?

The midnight dancers mate.

(Alright. I read the poem below this, and I guess this is just my version of that poem. For me its not the moon, but the northern lights. I used mate, and not lover, which I am not happy about. I like lover more. It fits better. But it came out this way, so whatever.)

The northern lights dance like no other.
She jumps and soars blinks and twists,
Hugging and kissing the cheek of the moon, her brother,
And slows her dance and makes it fluid like the morning mists.

I wander out every night to find her if I might.
If lucky I am to see her two step across the sky,
Then I sit on hours on end, just to watch the sight,
And lay on my back to set my gaze up high.

I am her poet, her fan, and her lover.
She is my muse, my inspiration and my biggest support.
For no matter how low I am , I fly, just to watch her hover,
Hover above me, and to steal a glance as she makes her body contort.

She is as timeless as the sun, who is her mother,
And I am in love with her, there can be no doubt,
And yes it helps that I am crazier then any other,
Who watches her, to know what she is all about.

Now sixty years from now I have to think,
With me gone and no longer there to watch her dance,
Will she from her stage in the sky sink?
Or in overwhelming sorrow slow down her prance?

Or will my spirit float up to join her,
And make love to her throughout the night?
Just to shiver back to the grave as the sun warms the air?
Or come out again and again, just to see her sight?

Will she miss me more then all the rest,
Who long for her, and cause them to hate,
The sun when she rises, cause it's her daughter they love best?
Will she miss me, the northern lights mate?

Moon Lover - By Robert Service

Moon-Lover The Moon is like a ping-pong ball; I lean against the orchard wall, And see it soar into the void, A silky sphere of celluloid. Then fairy fire enkindles it, Like gossamer by taper lit, Until it glows above the trees As mellow as a Cheddar cheese. And up and up I watch it press Into appalling loneliness; Like realms of ice without a stain, A corpse Moon come to life again. Ruthless it drowns a sturdy star That seeks its regal way to bar; Seeming with conscious power to grow, And sweeter, purer, gladder glow. Dreaming serenely up the sky Until exultantly on high, It shimmers with superb delight, The silver navel of the night. II I have a compact to commune A monthly midnight with the Moon; Into its face I stare and stare, And find sweet understanding there. As quiet as a toad I sit And tell my tale of days to it; The tessellated yarn I've spun In thirty spells of star and sun. And the Moon listens pensively, As placid as a lamb to me; Until I think there's just us two In silver world of mist and dew. In all of spangled space, but I To stare moon-struck into the sky; Of billion beings I alone To praise the Moon as still as stone. And seal a bond between us two, Closer than mortal ever knew; For as mute masses I intone The Moon is mine and mine alone. III To know the Moon as few men may, One must be just a little fey; And for our friendship's sake I'm glad That I am just a trifle mad. And one with all the wild, wise things, The furtive folk of fur and wings, That hold the Moon within their eyes, And make it nightly sacrifice. O I will watch the maiden Moon Dance on the sea with silver shoon; But with the Queen Moon I will keep My tryst when all the world's asleep. As I have kept by land and sea That tryst for half a century; Entranced in sibylline suspense Beyond a world of common-sense. Until one night the Moon alone Will look upon a graven stone. . . . I wonder will it miss me then, Its lover more than other men? Or will my wistful ghost be there, Down ages dim to stare and stare, On silver nights without a stir-- The Moon's Eternal Worshipper?

--- Robert Service