Tag Archives: love

Your heart

Upside down
like a fried egg with pepper and salt sprinkled on top,
or is it right side up:
that’s life,
always a Jack-in-the-box,
a terrifying, never satisfying surprise.
What is life, what does it all mean?
Not everything is delicate,
lace-lined and pretty,
covered in silver sparkling nail polish that shines.
Not everything is graceful.
There’s disaster, death, blood, torture,
pain, redemption, justification, forgiveness,
and messy freedom.
Not everything is true.
There are lies and broken promises,
persuasion and dissuasion,
dirty preludes, grunge, and empty soft-muttered words.
We go through life not really living,
as if life is the inside of a submarine with a slow leak
and the crew doesn’t even know.
Not everything is gentle.
When your heart has been broken once
it never fully heals,
and late at night
when everyone else has been asleep for hours
the quiet demons creep back in
and bludgeon the bruised walls
leaving you wounded
knocking you down
where your entire insides ache.
When it’s dark it’s so hard to look for the light.
But even feeling emptiness – feeling pain –
feeling alone and sad and angry and frustrated –
it’s all better than nothing at all
because it means you still have a heart.

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This is everything

I believe in God
in the holy layers of the Universe
I believe in Jack Kerouac and the Beats
the Fate that exists to get me where I am meant to exist
I believe in sweet people who are there
who tell me I am Weird.

I believe in my Father
I believe in my Mother who gave
birth to me
I believe in making mistakes
in solitude
gentle Wilderness
in going down so deep
but always crawling out.

I believe in the Good and the Bad
in making mistakes
seeking happiness
and the importance of Self.

I believe in rebirth
failure
laughter
pain
I believe in pushing yourself
I believe in Passion
in hunger
in heartbreak
in panic attacks
in dark places
and in finding the Light.

I believe in holy nights
and the even more holy sunrise:

this is Life
this is all there is
all there will ever be
this is everything.

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Shattered and Hollow

I don’t often post things that aren’t my writing, poems, or rambles about Jack Kerouac. But this song is pretty darn close to how I’m feeling right about now, and this band, First Aid Kit, is tremendously beautiful in their musical lullabies, their poetic lyrics, and their lovely voices. 

I’d rather be broken than empty. I’d rather be shattered than hollow…I’d rather be striving than settled, I’d rather be moving than static”

The words of this song ring true now, in a few different ways. And the way there’s this juxtaposition between love and heartbreak, want and moving on, leaving and staying, I find that very compelling as well. “I’d rather be by your side,” is true, but so is the fact that I’ve got to allow myself to grow and be better. 

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Silent ashes

Let the roar of the screaming silence begin:
let it fall from my fingertips
and drip off the ends of my eyelashes.
This is the quake and the rattle.
We all fall down,
the ragged softness of it all.
These are our ashes.

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Where the wild sky–

Go to where the wild sky does not end
where the cottonball soft wisps of pink and blue
fade into the moon,
where wild flowers grow like sweet poison ivy,
where peaks of mountains frame distant dreams
and patient days float by like silent streams of dry creek beds.
Do the things that haven’t yet been done,
hug each day in a wild embrace, be free.
Don’t give up on the magic of the unknown,
the sweet unforgivable promise
found under each overturned rock
and in each golden hollow.
Be impossibly tied to the invisible wind,
to the beams of soft sunlight that scatter the heavens,
and as you walk across the endless meadow
tied to that endless sky,
be there — walking —
and never look back with your wild eyes.

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Missing Beat

Kerouac, where have you gone
hiding in empty milk cartons behind
lost faces
distant graces
and your honeymoon eyes.
Have you hitched some train ride
across our sweet corn field country
to the West
where it was all won and golden?

Perhaps you are hiding in your dreams,
sleeping in rail cars
or scattered out at sea,
walking among the Big Sur trees
or dancing down Market street?
Perhaps you lost yourself among the jazz tones
and the bop,
perhaps you’re just hiding in some shadowy basement bar
tapping along to the beat.

Maybe you got lost on a carnival ride
your dark cotton candy eyes
sent you rocketing to the top
and maybe you’re slowly falling back down to Mount Tam.
Maybe you’re in Paris,
maybe you’re in Mexico.
Maybe I’ll spend forever wondering where did you go…

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Black hole love

Shoot me like a slingshot
and rocket me into space.
This black hole love
could write a song for me
about broken lullabies
and squeaky beds, about dust stained floors
and letters painted red.
Touch me too gently, rock me to sleep.
Tackle these demons, I’m feeling so weak.
Too soon, too late,
you come, I go,
left wandering through softness,
left willfully letting go.
Swing lo
in your chariot,
spaceships coming to take you away.
I won’t be waiting on the side of the moon
for your alien lust
for your downtown blues.
So shoot me like a slingshot,
for there’s no grace in this black hole space.

 

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We fall

In quiet slumbers we lie
pretending not to see the truth
we won’t admit what’s coming down
we don’t admit what’s on the ground.
In quiet slumbers we wake
to dirty recollected thoughts
to happiness so long ago
a stranger now.

The world shakes around us
we do not move
steadfast in our stubbornness
harnessed by our hate.
The world shakes me more than you –
or you more than I –
someone clinging on for survival
and the other dismally letting go.

We sleep,
we wake,
we are shaken,
we fall.

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Fearlessness

Be fearless.

That’s a good mantra. It’s inspiring. It makes you want to be a better person. And when it comes down to it, I feel like it’s fairly easy to be fearless about many things: exploring new cities, jumping off cliffs, running through the woods with wild abandon. For some people it’s abusing drugs and getting lost on a trip. Moving across the country by yourself and starting over. Fearlessness comes in different forms for different people. 

I’d like to think I’m fearless in the adventures I take, the way I educate myself through diving into and getting lost in literature that others don’t even know about, and even the way I so innocently and greatly dream. 

Why can’t I be fearless with love? Why is it so hard for me to love fearlessly?

That’s a question I can’t answer, or at least I’m not prepared to answer admitting it to myself, Kerouac, and everyone else. Maybe that’s a post for another day. It’s easy to love your family, love your friends, love God, love the beauty of Nature, cities, food, books, film, music, poetry. But it’s terrifying to fearlessly love someone and to give them your heart.

What made me thing of FEARLESSNESS was Chris McCandless. I’m watching Into the Wild and flipping back through the book by Jon Krakauer in remembrance of Chris McCandless, who’s body was found in the Alaskan wilderness twenty-two years ago today.

For some reason, many people don’t seem to understand why he did what he did- leaving society like that. Many people call him selfless, stupid, reckless, crazy… But I think he was brave, smarter than most people, and lived his life with fearlessness, and that’s admirable.

He wrote in his journal:

I have always been unsatisfied with life as most people live it. Always I want to live more intensely and richly.

I very much admire Chris’s fearlessness towards life. But he was young when he fled society to live off the land. He had just graduate from college. I don’t think he really ever experienced fearless love, at least his actions and his journals don’t reflect any love of another person. But Chris did fearlessly love life, his existence, nature, and exploration. 

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Big Heart of Yours by the David Wax Museum

Occasionally I will share with you all things that touch me, that move me, that make me want to push to be a better person. This is one of those things. A few years back in the dark dusty concert hall of DC called the 9:30 Club, where light streams through confusing places, chocolate cupcakes get passed around, and they have (and I say this with no sarcasm, really…) refreshingly cool Rolling Rock on draft that tastes like a grassy summer afternoon, that show was the David Wax Museum and during David Wax’s encore he sang a rugged and ragged slow motion guitar gentle to the touch tune and the line “Undress me with those dark eyes of yours” stuck with me. I tried to figure out what song it was, and couldn’t. It didn’t seem to exist, but in those graceful lyrics. Then, this song came out. And this seems to be a recently recorded intimate jam session with the song. Listen and enjoy. And check out more of the David Wax Museum: they rock. Check out their site here: http://www.davidwaxmuseum.com

 

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