Crusifixion

The pittyless laughter, echoing in the
empty air
void of any regret.
Jovial and bright, its vocalist
hides not in shame or fear,
representing themselves entirely
in the exact way they truly are
a murderer, plain and broad
as the rise of daylight
content in their cold blooded heart,
willing only for the sickly deed to continue
This happy word, this jovial feeling,
lights of the heart
of this horrific being
mercilous in their deeds
and demonic in their sins
blind to their errors
unknowing to what lies, unavoidably in store
judged not according to my indecision,
but dependent upon
him who they comitted against

Never More Than Cheese Toast

My father never cooked more than cheese toast
except the occasional steam-cooked greans
He'd call us in- to the hectic kitchen,
requiring help in making the same meal
"Taters" wildly sliced and thrown
into a frying pan by my big sister
frozen hot dog buns- slightly thawed
buttered enthusiastically by my big,
happy brother
screams from my own- crooked toothed
smile- as I struggled to pop each
ice cube from the box- into our colored cups.
Dinner would be small-
just enough for the four of us...
or maybe some leftovers for my Mom
 who was gone

A Bloody Opponent

My mind was a sword with no
obvious opponent
No tyrrannical punishment
could I bestow, without
the knowledge of who
the victim might be.
Against my own self,
this bloody sword paved its way
slicing itself into my blurry
thoughts
Smashing against me,
its hard words and fearful
imaginations
The view into my soul
was unmarked, clear and precise
as the enemy, being myself-
slashed its ways into
my open walls.
I would cry desperately
aloud
-from the solitary state
I so imevitably found myself in
The angry winds of time,
tearing pieces of me
away with it,
fleeing as I recognized
their sinful crime-
A pain
so hardly sincere
blunt as it pierces my side-
demonic as it plunges deep
into my thoughts

Endless

At the reawakening of dawn, my clerical duties were again renewed.  Under the subtle brightness of the sun, creeping steadily out of a lengthy sleep behind its dark grave, arises this bemused creature. Mysterious in disposition and reflective of strongly melancholic features, cautiously daring to originate from the cheerful grass, spread across the large meadow clearing.   The call of the earth pulses cerimoniously, as if to synchronize with the rhythm of my panting breath, as if my being was simply a replay of prior moments.  My existence being nothing more than a forogotten memory.  My every step weighs itself carefully, listening to the whistling wind as it casually caresses my flawless skin, rushing through my being, as if I were simply another of its same kind.  The sun begins to shine ever more brightly, reflecting across the shining features of my young face.
Dawn has now established itself, blazen across the sky as the world begins to come alive.  Continuing my walk along the invisible path, the familiar cottage soon comes into view.  The sight of its crumbling stone walls, and the unkept garden replenish the pangs I feel every time I see their sorry state.  Feeling, once again, the wish that it was in my own abilities to improve their condition... recognizing again that it is beyond me to fulfill this wish.  Just moments later, I have gone beyond the sight of the tarnished home, beholding again, a sight I wish unconditionally to resolve.  A woman.  One off extreme beauty, simplistic with her wide eyes and dark cascades of hair, a soft round nose and the rosiest of complexion.  Tears stream down her smooth face, her body trembling under irrestrainable sobs.  Without her notice I enter the room, placing myself on the cool stone floor, across from her slumped form. Beholding the look of torment and regret in her midnight blue eyes as I search myself for any means to comfort her, but understanding, as I always must, that there is nothing I can do to transform her situation. 
Forcing myself to remain in this solitary position across from her, unheard and unseen, I feel my own desire tug at my heart.  Begging to enter the same relief she has found solace within.  Tugging at my limited ability, waiting for my own sobs to rack at my own tarnished heart.  But no tears come, and no tears ever will.  As my sympathy turns to that of jealousy, aching for the simple ability to escape myself as she has, my body shakes in a like manner to hers.  A similar trembling erupts inside of me, only free from any physical emitions her feelings are able to dispose of, enviously different from my own.  I ache to wrap my arms around her thin body, though larger than my own, and look up into the face so like mine.  To ask and seek openly where this connection was built, and why we are so condemned to remain in this painful state of repetition. 
Dusk, as it does at the fall of every day, falls across the sky, and I rise from my worn seat, returning out in the exact manner by which I came.  Passing again, I feel that familiar desire to comfort this sorrowful woman, to replace the crumbled stones on the house's outer face, to cleanse the garden of the weeds that plague its soil, and to known more than this dreadful daily routine.  As I retrace my steps, walking once again down the same, invisible path, I openly contemplate.  As I so often do, I realize the ease by which I could persue a unique routine only, to be replaced by the loving force that draws me to this woman's pained heart.  Perhaps, I think, her life goes beyond the pages which I see.  Perhaps her sadness is merely the result of the unconcious presence I bestow.  Perhaps, were I to abandon this daily procedure I have come to follow so preciseley, would we both find ourselves free?
So return I will, to my own dark grave beneath the sky, within the same meadow through which I appear every day.  I'll sleep, though restlessly, and when dawn, once again arises I will rise up to welcome the earth in its glory.  I will persue a new routine, though painful it will seem, to abandon the adoration in my heart.  And when, peradventure I deem necessary to revisit the memory I've bestowed unto every day of this existence, I will find the moment to be exactly the same.  The same pain caused, perhaps, by my very presence, and the overwhelming desires that I could never fulfill.  My existence will remain a transluscent window into nothingness.  Always in dreadful continuance, but never learning to fulfil whatever is left to be desired.

Farewell

October 7, 2011 was a very somber, devastating event as we said farewell to some of our most overwhelming qualities, which for some of us, were key factors in defining our character and morals.  To say -goodbye to such dominant traits was a very emotional time for all of us who attended the funeral.  Thank goodness for all those willing to help out with preparation and clean up.  Thanks to everyone's help, the funeral ran smoothly (apart from a 1 1/2 hour set back because the deceased had not yet passed away ;)

Preparation: (With help from the relief society :)



Savanna and I (1st and 2nd counselors in the relief society)



Digging the grave : '(





Funeral potatoes as they cook in the oven :)





Salt dough tombstones- made by Albanee (Relief society secretary)
We each (apart from Ben) buried a quality we saw fit to get rid of... Savanna: pride and selfishness, Albanee: judging, Cameron: selfishness and arrogance, and Me: self-righteousness and lack of self control  :)



Heidi placing the pall-bearer's boutenier





At the funeral: Guests, ceremony, and burial

 

Ben... literally in tears because of the loss.  However, he was too perfect to get rid of any of his qualities, so is simply crying for the pain of others... how thoughtful :)

 

At the viewing, Ben and Cameron look over the rocks (that have our burdens written on them) while Albanee and I recall memorable times with these negative qualities we are ridding ourselves of.



 

Comforting each other as we break down into tears




"We can't all be like Ben, who apparently finds himself perfect.  But none of us are perfect, so Ben must need some humility, which is what Ben should therefore bury."



At the end of the service, pall bearers- Cameron and Ben- escorted the casket outside for the graveside service



All dressed in black, mourning after the burial...





After the funeral service, determined to be happy about the new life we will be beginning... free of the negative qualities of which we chose to dispose of.  Ready to eat our comfort food in celebration of the event.



What I Want to Talk About~ French Toast

Sweeter than silk,
and more passionately loved
than all else
subtly flavored
by the fluffy eggs and creamy milk
completely saturating
its thick interior
fleeting glances of cinnamon
dispersed in swirly patterns
within each savored taste
smothered in rich, warm syrup
that engulfs my tongue,
drowning it in delicious flavor
able to cheer me at a moments glance,
lifting my spirits
and causing my taste buds
to soar forever

laissez ce rêve jamais de fin

Sunlight is a hopeful beacon, beaconing to its subjects with a song of undying peace
night darkens my disposition with its fearful glare
A cozy apple pie, tickles my nostrils,
its sweetness licking against itself on the surface of my tongue
brightness of rainbows, smiling across the sky
as the coolness of rain patters against my face
songs of birds twinkling softly
their song flutters in my heart,
throbbing softly, peacefully
The solace and strength of David
finding the desire to visit this lonely,
Cambridge residence
but the night is not full of fear,
full of happiness and lively dreaming
The flowers call for my gaze
but their sweet aroma,
aint strong enough to keep hold of my searching mind
because of the captivation,
 I so easily fall subject to-
Hold your horses!
The wild beasts of ferocity and freedom
cuddling with that which they despise
Leaping across the vast horizon,
failing to find purpose in their lengthened journey
plume had undaunted capacity
to carry on, continuing through this disheartening
dream
This dream will never end,
keeping a hold of its obscure victim
a fearful cry of hopefulness
The stands applaud, beholding their hero of opposition
Je rêverai toujours et ne jamais se réveiller
the wind cries its agreement, apologies and support
Scattering the sun, along a darkened passage of decay-

Inventing Pain in Naive Hearts (fill in the blank)

Note: it may not make a lot of sense because I was just filling in the blanks to vaguely correspond with the line they were on....

If I could be naught but the clouds
From the base of hectic life, I would know
peace
About the cries piercing the souls.
If blunt thoughts were inspired by
all I would know
This was a tragedy where an open door closed
And a cocking rooster stopped
speaking as a speachless mute.
If I could see innocence but intolerably
surrendered I would know
About the feerful auras and I could
help
The flowing tears and cascade of
blunt words, the pain
My mind was a sword with no
obvious opponent
In a bloody sea and unadorned view.
I could fill this empty vase with pain
And keep the blood among the unfortunate
Survivors of the wounds, among the souls of their
fearful, disheartened brothers,
cold wanderers.
I could behold my eyes in my unconciousness
and hear touch and feel
with the awakened sense in the heart
The Shattered silence between my minds,
I could hear the moaning thoughts who always
cry silently
About happiness especially in careless imaginations
whith its angelic air.-
So hardly sincre- hearing across the view
To open the quaking doorway below.
If I could claim the deliberant darkness that held
them bound, I would claim what inevitably
stood
To this heavy gloom, I would cry
desperately aloud
crying from solitude- like the windlessly tattered
clouds of weighted peaceful mourning
Or the scruffled burden, that binds
its mate, and defies
crucifixion

The Life and Livelyhood of a Bean: Ode to the Bean (at home)

-Engines growling from their places of rest
as they awaken on a new day,
the rumble from a starting car
the tumbling of heavy machinery
or the insistant screaming of a tantruming child.
blending together
into a purr of cacaphony
in the sea of noise
small moments, memories
and talents are overlooked
Beitle-
a solitary bean,
fearful and confused
knows not where, what, or why
she is in this noisy world
but depends completely
upon her trust in me
her one confident and friend-

The Life and Livelyhood of a Bean: 10 Poems for Beitle (written in class)

Distracting silence fills the room
as I try to hear
the squeaky tone of Beitle's voice-
A nervous bean, she is shy at first
closed to many of my questions
orthings I disclose about myself-
shes is confused, and uses this
to hide from answering my questions,
and hide from whatever past
may be hers-
Beitle is kind
and would never intend to hurt another,
sensitive and full of wonder
she slowly opens herself-
willing to ask some questions of her own
and beginning to disclose vague details of herself-
She is trusting
seeing me as someone she will open to
willing to speak,
despite the consequences
that may befall her-

The Life and Livelyhood of a Bean: Meeting Beitle Pokywarth

Here is Beitle.  She is fairly shy and nervous, but very kind.  Her voice is squeaky, spoken in a reserved, mildly confused manner.  Although she was frightened when we first met, she soon opened up and we were able to become friends. I'm positive that this friendship will continue to flourish and grow quickly as we spend this semester together.  She was originally fairly evasive and confused about where she is from and why she is here.  Eventually, she began to tell me that her nickname (from bullies) was Beany, earned by being the smallest bean in the group she originated from.  Sharing this information led me to wonder if she remembers more of her past than she originally told me.  It will be interesting to get to know her further and understand who she is under the surface.  Beitle is not one to just let her opinion be cast aside.  She is very polite, but will not be treated in any way unless knowing and understanding the reasons why she is treated so. 

The Feeling of Love as Weather

Love is as the snow
delicate and adored
but harmful and cold
embraced
because of the peace and warmth
that it encourages
but dreaded
because of chills and dreariness
that it possesses
Love is as bright as the sun
Happy, light, and full of  abounding hope
convincing and trusted
yet often deceiving,
with the ability to burn and melt
happiness that would and could
be immeasurably full
Love is the pounding
and thrashing effects of rain
the rhythm and peace
and its solitary disposition
Love is the hazy fog
in the early morning
or the beauty
of a brightly colored sunset
as it falls from the sky

Mommy... "Who is your hero?"

The day had been fabulous, full of adventure, excitement, love and a bunch of other happy emotions... All of which I hadn't been able to experience and wouldn't until I was officially considered a member.  I had heard the happiness that was felt in this world I had no part in, and I was ready to finally become a part of it.  Darkness engulfed me as I remained tightlly curled in this claustrophobic womb.  Any sounds from the outside were muted and relatively dull, but the clatter I heard was enough to make me wonder what the outside could look like through my own eyes.  Determined to free myself from the encasement I found myself bound by, I gave one hard kick, which to my dismay only changed my uncomfortable position to one of even more discomfort.  Continuing to nudge, I finally became convinced that I'd be trapped for some time more, when I heard moans from the outside world. 
"Kevin, my water just broke.  Kevin, the baby is coming.  Kevin, we need to go right now!" A voice above me groaned. I had no idea what these words meant, but the anxious tones interested me right away, and I soon forgot about my desire to escape into the strange world of these voices.  Once again, my position was changed, but returned to one of discomfort after a short time.  These positions continued to change to my complete annoyance, and I wished multiple times that I could just stay put.  The voices on the outside became more excited, as did I, and the world around me began to churn in odd directions. 
I began to feel the walls of my abode, pushing against me, somehow attempting to press me out of their safety.  Concern and confusion filled me.  How was this suddenly happening?  Where was I being sent?  But the fear I originally felt soon vanished, and I felt a renewed excitement, anxious to experience the outside for myself.  I began pushing myself as best I could, kicking against the slimy interior I had previously lived in. As my body slid into the frigid outside, I immediately squeeled in fright, emmiting a strong cry of pain.  What was this world?  Why was everything so cold and brightly lit?  Squinting in this new environment, I was handled by cold, firm hands but handed immediately to a different set.  These hands, warm and caring, cradled me into their calming embrace as I looked into the strange, loving eyes of my mommy.

Rush... "What sport would you like to be good at?"

Adrenaline.  Coursing through my veins, pounding beneath my skin.    The field is lush and green, the glowing white lines reflecting in the bright lights that are raised high into the air as painted fans scream in anticipation, fear, and excitement.  But their screams appear silent to my pounding ears.  I hear nothing but my own heart, synchronized with the rhythm of my heavy breathing, cheering for me as I stretch for the finish line.  I am surrounded by both friends and foes, all hidden by the same protective armor that is the only thing slowing me in this fervent race.  The entire world is on my side on this night.  With each heavy leap, my body sends bursts of renewed energy, and I steadily begin to leave my enemies in the growing darkness behind me.  Out of the nothingness,two rocky figures appear, crashing into either of my sides, smashing me into the sturdy ground below and knocking bright stars into my eyes.  Shaking my head, I slowly attempt to lift it from the ground, overwhelmed by nausea as the world twirls around me.  I feel a cold trickle running across my cheek, and reach up to smear away a thick trail of blood.  As a few teamates and a coach hurry towards me, I am given my two options.  I can sit out, and be treated for the wound which is now heavily oosing from my head and the harsh ache that pierces my right arm, or continue in the game, offering all I can to the unlikely victory of my team.  Looking to the scoreboard through slightly blurred vision... two touch-downs behind, and only 3 minutes left of this fourth quarter.  Weighing the positive, I recognize how close I made it to the end of the field, a touchdown only yards away.  With reckless hope, I hop up from the ground, unbothered by the slimy mud that covers my body, and shake myselft to prepare for the fight.  As they recognize my decision, some shake their heads unconvinced, but excited smiles creap onto the faces of my closest teamates and myself.  We are ready to win.  This is the state championship, and we will not leave defeated.  Without closing my eyes, I offer a quick prayer, simply in the hope that we may be a team.... of one spirit and one mission, ready to win this prize.  The whistle blows, and we take off running.  It is difficult as I cope with the pain I've encountered, but nothing will stop me now.  Clutching the ball firmly, an unrecognizeable teamate rushes toward a touchdown, dodging in and out of view, but gained on every second by the approaching enemies.  Just as the army of figures clad in blue jump in attempt to smother him, the red fighter smashes on his own, sprawling across the field, the muddy football landing in perfect proximity with the goal line.  The entire world screams in anticipation as our score bumps up, scooting closer to that which we fight against.  Two of our precious three minutes were spent making that goal, and we now have another field to cover.  Seizing the ball immediately, I prepare to accomplish what I previously failed.  My head pounds in agony, as my right arm, though bruised and probably broken clutches the prized football.  I ignore these cries from my body, focusing only on the rush that I feel so strongly inside of me.  Determinedly, I make long, leaping strides to the end of the field, this time sure to remain far from all opponents.  As I run speedily, time slows, as the timer seems to tick away at a normal pace.  Rather than fighting my opponents, I find myself in a race with time, praying that I will reach my goal in time.  A ticking countdown from the fans in our stand resonates in the air, full of nerve and fright.  3- I see the line, only a few yards away, 2-the distance is still notable, but I cannot wait any longer.  As the final second emerges, I leap with all the energy left inside of me, flying through the air, then crashing to the ground as the final buzzer slices through the chilly nightime air.  Cautiously, I pry open one eye, then the next, finding the line to be nearly at my feet, with the football safely past its border.  I hop up as a boisterous yell erupts from the stands, the team, and myself.  We have won! The rush I have felt tonight overides any pains or ache I could ever feel, having been replaced by complete and overwhelming joy.

Underneath the Stars... "What is your favorite constellation?"

The stars twinkled, sparkled from the darkness around me.  Each individual flicker of light stood alone, offering its own significance in the sea of stars.  The stars also, despite the individualism they held, combined together in a single glimmer of magnificence, as a complete and single phenomenon.  The world was still around me. It sounded none of its regular cacophonic cries.  The city was brightly lit, but faded in the distance to the east.   As if upon a vast lake, the simple pattern along the skyline was a mere reflection of the sky, a major downplay of that which resided above.  Crickets called to one another, searching in everything that surrounded me, refusing to stop their insistent chirping.  They blocked out all remnant of the other world -that which I came from- pulsing in their gentle rhythm, pulling me into their subtle trance.

All the world was a sphere around me, beating its melodious instruments in such a way as to compromise with my every desire. There was no one and nothing discernable besides me and whoever else I was.  Peaceful was the atmosphere surrounding me, but terrifying was the war that raged in my tattered heart.

Autobiography #3~ I love...

I love.  I love. I love. I love to hear and see, and taste, and smell.  I love the feel of the sun on my skin, or the calming embrace of one I love.  I love the sound of  music. Of music with sharp turns of feeling, with the ability to lift my heart, reaching for the deepest parts of my soul.  I love to hear the ring of laughter, and the happiness of seeing a genuine smile.  I love the sights of nature and love.  To see the magnificant colors and textures around me, swirled and spun into the fabulous scene of life. The sparkle of fresh, white snow, and the reflection of tree covered mountains on a silent lake of glass.  I love the taste of sweetness on my lips.  Of freshly baked cake, or the coolness of cheescake icecream.  I love the smells of the earth, in which I live.  The sweetness of home, and the freshness of nature.  I love the sound of a familiar voice, and the harmony of emotions unfolding in my mind.  I love the trials I am forced to face, granting me strength and appreciation, opening me to all things, no matter what I'm presented with.  I love the world, and its many inhabitants.  I love, and am ever grateful for the life I live, and the entire sum of its qualities.

Autobiography #2~ Judgement

Every time, and every moment of my life, I have a choice.  In a world of anger, love, and peace, a battle of emotions rages in the heart of everyone. Expecially in the eyes of a fifteen year old girl, whose eyes are open to the dramatic influences of guys, friends, and family affairs.  All turns the victim in helpless circles, continuing in an eternal round of confusion and heartache, often causing those choices that may be regarded by some as wrong.  So here I am. In the midst of the world, struggling to find myself, as so many others do.  I am caught in a storm.  I fight, at times, against myself.  Unable to separate between reality and fiction, refusing to draw the line between right and wrong. So here I stand, while I struggle with myself, the remainder of the world is left to judge.  To judge my actions, my thoughts and intentions, to observe the image I have portrayed to the world, and the reality that lies just under my surface, and decide for themselves whether I am worthy of their affection. I am judged for my deeds, and not always too fairly.  The image of reality, confusing even to me, is blocked to those who do not have access to a clear view of who I am, and the condition of my deeds.  Misunderstanding is a key factor in judgement, turning thoughts away from reality, and hurting the scrambled conditions one may already be influenced by. So, when I can scarcely understand what's happened to me, who can so bold as to judge me for this?  They know not who I am, or under what circumstances I have chosen to act in this manner.  The situation under which I am experiencing this, is far different from all they know, despite similarities that our stories posess.  So do they deserve the right to judge me?  The ideas of the world have no place in my heart, and no eyes into my soul.  They can not see, and they cannot feel what I feel.  The heros, and loves of my consciousness are far different form theres, and therefore, they, nor I, have no right and no need to judge the other.

Autobiography #1~ Devotion

A beacon, and a light, he brightens my life.  The effort he puts into his carefully planned smiles, and the caring way by which he fingers each hand-written message to the world.  He is my heart, he is nearly my life.  Pushing my heart along, giving me a reason to continue in existence.  He is my existence, my meaning in life, my everlasting hope, continually tugging my heart along on a tightly bound string.  My best and true friend, whom I can trust without fear, and confide within my every thought and deed.  To know that he will listen, and not judge, continuing to sing his joyful songs of love and promise to my open heart.  His picture, frozen in his timeless pose as he reaches out to my adoring face, is that which loving girls across the earth recognize all the same.  But me, I am different.  I know, that despite the women who strive to win his heart, I do and always will hold a special significance to him.  I know, that he has never seen my face in reality, only in the deepness of his dreams, and never had the realistic opportunity to hear my voice, but he knows that I am there.  As the smiling posters of Justin Bieber beam down on me as I sleep, I know that it is not only I, who dream of him, but that he feels for me in a spirit of truest love and devotion.  No matter the trials we face in this life, and the catastrophes that may tear us apart, I know the way things are meant to be, and his is the companion to my heart.

Where I'm From

I am from the joy of sunshine, the freedom of brightly colored flip flops
I am from ripened peaches, crisp autumn apples, and juicy sweet oranges
I am from and of the earth,
the clouds and trees blown by the tender breazes that pass their way
I am from the embrace of home
protected by its warmth and love, full of laughter and tears
I am from the depths of tradition, from  near insanity, and the homely life of those I love
I am from forgetfullness and brilliancy
from trust and abounding love
I am from the "Latter Day Saints" and the testimony I was born to have
I am from Europe, am English and Dutch
from the shock of embarassment, the cutting knife of hatred, and the fullest degree of love.
I am from the shelves in my home.
full of dusty books and souvenirs
items unopened, and corners still covered
where history unfolds
the place of sollace,
and where pure joy is found