I Carry Your Heart With Me

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

e.e. cummings

Inspiration II

Antonin Dvorak's Romance for Violin and Orchestra in F Minor.

It's no secret that the violin is my favorite instrument, and this piece is like a merry-go-round of violins. I can rather imagine them all conversing about something. Waxing poetic. Singing and listening for love songs. I adore the gentle movement from quiet melody to musical tempest. The swaying repetition of the solo violin's lonely, lovely theme. Romancing.

Thirteen plus minutes of magic. Your ears will thank you. I thank Antonin Dvorak.

Inspiration I

Picasso's Nude Descending a Staircase. 

How do you seperate her from the staircase? Why do I assume that she is a she? Would we assume this was a nude if we were not told? Do we see a human being? If not, what do we see?

I see a wooden woman, a buck naked wooden woman. I see her gliding descent in fast forward and rewind. I see her as apart from the staircase, the blur before clarity. The most focused part of the painting is the top of the stairs and she is walking away from it.

The Top 5 Hottest Male Celebrities with Gray Hair

As I've often said, men are like cheese. They get better with age. Please enjoy the following photos of and commentary upon these five men who I feel are gorgeous with gray hair.

1. Richard Gere

He had to be number one because there is simply no other male celeb who has aged this well and made looking mature so freaking sexy. Favorite thing about him? His fabulous hair, of course.

2. Anderson Cooper

Piercing blue eyes, suave and ageless sophistication endear me to Anderson Cooper and makes some small part of me wish he weren't gay. Favorite thing: those eyes.

3. Pierce Brosnan

Why hello there, gorgeous. Next on our lovely list is Pierce Brosnan, who I find irresistible, young or old. My favorite thing about this handsome gray haired hunk is his voice. So sexy.

4. Patrick Dempsey

Patrick Dempsey is a fairly new addition to the ranks of grey haired hotties, but he fits right in. A rugged mans man and humorous actor, I find him charming eye candy. Favorite thing: his smile.

5. George Clooney

And last, but certainly not least, is the handsome George Clooney. I would say he's definitely gotten better with age. My favorite thing about this gray haired icon would have to be his style... so timeless. 

There you have it, ladies (I doubt it any gentleman made it this far) five studs with silver strands and heaps of sex appeal.  



First Ever Angsty Political Rant

I'm shocked this is the first ever angsty political rant, because honestly, I could have chosen better issues. Yet somehow I've bottled it all up inside in the past and at least protected this blog from my political opinions even when my friends and family weren't so lucky. But here we go.

I was shocked Obama's "coming out" in support of gay marriage had such a positive response, I think it seems fairly obvious that after Biden's statement, the Obama administration said "Oh snap, Obama. He's making you look bad. If you want to live here for the next four years, you'd better get your act together and show some semblance of uniformity within this organization and put yourself in stark contrast with Romney." That's my take on it any way. If anyone else were to change their opinion on an issue like that, they would be wishy-washy and inconsistent. But when Obama suddenly comes to an epiphany as a result of careful reflection and study that took him several years and coincidentally concluded today, it's very mature and reasonable.

Can you say double standard?

I honestly don't really care if Obama supports gay marriage. The "marriage equality" issue is very hot right now, and I don't see resolution for either side as being a feasible reality, at least not in the short term. In other words, the law should not be dependent on if one man supports or doesn't support something. According to a recent Gallup poll, half of American support gay marriage. In a true democracy with one person, one vote, this should be put up to vote and according to Gallup, the majority of us want equal rights for homosexual couples. Yet America is not a true democracy. Our values may well be changing, yet it will take time for our norms to reflect that.

So why am I so incensed? I don't think you should be able to play the game that poorly and be handed a "Champion of the Oppressed" trophy as a reward. This might turn things around for the Obama in the eyes of the public, but I'm not impressed.


Read the article and see the video that prompted this rant here!!
 http://gma.yahoo.com/obama-announces-his-support-for-same-sex-marriage.html

Sonnet to Sleep

O soft embalmer of the still midnight!
Shutting, with careful fingers and benign,
Our gloom-pleased eyes, embowered from the light,
Enshaded in forgetfulness divine;
O soothest Sleep! if it so please thee, close,
In the midst of this thine hymn, my willing eyes,
Or wait the amen, ere they poppy throws
Around my bed its lulling charities;
Then save me, -or the passed day will shine
Upon my pillow, breeding many woes;
Save me from curious conscience, that still lords
Its strength, for darkness burrowing like a mole;
Turn the key deftly in the oiled wards,
And seal the hushed casket of my soul.

-John Keats

Set Fire to the Rain

I. Love. This. Song.

Someone Like You, Rolling in the Deep and Set Fire to the Rain. Love, love, love.

How much awesome is Adele?

Notice About Plots and Motives

NOTICE

Persons attempting to find a motive in this narrative will be prosecuted; persons attempting to find a moral in it will be banished; persons attempting to find a plot in it will be shot.


BY ORDER OF THE AUTHOR,
Per G.G., Chief of Ordnance.

I found these inspiring words at the beginning of a book entitled The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, written by a fellow named Samuel Clements, more commonly known as Mark Twain. I found it to be quite inspiring and also highly applicable, not only to Mr. Twian's words, or even my own, but to many. To all.

I think that sometimes the greatest motives, morals and plots are found in the stories that don't boast of them. That hide them, carefully and cleverly so that only the people who care and dare to look will find them. The greatest works of Literature are real and simple, yet masterful. They are relatable to us, narrowing in on purely human insights that become apparent to us through the simple act of living, yet they also teach us. They allow us to see through another's eyes with our own.

Don't go looking for a motive in this narrative. It will find you. Looking for a moral? Than you are going about this all wrong. Stop attempting to find a plot. Follow the Mississipi on a river raft.

You might be shot at anyway, but then you will have found everything you were looking for and more.

Blood, Sweat and Tears - Part I

"I have nothing to offer but blood, toil, tears and sweat." - Winston Churchill

Blood. Sweat. Tears. Three fundamental human elements. Three things that we make, that we create. Three things that make us what we are- human.

For some reason, this old phrase came to my mind today. There really is no reason for the way my mind works. If I tried to explain it, I would just end up confusing us both and it would be pretty much useless to my current purpose. I decided, in my usual instantaneous and haphazard fashion, that I would split up the three things in this phrase- blood, sweat and tears. (Be warned, I will repeat those words again... and again... and probably again. So get used to them.) I would take each one and give it a little thought. Roll it around in my mind and see what I could come up with. Feel free to add your own thoughts in a comment. We have been trained to think in narrow boxes and I, for one, am pretty sure that there is more in this world than my own box and I should get out a little more, at least in my mind.

~~~~~

Wiki says that "Blood is a specialized bodily fluid that delivers necessary substances to the body's cells – such as nutrients and oxygen – and transports waste products away from those same cells."

Well isn't that a nice, boring definition. But if you are as bad at remembering biology as I am, it was for your benefit. Blood... what is blood? In a deeper sense, blood is life. Without blood, you and I would not, could not work. Our bodies need blood to do all the amazing, confusing and thoroughly mysterious things they do.

Have you ever looked at you hand in absolute astonishment? I have. "What the heck... how does this thing even work...?" We could talk about the wonders of human construction for hours... but I am obviously not an expert and I have a topic at hand and I will not be swayed. Look at the strange thing connected to the end of your own arm. Yes, really. Don't pretend you did and just keep reading. Got it? Alright. See those bluish purple lines underneath the knuckles on your palm and on your wrist? Of course you do. They're called veins. Yes, I know you know that, bare with me. Underneath several layers of skin are tons of tiny little veins, a maze of rivers carrying blood, carrying life through your body. You knew that too. But how often do you think about it? How often do you remember that "specialized body fluid" that "delivers the necessary substances to your cells"?

If you answered "Um... not often, if ever." don't feel bad. I did too. We take it for granted.

But when do we remember blood? Not when it's doing it's job perfectly and normally, of course. No, we remember it when it isn't working right. When you get a cut, you remember your blood. Because suddenly, what works in secret, hidden and behind the scenes, is made visible. Heck yes, you'd better believe it's visible. The second it leaves those little rivers, it turns that beautiful, scarlet red. (I love that blood is red. Because if blood is life, I would like to think life is a vibrant color.) We're automatically alarmed by blood leaving our bodies... and since blood is a big part of what gives you life, it makes sense to try not to lose it.

If you have a disease like cancer or some other illness, you remember your blood. Do you know how many tests are done with blood samples? Me neither. But it's a big number. Your blood is full of information, if something is not right in your body, you can bet there are probably some clues in your blood. When something is wrong with your blood... it's like the very thing that keeps you alive has turned against you. The one thing you need more than anything is endangering you. Can you imagine that? I cannot.

~~~~~

You know how when you curl up and lay still, you can feel your heartbeat?

I love that.

Beat...beat...beat...beat...beat...beat...beat...beat...beat...

I...am...alive...I...am...alive...I...am...alive...I...am...alive...

BEAUTIFUL


You know what is beating? Yes, it is your heart. But what is beating in your heart? But what is your heart beating?

Blood.

~~~~~

Blood is not only what we are, it is who we are. We are human. (Humanity is a what, a who, a when and a why in and of itself if you ask me.)

"It's in my blood."

We identify ourselves by what is in our blood, where we came from and who we are. It not only gives us life, it defines our lives.

"All I have to offer is my blood..."

If you are made of blood, if you are blood, then what is a gift of self? When we love someone or something, we say we would give our lives for it. We would offer everything- we would bleed and die for it's sake.

War is war because we settle things with blood. Brothers are brothers because the same blood runs in their veins. Blood is what makes the difference between life and death. It is the tie that binds and it's loss is what severs.

We do not take blood lightly. Nor should we. How can we, really? It is what are, how we are, why we are and who we are.

~~~~~

Blood in my veins, pulsing through me at every moment of the day. Beating in my heart, circulating through my body. Keeping me alive.

Beat...beat...beat...

I...am...alive...

The Tale of a Mediocre Poet

I started writing poetry when I was in 5th grade.

I wrote my first poem in a crisp new composition book. It was the beginning of the school year, and filled with scholarly ambition, I scribbled a short poem during some free time, hoping to earn the approval of my teacher and Mother.

That poem went something exactly like this:

As the new morning dawn
The flower stirs, the bluebird yawns
All creatures quiver with delight
As earth is flooded with new light
All the darkness been deleted
All the evil been defeated
All the creatures ooh and ah
At the glory of our God
(2003)

It was a simple little thing, filled with young, overdone emotion and easy rhymes. But I was ridiculously proud of that thing. I had discovered a new power, a new ability in myself. Obviously I was incredibly talented and could write this stuff for a living someday! I circulated it amongst the literate members of my family and each one praised me for it with an encouraging word, patted me on the head and forgot about. But I didn't.

After that, I didn't need much encouraging to write some more, even though my Mother was duly impressed with my effort. I loved the timing and rhyming of a poem. I loved the tight emotion it could convey. I loved the effortless flow and the gentle ebb of the words. And I loved that I could make them do that.

As the years went by (oh goodness, I sound old now...) I wrote on and off. Sometimes almost years went by and I would write nothing. Good poems, bad poems, downright awful poems and poems I dare not even call poems. Some days were better than others, some years were better than others. I would go months without writing one and then I would right four in one day.

A smile says what words cannot
A presents from above
A gentle hand can heal a heart
For these are act of love
(2007)

Sun sinks lower in the sky
Now 'tis dusk, the day gone by
The birds last call, they cease to fly
The little moon, both sleek and sky
Here she now peeks out her head
Sun, away has softly tread
Nature tucked into her bed
Man takes leave and rests his head
(2008)

Heart, I need to talk to you
I must know what you're thinking
Are you trying to break yourself?
Are you fond of sinking?
Heart, what are you playing here?
I'm not playing to
Heart, what are you trying to pull?
I need to talk to you
(2009)

A symphony of sorrow
Is being played tonight
When nearer is tomorrow
Than yesterday's last light
I hear it on my windowpane
The tears that from the sky
Fall down for this lonely plain
And for the cricket's cry
I hear the rumble, bold and true
The thunder's mighty roll
Lightning tears the sky in two
And leaves an empty hole
The song repeats it's sweet refrain
And rolls across the sky
It plays it for this lonely plain
And for the cricket's cry
(2010)

I never name them. I never date them. The only way I know when they came from is what notebook or text document I find them in. They are all grouped together and written sloppily, littered with crossed out words, arrows pointing to new sentences, hidden amongst doodles and random scribbles. Sometimes they are truly pathetic, but only two or three have I thrown away once they were completed. The few I have chosen for you are just a glimpse of many like them.

I have written many and lost many. I have loved some and hated some. They mean so much and yet nothing to me. I know they are poorly done and sometimes even very bad. But I keep on writing them. I think I might always write them. It has simple stuck with me and at some point became a part of me.

Only recently have I come to an appreciation of other people's poetry. I used to try to read it, but it was too wordy or written in a way I couldn't relate to as the shallow, dense whippersnapper I pretend I'm not anymore. But now, I love it dearly. I prefer short poems to long ones and I have trouble following it sometimes, but truly, there is nothing more beautiful than Wordsworth, Poe and Dickinson.

The tale of this mediocre poet, brief though it may be, is best summarized in my works themselves. They are simple. They convey nothing great, wise and wonderful. They are just the thoughts and observations of a humble mind and I submit them, and this tale, to your scrutiny with that same humility. I know they are not much, but neither am I. We make a happy little pair, simple though we are.

Things I learned from Mr. Franklin

Keep all conductors of electricity off your kite string. And don't fly it during a thunderstorm either.

I will never be a healthy, wealthy and wise man.

If you must be a blockhead, be a learned one.

For optimal portability, become wrapped up in yourself.

Don't ignore the small leak unless, of course, you are in to sinking big ships.

Admiration has a less than admirable parentage.

If you want good interest, bank with Knowledge.

Idle silence is apparently just as bad as idle words... just avoid idleness in general.

Beauty and folly go way back.

A hungry hobby isn't a good idea.

If you want to count on something, try death and taxes.

Don't worry about mistakes- you can count on them too.

Good luck has better parents than admiration.

Life is made of time, so don't squander it.

If you can discard a bad habit once a year... you might actually get some where eventually.

If you can't write well, do something for other people to write about. And if you can't do something worth writing about... you'd better hope you can write well.

If you could bottle energy and persistence together, you could call it "CONQUER". What a snappy energy drink that would be, eh?

Fatigue is soft and squishy... it makes the best pillow.

You can compose a great lie with only half of the truth.



To find these and more wise words from the good man himself, go on over here.