To: Raquel Rose

Love is patient. It's kind and caring, and forgetful of woes. Love is amazing, and the reason I'm here.

Her hair flows carefully, carelessly, fine.
I've forgotten my failures, faults and crimes.
I've tried expressing my heart in these rhymes.
Nothing comes close.

Her eyes glow with truth, faith, joy, and love.
Reminiscent of the Truth lying above.
Her lips are the only ones I'm dreaming of;
Her heart ties me to the air.

I'm lost to her smile--brightens my days--
And I've spent hours trying to count all the ways
That she cares for me. Over and over I pray
That I can be the same to her.

Been A While, Old Friend(s)

As an update to my nonexistent readers:

I started dating my best friend. Been an amazing month-and-a-half. Understatement. My girlfriend is the sweetest, most amazing girl you will ever meet (if you ever meet her).

I've had a lot going on. This is not necessarily a bad thing, as I tend to slip into slothfulness otherwise.

It's finals week. I should be studying, but that's the last thing I want to do right now.

All I want to do is write. I want to create something. Anything. I just feel the flame of inspiration beginning to flicker in my soul, sparking up from the coals of my creative spirit's dormant fire.

I have two awesome cousins to thank for this rekindling. Along with the final four lines of Milton's Paradise Lost. Their due dates for their novel-in-a-year expirament are impending, and their blogs are reflecting this fire-stoking process.

Man. Almost Christmas. I'm sitting right next to the Christmas tree at my parent's house as I write this. Christmas trees always make me thankful. Dunno why. But this gratitude takes me by force and points my face towards everything I have, saying, "How could you ever say your life is worthless? Never forget love." The best reminder that I wish I didn't need.

Inspired by Paradise Lost's memorable close:

They looked upon Eden,
Wept, then smiled.
Mourning the loss of their lives,
And remembering the hope of their Saviour.
WOW. I frickin' love life, man. Jeez.

Coyote Clean-Up

Synthetic waves radiate through
My soul--I'm high on sound.
The beat kicks in, and
I've hit nirvana.
These are the dreams that
Last forever.

Electronic pulses throb
In Ecstasy; reverberating
Into my intelligence.
"Can't shake the full moon"
She says. But,
She knows I'm gonna try.

808s and <3-breaks go like Geo with Sabzi,
Rhythm's my drug of choice, and I'm a straight addict.

I was going to post a poem today, after over a week of dormacy. I really was. It was going to be really cool, with the first line a quote from "Dog Song" by Mountain Man. So I started writing. I get a few lines in, and it's starting to really kick in my emotions. In a good way. So I keep writing, and it keeps getting more intense. Then I realize what I'm writing. I'm writing from the heart, which hasn't been happening. In fact, I wrote so much from the heart that I'm not gonna post it on my blog.

Anyways...that's my excuse. Not that anyone reads this...

Ars Poetica

Tonight was a good night. Sushi in the city is a prime idea for a Saturday night. I got a visit from a close friend. As Edward Sharpe says, "Home is wherever I'm with you." Tonight I went home.

I write
Not to say what
I'm thinking, but to calm
My soul. It is the comfort in
Thinking that someone else
Reads what I think
I know.

(Paradox) in Parenses

Another day in this crazy life we live. Recently, I have been writing just to get in the habit, and have not put out much of any quality. Hence this is a freeform sonnet about the paradox of living:

What happened to life?
Was it torn away? Or,
More tragic,
Wasted unknowingly to ruin?

The answer never known,
Until it is first lived.
More tragic,
Is having no answer to live.

The life not lived,
Until it is first answered.
More tragic,
Is living no life to answer.

The most tragic of all,
Forgetting the paradox we know as truth.

It's Not Where You Are; It's Who You're With

This is sick...simply disgusting. I have left my poor little blog to fend for itself for 3 AND A HALF MONTHS. And even after such a long hiatus, I feel as though I can write nothing. I've been getting more into music and having friends over the summer...if there's an excuse in this post, I guess that's it.

It's been a busy summer. I worked all alot, and hung out with friends when I wasn't. I went back and forth between loving and hating the idea of moving to SPU. It's too late now. I'm all in. If there's ever a time when my life is resting on faith it's now. For many reasons.

This will be my first post from Queen Anne in Seattle.

I miss my friends. Nothing against the people here, they are kind and interesting and cool. A lyric from a song called "St. Joseph's" by The Avett Brothers has a line that goes, "It's not where you are, it's who you're with". So as nice as my new friends are, they aren't home. Because to me, home is not in a building, but in people. If you've ever felt this, you know what I mean. If not, I pray you do.

It seems I've left my heart at my home.

Home is where the heart is,
And not in a house.
Right now I lack the both.

The worst feeling sometimes,
Is when you just want
To go home but can't and won't.

There's no comfort in people
Or places or things
If you find no home in them.

I love where I am,
But I'm missing my home,
And I just want to be there.

Home is where the heart is,
And not in a house.
Right now I lack the both.

It would seem I've left my heart at my home.