They Make Dreams Like This

It's been a while since I've written a poem. I guess my well of creativity finally dried up. I was walking home today and there was a beautiful blue sky and these luscious pink clouds that were drifting along. It inspired me to write this. Being as it is only a few hours old, consider it a work in progress.



THEY MAKE DREAMS LIKE THIS

Pink clouds signal the dying sun,
As the blue sky turns to black,
And dreams fade away
As tear drops I'll never get back.
The bell signals the end of our time,
But you're already gone.
And I'm left standing in my own pain,
Wonder if I'm already lost.

The night falls on me slowly,
A crushing weight of heavens above,
They promise me one day I'll be up there,
But than they also promised me your love.
God seems as far away as your lips,
His hands as cold as your heart.
Yet I still pray to him for you.
I wonder if he heard me at all.

I catch a firefly and let it go,
And it becomes our star in the sky.
But you'll only see the twinkle in his eye.
Until the halcyon night when your wrapped in his arms,
And the moon is within your reach.
You'll wish upon its sparkling facade,
And he'll answer it with a kiss.
I’ll sleep alone under its celestial glow,
And wonder if they make dreams like this.

My twilight tears become your midnight mist,
The dew with your rising sun.
I’ll fade away with your dawning day,
Until the night once again has its turn,
And the sky's nothing more than an ominous abyss.
Gaze upon our star still shining beyond the clouds,
And I’ll remind you always they make dreams like this.

Coming To Grips With Being An Average Joe

A few years ago when Bacheleor-esque reality shows were all the rage, one stood out for me in particular, Average Joe. The premise of the series was like most, you take a beautiful woman, often a model, give her twenty suitors to choose from, have them do outlandish and somewhat humiliating activities to get her attention and if they were lucky they might get to make out with her in the hot tub. Unlike the other reality shows, however, the men the former model had to pick from were average. And I must point out the show used average in the broadest sense, ranging from mildly attractive to a slovenly mass of hair and fat or pocked skin and bone.

Seeing what she had to choose from the model would politely greet her suitors before retiring to her room where she dramatically collapsed on her bed and bursts into tears (as if this is a fate worse than death) or cursed the producers for lying to her. As she gets to know the men, however, their cute and awkward personalities start to come out and to her surprise she finds herself falling for them! But just as she is able to digest her unattractive beaus there’s another twist. The producers, showing some mercy, throw a bunch of macho obnoxious jocks into the mix. The Joes (looking fatter and uglier than ever) are dismayed, the beauty is annoyed and slightly intrigued by her new visitors, and the jocks are too busy admiring their own bodies to pay anything but their rockin’ abs much attention.

Finally as the show progresses and the group is whittled down, the beauty is forced to choose between the average Joe and the jock. She has a much better connection with the average Joe and the jock has a much better body, a hard choice isn’t it? It comes down to the dramatic finale and she calls each one of them out for perhaps the last time. As always I’m on the edge of my seat, convinced that she will choose the average Joe but with tears in her eyes she bids him farewell and flies off into the sunset with her jock.

This scenario played out exactly the same throughout every season of the show. We’d root for the Average Joe, she’d choose the jock. Finally, one beauty gave her Average Joe a “maybe”. It wasn’t a ring, or even a fake reality show commitment but a promise to stay friends and see what developed. As far as I know, nothing ever did. The producers, probably realizing that was as good as it was going to get, made that the last season.

I realized today that I was the Average Joe. This year I finally got my “maybe” from my own beauty. Yet like so many Joes I was “eliminated” not because of who I was but for what I was…average. I was given twigs with which to create that spark and ignite some fiery passion, while my “competitors” were given flame throwers. I always hoped that once in a while the beauties did choose the beasts, and that what was inside someone (good or bad) could offset anything you saw on the outside (good or bad). I’ve finally started to lose faith in this myth.

I remember an episode of the series when the Jocks sabotaged a date between the Average Joe and the beauty by shooting a hole in the boat the two were on. And I remember how helpless the Joe felt as his boat sank and his date was ruined. He joined the many other average fish in the sea while the beauty furiously walked out of the pond and into the arms of the jock, her anger quickly turning into unbridled passion. It broke my heart to see it happen to him, and it kills me to have it happen to me. Yet part of me still holds out hope that the Average Joe wins in the end...in fact, I'm counting on it.

Anyone Who Has Ever Been In Love...

Over the past few months I've learned a great deal about the enigma we call love. It is the emotion that is more than a feeling, the concept that is more than a thought. It has been a subject for philosophers and poets alike yet no matter how much we analyze it or turn it into verse it is the driving force that we never completely understand.

To me it has been like the sun, always there no matter how many times it dips below the horizon or hides behind a cloud. I have coveted its warmth yet feared its heat. Without it, the vibrant colors of life fade until there’s nothing more than the black of the eternal night sky against the white frozen tundra of the Earth. We can no more live in a world devoid of love than we can live in a world with no sun. But perhaps, the cheesy metaphors detract from the very “real” nature of love, the indescribable feeling in the pit of our stomachs. The ups and downs, the sorrows and the joys, they’re all a part of love.

Friends have asked me whether one can truly fall in love after having known someone for only a matter of months. The answer for anyone who has fallen in love should be simple. To me it seems like a chemical reaction that happens deep within your heart and after which you are fundamentally changed, never to be the same again. It’s something that doesn’t happen over a period of months or a day or even a minute. It happens in an instant, a moment that touches your soul.

Friends have also asked me whether it was possible to love someone who doesn’t love you back. For anyone who has ever experienced unrequited love, the answer should be painfully obvious. Love is not so selfish that it has to be received in order to be given. And despite the fact that my love wasn’t returned, at least to the extent that I wished it to be, it is no less precious…or devastating.

Love has taken a knife and dragged it across the surface of my heart. It is terrifying and yet somewhat comforting to know that even after the wound heals, the scar will remain. A proud testament to a battle fought and lost. Margaret Kennedy said that “It is better to break one’s heart, than to do nothing with it”. In the midst of great pain I question the wisdom of her quote but what’s left of my reason tends to agree. I’ve loved…I am in love and despite all of the hurt, I can feel the beginning of a smile form on my lips when I hear his name. I can still feel the warmth on my face despite the darkening sky. I love him, I say it proudly and defiantly.

Sometimes I ask myself what I’d do if were given the opportunity to go back before that “chemical reaction”, that moment, back before I had ever seen his face or whispered his named. Would I take the opportunity if it meant I could erase ever having fallen in love or having my heart broken? Yes, sometimes I ask myself this but to anyone who has ever been in love…well, the answer is clear.

Stepping Stone

HIS STEPPING STONE

I hold my hands above my head,

Outstretched and towards the Sun,

So that he can use my palms as stepping stones,

And always walk ten feet from the ground.

I dare not pick a flower to represent my love,

For it fades like the rose on a wilting beauty’s cheek.

No, I am like the frozen stream on February’s watch,

Though my skin is cold and goosebumped from lack of his touch,

Underneath my blood still runs in rapid waves towards my yearning heart.

Still I wonder if he laughs inside to know my true desires?

I say he deserves the stars but ask him to choose me,

When my arms aren’t even long enough to take his hand in mine.

Well, even the diamond comes from the Earth’s muddy core.

But it’s the hardest stone that cannot break unlike my fragile heart.

Yet if he wants the world which I am determined to provide,

And if only the softest silk should rest upon his shoulders.

And only the finest men should touch his sacred lips.

Than what profane fool am I to hope to be blessed with his kiss?

BLACK

Yes, my poems have become darker...

Too dark to see the stars in my eyes,

Wrapped in a shroud of my own skin.

Oh, if only I could be born again.

Too poor to buy all their lies,

the ones that are free for you but come at the expense of my soul.

Now worn with age, tattered and full of holes.

Too smart to cry,

But tears slide down my face,

As I realize slow and steady doesn't always win this race.

Too dumb to love anyone but you,

Unable to stop my heart as it bleeds from my chest.

Hoping that I'll find you in the sweet nothingness of death.

But I'm too damned to die,

I live on through all the pain,

Forever dragging the fated chain.

Cursed to have such a bright future.

Promised a sunrise that may never come.

But Fate whispers that you are my one.

Never quite able to give up the fight,

Praying that one day you'll see my light,

And it'll reveal everything my darkness denies.

Like the fading stars twinkling in my eyes.