cedar08 - Tumblr blog

[cedar08]

Orange / Green

I dream to be orange,

Fulfillment brings joy.

But green, green

Peace brings comfort.

To be green and orange,

to be as brave as a boy,

to be the best i could have been.

Green, Green

It lets me ease my mind.

Without it, I wouldn't know to live.

I really didn't want to be mean.

Now i know to be kind.

now that i have green, can you forgive?

Orange, Orange

it lets me breathe.

Without it, I can't stand my ground.

I still struggle with courage.

I need to learn to just breathe.

And then, I could be crowned.

Together, Together they make perfection.

If I can learn to be both,

I can be the best I can be.

Comfort, Peace.

Confidence, but healthy flexion.

The perfect growth.

That is my plea.

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Whole

I want to be whole,

i dream for you to see my soul

And every ounce of my being,

every aspect you are seeing

I want it to be me, how I want to be seen

A book is no book without its pages,

I dream for you to see my phases.

I cycle as the moon,

recurrent, but i swoon

over anything that brings a smile.

I love what you love, you know

not because it's yours, but because it can show

a glimpse into your mind

if i can see you as a whole, i can find

the best parts in you, and watch you grow.

[cedar08]

Images of Compassion

Oh sun,

how I wish I could shine your light.

I cannot bear the thought,

being without you would be such a fright.

I wish I could return your gifts,

your warmth and compassion.

I love you, please know

I want to be a gift

when nights bring trouble in.

When the sun goes dim,

The moon will take it's place.

Take a break, take a break

let rest be upon your pretty face.

oh moon,

I hope to be you.

To give back to the light of my days,

I want it to be true.

[cedar08]

Dreams of Faeries and Leaves: Learned Love 11 (#8)

I have learned my love,

The ins and outs

what i need, what I want, what I crave.

And now i know

that is you,

just you,

my little world,

with you, it's so much brighter

With you I can cherish,

And now I can breathe.

I am no hound

no scavenger, nor feeding hand

I have learned my love

and it is you.

It is you, It is you

It is the way your voice leaves your throat

and the way your laugh echoes in my mind

it is your tender words, simple phrases

the way you live and love and learn.

I have you etched in my brain, my heart

You are a spectacle,

An experience so dear.

You are the sun, rising sun

A heron to guide my path,

those are your names,

your stamps in my mind

Because you are my love,

from your smiling face to your heart

you are my love,

my love, my love, my love.

I am no hound, no beggar

No scavenger, nor feeding hand,

I am yours, you are mine,

we are one but two

Your hair, your eyes, your hands

a lovely sight to see, to live

I have learned my love,

and it is you.

[cedar08]

when kosinski wrote “i’m sure there are aspects of my personality buried within me that will surface as soon as i know i am completely loved.”

[cedar08]

Dreams of Faeries & Leaves: Learned Love 1

I am learning to love differently,

I have taught myself to be no dog,

I am no mutt bred and bled

to obey my master, my user

I am no hound for being used to the bone.

No, I am a lover

who gives as is given

not to drain, no,

to love the one who earns it.

I will bite no hand

that feeds me what i am worth.

I will not beg for more, more, more,

until i have bled them dry.

Do not waste my time.

I am learning to not hide.

I will not cower any longer.

If you bite me, I promise to bite back

I am tired of being bitten

for feeding you.

If you cannot respect me,

You should expect no more from me.

Now I will hold myself a cut of the meat,

and you a cut of your own.

and i will expect the same from you,

mutualistic, these expectations

With two for me and two for you,

our stomachs will be filled.

But without each of our portions,

we will surely starve together

or one will perish while the other feeds on greed.

[cedar08]

My Little World

My little world,

it has curled.

changed, shifted

those inhabitants,

roaming its little surface,

They search for some sort of purpose.

they create calendars;

skyscrapers, arranged,

perfect squares fill the cities.

The trees, though,

the trees dream of chaos.

Their roots hide beneath the ground,

hidden beneath a mound.

But their branches

have been trimmed,

cut; but,

they can now fit these squares.

The squares

give the inhabitants

something controlled

something patrolled,

friendly.

predictable.

But these inhabitants see,

these roots, lifting their tiles

a part of them despise

the chaos, it's some compromise

but a part of them

wishes to free the root.

peel back, peel back

the tiles lining the track

welcome the root,

free the soil below.

it is repaired.

the cycle,

like the calendar,

works as a balancer,

It is routine, routine

fix the dirt.

encourage the dirt.

fix the dirt.

encourage the dirt.

which is better?

which is worse?

The root may trip

those who are unaware

The root must be bound

to keep it secured beneath the ground

but the root,

nature can be a brute.

chaos rules the earth.

is it truly fixable?

is my little world

going to be perfect?

is the next best thing

worth fighting the chaos?

Logic

Logic says,

if the root is concealed

it is safer.

but is safe better?

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O God, Sometimes I have vivid, grotesque dreams Of taking a gilded dagger to my skull, Carving into the crevices of my doubt Bone fragmented, stitched together with sin I hungrily devour my own flesh Blood, brain, sinew, all And I look up to watch my reflection Twist obscenely, muscle warping into itself Again, and again A roiling mass of snakes Before shifting into a creature Familiar and foreign A stranger wearing the mask Of a face I knew intimately A smudged painting, ghost captured in film Screams echo from a distant nightmare Before an egg cracks Yolk bleeding into white, broken by its shell Protective by design, destructive by nature The creature smiles when my eyes open And prayers spill from my upturned lips Gasping for a reality That is whole, that is real Oh God.

[cedar08]

Drumstick

I am a tool for nothing more

than beating and beating until you are sore.

But you love me, you love me

and there is no place I would rather be

Than in your hands,

used to hit,

hit until I chip,

and then you will hit and hit some more.

Sweet rhythm, you create with me

If I am lucky, I am wrapped in a luxurious robe

Taped and swaddled so that

you can use me longer.

When you are sore,

It is quite a bore.

I sit here,

and i can't help but peer,

at you sitting there,

I can't help but beg

that you will pick me up once more.

You are proud

to use me as the tool that I am,

And I am proud to be your tool.

Your sweet rhythms,

Like a little drummer boy,

Are a song all know.

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Plum

I am a plum,

a wicked thing

my flesh hides a bum,

Complaining, Reminiscing,

Foreboding, forever

some unwanted specimen.

I thought

that the pit inside of me

was me, all me

and the flesh was

a wicked accessory,

that attracted those men.

But, once they had eaten that flesh

they were driven away,

left to toss out the trash.

I believed

I was a wicked thing,

but I'm starting to think that

maybe I was wrong.

Maybe I am not the pit,

but the flesh.

Maybe I am not my flaws,

But everything I am made of.

A plum

Is a delicious thing,

and the pit

if cared for,

tended, loved

can form

a plant that beams,

lovely flowers

that bloom into more

tasty tasty flesh,

forever rejuvenating,

a prosperous beauty.

[cedar08]

Mediocrity

Before you leave,

can I tell you about the trees in my backyard?

can I show you my cat from when I was young?

can I teach you the name of my third grade teacher?

can I share with you my mediocrity?

Before I leave,

will you tell me what happened to your favorite mug?

will you show me the scar from falling down the steps?

will you teach me the reason you don't like rosebushes?

will you share with me your mediocrity?

Before we drift apart,

do we tell each other secrets about discontinued toys?

do we show each other pieces of our long-lost selves?

do we teach each other meanings of different types of flowers?

do we share with each other our mediocrity?

Before you left,

did I ever get to tell you about my first crush?

did I ever get to show you pictures of my lizard?

did I ever get to teach you why I'm afraid of failure?

did I ever get to share with you my mediocrity?

When you're gone,

I'll wish I'd told you what makes up other planets.

I'll wish I'd shown you much more of the progress I've made.

I'll wish I'd taught you what goes on inside of my brain.

I'll regret never sharing with you my mediocrity.

Before we never get the chance again,

can we share with each other our mediocrity?

[cedar08]

And when the push comes to shove And the tenor turns to love

My mind throws out stumbling blocks It erects walls and sets locks It puts up a false pretense It builds up my heart's defense

My mind knows what's been before It's been through this open door It's seen my heart through it all It's seen each and ev'ry fall

But in love, the heart has sway And will always get its way It walks through that open door Like it's never gone before

It phases through walls and locks It steps over stumbling blocks It walks out onto that ledge And sits with you on that edge

And with tenor turned to love Hopes that push won't come to shove

[cedar08]

Anaïs Nin, from a diary entry written c. January 1936, featured in The Diary of Anaïs Nin Vol. 2

[cedar08]

Pigeons / Snakes

I hate anger,

It makes me feel dirty.

When I am enraged,

I am nothing but guilty.

I am petrified of myself,

I am a rotting tree,

suddenly,

I am consumed

by the one who eats.

I gave you everything,

My entire being.

I was devoted to you,

and you threw me away.

A liar,

you called me.

I am a wicked snake,

Looking to bite,

hissing words like some

snapdragon of a creature.

How dare you,

Think a pigeon

would willingly be

consumed by this snake.

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T. S. Eliot, from The Complete Works of T. S. Eliot; "The Cocktail Party,"

[cedar08]

T. S. Eliot, from The Complete Works of T. S. Eliot; "The Confidential Clerk,"

[cedar08]

Anaïs Nin, from a diary entry written c. January 1936, featured in The Diary of Anaïs Nin Vol. 2