Lingering Things From Here and There
I have pages and pages of stuff that hasn't been posted. Some of it is utter crap, but I don't have the mental capacity to sort or adjust any of it. So, for what it's worth. . .
What I Want
I just want to be a worthwhile human being,
do something with my life that makes a difference,
and find happiness with someone who values me
as I am, in my entirety –
dreams, aspirations, fears, triumphs and failures.
Make Hay. . .
How long does it take to brush your teeth?
A minute?
Two minutes?
How is it possible to have two whole stories roll through your head in just that tiny sliver of time?
Two beautiful passages –
that I wanted to write down and thought, no...
That’s short and I don’t have a pen right here.
I’ll catch them in 30 seconds when I can grab my pen.
And they’re gone.
Untitled
The jagged, disjointed reflection of her face
stared up from a puddle in the tracks,
surrounded by garbage and
cradled in a dark, rusty sewage drain.
The Scent of Leather
The glow from the fireplace
gave the room an eerie golden hue
set off by dark red shadows
that seemed to shift and dance
as if mocking me.
I slunk further into the great couch
and continued to read.
Page by page the author’s fear became my own –
my muscles stiff from not moving.
The branches played at the windows,
scratching and...
Toni Morrison
She stood,
sharing a brilliant, jewel-encrusted lecture.
It was as though she walked down every row,
paused at each chair
and bent down to lock you in her gaze.
In her eyes,
the brewing storms of ancient wisdom
uneasy with the present.
She would lean in
and place in your hand
a giant diadem,
vibrant in color and insight.
Documentaries
It is our job as researchers to get to the heart of something, to understand it and bring that message to a broader public in the most powerful way possible. Indeed it is our duty, our obligation. But it doesn't give us license to stretch beyond what our evidence warrants. This is the power of unfettered art over the confines of traditional dry research.
At The Edge
The memory of youth
Pearched precariously
At the ledge of disillusionment
Staring at the abyss below
Untitled
It makes my skin thin
And my blood boil -
An oily mix of emotion
And disdain -
Until I feel sick
Love
Love
is but a fleeting dream
whose beauty fades
with the waking of day.
Not Lost
In the tender touch
of loving hands
ne’r a moment’s lost.
No Less
I love you no less
today
than I did
when our love was new.
Occupied By Anger
How much life
has passed you by
while you were
occupied by anger?
Memories Fade
memories fade,
grow distant –
like the coo of
morning doves at dawn
I Would
Use words like weapons
to abuse
the unsuspecting masses.
Narrow Escape
What’s the point of
narrowly escaping one death,
just to endure another –
perhaps more painful,
more brutal?
Ms. Morrison
The giver,
she offers up
thick, succulent words.
The receiver must
drain the juice
from each and every one.
Her words are heavy
and I
buckle under the weight of them.
Worn
Like a sankofa bird reaching back
her memories clung to a tattered shawl
that hung on frail shoulders
Brilliance Comes & Goes
The quality of thought moves up and down,
gets cloudy
or cuts like vivid gemstones
and is polished into its final form.
But it’s never final.
It can always be something else,
something more exquisite,
other times crude,
and less brilliant than before.
AND SOME QUOTES/LYRICS
Struggle
“If there is no struggle, there is no progress. Those who profess to favor freedom and yet depreciate agitation, are men who want crops without plowing up the ground, they want rain without thunder and lightning. They want the ocean without the awful roar of its many waters. This struggle may be a moral one, of it may be a physical one, and it may be both moral and physical, but it must be a struggle. Power concedes nothing without a demand. It never did and it never will.”
– Frederick Douglass, West India Emancipation Speech, August 4, 1857
Why?
Why do the babies starve
when there’s enough food to feed the world?
Why, when there’s so many of us,
are there people still alone?
Why are the missiles called peace keepers
when they’re aimed to kill?
Why is a woman still not safe
when she’s in her home?
Love is hate.
War is peace.
No is yes.
And we’re all free,
but somebody’s gonna have to answer –
the time is coming soon.
Amidst all these questions and contradictions,
there’re some who seek the truth.
Why?
- Tracy Chapman
She Believes In Me
“What started as a whisper
slowly turned into a scream
How good it must feel
to be so young and free
and a song that pleases a queen
will always please me
I have heard the wisest of wisdom
and I have dined in palaces and kingdoms
but nothing is as beautiful
as when she believes in me
Now all of life
is just passing the time
until once again
your eyes look into mine
I have been adored by strangers
and I have heard the whispering angel
but nothing is as beautiful
as when she believes in me.”
- Ben Harper
excerpt from Anytime
Now, more and more I wonder where you are
Do I ever cross your mind, anytime?
Do you ever wake up reaching out for me?
- Brian McKnight, Anytime
Title and Author Unknown
May there always be work for your hands to do;
May your purse always hold a coin or two;
May the sun always shine on your window pane;
May a rainbow be certain to follow each rain;
May the hand of a friend always be near you;
May God fill your heart with gladness to cheer you!
Tombstone
When I die, Paul is going to buy the demo headstone at the tombstone company near West High, already inscribed with the name "Jasmer." He'll buy it cheap, and then have a tiny "Adam" and "Blust" engraved before and after the Jasmer, and tell everyone I preferred to be called "Jasmer" rather than "Adam." Now that's friendship for you. :-)
Posted by Amanda at July 04, 2005 11:46 PM
