Your eyes
Your smile
The feeling you make me feel.
The helplessness I feel when I think of you
The hunger I have
World Peace
Adoption
South Africa
Brown eyes
The satisfying feeling a Snickers and Coke makes me feel. ...
The questions I have in my head...
But most of all... was it real.
Friday, June 20, 2008
Saturday, May 24, 2008
Concubine
Concubine...
Her eyes mysterious and dark like South African chocolate
Her lips full and round, flawlessly shaped and withholding a secret skeleton of which she'll never release even if given the key
Her body mimics a willow tree in the breeze swaying to and fro
Her drawn-out dark curls draped over her shoulders and down her back.
You can't help but watch Mona Lisa move about the room.
She knows everyone- calls them by "Baby", kisses their cheek and squeezes the lines right out of them.
The smooth are left rigid. The effortlessly gracious left to stumble over awkward moments even after her perfume is all that stays
I've watched her before, move about this crowd or that, always captivating every eye and curiosity- mine no exception.
She moves towards me, perched by the piano, cocktail in-hand. Her eyes light the way the do for everyone.
She greets me by wrapping her arms around me, pressing her body to mine, our cheeks touching and I dare whisper...
"I've never been a concubine".
I feel her full lips curl as her tongue makes its way along the lower of the two, sucking it in - takes my hand from my side, and leads me to the exit.
Her eyes mysterious and dark like South African chocolate
Her lips full and round, flawlessly shaped and withholding a secret skeleton of which she'll never release even if given the key
Her body mimics a willow tree in the breeze swaying to and fro
Her drawn-out dark curls draped over her shoulders and down her back.
You can't help but watch Mona Lisa move about the room.
She knows everyone- calls them by "Baby", kisses their cheek and squeezes the lines right out of them.
The smooth are left rigid. The effortlessly gracious left to stumble over awkward moments even after her perfume is all that stays
I've watched her before, move about this crowd or that, always captivating every eye and curiosity- mine no exception.
She moves towards me, perched by the piano, cocktail in-hand. Her eyes light the way the do for everyone.
She greets me by wrapping her arms around me, pressing her body to mine, our cheeks touching and I dare whisper...
"I've never been a concubine".
I feel her full lips curl as her tongue makes its way along the lower of the two, sucking it in - takes my hand from my side, and leads me to the exit.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Summertime
On the far side of the sky is a rolling green field of which Ireland was patterned after. Erupting from this meadow stands a magnolia tree with a white blanket spread beneath it.
There on the blanket a meal has been placed; a meal of exotic fruits and from every corner of the world. Each hand picked and measured for its imperfect beauty, though ripened to distinction. A slight breeze comes from the west bringing with it the warm sun which beats down upon your smooth, freckled, perfect skin. A smile of calmness stretches across your face as your head rests gently upon my thigh. Though our bodies are perpendicular in this moment, our hearts have synchronized to one another's pace. I can feel your silken hair fall through my fingers as I hum our heart song.
There on the blanket a meal has been placed; a meal of exotic fruits and from every corner of the world. Each hand picked and measured for its imperfect beauty, though ripened to distinction. A slight breeze comes from the west bringing with it the warm sun which beats down upon your smooth, freckled, perfect skin. A smile of calmness stretches across your face as your head rests gently upon my thigh. Though our bodies are perpendicular in this moment, our hearts have synchronized to one another's pace. I can feel your silken hair fall through my fingers as I hum our heart song.
Monday, May 12, 2008
Starlight Night
We lay hand in hand, head to head, eye to eye
The stars staring down, as if they were in envy
The moon radiating light upon us, as if it we were a showcase
The passion which was united, a passion of true love
Passion which wrote upon paper, can never portray my passion for you
True passion is like a song, A never ending list of cords and notes
An innovation of a creative mind, written from the soul and heart
A never ending canvas of joys and memories
True passion can never die, it can never fade away, for it lies deep down
You are my true passion, my true calling, my true love
- Michael James Kennedy Findlay
The stars staring down, as if they were in envy
The moon radiating light upon us, as if it we were a showcase
The passion which was united, a passion of true love
Passion which wrote upon paper, can never portray my passion for you
True passion is like a song, A never ending list of cords and notes
An innovation of a creative mind, written from the soul and heart
A never ending canvas of joys and memories
True passion can never die, it can never fade away, for it lies deep down
You are my true passion, my true calling, my true love
- Michael James Kennedy Findlay
To The Women Who Were Ready...
You thought you could handle it - could somehow capture the very flame that it burned of.
Aroused and perhaps intimidated at times, you uttered the words far too soon hoping that the feeling was reciprocated.
The way you looked into my eyes when we laughed said you were capable of the passion - perhaps you mistook the joy in my eye for a flicker of adoration.
Then there was you... you were ready -so I thought. You wrapped me in your words and presence and reassured me that every idea I'd ever had about love was true. You restored my faith for a fleeing moment of course...till you were gone too.
When you weren't ready I intertwined our fingers and pressed our palms together hoping that the heat of our skin touching and the strength of my grasp would somehow warrant your security. I was wrong.
You... you make me smile when I think back on what your purpose was. I'll forever assume it was to amplify my zero tolerance rule. You were never intended to be my wife.
You came out of the proverbial left field. No one saw it coming. No one expected anything to come of it. But in the blink of a camera lens it came. I stretched so much in that short time. I never knew how I would feel nor did I know that it would expire just as quickly as it had transpired. You were my Chopin, inducing a changing tide within my being. I felt myself capsized by the surge of current.
La Curendura could have never have guessed that you were the one for me. Now I wait for her prophecy to befall on my quintessence.
Surely there will be another, and perhaps my covenant will be sealed ultimately.
Aroused and perhaps intimidated at times, you uttered the words far too soon hoping that the feeling was reciprocated.
The way you looked into my eyes when we laughed said you were capable of the passion - perhaps you mistook the joy in my eye for a flicker of adoration.
Then there was you... you were ready -so I thought. You wrapped me in your words and presence and reassured me that every idea I'd ever had about love was true. You restored my faith for a fleeing moment of course...till you were gone too.
When you weren't ready I intertwined our fingers and pressed our palms together hoping that the heat of our skin touching and the strength of my grasp would somehow warrant your security. I was wrong.
You... you make me smile when I think back on what your purpose was. I'll forever assume it was to amplify my zero tolerance rule. You were never intended to be my wife.
You came out of the proverbial left field. No one saw it coming. No one expected anything to come of it. But in the blink of a camera lens it came. I stretched so much in that short time. I never knew how I would feel nor did I know that it would expire just as quickly as it had transpired. You were my Chopin, inducing a changing tide within my being. I felt myself capsized by the surge of current.
La Curendura could have never have guessed that you were the one for me. Now I wait for her prophecy to befall on my quintessence.
Surely there will be another, and perhaps my covenant will be sealed ultimately.
Friday, April 25, 2008
Convenient Questions
The other day I was at the convenience store around the corner from my house. I live in a historical neighborhood and this little wonderful blemish is the only sight of any modern building having been built since circa 1940. Its a quiet neighborhood and not a lot of through traffic other than the college kids looking for parking spots in no parking zones. It was mid-afternoon, say around two, and I saw a local school bus parked along the curb. The bus was the smaller style commonly referred to as a "short bus". There were handicap kids in the store taking advantage of what seemed to be a promissory bet. You know the type, "if you're good all week, we can stop at the store..." kind of thing. There were about ten or twelve kids all in their early teens. Each of them was having a hard time deciding on what to purchase and the evidence to this was the back and forth from candy shelves and hotdog machine to the line. Each person got out of line approximately five times in the mere five minutes I was standing there. I apparently walked up at the wrong time. The kids were finishing up and finally everyone seemed to have settled on their sugar fix d'jour. ... Then I notice a man to my right somewhat hiding behind a kiosk. I wanted to allow him to go before me if he were with the group that was finishing up, however... I couldn't dare ask "Are you with them?" I swallowed my laughter, purchased my juice and drove home.
The Decline of Courtesy in American Society.
My part in this tragedy begins in the eighties. Not because I had not declined prior to then, but simply for the fact that I was a child. My siblings and I are the fifth generation to grew up in this town of fifteen thousand people. Barbara Mandrell was putting peanuts in her Coke, Eternal Flame was on the radio, I was on my bicycle roaming the streets of our small West Texas town. Cut off jeans, worn t-shirt, pony tail... I was a modern day Scout Fitch, following my older brother around as a lost duckling. There was no crime. Undoubtedly there was crime, but I was either too young to witness it or it was more minimal than anything that would later infiltrate my naive world. "The last town on the way out of the state", I pinpointed it to people later on after I had moved off to college in the city I could never dream of. Three major highways intersected at the hub of our town. I suppose if anyone ever got the notion to take me from the metal production I claimed as my own they would have been in one of the four neighboring states within hours.
We knew our neighbors, and their neighbors, and the people down the street. There were no strangers. Everyone waived at you on the highway, not just farmers and truck drivers. Slower traffic pulled to the shoulder so you could pass and be on your merry way. People in line let others cut if they hadn't many items or seemed hurried. My father shut our neighbors' door once when it blew open. My granddad and grandma would feed whomever was at their house at meal time and would always have enough. He sometimes would perform work for people and when they couldn't pay, he would accept payment in other forms. Sometimes services on his own land, sometimes sewing for my grandma... honesty was the best policy. It truly was a more simple time. There were no clerks that had to deal with people on cell phones. People held the door open and whomever was walking through would then say thank you. A man's word was his binding contract. No one was late. People weren't afraid to pick up hitchhikers and those broken down on the side of the road were only stranded till the next passerby came along. Who knew that the American culture would slowly slide?
We knew our neighbors, and their neighbors, and the people down the street. There were no strangers. Everyone waived at you on the highway, not just farmers and truck drivers. Slower traffic pulled to the shoulder so you could pass and be on your merry way. People in line let others cut if they hadn't many items or seemed hurried. My father shut our neighbors' door once when it blew open. My granddad and grandma would feed whomever was at their house at meal time and would always have enough. He sometimes would perform work for people and when they couldn't pay, he would accept payment in other forms. Sometimes services on his own land, sometimes sewing for my grandma... honesty was the best policy. It truly was a more simple time. There were no clerks that had to deal with people on cell phones. People held the door open and whomever was walking through would then say thank you. A man's word was his binding contract. No one was late. People weren't afraid to pick up hitchhikers and those broken down on the side of the road were only stranded till the next passerby came along. Who knew that the American culture would slowly slide?
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