petition answered:

[source unknown]

"We’re in such a hurry most of the time we never get much chance to talk. The result is a kind of endless day-to-day shallowness, a monotony that leaves a person wondering years later where all the time went and sorry that it’s all gone. " -Robert M. Pirsig
(Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Inquiry Into Values)

 
To whomever it may concern:

I have decided that I will savor every bit of life. I will suck the marrow from the broken bones of life-- I will drink relish in every second, and take time to go beneath a surface which has become as cold and stiff as ice. This surface of materialism, shallowness, the fast-paced hum of machines and google thinking for me... it's all for naught. Are you willing to cut deep into a forest? A forest thick with tiny leaves dangling by your ears, baby-berries awaiting to be munched? The smallness adds up to the sum of life. If we mindlessly accomplish, we will look back with regret. If we put our hearts into anything, we will once again be alive. Wake up, machines!

It. Is. Time.

It is time to answer a question which could change lives.

What steps are you taking toward your dreams?

Wow. Pretty intense question to ponder. It kind of makes my insides quiver, because there is so much to be done, and I'm unsure of where to start.
Confronted by this monster, the past five minutes have been spent busily, and in utter disarray. However, of one thing I am certain, these next years are going to be AMAZING. There is beauty everywhere I go, music singing toward me from mountaintops and alley-ways-- there is love seeping into my heart, and growing vines in my lungs. Someday, I want to be the type of person who does everything because of love.

To even begin to answer that impending question, one must first decide what their dreams are made of. Mine must be made of love, I believe. (Technically I only sort of decided to accept this crazy and splendid dream God put in my heart). All I know now is that I want to create, organize, and reach out to people more than I have before. Build things. I want to build things that will not decay. Relationships; these are what I want to build. Perhaps, as someone once told me, we are... only because we live in relation to others, and God.

In essence, I want to move toward my dreams... Still working on how, exactly.

I think it begins with cleaning up my room, using my beckoning canvases, drawing sound from the cello and of course, giving my boy another hug :)

snow is on my mind..

thank you for the photo.

wishes

I was thinking to myself today how I have certainly lost a lot of respect for various female artists. Although they produce one or two heart-wrenching songs, their others tend to disturb me a little. And it's a shame because I do not even want to watch their music videos because they are so degrading to the artist. I wish music could be beautiful all around, just as I wish this world could be beautiful all around.

However, I do love Sufjan Stevens (I know, not a girl but I just decided I shall go listen!)
Sister winter, here I come.

Sister, it's winter, put some clothes on.

(as a P.S, I wasn't talking to MY sister.)

1 thing I would love to have right now:

1. a hug

3 things I would love to have right now.

1. a plushie

2. multitudes of paper lanterns

3. a cello to express myself

How It Ends - Devotchka

[For whom it may concern: the links in this post were placed there by me, check them out if you've the time]

Feeling disorganized in thought processes, affect processes and actions has apparent downsides.

I like how these can spiral toward the bright-side too, though. What I mean is, even when I'm a mess, somehow everything becomes illuminated (attention: this is a reference, go watch the movie). Building off that reference-- what I love is that although there are, uncertain futures, bloody knees and shattered photo-frames, I know how it ends.

Somehow, it ends where it started... with love.

And when I realize this, things like schoolwork and business stop worrying me for a while.

one hundred things

to do,
to construe,
to lose.

one hundred things
to find out,
to go about
to shout.

one hundred things
are easy
when they have to do
with you.

stellar corpses

Giant. Super giant. Betelgeuse and Spica.
They burn through hydrogen and kill themselves
by running far too fast.

They run out of energy and their core becomes exposed.
No more energy source; they are considered dead stars.

White dwarfs.


(Astronomy always makes me want to write. so there.)

a little uncertain of what to say now.

A small story:

I just wish I had been around more. I stopped visiting because sometimes it hurt to look them in the eyes and believe what they were telling me. God, I hope I kept that voicemail. It's the last time I'll hear her voice.

Some days, most things in life look trivial. I never want to take a moment for granted again, because by the time I open my mouth to ask the harder questions, it will be too late. My stomach feels like tangled ropes and intestines... gross.

I wish I had said goodbye.

halley's comet

thank you for the image

Sometimes beautiful comets collect dust on their surfaces.
The dust grows deep and eventually disguises the fierce brightness emitted by the comet...
When the dust becomes strong enough to stop the comet from plasma and particle emission, the comet is rendered an asteroid.
No longer does it shine; it is blackened and unseen.


If I am a comet, then I never want to let that dust build up.
I want to shine across the sky, and die when I'm closest to the Son.

dysfunction : failure to function in an expected or complete manner

a little worried about that hiker I saw on the road,
first they were on one road,
then I saw them when I was driving home too
but I don't understand how they got that far.
That's a long way to walk
worried they might be supernatural
probably shouldn't worry about things like that
astronomy time
planets in a line
line line line
dine
sign
kind
kind

things I want to do, lest I forget them.

1. Paint that sunrise, and those trees.
2. Add canvas-green straps to my boots.
3. Record the light through the trees, and spend an entire day watching it over and over again.
4. Create a music video.
5. Re-read my astronomy book.
6. Finish and re-write the novel.
7. Ride a horse.
8. Go to the Nutcracker this Christmas.
9. Go iceskating.
10. Bake, more baking and more baking!
11. Iceblocking in the snow.
12. Write music.
13. Sit in the lodge while everyone snowboards :)
14. Play Cello.

in less than an hour

my outlook on life may change.
it may stay the same,
as long as that routine is also a rhythm.
as long as my eyes are on the heavens,
and my hands are unclasped from themselves
and grasping life by its arms.

maybe my wish will come true.

omg feed me

i think some photographs have the worth of a concise sentence.

and some are worth a thousand words

fire in my bones

Cuddle!

I think this Koala bear and it's baby are so cute! I love them both, and it's better to think of things that make my heart smile. I don't like having reasons to be afraid, and I don't like that I don't feel safe in my own home. However, I love Koala bears.

blackbury

the blackberries are dead.
it's a shame; greedy vultures gather around them and
steal all the berry-juice.

i had something else to say but i forgot,
it's just one of those days.

i remembered.
it's one of those days where nothing looks good to eat
and i just want to go to sleep.

small snips

stefanie's creations

september 20th:
war paint: an outward battle cry of the war raging within.
today my face feels shattered; a  bullet through seamless thinly stretched metal. I heard aluminum gives birth defects to the unborn, so why do we use the damn stuff?
I exist.
I am coming into being, I want to 'let myself be poor again' (Rilke). I do it everyday. I screw up and mess up all this outward appeal. makes me want to try harder.
maybe I get afraid because he knows me.

september 21st: You are Atlas from the ancient Greeks. 
You carry me on your back like a feather.
everyone tells me that i will be. I think that's cruel, to tell the bird she's a fish... she will suffocate in the water welled up in her tiny hollow lungs..
this is why I must look to You,
my Atlas,
and place my name in your ever-capable hands.

Bater.

this bino eats my mind like bokh.
chindilan? sometimes, maybe.
Not always.
it's a rough and a ruv and it's
wrapping round my neck like a sap.
Za, away from me if tu cannot be tachiben.

sometimes it's hard to keep a vast
and hold onto that which burns my
sero.

the shon is beautiful though, and it loves.

rat flows freely
if you should
lie.

mon couer est brise some days.

I haven't seen a canary in a coal mine lately.

"I feel caged out of her cage," he replied, speaking of his yellow-eyed canary.

Canaries are admired for their song, but I also admire them for their beauty in flight.

how the devil got her

Little girl, pink headband
golden hair,
a smile.

the devil tricked her,
told her she was like him,
told her love was a sin
and deceived her.

Little girl, dark art and
sad smiles now
pour from her heart
how the devil got her?

he said that God was a lie, and it tore her apart.

Somehow she believed
that something so faulty
could come through for her
and somehow, adore her.
All the devil wanted was to
twist up her insides
so she wouldn't remember
any truths anymore.

She claims his allegiance
but I claim her heart through
prayer and defiance...
God will prove Himself;

Little girl, pink headband

golden hair, 

a smile. 

-- pt 3

half of everything

deteriorating cardboard,
floating shamelessly through storms and swells,
lost its balance as the sun broke the surface of the ocean.

one armed girl,
with a half-heart beating drowsy and slow,
tipped into the sea as the sun sunk its rays into the waves.

she sang this song,
as her lungs filled with water,
she sang for the unborn, for the sons and daughters:

"i die knowing the warmth of the sky,
i die knowing the truth behind their lies,
i die with my eyes open and free--"

then the Son reached out and saved me.

rant

So what is up with kids now a days going to freakin raves all the time, putting on ridiculous looking childish bracelets and partying until they throw up their guts?! It makes me sick. Like, when did this become cool? It's all so fake, every freaking girl looks exactly the same and guess what, they even get the same nick name....
Cool. Really really cool. So original. I just love it.

I could just squash their poofy hair. Seriously, it gets old. I know it's only a trend, but I also know it will leave them in the dust, drugs running through their brains, with glow sticks still bright and their gobbed on makeup in tact.

Bottom line, why can't I be more loving, when it is obvious these girls are going to regret all this someday? And why am I so arrogant?

throat-coat

The thing is, I could try so hard.
However,
I don't like trying hard. And in the end, no one else does either.
I'm workin on being less of a people pleaser.
..... Working.
Working.

I think I should just chill out,
and drink some tea.

disclaimer: sorry about the lack of verb parallelism

I have been lazing about all day long. The house, nearly emptied, soaks in the sunlight, and I just finished speed-reading through a crappy novel.

Ten minutes ago, my brother started screaming loudly, from his room.

"GET OUT! QUICK GET OUT!" and then he was rampaging through the house, giddy.

I called out to him, once or twice, asking if everything was okay, but he couldn't hear me. Probably because his Xbox live friends in the background were still firing off shots. Apparently, there was a Bee in his room...

"It's fat. It's in my room" he talked through his headset, explaining his disappearance.

I never knew my brother was afraid of Bee's. Just now, smoke erupted from behind me, where the deck door is open and he is standing there with his purple t-shirt and bare-feet. He's setting off fireworks now, that explains the smoke. And the noise.

My head feels like it's ready to explode itself, and my throat burns. Not unlike a newly born Vampire. Actually, I am merely a trifle sick, and I enjoy the opportunity. The deck looks like it is on fire. My heart feels like that too, it's a nice feeling.

Nice. What a terrible adjective. Yet I fall back on this, as onto what looks like a comfortable couch... which is, in actuality, not relieving. If the left side of my brain controls the right side of my body, the left side of my brain fails to warm up my hand.

Good day!

-- pt 2

where I come from-- torn hems and gaudy books,
worn in the clutches of summer air and
read under covers with night seeping through my bedroom window.
I come from split pea soup in frozen bags, thawing at seven o'clock.
I come from orange peels and cinnamon, during Christmas;
powdery chalk, and homemade popsicles under the burning sun;
apple juice popsicles, running down our fists, onto the blacktop.

--

i feel like i'm flying,

but only blood flows in my veins:
i know that i am falling,

these ashes are now flames.

(thank you myloveletter from lomography.com)

"I wanna be a good person"

the thing about What's Eating Gilbert Grape is that it has always made me want to..

climb up to the top of a water tower.

novel!

(underwater motorbike from flickr)

"And we said, isn't it ideal?"

Good Winter

Using the names from one artist, answer questions about  your life.
Pick your artist:
Bon Iver
Are you a male or a female:
Sweet, Sweet Magdalene


Describe yourself:
Drinking This Rain


How do you feel:
Blindsided

Describe where you currently live:
Roslyn


If you could go anywhere, where would you go:
Wisconsin


Your favorite form of transportation:
Big Red Machine


Your best friend is:
Skinny Love


You and your best friends are:
Babys


What's the weather like:
Woods


Favorite time of day:
The Park


If your life was a TV show, what would it be called:
The Wolves (Act 1 and 2)


What is life to you:
Your Love


Describe your current boy/girl situation:
Come Talk To Me


Your fear:
Creature Fear


What is the best advice you have to give:
I Believe In You


Thought for the day:
I’m On Fire


How would you like to die?
Lovin’s For Fools


My soul's present condition:
If It’s True


My motto:
Redemption

dreamers are, believers..

welcome to dreamland.

all photos from photobucket.

 

 

dream catcher

 

goodnight.

c'est la vie, je suis pathetique aussi. c'est pas mal.. je t'aime ma vie.

here is a blog about random stuff, rather than poetry, photos or music.

I'm annoyed at myself, good thing Brody is my only company right now and he doesn't mind me ranting to him.... I think I shall watch Avatar (The Last Airbender) episodes for a few hours... stay up sort of late, and wake up too early.

Although this blog will seem down..cast... I actually had a quite wonderful night, and felt sort of.. privileged somehow. I love being a friend who shows up, I am figuring out that I have like.. this weird pocket of love that just wants to spill itself out.... I'm pretty sure it's God. Onto the downcast stuff.

The tiresome thing about seeing people you have not seen in quite a while is the same introduction everyyyy freaking time. "How are you, How are your parents doing? What is your sister doing? How is your brother? What are you doing?" I swear I answered those questions a million times and it made me want to SCREAM. I just smile a lot and end up being super fakey.
I h. a. t. e fake.

I wish I had better things to write about, and I shall, soon. Thank God life goes in cycles, like the tide. This too shall pass.

however, when it passes, will I lose what I love?

I am downright pathetic right now. Sometimes I just sit at home and cry my little eyes out, because I can't have what I want and I am a selfish being. I cry because I don't trust God and I cry because sometimes I am wounded.
Anyway.

Cover-- Euphoria by Motopony

crowned

don't let anyone else live your life for you;

the sky is your limit, and it is nearly endless
you have nothing to fear-- except falling,
which i have heard is rather kind.

εὐφορία

enduring easily,
strapped onto the back of a flying whale,
spouting sprinkles and koolaid from its head,
purple stripes run down its back,
its fins are kites instead.

relax in these folds of sky,
tie-dyed and shimmering like dew.
laughing rays that stab at your skin,
it's wonderful to let love in.

grab a glowstick and run
to the technicolor horizon,
there we can rave with Jesus,
he'll pick up his robe,
and shine like the sun,
we'll dance forever,
eternity has begun.

i just laughed out loud


My apologies for this scattered poem, it's a fail, but that's alright, the point is that I wrote something.
shout outs to Gabby Sanders and Emily Caroline Anderson (for posting the ideas 'tie-dye sky' and 'technicolor rave Jesus' on facebook-- which inspired this strange poem)

merely a stuffed animal

Cotton fills the air
fills my soul
it's useless garb,
it's garbage.

dress myself in cotton
and stuff it down my throat,
we shall become lifeless
if that is what we want
if that is all we see,
if we don't shut our mouths
and throw up violently;
the poison-cotton inside our skin.

this is where new life begins.

Cotton fills the air
fills my lungs,
shall I stop breathing?
or shall I seek oxygen?

The answer seems simple,
but in all truth,

this cotton tastes like candy,
and my soothsayer soul
tells me I'll be better off
without veins; heart; mind;

but hold me now--
speak to me
so I can remember
that I have been
breathed
into;

Help me see what you see,
oh God. help me believe.

close-up

tread lightly, do not speak loudly.
behind the closed door, murders ring out,
laughter; and the light flickers,
dances--
now quiet.

i can hear his voice through the phone
held to your face,
the same things he tells to me,
he doesn't want to lose control.

I understand.

we are secluded and
recluse, hidden in the shadows of a building so weak.
we are broken and
burning, hidden in the refuge of wings, so strong.

home is where the heart is;
lie awake in the deep of night and
hear it pump--

strange, how loud blood becomes.

love will fill the air thick-- like peanut butter.

wisps
of hair
fly across my
face; ready to be
free.

tiny notes

I asked the owner of the mittins to email me and tell me where they bought them-- turns out they are from China, and they got their mittins back. I am severely dissapointed, beacuse I wanted them.

hail falling everywhere, yet no resting place,
eyes looking everywhere, yet see's not a face,
wind blowing everywhere, yet without a sound,
onslaught, onslaught, we all fall down.

hooray for halfass poetry, badly written songs and sleep.

sunshine, cupcakes & mittins

this is a beautiful day.

a friend made some cupcakes, and gave some to me.
n.n

i realized i'm not quite a failure in English.

i talked to the soon-to-be CCC president,
and nearly convinced him to buid a treehouse on CCC property.
i saw two grown men dancing in the theatre room...
i wore lace socks.

on top of all this, i found mittins.
they are hand knit, and they even have spaces to hold someones hand while you are wearing them...
i gave them to lost and found,

the security man told me to come back in sixty days (july 2nd) and he would give them to me if no one had taken them yet.

i put it in my phone calender,

i will come back for those beautiful middens.

monster

I’ve got a plank in my face; it’s bruising the spaces around my eyes.
I’ve got my fists clenched tight; I started to lose sight of the brilliant blue sky.

I’ve got a problem—I can’t lift my face on my own anymore,
I’ve gotten to be broken, my hands are tied, only Jesus can restore. 

i still feel like a monster, small grabbing claws and black eye sockets. i am saved, but i need this alter-ego stripped from me. quick.

with all the fever in my mind...

hundreds of words deleted, erased,
a whistle over summer air
the piper sings his song.

wrap blankets 'round me and cover my face,
stifled breath, tangled hair
the liar's never wrong.

pour out the old- you will be replaced,
show your teeth, bright and bare
the child will be strong.

lock the diamond in a pretty-glass case,
hand out glitter-rocks in pairs
the secret is kept long.

hundreds of words, deleted, erased.
the liar's never wrong.
pour out the old- will I be replaced?
the secret is kept long,
the secret is kept long.

Easter -- love will set your soul on fire.

If the Jesus I follow told us to turn the other cheek (matthew 5:39), how can I be at rest with the idea of war, of Just-war, or of the death penalty? Is our job as human beings to judge? To decide when another soul must face a "deserved" punishment of death?

Jesus does not look at sins on a scale, as if my self-pity and my anger are lesser sins than murdering. I cannot justify, within myself, the idea of war anymore.

By extension, I am choosing a path of nonviolence and commitment to loving, and  to learning what it means to love. I am claiming pacifism in the sense that I no longer believe in violence as an answer to major problems in governmental, individual, or social systems. Another world is possible!

War happens. It is a result of the evil in this world. I may not be able to prevent it, I am only one person. I am not out to boycott the military, or demean soldiers...

Both soldiers and civilians, US government and foreign officials have my love. Not because they are doing what is right, but because they are loved by Christ. Not because I agree with what they stand for, but because Jesus gave up his life for us all.

We are all broken.
and we are all capable of such beauty, and resilience.

What I plan to do is this: love as Christ first loved me, and forgive as He forgives me. I have read about love, and I have claimed to know love. Yet, these past few months in my life I sort of had all of that stripped from me, I felt like I did not know what love was. I was afraid of love, I ran from it like a disease. The amount of fear I felt could not exist in unity with love-- love casts out fear (I'm not talking about the holy fear of the Lord here btw).

Somehow, between reading good books, communing with beautiful broken people and with my perfect Savior... fear was cast out of my life long enough for me to catch the flame of love again..

it has the most beautiful embodiment, like perfect harmonies and definite smile lines. My ribs are exploding!!

I don't know how to make you understand what is going on in my heart and my mind. I just know that I'll never be the same.







resouces:
Matthew 5
The Irresistible Revolution by Shane Claiborne
Ecclesiastes 12:6-
Throw by Son Lux

a poem by Lorca

That which travels,
clouds itself.

The running water

can see no stars.

That which travels

forgets itself.

And that which halts itself

dreams.

"Running" by Federico Garcia Lorca

It reminds me to once in a while, stop running from all the things I hide in my little shell from.

my life is getting messed up

because I want to live how Jesus did. His way was not always easy, he loved the outcasts. He brought what was dead back to life, he met immediate and long-term needs of his friends and followers. He kept nothing for himself-- he gave his love, his time, and his possessions away to those who needed it. He was kind and compassionate and sometimes furious. Furious at evil, hatred, greed or selfishness. He did not judge. He spoke truth.

If I follow him, that means I am going to have to give up myself, and lay down my life for my brothers and sisters.

It means I no longer come first.

comment your ideas about:
-what you think about Christians
-what you think about war
-what you think about giving everything you have away
-what you think about Jesus
-what you think about your day today

in-dependence

Who decided individual independence was good? Was it the one who stopped forgiving and trusting people? Was it the one who enjoyed the power of control? Or was it the one with a heart and a desire to better themselves and those around them?

Independence has taken a strange face in this generation. It means being self-sufficient, taking neither help-- nor bribes, from anyone. "Independent" has become a label for women who work full time, live on their own, or support a family by themselves. It means we can trust no one, and depend on no one.

It may be true that marginalized or abused people must fight for their group independence, and a child must grow responsible and live independent of their parents-- to an extent.

However, I believe we have lost the meaning of life if we become so independent that we no longer trust people. It is not good for man to be alone.

I believe we were created to be dependent, to love and be loved and know love; we were created to live in-dependence.

muzukashi

everything is difficult,
it is not easy to love,
it is not easy to be loved,
or know love.

it is not easy to remember,
or to forget.
to move on,
or to take root.

yet loosing your grasp gets easier with time,
and forgiveness is easy on the mind,
roots placed in love, will harvest in worth,
and 'round spins the earth, 'round spins the earth.

remember love: (it is all that we're worth)

garden

I am going to plant one this summer, with the help of my mother and, any who wish to join me.

lists:

happy-lists help me to sleep better.
LIKES:
warmth,
sun-rays through my car window, 
long open roads, 
re-wearing clothes,
purple gut pants
the heater in my room and my snuggie
oatmeal
the oatmeal with everything on it
the oatmeal for a dollar
throwing ice,
Princess Mononoke,
breathing into my scarf to warm up my chin,
flowers on my shoes,
short nails,
hammering notes on my guitar to make
me sound more folky,
the right amount of smoothie in a jamba juice cup
smile lines,
slow smiles,
loud and laughing smiles,
lyrics like: "ain't it like most people, and I'm no different
we love to talk on things we don't, know about.. "avett brothers
croissants
french fries
basically.... i like carbohydrates.
praying and seeing something happen. 
staring at strangers as i walk by them..
laughing for no good reason
and for good reason.
a burning sun in an endless sky
clean car! 
just enough gas money for the next half-week,
Flowers.
cream puffs at night
watching movies with friends,
dumping smoothies onto the counter by accident,
probably your status update.
haha.

<3 and good night.

dear st. valen

It ought to be simple
like leaving the screen door open on an easy summer morning.
Or perhaps remembering the weeds dug and lighted up--
air begins to smell like fire and you control the flames,
pushing the earth round in circles,
till it recedes and small smoke-wisps like breezed hair.
simple. controllable.
is love any of this?

falling in love might be simple,
maybe then, staying in love is what's hard.

then perhaps, love is not something we've expected, and perhaps "luckier" (whitman).
Maybe it is delighting in what seems so common place,
steps down a road,
rapid blinking,
muscles stretching out to breathe and build,
the stillness of the earth...

Love is many things, such as selflessness, which I cannot hint toward,
because I love to dig myself a cold-warm cave that makes sure no body can be let in,
and nothing can go out, and nothing can stay.

Perhaps love is letting light into a cave, and
though revealing of
the things we try to hide,

eventually it becomes strong enough to
nullify
wrong-doing
or
emptiness.

Someday I may know you very well

एंड सोमेदय, इ माय क्नोव वहत लव इस, वैरी वेल.
and someday I may know what love is, very well.

traffic

One day I want my writing to be meaningful and filled with truth, like the Bible.
Today I saw a crescent moon and the sky was pale behind it,
birds took flight, black beans scattered across the plastic blue table--
I really should focus on driving more.
One hand guides the wheel
and the other eats oatmeal
and the eyes keep blinking to
the window on the left.
Burning red tail lights warn me to pay closer attention,
the people I pass by,
with grave-face and eye...
they warn me to pay close attention.



"Cast your bread upon the waters,
       for after many days you will find it again. Give portions to seven, yes to eight,
       for you do not know what disaster may come upon the land." ecclesiastes 11:1

five cent thought

We know physics automatically, our bodies change direction just

enough to never rub shoulders with the rest of the human race (but

you defied us all and came crashing into our lives...)

quiet as the snow.

Today I was surprised to find myself filled with an eerie joy, which protruded through my eyes, as I walked back to my Geo prizm. Happy to be carrying my heavy book bags, I kept my head up while walking under sky-bridges. Strangers looked friendly and the cold air refreshed, rather than bit, my brittle bones. Although incomprehensible, today was enjoyable and I shouted songs the whole way home.

[With that off my chest, I can finish my homework.]

-

Knuckles come together, not fitting, only set against each other. Slightly worn like the edges rushing on the ground, jeans like the wind wrapped 'round the trees, trees splitting through the sky. Needles and white walls, cloud walls, shattering into blue ponds of sea-green glass. The gravity is backward and sucking the trout into space, beyond burning stars lives the edge of comprehension, not fitting our minds. And,

wrapping sheets- twisting 'round our ankles, pale harsh light, the glow like winter dawn, dawn grasping at shredded feathers that are broken halfway through. Flurry of brown; mud is shouting from its' grave, screaming down the skies to water its' cracked skin. Tiny ripples and streams gather, always at the lowest point, to create a refuge like Ishmael -- now God hears.

He is looking for hearts burning with purity and fists together, whom he puts together none may separate. His holy fire lives under our ripping masks, shredded feathers like cradles, will fall to the ground when our backs break.

Down on our knees when our backs cripple forward and the dust fills our mouths,

our hearts will be re-strung with piano strings to sing praise.
Our voices a shout louder than raging water,
shaking palms will fit into yours-- we will not be swept under.
Blessed sons and daughters, this is the end,

and your love will wrap around us like wind,
Your love will wrap around us like wind.

Haiti.

I want to tear out my hair, because I have everything I need. Clean water from nearly every faucet turned on. Everything is at my disposal, my arms reach out only to encompass myself. We can do nothing ourselves, only God can save us, truly, our world has committed suicide.

peanut butter cookies, mmm.

I find it fairly hilarious that my first entry is about cookies.. those of you who know me probably do not find it surprising. If you are wondering what these entries will be about, you'll have to wait and see. Everything [put onto this blog] depends on what type of writing mood I am in. Being unhealthy and stuck at home, cookies sounded more appealing than poetry at this point. Eventually I'll post some sort of "get to know the author" post and I will rant on and on about myself. Writing that down just now made the idea sound conceited... perhaps I won't..

To the main point:
I like this recipe. Not too much sugar, which is good for an addict like myself. I recommend turning down your oven 15 degrees if you have a hotter oven. Also, I did not sift the flour... and I put in a little spoonful of extra peanut butter because I like my cookies to taste like something. I stole the recipe from Allrecipes.com  ^_^ Enjoy!

Ingredients

1 1/4 cups sifted all-purpose flour
3/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup butter
1/2 cup peanut butter
1/2 cup white sugar
1/2 cup packed brown sugar
1 egg
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 cup white sugar for decoration

Directions

1. Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F (190 degrees C). Sift together flour, baking soda, and salt; set aside.
2. In a medium bowl, cream together butter, peanut butter, 1/2 cup white sugar, and brown sugar until smooth. Beat in egg, then stir in vanilla. Gradually blend in the sifted ingredients. Shape dough into 1 inch balls. Roll in remaining sugar. Place 2 inches apart on ungreased cookie sheets. Criss-cross with fork tines.
3. Bake at for 10 to 12 minutes in the preheated oven. Cool slightly, and remove from pan.