i bring back charred firewood,
and memories, bleeding
through your mother's eyes.
she stole away to jerusalem
in the middle of the night.
you built a fortress, and like a storm
i was let in, looking for some place
but, you wouldn't believe me
i'm not something to put faith in
i bring men into the house
and you're afraid
i will become part of them
a bundle of violets,
oh, you take me back.
if i knew, i would have found my way
to the road where they grow.
i would breathe in everything you told me
like it didn't feel like suffocating
but the darkness cascades, and there's a gap
in my thoughts where you used to be
and one finding its way through my teeth.
don't you remember,
you pulled voices out of me.
oh, i have been used
more than i've been using.
more than i've been loved.
and no room left for you.
a bundle of sunflowers,
taller than i could ever hope to grow
and you put them in a ***, hope i'm satisfied
i'd have preferred it had you just left them alone.

Poets seem sad to me
Because we feel more
And we hold on tight
And when we hurt, we write

Our tears fall on paper
In the form of words
Thoughts in scribbled ink
As our hearts begin to sink

Other people's pain fades
And drifts away with time
But a poet's hurt will stay
There on the tear stained page

The walls
plastered with
photos of 'our time'.

No sudden moves
and a need to sleep,

all *******
in twisted sheets.

There is
some kind of
Voodoo in the air,

yes there is,
and it's got me good.

I smile and say
"I love you"
but you don't care,
no, not like I think you should.

You came to me
without a label,

I pried you open
expecting something sweet,
only to behold a can of worms.

Addicts
swimming
around in the sea,
whispering
                "Hook me, hook me".

Good-bye,
so long,
solo I fly and
when I'm gone,
no need to look back
or ask myself why.

I have more power
than that crazy old Boogie-Man,
you see, I made him up,
he's in my mind.

A figment of my imagination.

As useless
as **** on a bull,
looking
none the worse
for wear and tear.

In the end
it is what you are
that determines
what you will heal,

You have to locate
yourself before
it's really real.

Bright white snow
Is useful as padding
In immature wars
Where we all think we got 'em

Bright white snow
Can soak up stray tears
From harsh windy airs
That cause many fears

Bright white snow
Burns my eyes
I love the sight
Of it's blizzardy miles

Bright white snow
Is beautiful in comparison
To your cruel
Harsh
Vile
Mouth

I'd choose my childhood over you any day

Our fingers intertwined,
our souls re-joined,
our hearts spanned distance and time ~
Reminders of encounters in lives long past,
when we dwelled in the presence of the Divine.

♦

I thought of days of sadness
… of endless, sleepless nights,
of futile attempts at climbing..
but plummeting from towering heights.

♦

With his gentle strength, he held me,
as I laid my appeased soul against him..
My burdens released, finally at peace
I felt my spirit flow within him

♦

I closed my eyes,
and I wept..
.. and I wept ~
as walls of resistance came crumbling down

And in serene tranquility,
I slept..
..and I slept ~
in the middle of his ocean I gently drowned.

Will you remember me when days grow cold?
When dark clouds close in and the ground dies under foot,
When all the world falls into slumber and oneness,
Will I fade from your consciousness?
When I am gone will it hurt?
Will I cry when you no longer think of me, and I die?
To exist only as a thought in your head.....
Life dependent on your thinking.
Even a memory... at least then,
I would be recalled from time to time, resurrected.
I can't even be  a memory because I never was...
never really existed.
Just something you one day thought up.
I can only survive as long as you are thinking me,
and continue entertaining the thought of me.
You have no way to give birth to me.
No way to make me exist in the material world.
No way to make me solid.
I am no more then an electrical impulse
passed between the synapses in your brain.
When they stop firing me to and fro I will cease to exist.
What will become of me when you fizzle me out?
Will you simply reabsorb me into your cells?
Will I be cast out as waste?
I turn to face my fate, yet you keep thinking me.
Torturing me in a way, recalling me, adding to me,
making me bigger, longer, more intricate.
What price I'd pay for you to create me in reality.
Impossible, I know...
To be able to see you from the outside in, instead of inside out!
To know the you, you present to the world.
The strong, creative, mysterious, smart,
confident, emotional you. The quiet you.
Instead I know the inner you, the screaming,
raging, crying, laughing, manipulative,
intelligent, humorous you.
Would I think of you the same.....,
could you manifest me into reality?
Would you me......?
You would know me after all, you thought me,
you created me, you own me.
Breathe life into my veins.
You are me!
Can I become a memory... of a thought... you once created?

© Crystal Erickson 11/24/07

She walked into the rain
as her silhouette disappeared into the narrowing alley
while some were fast asleep
while others dreamt about dreams
the ones yet to come
and the ones that never occured.

She walked
she simply walked
thinking nothing.

She heard
an old restaurant closing
pots and pans noisily complaining
about the cranky chef
and greedy customers.
Dreaming of being in the Queen's kitchen
But oh well,
They'd be the same every night.

She saw
A homeless guy
and his dog
sleeping cozily amongst the trash cans
Perhaps he dreamt of a college degree,
a roof and assured morsels
The dog,
about being with his master.

She smiled
At the little girl
Looking at her mother's flowers
For they have bloomed
Just for a day
To know what it feels like
To be alive.

Girl ...
I'm so tired of shedding tears -
starting to feel like a hairless cat
Don't know why God made us females so sensitive

We're like ice-cream
sweet, soft, smooth, delicious
taking whatever shape you impress upon us

It ***** ...

When I think I'm over it -
just the merest look or a suggestive hook
throws me right back in a nook

It belies the fact that I'm strong !
Independent, a mind of my own
a leader
Except, - If you look closer
a heart that's made of gold -
which melts at his look or touch
even though, I know
he's going to hurt me so much

I cry - tears of fear
Trouble don't last always
when this has come to past
I will be okay
looking for love again at last

The day will be bright
I'll be coaching my girlfriends on men
having no more tears of my own -
I'll be training her to stand up alone

What is freedom? You tell me...

The ability to walk on any surface of the earth, travel miles without a cost, explore the forest without limitations, swim through currents & rivers, dive in oceans & climb up mountains.

Away from the pollution, away from the chaos, away from the conflict, away from the destruction, away from all the noise, away from all the drama, away from all the trauma...

You tell me... being suppressed, held down, unwanted, hated, rejected, despised, displaced, *******, occupation, inchase, locked, concentrated, captive, confined.

You tell me... Is that freedom? No its not, you know what's that a SLAVE, an Indentured SERVANT, a SUBSTITUTE similar to a *******.

You tell me... whats freedom to you? Whats your definition? What you got to say about my topic? How do you feel about America's freedom? In general whats your thought about freedom? Do you think we are living in...

The Home Of The Free & The Home Of The Brave...

No restrictions No blockage No cage No cell No time To waste...

I'm not sure what's more painful
the fact that someone is struggling to live
or watching them as they slowly die
knowing that there is nothing you can do.

What does it feel like when you die?
Is it scary?
Is it calming?
Does it feel like black waters ******* you down under,
and pulling you towards a different light and surface?

If there are such things as ghosts,
which I believe there are.
Then that must mean there is some sort of afterlife, right?
Energy can not be created or destroyed,
so where does it go when we die?

What does it mean to die anyway?
I'm still not sure if I know the reason.
Is it a great sacrifice for a cause that we yet do not know
is it a symbol that makes us remember what we hold dear to us?

Or is it much darker than that?
Could it be a way to suffocate us
in the quicksand that is the hour glass of our lives?
Crushing us as we squeeze through the narrow center
and causing our life to be put on hold.
For we can not move forwards,
we can not move at all.

How could something so inevitable
still be a huge mystery?
It's like the one locked door
that every child avoids
until one kid somehow opens it.
All the adults will call him foolish,
but he is brave.

Is it wrong to want to understand the unknown?
Is it wrong to want some answers?
Well I know it isn't wrong,
I just wish I could do something.
But I can't.
Now i'm helpless
and constantly failing.

All I got out of these questions,
my experiences is,
I just know better than most
that some things are better left a mystery.

One must discover it on their own
to ever truly comprehend it.