Brandon

This was actually written at the beginning of my 9 month relationship with my best friend/boyfriend, Brandon Morrison. Though it's a poem, I intend for it to be a song and am still working on it currently.

Eyes of the ocean staring back at me.  The kind of smile that makes you want to see...
more-feel more- than I've ever felt before.
More. Much more, than I ever thought could be in store.

So close your eyes, put your oceans waves to rest.
Fall asleep with my head on your chest.
Synchronize my breathing with the steady beating of your heart.
This is the beginning, but even the ending is our start.

Your oceans are drowning me, your soft breathing surrounding me.
Your kisses stay so potent, rewind this moment to the start.

Identify Those Lives

Justice is what one would call corrupt. People walking the cracked and weathered sidewalks. They face simple goals that make life harder. They are zombies roaming aimlessly for food. They drag across the musical city, the depressing urban soundtrack. The mindless huddled around bins of fire to defeat, for a moment, to defeat the cool and cold feelings of the wealthy and the weather mastering the city's hell full of suffering and poverty.
                                                      
                                                    Will they not stop and give? Will they not?

Standing for the Broken

Tonight...
I'll take a stand for those broken hearts.
I'll speak those words to that broken boy.
And when steady beating hearts grow slow,
I'll find a way to let the scissors go.
And you can cut away at these heart strings
As long as you can ignore the tears your cuts bring.
I gave you the knife to cut at the ankles of my fear
And it's the only thing, I fear,that's really kept you here.
And the scissors you hold don't have a childproof lock
And my pleas won't ever make you stop.

But tonight will stand for broken hearts
And that broken boy will fall apart
And this steady beating heart will pulsate quicker
And these heart strings will grow thicker and thicker
And you can cut until your hands bleed
But I won't be the one in need.

Love at 15

He held your hand. He said "forever and always".
He went away but that feeling always stays.
Then he came back and everything lit up...
And you believed everything was okay and didn't feel so fucked up.
I'm sorry,we're sorry, that frogs look like princes
And when we're young and hearts are whole, the path seems endless.
We build up our card houses only to have them knocked down.
Then start again working towards the sky from the ground.

9/20/07

My heart is wrapped and locked in chains and I refuse to let it go.
Now these days have driven me insane and my energy is running low.
I've cried and died on inside due to you, but now I just don't know...


Is it worth?....Does it matter?...I'm letting it go.

 I should have known you would hurt me, I should have known.
But I pushed it all to the back of my mind in fear of leaving the good things behind.
I should have known. Woe is me. I should have known.

Mother

You held me as your baby, but I suppose that never meant much?

I used to call you "mommy", but then we lost touch.

Now you don't quite get me, don't get what I've become.

But I doubt you even worry after making decisions so dumb.

Six years have been given up, you passed me in your life. 

Nine years later, I sit through a phone line hearing stories of your strife. 

A tear here, a tear there, and yes I know I say "everyone makes mistakes"

But you repeat them, you can never defeat them..

  And it's all your fault that my heart frequently aches.

Personal JibberJabber

March.30.2011

 ♦And it’s official: I am no less than 10 Mondays from graduating and saying goodbye to my high school days. And to think I thought turning eighteen was a big deal? HA. This is tragic...amazing...nerve wrecking…terrifying…LIBERATING…and oh so doubtful.  I have changed my mind from graphic designer to elementary school teacher to lowering my standards to what’s going to give me money. However, money will make me happy. Money will support any future family I have. Money is truly what keeps lives running. Forget the heart. No, we’re nothing without money. We aren’t adequate with ourselves until we deck ourselves out in materialistic fashions that cloud and vaporize our TRUE images, but candy coat our bodies in order to view what we “want” to see. What our society wants to see. We are mere products of this world and we have, in every subliminal way, fallen into a pattern. Even those who wish to stand out are conforming. Conformists are conforming. And at last, the economy has broken me. I’m so worried about where I’m going to be in ten years, that I have strayed away from my child hood dream. I have been enveloped in an intelligent decision based on statistics and let my childhood dreams get thrown out with my old dolls. I have been persuaded time and time again that my dream is just a dream because it will never come true. And to be honest, I have no soul to prove anyone wrong. Now, in my senior year, I just want to be successful. At least I have a good outlook on what I want to become. In order for me to be a teacher, I need to like kids. I love kids. Maybe not high school kids, but I love kids and people. I love communicating. I absolutely love helping and being of assistance. Which leaves me with that one measly question: Why not? As of my current job status, I have finally gotten a job paying 8 dollars an hour. Personally, that is NOT bad. I’m working at McDonald Garden Center, helping customers and tending to plants and after filling out paperwork tomorrow, I start working. Am I excited? More than you know. I have an urge to work. I have an urge to dedicate assistance to those who need me. It’s sickening how much of a people person I am when the world is so full of bull-shit. In the end though, just knowing the irony in that last statement can make me love the trait even more.♦

The Worst Thing in Life is to Know All Pain and not of Hope.

When the worst feelings you could possibly have combine all at once in a moment, that, my poor victims, is called a meltdown. It’s a breakdown, a moment that feels like the end of all days.  Your head starts pounding with a faint, but effective pain that is only sticking around with the sticky feeling of the tears’ residue on your cheek. What could make this dreadful pain even worse? It’s when this pain is a frequent thing caused by frequent situations that come in a routine. Just when the skies clear up and you feel the warmth of the sun, the light fades and the skies turn into one big shadow and the warmth of the light turns wet and cold. This is the story of my life. Though I’ve had some good moments, I can’t help but remember the bad ones.  Let me give you a quick bit of advice from a fellow victim, be careful what you do or say to a person because it could stick with them for ages. It could give them a serious complex of depression. Then, for the rest of their life, they won’t be normal. I’m not normal.  Maybe my stage of saddening memories all began when I was younger. An abusive baby sitter, a mother that always went out, an abusive child hood in general, and poverty clouded my youth. As I got older, I suffered from a more drastic form of abuse. Alcohol, drugs, parties, a crashing parental structure; all this to fill the void of my lost first love, the absence of my father who left to go over seas and support us, being a new girl with no one but her older sister, and being an adolescent teenage girl who was lost. I grasped onto the concept of being rebellious. I had skated before in Arkansas and the stereotypical punk attitude came with me. It was a shell. Behind my brightly colored hair and odd behavior, I was a sweet, talented, intriguing young woman dying to break free. This was 3 years ago. As I look forward to graduating, I look forward to escaping my life that relates to a teenage movie being aired on Life Time. I know, through all these painful events, it’s sculpted me into how I was meant to be. With every tragic situation I have survived, I have gained a piece of armor; I never weakened. God puts us through hell so we can prove ourselves. Life is a battle to see who can survive and to separate the weak from the strong. Those who go through hell and can still find a way to go to sleep at night and be happy with their life; that’s winning.

That’s why, fellow victims, that even though you may endure this sickening and saddening feeling in a routine fashion, don’t ever say your life is over. Live your life to the fullest and always look to the sky and to your future. Always grasp onto a future moment that you know will make you strive on. And the last thing to do is to breath, close your eyes, wipe your tears away, and smile and say to yourself: “I’m still breathing. I passed the test. I’m stronger now. I’m a winner.”

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                -Kayleigh M. Glidewell