Tuesday, March 27, 2007

Blueberry Blue and other colors

When I was a child, I learned my ABCs and my 123s. Quite easy lessons if it must be told. I remember one day my cousin was learning how to count money and I wanted to join, but was told I was too young to understand it; so I counted the pennies in my head. I was right every time save one when my cousin's hand hid two underneath, but I was the only one who knew.

I loved counting. I would count with the Count on television and sing 123..45..678910...11..12 all day long. I counted the cracks in the sidewalk to the front door of my house. I even counted the legos in the big red box my father had bought me not forgetting the one I had gotten stuck in the bottom of R2D2 on christmas morning. I counted shooting stars from the back of a station wagon with my best friend at the time, and counted the number of nails we had to finish building our tree house. I counted until I could count no more. Now I count other things - less tangible - less identifiable. I count the colors of my heart.

When I was in junior high I remember learning the colors of the rainbow. ROY G BIV. I made up a story about Roy. He was a prince in a far away kingdom who had stolen the coat of colors from a man who claimed it was from a man who had been with a man who sold his brother into slavery. He wore it proudly, as if it were a magical thing. Then one day he gave it to me. It looked a lot like a sheet from my twin bed, but I would tell him no different. It did have magical powers though. That story is for another day.

Anyway - colors are counted and there is no end to them as there is no end to numbers. ROY G BIV is just a fraction of a fraction of the truth of colors, though no one tells you that in school. The rainbow is just seven colors. RedorangeyellowgreenblueindigoANDviolet! But as I have grown and traveled the world I have come to know there are more colors than anyone could imagine.

Isn't it always like that? We learn as children one way. It is not necessarily wrong, but it is definitely not the entirety of truth. We learn the sky is blue, but no one tells you why until they think you are old enough to know. We learn 2 + 2 = 4, but not in some cases it could be more if you let someone like George play with the rules. You don't learn that until you are in High School - if you are lucky. I learned white is the color of weddings and happiness, only to be surprised to find out it is not so lucky in Asia - where the color most sought after is red. Silk red. Made with a hundred million petals of a beni-bana... which if soaked properly and numerous times the silk will go from yellow to blood red. One thing made to traverse a great number of identities. Again, lessons we don't always learn right away.

So it is I love colors now. I have been innocently pale and ruby red delicious. I have swollen with the color of sapphire blue so sad the trumpets of old man Blue himself could not play. I have felt the hand of dusks orange wrap about my soul like a friend. I have tasted lemon yellow on a winters day because I was too sick to drink anything else. But there are more colors...

Raspberry red, Mango orange, Sun Yellow Rue, and petulant pink.

There is the color of normal.....
There is the color of money....
The color of sin....
and my favorite

Blueberry blue. The color of my life. Some might say it is ironic in a way - eat to many blueberries and you will get sick. Eat it too ripe and you'll wish you had a dash of sugar to soften the sting. But no matter what - you can't eat just one blueberry... and like my life I cannot think of one moment which I could live without. Despite all of my learning the little truths and the bigger ones to come along..... there is not just one to taste.

So where was I going with all of this?

We count the blessings and misfortunes in our life, and sometimes the color of those blessings or misfortunes seem to drown in a sea of too litte or too much. But always, if we pay attention, there is not one or another that is the right color - there is not one way to paint the world.

There are so many colors... and we need them all to make our life meaningful. Blueberry and other colors.... yours and mine.

Sunday, March 18, 2007

The things you didn't hear

the things you didn't hear
are the things haunting me most.
the things you didn't see
are the things of twist and choke
the things you didn't taste
are the things of gold and mine
the things you didn't believe in
are the things i hold divine
the things you never touched
are the things left to loss
and the things you said no words to
are the things with greatest cost
the things you didn't hear
are the things haunting me...

I heard she has a soul

heard she has a soul
and it is the ocean
vast and deep
raging, full wakeful sleep
She said she lives for me
But why should I care
Her breath is mine
and I am fine
no need to read
the letters and submissions
filled with omissions
exchanging dialogue
within white house universities
there are other adversities
I cast my eyes to
I heard she has a soul
and it is the sky
Brilliant, blue with diamond eyes
flickering with the bickering
of trusts and lusts
and oversized combo-rations
99 down and new decorations
don't pay until 2010
until then...
She said she lives for me
But why should I care
When was there time to feel
overworked, stressed out and billed
taxed braked and shaking
too much to handle
toss about and shake me
overloaded sensations
in contemplation of dollar signs
to stop
and think
we are all very incomplete
out of sync
shredding through spam
in a can of reality
served cold and
leaving us all
I heard she has a soul
and it is beat in me
raging pull, set it free
singing motivation
break free from suffocation
with a power to prevail
ink filled, electronic or otherwise
to dispel the lies
of a hundred tries
talk it, walk it and truly do
anything but wait...
She says she lives for me
and one eve' just after pause
when day turned into dusk
and dusk to dawn
I silenced my protest-ations
like a maestro at the end of ovations
because She said she lives for me
and I need to be
like the ocean and the sky
in my small voice
lift up and cry
telling of the need to see
with all of our eyes
the we's, the you's
the them's and us-es
in all our daily grinds
rhythms and rhymes
passing of the time
in ticks, tocks
Lives for me
breaths and dies by me
I heard she has a soul
and I believe


like dust lingering in the air
casting bits of shadow
so as to see the sun's kiss
or peach skin glowing in the warmth
of its season nearly ready to pluck
and yet waiting patiently still
So to am I just before night
casting a bit of shadow
waiting patiently anxious

and as the light crawls
its way to waiting eyes
still heavy with sleep
half a world away
I linger in this inbetween
like a whisper in love
with the lips that utter it
and a dream in love
with the dreamer

Such is the mood of
a breath before nightfall

Am I a coward

for not bending to kiss
the petals of a rose
transfixed so by
a fear I carry
clumbsy whit
upon my lips
I dare not venture
to risk insulting
the rose itself
and languish
at the missed
of its fragrance?

I fear the answer is yes
and vow to ne'er
be so swayed by
fear again