Tag Archives: change

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I am an amalgamation of all that come before me. I am both the ending and beginning of a real-life redemption story. I am not a fairy-tale or a parable containing lessons to be learned. I am a messiah of a mess on a mission-carrying respect waiting to be earned. This is MY turn. I will set fire to the words that have previously bound me. Bind my fists with the split ends of the definitions that surround me. I will make of myself everything and nothing that you have ever expected and then I will reject it. I will take the potential that you’ve weighed on me for which I never asked, and I will take its full enormity and shove it up your ass. See, I never break but I shatter-and the scattered pieces left to be placed, they never really mattered.

Heroin vs Heroine

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Upstairs in your room, where I watched you clean your spoon; that needle in your arm was a knife in my heart that got twisted a little harder every time you pushed it farther until it pushed me far enough that I could turn and walk away. And now today. A decade and 90 miles away from the choice you made between me and your fascination with a fix. Too many years and an ocean of tears away from the lesson that I couldn’t heal you with a kiss. The words that I told you then; “It’s over. You can call me when you’re sober.” And just walking away bled my tears. And days lead to months became years. I let go of the hope that I’d hear “I’m clean”. And I let my white-knight-knuckled fingers let loose my home-coming beauty queen. The only ever woman for me. Edged out to the periphery, of you I wouldn’t speak. Just a slow leak from my bleeding heart tucked beneath one sleeve. And then-came those words-over facebookabsurd! But I heard your voice in every key: “Kila, I’m finally clean”. And my heart strong sung out in joy! You had finally made the right choice. And with open arms and trepidus heart, I hopefully let you back in. But this time, only as friends. Kept an arms breadth of distance at length. Prayed to the hope of your strength. To keep the needle at bay, and keep our friendship this way, and mended, that way it did stay… That is, until early today. And that familiar old choice now is facing me. And I’m pacing my heart speeding racingly. And I’m cursing those demons you have raised in me. And I question my strength; is there space in me? To be some kind of heroine, and fight against your Heroin. Can I bear with it? Can I carry it? Have my arms and my heart grown in size? Yet again I have let you inside… And I find, to surprise, that the scars from your knife-cold needle-have left me quite tough. And that strengthening just might be enough. To carry us both, over fiery coals, to the side where it’s you that you love.

Science Vs Nature (For Chris)

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The nature of science

The mother of man in a speck

A carbon collision; a wreck

And explosion, an implosion-or faith?

The creation of all human race

REvising, rewriting the days

Has become an obsession, a craze

So crazy, on what we would dwell

The which we live in-a shell

Or a womb within which we dwell

Building to birth to unknown

Then cracked wide to sky we would search

looking to stardust, we query our birth

The nature of man is to ask

The nature of time-is to pass

And historians all will just pen

While men in white lab coats conduct us again

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Billions and billions and billions

And yet we are only just here

Yet we push to always be searching

answering what?-that question’s unclear

Just carbon based atom filled lifeforms

looking to self, Earth and sky

Some smartly asking and telling us all “how”

Some smarter, just asking us “why?”

From Yesterday’s Journal

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Picture by Kilashandra DePauw

 

I swallowed a tickle

It turned to a giggle

And now I am laughing out loud

My voice can be fickle

No serious to stick-will

Soon have me asking me how

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Spare a word

Spare a dime

Spare a moment of my time

Could I provide

A smile for those eyes?

A voice unheard,

Like silent bells

Spoken words you know so well

No sense dwelling

On the the soul you’ve set to sell

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On tan and tawny surface

the migrants make their purchase

So pink and thin

As they begin

To make their place of worship

But Gods oft lose their power

And giving gets to sour

Begetting spite

Upsets the might

Comes leaving hands devoured

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Not like a brother

Something like friend

A could have been lover

If time didn’t spend

Itself rearranging

Down me in knots

And I’m left to explaining

How I haven’t got

Enough of the resourse

That all of us need

And my only recourse

To deal with the greed

That I feel in my own heart

As I look to you

Is to take me at whole part

And split me in two

And split-down, I’m leaving

One part by your side

With all of me grieving

I hope you’ll survive

Then I laugh at the ego…

My matter’s quite small

Because part of me just knows

I don’t matter at all

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I’d like to speak plain for a moment

Just throw all metaphor away

But something inside of me knows that

If I did I’d have nothing to say

Take away gilt-wrapped-up trappings

Take down all meter and rhyme

And you’ll see all I’ve built come collapsing

Some moments arent built to stand time

More poetry slam Journal entries

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Kila and Goliath (2008)

I’m in the head sick and, I’m sick of this affliction. So excuse my lack of diction, but it is my predeliction, to mumble when I’m scared. Always so Illprepared. It always creeps up unannounced and… Then it pounces. And I’m just as shocked as the next one. In my face, here’s a panic shock, and legs locked, I stand stock-Still until the pill will. Disolve, and solve it all. But I don’t swallow them anymore. So what do I do in replacement? What’ll be my fear time call erasement? Kill the demon in the basment? That whispers up at night. Aimless worries in my head, floating low over my bed and tilting my reality, til I can no longer see… That they’re baseless, faceless, foundless, out of bounds and groundless. So I guess I’ll go a-demon huntin, A-hunting I will go… I’ll take my razor wit, viper’s tongue, and who knows, I might bag a giant giant along the way… So watch out Goliath, Kila’s on her way…

A stitch in mind (2008)

Beautiful grace, spinning time and place, falling headlong into space. Dangerous in self-definition, so much more secure in practice. What kind of oxy-moron is this? Light in my darkness? Safe in danger? Familliar stranger? (Disorganized re-arranger) Confused, befuddled, and intrigued, I am. Am I. Afraid of heights, in this I fly. Scared shitless, spent and witless, once shapeless, shiftless, I am the witness. To this transformation through which I’m going… My butterfly is showing, and in this crysalis I’m growing. My smile is cracking through the stone. The facade i once called home. Break the walls down, one by one. Step into the light of day, I will not fade away. No longer transparant, worn thin and weak like watered whiskey and bad tea. It does not intoxicate me. But frees, it liberates me. Strength in arm, I mean no harm. I just need, to no longer bleed, and be redeemed. I need to silence, the voice of fear, ringing in cacophonous in my ear, drowning out so I can’t hear, you softly whisper. The words of encouragement you’ve always murmured. So soft, sometimes I’m not sure what I’ve heard. But you never shout. Not at me. So what I see, hear, and feel, are, in reality. Always exactly, what you promised me. I’m such a stupid girl sometimes. Even knowing what kind (of mess I’d make) I changed my mind (and made it break) and now I’m stitching time, and reality, back inside of me. Sewing stitches into the holes in my mind, so I’ll never again find, that I’ve let you… Fall through.

 

 

 

Another old journal entry april 8 2008

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after the pheonix burns

 Everytime I open my mouth, all this stuff I shouldn’t say… Just falls right on out. And I’m not trying to make things harder, and I’m not trying… To push this thing farther. And I’m not trying, I’m not trying, I’m not trying, but I’m crying with the dying of who I used to be. I am pheonix with the burning, rising from the ashes I am yearning, for this thing I am only learning now is inside of me. I an stronger, I have grown, I am wingless, yet I’ve flown, I am dreaming with the peaceful strength that only comes with pain of the length. Of time a woman spends with a man she don’t call friend. I don’t call the wind… Baby, you know it calls to me. Whispers quiet words to me: “child you are free” And finally I see. I am the one that held back, and I am the one who lost track, I am the one who had the lack. Of confidence. So I got lost a bit. Wandered aimless, said i was blameless, became one of the nameless. And hid my shining face. Now I turn it to. The sky the seems to shine through, the night sky, it’s not black, it’s blue. and brighter now, that I have learned how to speak the unreachable truth. I can be alone, I am my own home. This skin I’m in, I stand within. And I’m comfortable for the first time. Because I belong, and I am mine. And standing, on both side of the window, looking out and looking in, well I don’t know. How to follow the path of the rainbow, but I know where it ends and where it goes, and that’s good enough for me. Standing beside me, living inside me, having this pride I can justify, in me. I am the light, I am the laughter, I am my own damn happy ever after. You want to hold the moon? well then just ask her, she’s comfortable enough in her own place. And all the human race… We can learn a bit from the butterfly, yes I’m talkin you an I, here for such a short time. But we all can learn to fly, pretty wingspans patterened out against the grey sky… Isn’t strange, how all things change, never stay the same from the start of one, one, one, one day… To the next. And the rest, as they say is history, cept when it comes to me, then it constantly repeats. Til I break this chain. I won’t refrain. And I have my coffee, I’ve got my tea, drink my inner beauty, til it come spilling out, all over you.