this is such a good grammatical perspective...

http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/2010/04/alot-is-better-than-you-at-everything.html

also, it really made my day :)

last Tuesday

ok, so you think you have me figured out?
[mmhmm. that was last week.]

see, my heart tends to change like the tides or the wind
[you of all people should know that by now.]

you're being evasive and shifting and vague
[gosh, cut the crap, man, it's driving me crazy.]

i'll love you forever
[just not like last Tuesday.]

sea green, revised

i'm asking for wisdom
- for you know the waters
- for you hold the ocean
- for you calm the sea

sea green

the wave sucked me under
and whirled me around
and held me captive
and wouldn't let go
the wave left me fightened
and helpless
and injured
and i vowed not to wade past my ankles again

but now here i am
the sea crashing
and foaming
i'm running to meet it
and diving beneath it
i'm asking to get snatched up
and touseled
and hurt
i'm throwing my heart out
to be tossed by the sea


...why am i doing this, exactly?

charismatic

it's a thick and solid, cold glass shell
you build around yourself
it seems a little threatening
but i see right through it

you're like a fish in a fishbowl in that cold, glass shell
stuck swimming in circles with nowhere to go
there's a heart in there and there's lots of stuff in it
it's caring and loyal and funny and fun
it's just trapped in that fishbowl with no pathway out

see, one day someone's going to take a big, steel pick
and start hacking away at that cold, glass shell
- in fact, i think somebody already did -
and the water will slowly start trickling out
and that unyielding face that you show to the world
might have to show the something
it's afraid of

the humor won't help
the sarcasm will hurt
the silence won't heal

a Byronic hero can cry, you know.

[abstract]

We're watching a movie; it's late Friday night
You're cold and you're cautious and sort of uptight
Can't you look at me once? Fake a sad sort of smile?
Say, "I know, babe, I just haven't slept in a while."

hasn't

Sometimes I write things I don't understand
But the pen starts to move when it gets in my hand
So I write down a poem that doesn't quite rhyme
And I write down a history that doesn't keep time
I write down a story that hasn't an end
And I write down a hero that hasn't a friend
So I write and I write and I finally read
And I see in the writing a small part of me
I had nothing to say at this short poem's start
But the words that I wrote sketch a slice of my heart

ice cream tumbler

there's a thought in my head that is churning around
but it's more like a picture or inkling or sound
it might not be concrete but it's certainly real
and the words that i know can't express how i feel

you can't say a feeling; you can't write a fire
but i have to say something...

can i write music?

Sarah, in retrospect

Sometimes I pour things out on paper that I don't want anyone to see
Sometimes I pour things out on paper that I want everyone to see
Most of the time I pour things out on paper that I wish that I could say
But I'm a little afraid of hearing my voice make the words
And hearing those words land on someone else's ear.