Developments Have Not Been Made
Some moments ago..
I wrote about a love I've longed for, beyond my own comprehension kinda love. And to no prevail have I found more wanting lately. Less writing and more wanting. Less living and more waiting or waining with the wind between my ribs. If I were a story teller I'd be able to purge this out of me. I'd be happier to have spilled the sour parts of me out somewhere that only I know the true location of. The bite of bitter everything swims just under the surface of my skin. It has the power to consume me since I gave it so much of my strength. At least I can see it. But now what?
Tuesday, June 11, 2013
Monday, May 20, 2013
Journal Entry 5/20/13
so there's this girl...
trust me there is always a story following when anyone writes "so there's this girl..."
But I digress, so there's this girl I've been missing. We never officially dated but we do have history. In a normal situation anyone would have called this quits, and left history where it belongs, in the past. However the story behind us is something that always tend to side-eye it's way back into relevance. There have only been two girls that I can say I've truly loved in this life so far, outside of those I was born with. It's funny that there names are so similar. Anna and Annie. Truth is, these two were responsible for so much dramatic change in me. I mean "dramatic" in the best of ways. Not that I didn't love any of my other ex-girlfriends, the love I had for these two were just so different from anything else.
Not to sound like a punch-drunk love line but, I loved these women on a cellular level and that will never change. The thing is, one of them is still so present in my life, that I can literally fall back into her without meaning to, without trying, where ever I am, and whoever I'm with. Anna.
She and I are so different but so much alike that it's odd because liking this girl so much kinda makes me feel self absorbed. IF THAT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE, so what. We have that drag razor blades over your arms to feel human kinda love. That 'Hey Arnold' "I like you, like you" kinda love. Love like, every poem I've ever written was secretly about her kinda love. Purely based off of some primal attraction and singular connection that will not fade away and has no hope in sight, but you still have hope. We still hold on to some kind of hope, not braving the time between us but admiring what could be.
I've never been brave enough to grab her because in a way it feels like anytime I come close she darts off into the tree line, and the trees are gargantuan. They swallow up all parts of sun, and everything gets dark from there. As though, there is something written somewhere down the spine of a mountain that reads "the sun and the moon shall never share a sky, only a rise and fall." And as blue as that makes us, as cold as these beds of our grow at night, maybe I am the only one who feels this way. Maybe knowing what to say ordinarily, and not knowing what to say when I'm with her is the one thing she can't get over. Maybe it's the fact that I want nothing and everything from her at the same time. Maybe I'm too demanding. An ex called me that once. I long for something perfect and knowing that perfection does not exist, maybe that makes me insane.
Maybe.
But who's to say that reality isn't some form of it's own perfection. That a crack in the cement is actually meant to be there, and if everything is under a higher being's plan, then all of the flaws of man are also "planned". I think that fear hides us from everything extraordinary in this world. But that's never going to be a good enough excuse for me. As hopeless as love can be, as boundless as love is, as a man who thought he understood what his heart is, what his love would mean, I feel displaced in it sometimes. Most times. All the time. I guess it's because I've never been able to experience anything extraordinary, and getting out of your own way, letting go of things you hold onto, and being vulnerable are much harder to do than they are to recognize. At least they are for me.
trust me there is always a story following when anyone writes "so there's this girl..."
But I digress, so there's this girl I've been missing. We never officially dated but we do have history. In a normal situation anyone would have called this quits, and left history where it belongs, in the past. However the story behind us is something that always tend to side-eye it's way back into relevance. There have only been two girls that I can say I've truly loved in this life so far, outside of those I was born with. It's funny that there names are so similar. Anna and Annie. Truth is, these two were responsible for so much dramatic change in me. I mean "dramatic" in the best of ways. Not that I didn't love any of my other ex-girlfriends, the love I had for these two were just so different from anything else.
Not to sound like a punch-drunk love line but, I loved these women on a cellular level and that will never change. The thing is, one of them is still so present in my life, that I can literally fall back into her without meaning to, without trying, where ever I am, and whoever I'm with. Anna.
She and I are so different but so much alike that it's odd because liking this girl so much kinda makes me feel self absorbed. IF THAT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE, so what. We have that drag razor blades over your arms to feel human kinda love. That 'Hey Arnold' "I like you, like you" kinda love. Love like, every poem I've ever written was secretly about her kinda love. Purely based off of some primal attraction and singular connection that will not fade away and has no hope in sight, but you still have hope. We still hold on to some kind of hope, not braving the time between us but admiring what could be.
I've never been brave enough to grab her because in a way it feels like anytime I come close she darts off into the tree line, and the trees are gargantuan. They swallow up all parts of sun, and everything gets dark from there. As though, there is something written somewhere down the spine of a mountain that reads "the sun and the moon shall never share a sky, only a rise and fall." And as blue as that makes us, as cold as these beds of our grow at night, maybe I am the only one who feels this way. Maybe knowing what to say ordinarily, and not knowing what to say when I'm with her is the one thing she can't get over. Maybe it's the fact that I want nothing and everything from her at the same time. Maybe I'm too demanding. An ex called me that once. I long for something perfect and knowing that perfection does not exist, maybe that makes me insane.
Maybe.
But who's to say that reality isn't some form of it's own perfection. That a crack in the cement is actually meant to be there, and if everything is under a higher being's plan, then all of the flaws of man are also "planned". I think that fear hides us from everything extraordinary in this world. But that's never going to be a good enough excuse for me. As hopeless as love can be, as boundless as love is, as a man who thought he understood what his heart is, what his love would mean, I feel displaced in it sometimes. Most times. All the time. I guess it's because I've never been able to experience anything extraordinary, and getting out of your own way, letting go of things you hold onto, and being vulnerable are much harder to do than they are to recognize. At least they are for me.
Tuesday, May 14, 2013
Series 1 Part 2 Taken from the movie "Silver Lining's Playbook"
Excelsior
(the search..)
by Shon Houston
As bold as she is,
as stone as she stares
like no one can move her
like her knees aren't shaking
this very moment,
she's still small somewhere in her mind.
Her eyes are still eager evening waiting
for Christmas mornings. She tells me all the time.
She tells me that I am the first time
her lips have ever trembled.
And that scares the shit out of me.
One day, if she doesn't tremble,
and I notice, then I will have lost her
to a better man.
I would have owed her that much.
A world without us is a Hell
worth her smile. Worth my weight in ash.
I will live there gladly, and remember everything about her.
Everything about the way her body
fell in my body,
nothing more perfect
than her into me with nothing but her soul on
wearing me.
Nothing more perfect than a kiss.
Than a soft ease of our lips,
dancing their last dance til the next time, til the midnight.
Until we wake up
without missing a step.
And as bold as I am,
as stone as I hold her
I wonder...
Monday, May 13, 2013
Series 1 Part 1, Written From the movie, "The Perks of Being a Wallflower"
Wallflowers
(the story of Patrick)
by Shon Houston
The song fades.
Everything we are, falls to our ankles
inches above our socks.
The argyle of your hands
don't fit the argyle of my hands,
so after we return to our table let's not say anything
just quietly remember what happened up until this point.
Remember that we fit somewhere together once.
Remember that you were the sun to my moon
and that we took up a sky. A night.
(French Translation)
A Night in Tunisia
our favorite piece of peace this world has ever granted us without some kind of storm
brewing softly in the background or owning up to
that moment when someones fist meets someones face.
What a wrecking ball that makes you.
What a man.
What of men who can't claim their love?
What if we're gay
And your dad finds out?
Without us saying a word
you changed almost immediately.
Shed your cocoon and became the most beautiful heterosexual
butterfly I had ever seen.
The next day at school,
you called me "faggot" in front of everyone
I smiled because you and I both knew
that we'd be dancing together tonight.
Like nothing had happened.
Like my jaw was not a fragile heart.
Like the people watching us weren't the same people watching us at school that day
laughing at your bravado.
But not seeing courage in the story your stance told.
Is there not love in our eyes
because there is a switch to our hips?
Tell me.
Tell me you don't feel the way I did?
Tell me that tonight meant nothing, our lips meant nothing,
that our honesty was not measured by how often we said nothing after our
"I love yous"
but that we said "I love you" at all.
Don't answer,
just remain silent like always. Too afraid, too petrified and human.
Series Poems
This will be my first collection of a series of poems.
in this series, I hope to contain interaction of movie characters and there counterparts in these one-sided conversations. For those who don't know, I am deeply inlove with film and most documentaries. Sometimes when I am done watching a movie I long for more, and am left wanting of something. These conversations stem from these moments. Enjoy
in this series, I hope to contain interaction of movie characters and there counterparts in these one-sided conversations. For those who don't know, I am deeply inlove with film and most documentaries. Sometimes when I am done watching a movie I long for more, and am left wanting of something. These conversations stem from these moments. Enjoy
Introductions
Hello,
This is my new notebook. I want to start writing more series of poetry. Instead to making these public, getting them published in some magazine, I wanted a new place to be free. I hope to talk about art, literature, and poetry. I'm a writer. I try to be a forward thinker in a thoughtless world. My family will be mentioned a lot in my work.
It's how I deal with our issues. Oh, I'm Shon BTW. 24, and single. I only mention that I'm single because I desperately want to believe in love, though I haven't found it to be love yet. I feel that this should be the place that I keep 100% true and honest to myself and any reader or friend that stumbles upon this journal. I started this space about a month or so ago and haven't posted anything yet. I was waiting for when the mood to strike, and strike it has. Feel free to talk to me, because if I'd have at least one honest friend in the world, I'd hope it be you. Though I'm very sociable, I'm not very trusting.
So I'm trusting whoever is reading this, to read my collection with an open heart. Don't be afraid to talk to me, comment and I can follow your blog as well. I look forward to meeting you.
Peace,
Shon
This is my new notebook. I want to start writing more series of poetry. Instead to making these public, getting them published in some magazine, I wanted a new place to be free. I hope to talk about art, literature, and poetry. I'm a writer. I try to be a forward thinker in a thoughtless world. My family will be mentioned a lot in my work.
It's how I deal with our issues. Oh, I'm Shon BTW. 24, and single. I only mention that I'm single because I desperately want to believe in love, though I haven't found it to be love yet. I feel that this should be the place that I keep 100% true and honest to myself and any reader or friend that stumbles upon this journal. I started this space about a month or so ago and haven't posted anything yet. I was waiting for when the mood to strike, and strike it has. Feel free to talk to me, because if I'd have at least one honest friend in the world, I'd hope it be you. Though I'm very sociable, I'm not very trusting.
So I'm trusting whoever is reading this, to read my collection with an open heart. Don't be afraid to talk to me, comment and I can follow your blog as well. I look forward to meeting you.
Peace,
Shon
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