talitha cumi

you may have your opinions of faith, but these are mine. i love my God. his love is my song. his love keeps my path straight, my life strong. everything i do and hope to be lies in this never changing affection. the woman i so want to be – gentle, classy, generous, hard-loving, patient, beautiful, soft spoken but firm – exists within the boundaries of his direction. my heart chases light now. i, so young, have a destination for my life, and every decision is decided for in His word. such comfort.

Taking her by the hand he said to her, “Talitha cumi,” which means, “Little girl, I say to you, arise.”

-mark 5:40

Finis origine pendet

With the first week of high school comes a million new and old things alike. My head aches as I type this from sheer exhaustion, but that is nothing new. It is my senior year, the year you realize much of the end depends on the beginning (in terms of bs like class rank and GPA,) friends aren’t as dependable in their own angst as you’d prefer, and your parents want you to “grow up” under ever-changing definitions. My goals this year are so typical: get into a good college (A&M @ College Station, Texas) win homecoming queen (running with the class clown should give me some leverage, right?) graduating with honors, (.4 away from this one,) and looking a little above average on a day to day basis.

While my physical goals may seem a little average, my intrinsic expectancies aren’t necessarily limited to these things. I am expecting so much internal growth to happen this year – a lot of heart preperation, if you will. I want to walk out of this small town with a trail of golden standards. I want to be the young-lady-almost-woman that I’ve set my heart to be,but it’s beyond a goal. I must. I simply must.

Soulshine

LOVE

Anca Dunavete

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In my world, I let you see right through me. I listen to my truth on every radio, I decorate the walls with beautiful paintings of my most precious memories, and have large windows in every room. From here, you can see right into me. Those trees over there? I have so many stories about those who planted them. And the pool? I made it myself, out of all the times I wanted to drown in. The mountains at the back? Ah, that one’s for later, much later. But if you stay, I’ll stay with you and I’ll tell you everything. It will just take a little longer.

Here I meet you in smoky bars. You wear a brown hat and the kind of clothes I wish men wore more often. There’s a cigarette hanging out of your mouth, one that you take out every time you smile at me…

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The Jerk – Jeffrey McDaniels

The Jerk

Hey you, dragging the halo-
how about a holiday in the islands of grief?

Tongue is the word I wish to have with you.
Your eyes are so blue they leak.

Your legs are longer than a prisoner’s
last night on death row.
I’m filthier than the coal miner’s bathtub
and nastier than the breath of Charles Bukowski.

You’re a dirty little windshield.

I’m standing behind you on the subway,
hard as calculus. My breath
be sticking to your neck like graffiti.

I’m sitting opposite you in the bar,
waiting for you to uncross your boundaries.

I want to rip off your logic
and make passionate sense to you.

I want to ride in the swing of your hips.

My fingers will dig in you like quotation marks,
blazing your limbs into parts of speech.

But with me for a lover, you won’t need
catastrophes. What attracted me in the first place
will ultimately make me resent you.

I’ll start telling you lies,
and my lies will sparkle,
become the bad stars you chart your life by.

I’ll stare at other women so blatantly
you’ll hear my eyes peeling,

because sex with you is like Great Britain:
cold, groggy, and a little uptight.

Your bed is a big, soft calculator
where my problems multiply.

Your brain is a garage
I park my bullshit in, for free.

You’re not really my new girlfriend,
just another flop sequel of the first one,
who was based on the true story of my mother.

You’re so ugly I forgot how to spell.

I’ll cheat on you like a ninth grade math test,
break your heart just for the sound it makes.

You’re the ‘this’ we need to put an end to.
The more you apologize, the less I forgive you.

So how about it?