tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-59871234725654037462024-03-12T22:45:58.067-04:00Tea well Sharedso.... someone said "HUUH?" ....
and so i said "its about time i shared it" :)cmbchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14323309941394647096noreply@blogger.comBlogger102125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5987123472565403746.post-81758850084641037122010-11-07T17:58:00.002-05:002010-11-07T18:02:30.216-05:00Death to a Rose at MidnightYou scattered my petals<br /> upon cold narrow streets<br />from rooftops<br />from windows<br />and from the safety<br />of your sweaty palms.<br />white laced charm<br />fragrant grace<br />now remain<br />an imprint<br />upon gray concrete.<br />winter's approaching<br />but I lie cold<br />just<br />a<br />bare<br />green<br />stem.cmbchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15882735553282711474noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5987123472565403746.post-17124345906039090762010-11-07T17:46:00.002-05:002010-11-07T17:56:56.219-05:00nightlightleaves are barely breathing<br />fall is sweeping through<br />city lights glisten<br />yet i am not moved<br />while your mind is lit<br />thoughts clear as day<br />i sit in the dark<br />my dreams swept awaycmbchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15882735553282711474noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5987123472565403746.post-52515372506083707082010-08-25T02:43:00.002-04:002010-08-25T03:24:33.435-04:00the brinkIt's the point where reality and shadow meet<div>The point where artfully shallow meets deep</div><div>The point where we gain and lose so much</div><div>The point where you and I lost touch </div><div>The point that unites and separates</div><div>The point of opened and closed gates</div><div>I am standing in between</div><div>like a thin mesh screen</div><div>I am the slick interface </div><div>I am the pull-together lace</div><div>Take me or leave me</div><div>love me or hate me</div><div>push me up or slap me down</div><div>a plunge me forth until I drown</div><div>I am the one that makes the connection</div><div>between your eyes and my reflection.</div>cmbchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15882735553282711474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5987123472565403746.post-77174231145699513522010-08-24T02:01:00.006-04:002010-08-25T03:26:28.526-04:00Dying wishesMy body is bound to the earth, and my teeth hurt from trying to cut through the chains. <div>I wanna feel myself. I lick the blood off my fingers, but its as tasteless as wood. </div><div>I wanna hear my voice. </div><div>I wanna see if I still know how to sing. </div><div>I wanna know if my head is just a sack of fleshy material, or a powerful generator.</div><div>I struggle to pull a gum wrapper out of my pocket, and i sign my name on it with my own blood. </div><div>If I can't feel myself now, will you? </div>cmbchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15882735553282711474noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5987123472565403746.post-26443461589139730472010-08-20T02:01:00.005-04:002010-08-20T02:40:07.366-04:00people, places, and chocolate covered facesPlaces hold beauty, yet its the ones that reside there that give it meaning.<br />History speaks, but nothing is more articulate than the now silenced bearers of the past.<br />You wish you can race against time.<br />You wish you can be someone else, somewhere else.<br />Be something else. Better, or worse.<br />Your purpose is silenced. Its muted.<br /><br />You gotta call it.<br /><br /><br />Just pray that it's not deaf.cmbchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15882735553282711474noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5987123472565403746.post-87515203143285706442010-07-28T13:00:00.003-04:002010-07-28T13:19:30.402-04:00The Girl That Can't CryThe girl that can't cry<br />has a heart so cold<br />buried under frozen tears<br />rhythm; unpredictable, untold.<br /><br /><br />Her mind digests,<br />but her souls a dead fire<br />that can touch, but can't feel,<br />so she longs for desire.<br /><br /><br />She can't feel love<br />cuz she cannot bear pain<br />She's numb and thick<br />burnt out and tamed.<br /><br />she can't blame her past,<br />though her past is to blame<br />she puts on a mask<br />to suit rules of the game.<br /><br />On the outside, she's a warrior,<br />yet pain soars to the sky<br />cuz her once flourishing well<br />of emotions ran dry.<br /><br />she attempted to try<br />any means of escape,<br />to connect and to feel,<br />energized and awake.<br /><br />she desires that someone<br />could read between lines,<br />but deep deep down<br />she just wishes to cry.cmbchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15882735553282711474noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5987123472565403746.post-89350191501190946802010-06-27T00:05:00.002-04:002010-06-27T00:22:48.128-04:00Unmasking TruthAristotle's claim to fame was that truth is logical. Truth must be simple, non-conforming, and understandable to the mind's eye. Truth is truth if its attainable to the complex and the simpleton as well. But perhaps, even Aristotle can be wrong. Even Torah says so.<br /><br />According to Judaism, Truth is complex, enmeshed in depth, and must be sought out with clarity. Yet, even the wisest cannot attain an understanding of truth. Because if they were to unfold the deep secrets that lurk behind infinity, Truth would be cheap. It would be unmasked and lowly, and may very well not be truth at all. After all, it would be limited, instead of us being limited to our understanding, truth would be limited to us, making truth no greater than falsehood.<br /><br />I am led to believe that no one can define truth. We live in a world where nothing is certain. It can be one thing now, and conform to something else entirely within no time. Everything is masked behind the label, hidden behind the consumer ratings. You can never know if what you're purchasing is the real or the fake. You can never see beyond yourself and your logic to be able to state that truth is logical or illogical. I may come close to even saying that we cannot even define truth.<br />And that's why we create our own truth. We navigate our way between many worlds of different realms, striving to find something that's ours; something we can hold onto. We only know ourselves to the point that even we can say that our own being is unpredictable to ourselves. If so, can we really fathom truth? Can we really define it?<br />.<br />I'm still searching. Don't say you have the answers. You may have them, but they are the answers that suit you. They don't necessarily fit hand in hand with the world at large. I will find my answers.<br /><br />In the meantime, when you rave your reviews of whatever brand of truth you're currently using, just know, you can never be certain.cmbchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15882735553282711474noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5987123472565403746.post-24025531894363895392010-06-23T01:01:00.005-04:002010-06-24T00:29:35.344-04:00Killer Thoughts; Shredded MindsI close my eyes. And my mind opens.<br />Thoughts; they spin.<br />Round and round. round and round.<br />Creating waves. Leaving and returning where Start and Finish meet.<br />They hurt. They kill.<br />They shred my sanity into smithereens.<br />They burn gaping holes in my heart.<br />They leave sorrow in my pocket.<br />They paint confusion in my mind.<br />I'd like to think of thoughts like an old fashioned ceiling fan.<br />They cause lots of movement.<br />But in reality, make no difference.cmbchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15882735553282711474noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5987123472565403746.post-41909692533904375432010-06-23T00:56:00.001-04:002010-06-23T00:59:33.654-04:00HeelsI'll never forget the day <br />When I tried on mommy's heels.<br />I put them on my tiny feet,<br />To see how being tall feels.<br /><br />At first I tried to get up,<br />By holding to the wall,<br />But every single time I tried<br />I'd trip and then I'd fall.<br /><br />Finally after many tries,<br />I managed to stand up right.<br />"The moment we've been waiting for!"<br />I shouted in delight.<br /><br />I lifted my foot carefully,<br />Afraid to make step one,<br />But I made it. Yesiree!<br />Wearing heels was so fun!<br /><br />Until I heard my mommy say<br />"Whats that noise I hear?"<br />and I quickly scampered away,<br />forgetting the evidence there. :Pcmbchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15882735553282711474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5987123472565403746.post-52247090642531513992010-06-06T00:44:00.002-04:002010-06-06T00:47:06.336-04:00Dare to PredictI feel the hairs clinging to the back of my neck, the sensation of liquid vapor enveloping me.<br />Its hot. Too hot to be midnight in June.<br />But like everything, nothing is predictable.<br />My hand reaches for the frizzed locks of curls cascading down my back, but I jerk at the sight a of a cat crawling down the neighbors fence into the nearby dumpsters. I stare at it until it becomes double, and then I quickly avert my gaze, and shift my mind back into the chorus of my many thoughts. Thoughts that never evade me, like an annoying tag-along sibling. I wish I could shake off the specks of my past. Escape the figurative shallow waters <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">I've</span> tread. But still, the deep end can make life hard to sail through. It presents challenges requiring use of mind and intellect, something hard to come by. So I switch my gears. I focus on who I want to be.<br /> Dreams dreamt. Millions of them stare down at me, like faces in the clouds. They're all smiling down at me, the kinda sly smile that sends the chills chasing each other down my spine. <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">I'm</span> scared, so I smile back. One even winks at me.<br /><br />"Remember what you always wanted to be...?" he whispers.<br />I nod. Though I honestly don't know. But something about his dreamy voice captivates me, and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">I'm</span> entranced by his very breath.<br />He senses that he's got me, "perhaps I shall remind you..." he chants, and his laugh echoes <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">across</span> the entire universe. Images begin appearing in the blackness. I see a young girl. Shes has a fixed gaze, and a content smile playing <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">across</span> her lips. She looks a but <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">familiar</span>. wait, could that be me? wow. I think she is.<br /> Flashbacks: Big decisions- Good versus bad seems simple enough.<br />Smart Choices- great intentions. So great, even my mother approved.<br />Brilliant results- expected, but they never came.<br />Dreams come true- I gave up on that ages ago. <br /><br />...And with a cackle, the picture bursts and shatters, scattering broken pieces all over.<br />and the rain pours.<br />pours too heavily for a midnight in June.<br />Yet, like unlike everything, shattered dreams are so predictable.cmbchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15882735553282711474noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5987123472565403746.post-78475693330830379572010-04-25T15:42:00.002-04:002010-04-25T16:29:34.117-04:00obstacle illusionsThe whole world spins around me.<br />faster, faster, faster.<br />my mind claustrophobic,<br /> clouded with confusion.<br />My vision is shaded by the fog of my breath on the window to normality.<br />My only way out,<br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">isnt</span> one at all.<br />because ropes are binding me<br />chaining me down,<br />making freedom seem faraway.<br />Freedom is a fairy tale,<br />tasted only by those who can afford it.<br />But this is real life.<br />were chained to our habits<br />chained to temptation.<br />Trapped by desire.<br />Trapped by ourselves.<br />To the world, we are flawless seedlings.<br />but through the eyes of our own,<br />were scarred<br />blemished.<br />we are the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"></span>slaves,<br />the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">slaves</span> who created the fairy tales<br />that the worthy live in.<br />while we sit inside a broken vessel,<br /><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">susceptible</span> to falling right through the cracks.<br />we take our challenges as obstacles.<br />instead of overcoming them,<br />we unsuccessfully try to push them away.<br />and now<br />were holding on.<br />Not to a rope.<br />Not to our past.<br />Not to our fantasies.<br /><br />But to each other.cmbchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15882735553282711474noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5987123472565403746.post-18316325436811842002010-04-02T02:33:00.002-04:002010-04-02T03:04:45.718-04:00Real LivinThe words are pushing their way up my throat. <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">They're</span> sitting on my <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">tongue</span>, waiting. Its been a long time now, indeed. And these words have long since yearned to be said. Something in my conscience always blocked their flow. they try to escape. but they are just coming out in short, choppy sentences. Though there seems to be no meaning... they carry a whole load of dreams. They carry <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">months</span> of tears. and overflowing rivers of thought. I doubt <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">you'll</span> care if <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">they're</span> said, but to me... they represent some form of redemption. like a little part of me being released from chains that bound it for so long. Those thoughts that <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">always</span> killed me, are <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">finally</span> coming to my benefit.<br />For now, I am living. For real. Its no longer superficial. Whatever I do is because I know I choose to. Not for the attention. Not for the show. This is no longer my lifestyle because you expect it of me; it's mine because I chose it. It's mine because I made it mine. Because it matters to me. I want this to be my life's mission statement. I want to live by it. For one reason.<br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Cuz</span> it's mine.<br /><br />And you can make it yours.<br />too bad someone else had to think it up for you.<br />Welcome. :)<br /><br />and enjoy your eternal ride aboard.cmbchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15882735553282711474noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5987123472565403746.post-31198002640444718342010-03-20T22:26:00.002-04:002010-03-20T22:30:51.215-04:00Dear SimplicityDear Simplicity,<br />I miss you. I miss the Ignorance you allowed me to own. I miss the Freedom from fear of the unknown. I miss the way you never let me think about the deep stuff, and how you made everything seem like it was just the way it was meant to be. I never had to choose, for you were my only option.<br />I miss you. I miss you boundaries. I miss your ever-shielding hands.<br />I may know the truth now, but sometimes i wish you were here to blind me.<br />Simplicity.<br />I miss you.<br /><br />Lots of Love,<br /><br />a little quivering soulcmbchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15882735553282711474noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5987123472565403746.post-82010022558546238662010-02-03T00:28:00.002-05:002010-02-03T00:35:54.716-05:00Hashkafa Report<span style="font-size:100%;">A bit old, but worth reading<br />WARNING: holy stuff<br /><br />Question: You say I have a soul, but how did it get there? What's its purpose? And how come I don't feel connected to it?<br /><br />Answer:<br />Have you ever wondered what the world looked like 5,770 years ago? way back when, (no, you're not so old after all...) There was nothing. Actually, it wasn't nothing. there was G-d, and his Torah. Yet, G-d didn't want his Torah for himself, he wanted it to be used, treasured and adhered to. So G-d created a universe, night and day, water and land, heaven and earth, trees and grass, fish, birds and animals. All this, in preparation for His final Creation: Man. </span><span dir="ltr" style="font-size:100%;"> The creation that would overcome obstacles and boundaries. The creation that would do and accomplish. The creation that would contribute, and ultimately elevate this world.<br /><br />Unlike all other creations that were created my verbal command, man was created with breath. Now, do this little experiment: Say anything random that comes into your head. that was easy, right? Good. Now, take a balloon and blow with all your energy. Not as easy, right? This is because breath is INTERNAL, requiring one to exhaust more energy, whereas talking is EXTERNAL and requires little internal energy. Now, when man was in the making, G-d wasn't just exercising his respiratory capabilities. G-d was giving man something more, something from His very being: a soul.<br /><br />What's the purpose of the soul?<br /><br />Well, let me preface the answer with a question: What's the purpose of the body?<br />You might say to eat, drink and be merry. But those are all fleeting pleasures of the body. Those things don't really fit the purpose.<br />And that is where the soul comes in. The Body is made to house the soul. Because we live in a physical environment, the soul needs to the body to aid it in connecting the physical to the spiritual.<br /><br />okay.<br />So now that we got the body down pat, lets go on to the soul.<br /><br />Remember what we mentioned earlier in regards to creation? We said that the purpose of creation is for man, and the purpose of man is to elevate the world. How does one do this? With the soul! :) It is the soul within us that aids us in revealing the sparks of G-dliness that lie in everything. We use our five senses to comprehend physicality, whereas our soul is used to pierce through that outer material layer and release the G-dly energy within.<br /><br />"Well, it's all nice and beautiful and all that...but I don't feel it at all..."<br /><br />Well, let me tell you this: You feel it more that you think. In fact, three out of the five levels of your soul control your physical functions, your emotions, and intellectual capabilities. So, without you even realizing it, your soul really takes central stage in your life. Yet, there are a few parts to your soul that aren't expressed as easily. These are your belief, will, and mostly, your essence.These are the parts of your soul that require application and activation.<br /><br />Now, you're probably thinking </span><span style="font-size:100%;">"Okay... so I have a soul and a purpose, but its 5770 years since creation, 15 or so years since I was born, so maybe it's gotten a lil rusty. I mean, I don't feel like my soul plays an active role in my life..."<br /><span style="font-size:78%;"><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-size:85%;">True, you may have been around for a while, and the world, for even longer. But your soul never gets "rusty" or "old". You're soul is always active, whether your feel it or not. Yet, sometimes we may lose our connection with it. At times, we may be overwhelmed by life and all it entails, that we may at times forget about our souls.<br /><br />Have you ever burst out crying for no apparent reason? That's you soul crying for attention. Now, you and I both know that if your little sibling cries, ignoring it won't make it stop. If anything, the crying intensifies. Same with the soul. When your soul cries out for attention, ignoring it only intensifies its need for care. Instead, give it a lil attention and a good dose of TLC. Feed your soul by doing mitzvos, giving to others, praying, etc. Try it. See how good that feels? That's because true happiness is attained when one connects to his essence and makes the balance between supernal and the mundane.<br /><br />Now that you've activated your soul, you're gonna wanna keep it active, right? How does one keep his/her soul active?<br />It's a little thing called inspiration.If you ever hear, feel, or see something that ignites that warm, fuzzy spiritual feeling inside, don't just let it go. Grab onto it! Capture the moment, and store it for those times when your spiritual gauge is flashing red. Inspiration is the fuel for the soul. Keep it coming, and you're bound to reach internal peace and calm. Keep igniting, and see your soul go aflame with passion. Try it. It works! 100% satisfaction guaranteed.</span><br /></span><br /><br /></span></span><span dir="ltr"> </span>cmbchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15882735553282711474noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5987123472565403746.post-59329956667705030512010-01-24T01:33:00.004-05:002010-01-24T02:43:23.541-05:00Living ParadoxBlame it on Mozilla Tabs. Its the only reason I keep switching off between Taylor Swift's <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Youtube</span> channel and an article Titled "What does G-d have to do with it?" from <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Chabad</span>.org. Of course, its not Mozilla at fault, but rather coincidence that is purely to blame. Right?<br /><br />Theoretically speaking, its all good and true. That's until reality hits. And yep, you're right, I am solely the one to blame. My evil conscious is jumping up and down, holding his tattered <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">blanky</span>, and whining breathlessly in between drinks from his <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">sippy</span> cup. "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Nuh</span> uh! <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">nuh</span> uh! Its all HIS fault! Its my childhood! Its my parents' fault! My School is the one to blame! Anyone! Just not me!!!" Sob... Sob... whimper.. whimper...<br />-"Okay! Fine! We got the point! Now, Shut up down there! will ya?!"<br /><br />But hey, its 2010 and its about time for that once-in-a-decade reality check.<br />Yup. The qualifications are all in place...<br /><br />And the verdict is... (thump thump thump.. judge's gavel hits the podium).... I am guilty.<br /><br />Okay... this can't be real! Me?!<br />indeed, my life has caught up to me. And all this time I've been falsely thinking that the race hasn't even begun.<br /><br />Forget about Mozilla. Forget about coincidence.<br />If innocence can be reclaimed, then I'll be the first to claim it.<br />I've allowed myself to believe that by passively living I am taking the easy way out.<br />Its about time I stop running away from confrontations.<br />Its either G-d or Taylor Swift. Or Can I make do with both?<br />I want both. So, so, so badly. The indecision hurts.<br />Ive been waiting around for the wind to push me in the right direction, but all it's done was knock me down.<br /><br />I am a living oxymoron, paradox, contradiction. I am unlimited to the limited. I am known by the unknown. Every word I say is counted for. Every thought I think is collected. Every step I take is measured. Someone up there knows it all. And yes, G-d has lots to do with it.cmbchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15882735553282711474noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5987123472565403746.post-58068625484740502222010-01-06T18:38:00.003-05:002010-01-06T18:43:09.406-05:00Void<img alt="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/94/259913430_5ab001dd3f.jpg" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/94/259913430_5ab001dd3f.jpg" />We all come into this world with a big void.<br /><br />Our job is to fill it.<br /><br /><br />So, are you filling it with gold?...<br /><br />...or are you stuffing it with trash?cmbchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15882735553282711474noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5987123472565403746.post-63150926251285346112010-01-06T18:36:00.002-05:002010-01-06T18:37:54.132-05:00<span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; font-family: georgia; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);font-size:180%;" >I BELIEVE.</span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />thats all.cmbchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15882735553282711474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5987123472565403746.post-2281568269904702242009-12-20T22:28:00.001-05:002009-12-20T22:43:04.085-05:00Dancing in circlesIm all alone in my prison. Just me. And a crank on the wall.<br />They say that on the other side, there is a mill.<br />And that every time it turns, wheat becomes flour.<br />Knowing this has become my only source of comfort.<br />My source of hope.<br />My lifeline.<br /><br />Every day I put in effort. The wheel may be hard to turn,<br />but I turn it for my good.<br />For my sanity.<br /><br /><br />And I put my faith in you.<br />That when I am free, I can proudly say that the effort was given,<br />and the rewards are mine, and reap the fruits of my labor.<br /><br />But what if its all A lie?!<br />What if I turn the wall and there is really nothing there?<br /><br />I keep walking in circles with my eyes closed.<br />Blinded by my faith? Maybe.<br /><br />But at the end of it all,<br />will I have produced my wheat?<br /><br />Or just lost a couple of pounds...<br /><br />as I walked around in circles.<br />With my eyes closed.cmbchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15882735553282711474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5987123472565403746.post-73233871647537439302009-12-17T21:40:00.005-05:002009-12-20T13:25:49.955-05:00Thanks, Mr. G-dEverything in life follows the rule of sequence.<br /><br />First comes the seed, then comes the fruit.<br /><br />First comes the labor, then comes the satisfaction.<br /><br />First we put in the effort, and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">naturally</span>, we expect appreciation to follow.<br /><br />But like all rules there are exceptions.<br /><br />How many times do we give and give, and see nothing in return?<br /><br />How many times do we pray and pray, and receive no salvation? How many times do we make promises to G-d, and then he just stands by, pretending to be oblivious to our desperation?<br /><br />At times, I gaze into the blue and see your hand shooting from between fluffy hills of cloud.<br /><br />And just when I think its coming to wipe the tears off my face and take my prayers straight up to you, it sweeps <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">across</span> my nose, holds my tears, my prayers, on the edges as if dirty tissues, and just casts them away into the vastness of your great big world.<br /><br />Thanks Mr. G-d.<br /><br />Thanks for nothing.cmbchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15882735553282711474noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5987123472565403746.post-90114975973525479022009-11-16T22:16:00.002-05:002009-11-16T23:26:11.073-05:00This day a year agoThis day, one year ago...<br />we breathed the air of uncertainty, unable to believe the impossible that actually was.<br /><br />This day, one year ago...<br />questions flooded our minds, and pain filled our hearts.<br /><br />This day, one year ago...<br /><br />we prayed from within begging for the salvation of those we hardly knew.<br /><br />This day, one year ago...<br /><br />we were all brothers fighting alongside one another, knowing that although we lost lives, we really won.<br /><br />This day, one year ago...<br />even the farthest came back, if not for eternity, then just for a moment.<br /><br />This day, one year ago...<br />all were eager to give anything, do anything, just so that G0d could go back on his ways.<br /><br />This day, one year ago...<br />History changed. it now had another chapter to tell over, another event to file. <br /><br />this day, one year ago...<br />we changed. our outlooks changed. we became more giving, caring people, maximizing each moment as if it were our last. Cuz we knew then, that G-d gives and G-d takes. We are just living on borrowed time, time not meant to be wasted away by frivolities but filled with acts of goodness and kindness.<br /><br /><br />And now, its one year later. Time heals, you know. Like it or not. Take it or leave it. Sure, the pain's there, but sadly, we've come to terms with the reality of it. We see now that there is no going back. Whats done is done. All we have from here is to go forward, move onward.<br /><br /><br />So while the Hachlata sheets are passed back, I take one, and stare at it sheepishly. I know that it's is the least I can do to give back to those that gave so much more. But I can't. Suddenly, that paper becomes a soggy sheet drenched in my confusion, letters smudged by my ego. All my doubts come creeping out, telling me that hachlatos are of no use and have no meaning... and "Since when do u believe in these things anyways?"<br /><br />Since when?<br />Since when?<br /><br />Since forever.... until this day, one year ago.cmbchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15882735553282711474noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5987123472565403746.post-21132180629975439012009-11-13T13:19:00.007-05:002009-11-14T19:48:33.786-05:00Dancing PassionThat passion dancing in your crystal clear eyes, reflects what once danced in mine. The flicker there reminds me of who I once was. Of where I stood. Of what I lived for. Revoking memories, as if in a dream.<br /><br />You sign your emails with the words "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Moshiach</span> Now!". I did that too.. once upon a time...<br /><br />You get inspired, pile on <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">hachlatos</span>, and take it all to heart. I did that too... once upon a time...<br /><br />You're so pure. You innocence blinds, yet reveals whats really there. No distractions. No limitations. I was like that too... once upon a time...<br /><br />I still see that passion, dancing to a hazy tune of the past, causing the boiling of my blood.<br /><br />For it's what we see in others that reminds us of ourselves, that we detest the most.<br /><br />Cuz it opens us up to our imperfections. It exposes our glitches and shortcomings.<br />It reveals what we long to forget.<br /><br />And when I see that fiery passion dancing, I know its still somewhere in me, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">cuz</span> the sting that's there is that of a fresh wound.cmbchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15882735553282711474noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5987123472565403746.post-59415743045386439212009-11-13T12:47:00.002-05:002009-11-13T12:56:50.467-05:00Of hate and JealousyI despise you.<br />I despise your passion.<br />I despise your belief.<br />I despise you for your <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">unshakable</span> commitment to something you can't prove.<br />I despise you for your steadfast assurance that what you believe in is true.<br /><br />I hate you.<br />I hate you for innocence.<br />I hate you for your clarity.<br />I hate you for being able to accept that which is above your understanding, without a question.<br />I hate you for your faith.<br />I hate you for what you call your own.<br /><br /><br />But in truth.. it's not hate. Its Jealousy.<br /><br />I'm jealous.<br />Jealous of your passion in that which you believe in.<br />Jealous of your <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">unshakable</span> commitment, steadfast assurance and clarity.<br />Jealous of your faith.<br />Jealous of your innocence.<br /><br />Jealous because you have something to call your own.cmbchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15882735553282711474noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5987123472565403746.post-17967780199703113892009-11-11T18:20:00.002-05:002009-11-11T18:43:29.776-05:00Hi's and Bye'sIts funny how quickly people can change. Or rather, how quickly the change becomes apparent.<br />I always thought that this blog would last forever, that I would never run out of things to share and say.<br />But I proved myself wrong once, and then proved myself wrong again. <br /><br />In case you <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">haven't</span> noticed, I haven't posted in a while. Maybe it was <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">cuz</span> I flunked my first writing assignment of the year, which knocked down my confidence. Or maybe <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">cuz</span> I was too lazy. Or maybe <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">cuz</span> I was afraid. <br /><br />afraid of you.<br /><br />Yes, You.<br /><br />Of your judgements, your <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">misinterpretations</span>, your labels.<br />Of the way you'll see me, that either <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">I'm</span> growing up too fast, or more immature with age.<br /><br /><br /> I was thinking of shutting this blog forever. But I changed my mind. If the whole world won't accept me, the least I can do is accept myself.<br />come to terms with who I am.<br />and eventually you will too.cmbchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15882735553282711474noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5987123472565403746.post-78700845669121439732009-10-05T20:25:00.003-04:002009-10-06T04:24:11.260-04:00One in a Million<div id="ms__id11">When my eye caught hold of her, she was hugging a tree. More like wailing to it, actually. What made her catch my eye? I don't know. But when she did, I was in the interim of processing my surroundings. People rushing by, laughing, talking, or just simply minding their own business. Moms whizzing by with strollers at hand. Children, faces sticky from pink cotton candy, walking at somewhat slow paces in between the occasional running from ride to ride, from one thrill to the next. Colors clashing into one big mush , shooting from all directions.<br /></div><br /><div id="ms__id12">And there stood a lonely little girl. My eyes locked with hers for a moment, and then she quickly looked away. She was obviously lost. I could tell from the way she buried her head in the tree's flaky bark. She wore a pink shirt to accommodate the long white skirt swept her bare toes. oh yeah, she was barefoot too, did I mention? </div><br /><div id="ms__id13"> I slowly walked over to her and bent down to meet her eye level. </div><br /><div>"Whats your name? Where's your mommy?"</div><br /><div> </div><br /><div>silence. </div><br /><div> </div><br /><div>"Are you lost?"<br /></div><br /><div>She turned her head away. I could hear her muffled sobs. </div><br /><div> </div><br /><div>"Do you want to go find your mommy?"</div><br /><div> </div><br /><div>her wailing was getting louder, yet she did not respond. </div><br /><div> </div><br /><div>"Come, Ill take you to go find mommy."</div><br /><div> </div><br /><div>I gave her my hand, but she didn't take it. Instead she looked away again. Her sobs were now high pitched. I spoke to her softly. There was no response until she finally relented and took my hand. We walked over to the moon bounce to retrieve her shoes. But when she couldn't find them, she relieved herself from my grip and ran back to the tree.<span style="font-style: italic;"> Her </span>tree. Her fort of hope. <span style="font-style: italic;"></span><br /><br />I tried continuously to get her to budge and come with me to the information desk so that they could announce her name on the loudspeaker. But she <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">wouldn't</span> move. Her refusal to come was frustrating. But I knew that I couldn't leave her now.<br /><br />By this point, we had attracted a small crowd of married couples that all tried to offer their best advice on how to get the kid to <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">oblige</span>. Someone suggested that we give her a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">lolly pop</span>. Right. <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">That's</span> like playing the classical kidnapping scheme, and who said the child's mom <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">hadn't</span> used that exact example to educate her child with the dangers of abduction? And Speaking of mom, where was she anyways?<br /><br />At long last, someone <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">finally</span> convinced her to come look for shoe again. This time she successfully found them squished between some burly men waiting for their kids to get off the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">moon bounce</span>. She put them on slowly, making sure not to let me out of her sight.<br />When she was done, she stood up and took my hand, not leaving go for a second. How Ironic. just moments ago, she had refused to let me help her, and now she <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">squished</span> my hand so tightly, something I translated to mean that she was now relying on me for guidance. Now <span style="font-style: italic;">I <span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span>was the tree, her fort of hope.<br /><br />Hand in hand, we walked in between the rides, until <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">finally</span> arriving at the information stand. The kind Assistance woman bent down ans stroked the child's cheek. After acquiring her name, a set of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">announcements</span> for the girl's <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">guardian</span> were made. I <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">finally</span> let out a huge sigh of relief. until the thought struck me. Why would anyone listen to the announcement? Why would anyone take interest? Nobody listens to them. Loudspeaker <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">announcements</span> are like music to the ears. Passive reminders to anyone that will listen, which isn't anyone at all. So really, what was the point.<br />Sure enough, the girl was picked up. Apparently someone <span style="font-style: italic;">did </span>hear the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">announcement</span>.<br />and heeded the call.<br />The same way I, one in a million, sought out a girl at a tree stump. No one was supposed to find her. But I did. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Cuz</span></span> that little lost girl reflected a little lost part of me. A little lost part of my soul. And somehow, someway, I heeded her call.<br />Cause you'll never listen to the call. Until you realize that they're calling your name.<br /><br /></div>cmbchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15882735553282711474noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5987123472565403746.post-59327651383046161902009-09-27T00:24:00.003-04:002009-09-27T00:36:08.875-04:00The Apology<div id="ms__id31">You know what <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">I'm</span> talking about. Don't you? Those things that flood your <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">email box</span> just weeks before the Judgement Day? Those annoying, empty "heartfelt" letters begging for forgiveness. Its like... k another apology note... I betcha that she just clicked the "all contacts" button.. with no clue as to who it was reaching or why.<br /><br />Its just pointless.<br /><br />This year I won't be sending out one of those "will you please forgive me for anything I may have done..." emails. <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">Yuukkk</span>.<br /><br />Its not because I <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">don't</span> want to forgive anyone. I do. Really.<br /><div id="ms__id18">Its just that....if <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">I'm</span> <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">apologizing</span> to someone...it should be personal. I should really mean it. Not just another forward sent at the click of a button without much thought or meaning attached. </div><br />I want it to come from within. I want to truly feel it, because that the only way you will too.<br /><br /><div id="ms__id19">So the only one Ill be sending a apology note to is g-d. <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error">Cuz</span> I know he knows i mean it. deep down, somewhere, I do. Because each year he makes a deal with me. Ill forgive you, If <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">you'll</span> forgive me. </div><div id="ms__id20"></div><div id="ms__id21"></div><div id="ms__id22"></div><div id="ms__id23"></div><div id="ms__id24"></div><div id="ms__id25">and for everyone else... I hope that I can attain a level where I truly forgive you all... and its only then that I'll expect you to do so in return. </div></div>cmbchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15882735553282711474noreply@blogger.com8