Notes From The Train

The Creation of Dreams : 2011

misslucas — Tue, 29 May 2012 07:54:00 -0400

An open book with words on a line

once closed holds a secret in the spine

the words separate and reconnect

with the ones they most care for and respect

Love mingles with Hate

they eat from the same plate

it’s like they don’t even know the chaos they create

War and Peace have mastered the waltz

they share the floor with True and False

they dance through the night

alongside Wrong and Right

and not once has there been a single fight

Smile and Frown

play with Up and Down

as Black and White

speak to Yellow and Brown

Life resuscitates Death

as Death suffocates Life

and so is their existence

as Husband and Wife

the Question words

all come together

for they are birds

of the same inked feather

Who and Where and How and Why

all look for What up in the sky

this goes on

until you fall asleep

then into your mind

they softly creep

they get themselves into great big teams

and become what we humans all call Dreams

if you do not Dream

it’s because you do not Write

so I suggest you start tonight

Drawing Words : 2011

misslucas — Tue, 29 May 2012 07:53:00 -0400

I wish I could put into words

what it is you do

to my heart

to my spirit

to my face

you make my mind race

through random adjectives

desperately trying to find

reasons I am so taken

by the music you own

or the books you haven’t read

or the way those leather straps fit so snug around your wrist

I wish I could draw out of a hat

the words that would describe this

but I can’t

so I’ll just take a picture of my bliss

and shove it into a bottle

with a note saying

I’ll come for you

if you’ll still be waiting

Don't Hear, Listen : 2011

misslucas — Tue, 29 May 2012 07:52:00 -0400

The beat flows through me

like purple honey

every single time it drops

an explosion

puts my soul in motion

I play it

pray

it never stops

I hold it close to me

feel reverberations

of magic-made creations

how they’re supposed to be

deep down in the bottom of my shoe

where my sole is

tap tap tap

the rhythm right through me

my mark is right there where that hole is

I danced into the earth

and found myself rebirthed

Your ears heard

while mine listened

and my soul glistened

hummed like twilight before night time

moonlight before sunshine

listen

it’s a whisper

crisper than the crack of dawn

louder than a mid-cut lawn

more beautiful than black and white

more powerful than kryptonite

but don’t worry

it’s nothing if your hear it

but if you listen…

Unnamed : 2011

misslucas — Tue, 29 May 2012 07:51:00 -0400

The sky cried tonight and I felt the pain of a thousand souls lost. a thousand souls found. a thousand souls scattered like confetti on the ground

The sky cried

and a child cried

and the world held her hand

THE LETTER : 2010

misslucas — Tue, 29 May 2012 07:49:00 -0400

My Dearest Sir,

It has been what feels like eternity since we, like fools, did say goodbye to something that so clearly has shown it will not leave. It feels like I have died a death of the soul and there is nothing that exists that could bring me back to life like you. Never in my entire existence have I been so taken by emotion. I have been drunk and sober and hungover all in one moment. All in a moment of you. What reason have you, my love, what reason good enough to justify this brutal attack you have ordered upon my heart?

It has been but mere weeks yet I have suffered without you the magnitude of two lifetimes. My heart aches and my body weakens at the thought of you. The thought that my thoughts of yesterday shall not manifest themselves into actions of tomorrow. Still, I think of you in that very light in which I first met you. That light that, at the time, was sufficiently bright to temporarily blind me to the future pain you inevitably would afflict upon my very being. I saw no such pain and if I did, which I might have, I pushed it aside. I soaked myself in your beauty. I paid no mind to the consequence and what a great consequence it turned out to be. There would be no difference, though, had I paid any mind, for my heart is the master and my mind merely a pawn waiting to be moved.

My deepest apologies I send to you for I did not know it would turn out so. I did not know I was capable of expressing a love as strong as this. I did not know I was capable of feeing it. It amazes me still how one can feel this strongly about another and not have them express that they, too, possess a feeling equally strong. Is it not the strength of the magnet that pulls the metal towards it? Am I mistaken? Is the magnet merely pulling itself towards an unwanting metal? My heart has reason to believe you have found another. It suffocates me to write this yet I write still, with the hope that if I hold my breath for long enough, it would ultimately lead to my death and end of this painful misery. Have you found another? I sincerely hope she will treat you half as well as I intended. As it is true, we do not deserve a love as pure as did exist between the gods but you deserve to be loved enough. Enough to show you that love is enough. Enough to withstand the greatest of tribulation. My fear exists in eight legged creatures and loneliness and darkness but never have I feared a thing so weak as distance. I forget, though, that not all are like me and that maybe, just maybe, there are people to whom distance is a powerful thing. A thing so magnificent that it would be reason enough to discard the truest and most beautiful of all feelings. That which is love.

Still, I do not know what love is. Every time I find myself to be close to it, I find it to be a mirage. A dream. What if you were just a dream? I should have you know, that for a while, a dream is what you felt like for each time I connected with you I would fly as if flying were possible. I would soar above reality. I would gaze down on humanity. and laugh at their attempts for I would see myself in them. Only now it feels as if I have failed just like them.

I have nothing more to say to you, only that I miss you. I miss you so much. I am still unsure as to whether it is you I miss or the idea of you in my writing. I still write about you. My listeners have grown sick of you for you are all I write. You are all I breath. I am still waiting for life to show me another path. They say it takes time. Hopefully I can breath again. Somewhere in the future. Hopefully you can too.

Yours Always

Have You Ever?

misslucas — Tue, 29 May 2012 07:47:57 -0400

Have you ever met an amazing person? An amazing group of people? From an amazing place in the world you never thought you’d live in? Have you ever fallen in love with someone you had just met and then over several days you got to know them and you just liked them more and you wished they were your best friend or your lover or your mother or your father? Have you ever had to say goodbye to them abruptly? Have you ever had to leave them in the middle of something? Have they ever been torn away from you? Snatched just like that? Forever? Have you ever cried because you knew that it was the end and that the way they were at that point in time was the way they’d be forever?

This is how I feel every time I get to the last page of a book. It’s heartbreaking.

The Passing Train : 2011

misslucas — Tue, 29 May 2012 07:46:00 -0400

Every day I drive out to the train tracks to write. It’s quiet and I can think. There’s something about a train that calms my soul. I’ve been doing it now for the past fifteen months or so and I’ve never seen the train. Part of me believed there was no train and the other part of me knew that the train passes there very early in the morning. So early that the sun doesn’t even get to see it. Yesterday I was sitting and watching the trees and the stagnant water from the downpour that morning and I saw lights up ahead. Excitement jolted through my body. There was a train passing through. After more than a year of no trains, I finally saw it. I cannot write there anymore because the noise hovers in the air. A train noise that reminds me of him and that first poem and that whirlwind affair. I do not wish to be with him, I just wish I could have that train track quiet again instead of that passing train noise.

My Journal Bleeds : 2010

misslucas — Tue, 29 May 2012 07:44:00 -0400

My journal bleeds from wounds inflicted by my hand that was trying to free emotions inflicted upon my heart by your soul. Scars from pages written on and torn out and squashed and thrown against the wall. I went through it all. With you. I heard the way ‘I love you’ sounds when harmonized with lies. It drowns emotion and cuts off feeling and prolongs the healing when eventually your lies become something more evident than drinking and getting drunk on wine from three nights ago. I waited up. You took your time. I know what waiting feels like. It feels like living and knowing you’ll die but not knowing when. It feels like life. I didn’t need more life than I already had. Leave now. Or maybe I will. Maybe I’ll just leave us both. And maybe you wont have to wait.

The pages from my journal bleed still

I took a match and put them out of their misery

I threw this page out of a burning building

I hope it never reaches you

I hope it does

I hope it burns your soul

The one that hurt my heart

The heart that made my journal bleed.

Mind Slaughter : 2010

misslucas — Tue, 29 May 2012 07:42:00 -0400

Thoughts of wanting to hold your hand
would gnaw their way into this land
I house inside my head
ridden to my bed
by recent thoughts of what went wrong
and why it took so long
I’ve got that song
on repeat
and the cursor on delete,
yet I would still very much like to meet
that stranger you were
the night you became familiar
That night I went from ‘her’
to ‘his’
to ‘yours’
Show’s over, please hold your applause
I’m counting up scores
and opening sores
It’s painful
I’m happy but I pain still
I’m weak-willed
Been popping pills
just to get that momentary thrill
to get my mind off you
To get my body through
this man-made disaster called goodbye
And though you say it’s not goodbye,
the reality is,
it really is
I would rather reminisce
on what we had
than hope for something we never will
and feel bad
for saying it
then feel sad
replaying it
in my mind
The mind that forever will
house thoughts of holding hands with you

What I Need Most

misslucas — Tue, 29 May 2012 07:41:00 -0400

My heart beats at a variable amount per second

It depends on a sight or a sound or a mention

Of your name or a memory of your face

It’s all the same

It just brings me pain

And every time it beats

My love for you depletes

Not because I don’t

But because you won’t

Return to me

That which is mine

What I Need Most

And that space between us I thought we’d defy

It just keeps growing

Unknowing

We placed both our___ souls_____ on the line

| Right next to the margin So BIG a love We ran right off the page

No need to cry over yesterday

For I have, but I’m still not okay

So it’s pointless, I’ll never have my way

I’m just writing this to say

Screw you

And your inability to find a way

To communicate

Your complete and utter disgust

In us

An ‘us’ I thought

Could not be bought or sold or stolen

But here we are both victims of a similar crime

SHE broke your heart

And you stole mine

And where it used to be

Left a note saying

Wait for me

And I did

In no time

I made my mind

Believe that I was too ‘nice’ to be deceived

And that nobody on this earth who knew me

As well as you did

Would ever do what you did

Or even think that I was THAT stupid

But I was

What fools wait for a nothing

That says it is only something

When it is united with that one thing that waits for it

Pines and stays up late for it

Wondering

Is he dreaming about me?

All the while that nothing-something sleeps so peacefully

Not even moving its eyeballs rapidly enough

To conjure up a vivid enough

Image of my face

When I had already traced the lines of your smile

And engraved them right next to mine

And at this stage of the lies

All I ended up with was aged eyes

And a crooked smile

That I had to show

To hide the frown

To avoid the questions

To keep from having to reveal

How you let me down

And you didn’t even do it gently

You knew my heart was heavy

So if you just snapped the string

Between you and me

I’d fall and crash into the ground

Every now and again

You pop your head in

To my busy little life

I don’t need you here

Anymore

I do

But I want to not need you

Because needing you

Will lead to forgiving you

Which I have

But not enough to be

In need of your sympathy

So this is my plea

I love you

But the thing I need most

Is me

What good is a day without night time?

misslucas — Mon, 28 May 2012 10:12:00 -0400

September 19, 2011

surely no better than sunshine
hidden by clouds
that threaten to rain
but never do more than drive me insane
with dark when it should be bright time
What good is a cup without tea?
What good is a room without me?
What good is a night
what good is a day
and what good is a cup when you’re that far away?
What good is this life without something
for even a nothing is something when nothing is something you see every day

Recall: August 28th, 2011…

misslucas — Mon, 28 May 2012 09:56:11 -0400

Good evening bloggers and rebloggers. This is my first text post. I’ve been going ape with the photographs and I know that might be the only reason you decided to click the ‘follow’ button and I assure you my text posts will be bulky but infrequent.

I think it’s only appropriate to introduce myself properly so that you don’t feel like a stalker but a rather an acquaintance or, maybe someday, a friend. My name is Megan and I am a human being. I guess that means that my gender or sexual preference shouldn’t be of concern so I won’t even bother mentioning it. My description pretty much sums up what I’m about. I write poetry. I listen to old music. I love to read. I drink tea. I am a Psych/English major very close to getting my degree but not close enough. If you need to know anything about me or yourself or you just need to vent, I’m always up for a chat, message me.

Well, this week was rather exciting with nature being angry at us again. The earthquake wasn’t something to write home about but it almost felt like Mother Nature was shoulder bumping the earth to remind humans of how powerful she is and that if we keep up with the way we’re living she can remove it all. I was excited about the hurricane even though that is not a very nice thing to say. I was looking forward to some kind of destruction; an uprooted tree, a flood even a power outage would have sufficed but all we got was a ten minute shower and a little rustle of the leaves. I guess I should be grateful for small mercies. Those of you who have been affected by the hurricane are in my thoughts and I pray that you find your way out safely.

I haven’t written any poetry in a very long time and I’m starting to think I’m losing it; that magic that transmits from my fingers to my pencil. The magic that makes the lead dance on cotton sheets and produce beauty. Maybe I can only write when I’m in love. Maybe creativity is something that comes with confusion and frustration tangled up in some kind of happiness; the kind that accompanies involuntary smiles and fluttering abdomens. I don’t have that anymore. I don’t have the magic. I don’t have poetry.

On the other end of the stick, I stumbled upon an amazing artist today. The Norwegian born, Maria Mena combines sweet piano and guitar sounds with delicious lyrics that are relative to teenage and young-adult life and love and the perils that come with it. Her voice is pure and real and will make your soul weep if listened to at the right moment and at the right volume. She is so talented. I haven’t stopped listening to her.

The up and coming weeks are going to be very busy and activity-filled as I say my final goodbyes to my American Summer and prepare for my African one. You’ll be hearing more about that soon. I hope everyone has a great week and takes lots of photos. I hope you find the inspiration you need to produce whatever art it is you’re into, be it photography or painting or writing or life, always remember…inspiration DOES exist, it just has to find you working.

M

Bulbs Maybe?

misslucas — Mon, 28 May 2012 09:28:19 -0400

From love sprouted words like dandelion
blooming so brightly and full.
Occasional droughts followed by snow
where more words from love would grow.
But winter killed life as I know it,
a lawnmower dragged them away
and hard as I try the blooms will not show
overpopulated by weeds of dismay.
Now my heart is in search of a seed
more hardy and lasting than love
one that still flowers without constant hours
of downpours that stem from above.

Poetry is a story that is so good, it doesn’t need full sentences.

misslucas — Tue, 22 May 2012 19:55:00 -0400

We Are Ghosts

misslucas — Tue, 22 May 2012 19:52:00 -0400

we are ghosts

you and me and them

and we walk through each other

and take a mountain

and leave a fraction

and shattered hearts

and crumbling souls

are all that’s left

we are ghosts

you and me and them

destroying humanity

Writers understand each other. We are unafraid to spill ourselves over into the cup of a fellow writer because there is this invisible connection between us. We share similar internal conflicts. Different as we are, we are the same.

misslucas — Tue, 22 May 2012 06:35:00 -0400

30 Minute Letters

misslucas — Tue, 22 May 2012 06:32:00 -0400

Dear person I hate,

Hate is not really that strong a word but the world seems to think it is and if there ever exists a person that makes me dislike them to a degree that the world thinks is too strong a degree to actually feel without being judged then I hope I don’t meet you. I hope I never experience what it is you would do that would make me dislike you so intensely. That said, I suggest that you stay away because if I do end up hating you then I’ll ensure that you know the exact meaning of the word.

Sincerely,
Meg

Dear person I like

I am so glad you exist.
Thank you for being.

Love,
Meg

Dear ex boyfriend

n/a

Dear ex best friend

We have grown. It’s a pity that it had to be apart. I wish you all the happiness in the world. You deserve it. I hope one day you can see it too.

Til we meet again
Meg

Dear best friend

You are the breath in my lungs, the wind in my sails. It is from you that I learned what love means. You are selfless and kind and humble and no one could have shown me a better way to live than you. You are the epitome of beauty and you showed me that ugly does not exist in the physical, it is a word used to describe what comes from within. Thank you for carrying me for nine months. Thank you for baring all of that pain and the pain of my childhood years and that of my teenage years. You are the most amazing person in the world and I love you.

Best Friends Forever
Poncho

Dear *anyone*

Always remember that beauty comes from within and it doesn’t matter what people tell you the only important thing is what you tell yourself. Now go to a mirror and say you’re beautiful. Don’t stop doing it until you believe it. I promise you have the ability to convince yourself.

Stay strong
Love Meg

Dear Santa

I want coal this year.
Make it happen.

Meg

Dear mom

I hope the poetry never goes away. I hope you never stop reciting. I hope one day to be like you in every way imaginable.

I love you to the moon and back
Poncho

Dear dad

What a journey. Because of you I know what it feels like to cry for real. I know what it’s like to want to run away. I know what it feels like to be afraid. I also know what it feels like to smile and laugh and let go. I know what trust is. I know what courage is and wisdom. I also know that hard work pays off and you have worked so hard to make things as good as they are now. Thank you for that. You are the strongest man I know. It’s time to come home now.

I love you so very much
Poncho

Dear future me

We did it. We wrote it and now they’re all reading it, not to mention watching it. The movie was amazing. They could have done a better job capturing the essence though. But we know how it is, the book is always better than the movie. Hows that third one coming along? Writer’s block does not exist, do not make it an excuse. We look great by the way. Pilates paid off. And oh the places you have been. I’m looking forward to it. The world is not as scary as people say it is right? I hope not. Save a spot for me at the premier.

Stay amazing
Me

Dear past me

Great job. I like us now. Apparently we only get better. You did good.

I love you no matter what stupid choices you have made.

Always,
Me

Dear person I’m jealous of

Keep doing that thing you do. It makes me want to be a better me.

See you on top
Meg

Dear person I had a crush on

You should have known better.
That’s all

Dear boyfriend

See you soon?
=)

The Photographer Guy

misslucas — Mon, 21 May 2012 03:46:11 -0400

Amidst the blur of multiple conversations
Too many smiling faces
I found myself
Lost in flashes of his blinding light
Drowned in phosphenes
This was one of those dreams
I knew I’d wake up before I’d experienced the night
I watched as he moved around
From one laughing face to the next
His mouth and brow
Imitating expressions he intended to capture
In this time capsule he possessed
A portable portal into the past
His delicate hands controlled
This box-like brush that painted a beauty
Only his eye could behold
A digital Van Gogh
Whose name I would never know
Whose art I would never see
Whose single-handedly orchestrated manoeuvre
Could easily snatch the present me
I sat fearlessly
Daring him to pull the trigger
Begging him to take my soul
He passed over me
And I watched them all die
By the hand of the photographer guy.

The Wait Goes On

misslucas — Tue, 01 Feb 2011 12:26:00 -0500

We used to play cops and robbers like nothing could ever stop us and we turned this drab and grey little world into something we could smile at. He wore a pretty little top hat and when I’d touch it he’d say ‘stop that! I’m getting my Fred Astaire on’. Then I’d just get my stare on and start looking at him sideways, smiling, wondering about his queer ways and how I never ever saw it. Ignored it. How could I be so blind. It’s him and I’ve been waiting all this time trying to find that ‘one’ that the media engraved into my mind was so important and they said I’d never find him. They said I’d have to kiss green frogs and wait for years inside a tower for my prince in shiny armor, so I waited. Got agitated. Took it out on him. Not once did he turn his back on me. It’s him you see. What an epiphany. All I have to do is wait for him to realize that it’s me.

Pitcher This

misslucas — Tue, 01 Feb 2011 11:54:00 -0500

The table I sit at holds a glass

It used to be full

I drank it

I’m drunk

This life it makes me high

And your idea of glass-half-empty

glass-half-full

is but a joke to me

because truthfully

I carry the pitcher

Bottomless

and I fill the glass when its empty

I drink its contents when I’m thirsty

I am in control

Oh and by the way

If your glass isn’t full

Don’t ask me to fill it

Get your own damn pitcher