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JerApril Vaeni

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Member Since: Before 2003

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Jun 13, 2002-2:17p.m.jer
by JerApril Vaeni

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Recent poems by JerApril Vaeni
•  Jul 30, 2002 - 10:29 pm jer
•  Jul 28, 2002 - 2:05a.m. April
•  Jul 11, 2002 - 11:56 p.m. jer
•  April 18/02-6:08pmApril
•  Jun 17, 2002-1:39a.m.jer
           >> View all 25

Your words turn pages into kindling, all crackling wildfire. And you ask me to add? You ask me to add fuel?

Here I sit at my console on a torrid summer noon. I feel like flypaper--entirely sticky parts squirming in their new open casket home. I need to cool off in your shade. But you: fire. Always fire. Your past is more alive to you than I am presently and that is a pity.

It's a pity we always travel with the baggage we hate. We plop it down in our new surroundings and unzip it with surgeon's precision stitch by rusty stitch. Then we reguard the contents with awe and wonder and fear.

Is this really us? Is this who we still are? No? Then why do we wear it?

And oh we do wear it! Without even meaning to we shout, "This is who I am! I am this other stuff! I am the influences of these people, this place, this time!" Ever-afraid to be who we are NOW.

Even snakes in their legendary evil have the sense to shed their skin often. They don't think about it, they just do it.

Yes, that's right the truth is, Chaos is organized. And in us, compartmentalized until we ask ourselves why we live the lie of fractured selves.

We are, every last one of us, the Big Bang. And until we pull back our exploded parts we will forever remain occupied reveling in our own shards.

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Reviewed by Amor Sabor 6/13/2002
Excellent!! Many do tend to bring the shards of their past into the present as if it were a puzzle and they treasure it as if the picture it reveals would be reflected in the future. The image though would only show itself to be fractured and the edges may be too sharp for anyone else
Reviewed by Amor Sabor 6/13/2002

I love this... Great Write!!! =:)

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