Nirvana melodies

She holds herself as if she were broken.
She holds herself as if the world is cold and always has been, always will be. As if the moon is always shining and she'll always be sad and different.
She'll be all alone forever.
Her pale hands are small around her arms that are wrapped around her tiny body like the embrace of the lover she never had but hopes someday she will.
Someday she will.
But her light flickers still.
Flickers still.
It takes me away, takes me far away, the sight of her alone and unwrapped like the gift that was given too early for Christmas forgotten on the sidewalk of Summer.
It takes me away the beauty of her and the silent abandon she carries like her torch illuminating all her purple scars across her beautiful body like a galaxy of stars, worlds without end upon her. Within her, inside the gentle tomb of her skin.
It take me away how senseless this world can be to see so many others, so much pretty and grace around them constantly and not see her--far above them all, home, somehere, in the clouds. Far, far above them like starlight.
-k.p

June 28, 2016
"Nirvana" by: Drew Danburry
Sitting on an old orange porch feeling the wave of beautiful rain dust cover me and cover all my senses delicately.
(Oh to be alive and know it!)

Watch Me

I felt you sit next to me you're body's warmth suddenly beckoning my own and it was strange the sudden rush that came with you rustling like autumn leaves within me, rustling against my pale bones.
You were there and it was lovely and terrifying all at once. I could feel you watching me, only tossing guesses at the pond of my mind as to what you were thinking. Then it came--the pounding. The rush. Your smell. Your eyes I had not dared to look at yet. The time. It all came rushing back, like the smell of something hidden, something unnamed from your childhood; how you reeked of nostalgia. Reeked. But I loved it. The rush within me traveling through my veins, invading every thought with you. I remembered everything it seemed like.
But then I didn't love it. Something shifted and the pounding in my neck and wrists turned to my heart that suddenly beat like a deep and wild drum. In a different rush, I became delirious, half mad from wanting you so close, close enough to hear the deepness in your voice and feel it, and somehow not wanting you in sight at all. Not your smell. Your eyes. Your smile. You terrified me. In one rush, one invasion of my heart, my senses were overrun by the sudden presence your body and soul brought and it was unsettling and maddening and all too much. Swiftly I began to come undone. The strings around me pulled loose.
With a bound of nervous energy I took flight to the bathroom and only there conversed with myself as to how I must win this psychotic battle within me. How I must  surpass the person surpassing my wild heart. But how must I do it? How? I yelled in my heart. I stared at the flames in my eyes like they were handsome demons. But goodness, what had come over me? Did I have no shame? No. I had only bravery left. With a thorough washing of my hands and the gentle cool the chilled water left with me, I came back, I sat down and I said, "Hello."
And I was free.

-k.p.
Written for Sunday 19th, 2016

"First Day of Summer"

I'll cross my legs
and braid the flowers hair.
I'll count to them all
the reasons I love you and name the places
I wonder where you are.
I'll talk to the flowers,
just us alone,
and I'll pretend I don't picture them as you
and there I'll promise to see the world a little less cruel.
I'll be happy
there with the flowers
and I won't have to wonder with them
what I do about you.
About all the things
I wish I knew.
-k.p.
06/20/16
"First Day of Summer"

a thought: part ii

...

you can drive all night
looking for the answers in the pouring rain
wanna find
piece of mind
looking for the answers

-c.d.

windows

Ha.
You know what's funny?
I pin things.
Thoughts, intentions, dreams
(Many of them about you).
I tape them to my dirty window
and I hold my breath
as I see you walking by outside
below it and
as I see your figure stroll on by turning from pink and yellow
to purple and black from the setting sun
I pretend you're watching my every move wondering what on earth I could possibly think to do next, your beautiful eyes following mine as if they're curious to know everything about me,
to see the shiny gears turning inside my head.
But as I look harder
outside my window
wiping away the gross film across it,
I see that it isn't you that is there
and you aren't watching me at all.
In the insipid dream they call reality
you are far away
washing your thoughts upon the windows of other people
clearing away the film that plagues their glass
and their minds.
No, it isn't you
out there
watching me.
It's something dark and thin, stretched along the pavement like taffy.
It's silent.
Is it a mark? A puddle?
No. It's a shadow.
My own stretching weary with the sun
and fading like the moon every day of the month.
Stretching
stretching
gone.
Still, perhaps, wishing you were there
watching my dreams pop from the garden of my mind
and grow, grow
all for you.

-k.p.

Thursday 5:42PM 
June 16, 2016

nessun dorma

I can't wait to be in love.
To see a man's eyes fall into mine as if they always have.
As if I am home to them.
As if I am beautiful,
familiar, wanted,
I am worth everything.
To know I am loved by one look in someone's eyes.
To feel as though when my lips meet another's there is music playing--
Puccini singing
an opera in my heart!
Oh what a feeling I shall have someday
to be in love
and know it!

-k.p.
June 15, 2016
1:51PM
Weds.
{After watching the new favorite movie: "The Mirror Has Two Faces" (1996) and listening to the exquisitely beautiful opera piece: "Turandot / Act: 'Nessun Dorma'" by: Giacomo Puccini, Luciano Pavarotti}

A sickness.

Sometimes I want to fall in love so badly it makes me sick.
Sick of you. Sick of reaching in my corrupted mind for a hand that doesn't belong to me.
Sick of watching films and wishing almost every girl in them was me. Wishing I had a somebody to fight for, cry over, kiss and hold onto whenever I felt like it, which surely would be always. Sick of waiting.
Sick of pretending this doesn't drive me insane, being alone in this way.  I'm so happy for the life I have--the kind of happiness you don't get sick of. But does that mean this post makes that vain? Am I a liar, even to myself?
Truth is I miss a lot of things. I miss the way it was when I hear an old song I used to know. Now it's just music riddled with a distant memory. It's distorted. Confused. Like my lonely heart. I want it back the way it was. Simple. Clear. Beautifully painful. There lies my cupidity.
Am I selfish to write the things I do when all I really want is a heart that wants to keep mine the way I would want to keep theirs? Am I selfish to want more? To want a Tony? A James? A William? Someone to get lost in. It's like this-- I cry myself to sleep hoping to feeling better, only hurting myself by focusing on who or what I don't have, but I honestly feel some part of me can't help it and I never like to blame things on not being in control of my actions--I believe most of the time one is. But it gets tricky when it comes to matters of the heart. Doesn't it? Very tricky.  I like to think the heart is the center of ourselves, the very core of who we are, but how can that be if it truly is one of the only things we can't really control? We can bridle it. We can try to tame the beautiful beast within it, but is it truly possible? I don't know. Life is supposed to be the one uncontrollable aspect of nature...so does that make the real core of life, our own life, our very own hearts?
I really don't know a whole lot.
I just see and believe. I watch things and I try to listen, but sometimes it isn't easy--to pay attention. But this life has little to offers in terms of solid unchangeable knowledge. Everything changes. People grow older. Moons come and go. The sun falls and rises like a steady pattern of breathing, each day bringing different light. Dreams evolve. People die, leave, walk away or come home at last. But what happens to the heart? Where does it go when these changes come? What happens to a fragile creature when it burns and in the end crumbles into beautiful crystals of ash? Surely it rises. It begins again. And again.
So this feeling will pass, this utter loneliness within me that is selfish and ugly and unfair,  but only after I rise from it. In order for a phoenix to be born again it must burn and collapse it's past self into the ashes it created. Then and only then does it rise, reborn, made anew in a baptism of fire and soot--one side beautiful and one side seemingly ugly. I find both the halves equally pleasing, they both create a new bird and I know that will come for me one day.
One day when I'm less lonely.
Less confused and sad and happy.
One day when I'm loved as wholly as I know I am capable of loving.
One day little bird, you will fly.
-k.p.

6/13/2016

leo tolstoy

"As long as there is life there is happiness."
-truth

your beautiful

love your beautiful.
embrace messy hair and
a bedraggled braid and
frizzy rain do's.

see the crinkles in your
lips when you smile
and count the freckles on
your arms with care.

name them like stars
in the dark sky.

believe in a different kind of beautiful
for when you do
the world begins to
believe in you too.

-k.p.

I've decided

I've decided something today. I watched a movie that I thought, at first, I liked very much. The girl was happy, much happier than most people I know and her smile was bigger than all the pretty girls with smiles like toothaches and sour lemons. She was pretty, but she was cute. She wasn't like other girls in movies with long legs and blonde hair and perfectly ridged cheeks. She was real. She was exceptionally ordinary. Deeply, deeply quirky, too. I loved everything about her, even the "ugly" way with which she cried for surely it was beautiful and real, exhausting to watch--as crying ought to be. But as this movie came to an end and as the love I was certain would prevail did not my heart began to shake just a little. Tears flowed down my cheeks, not for the reasons other humans might've let them flow down their own cheeks, but for a thousand different reasons all involving the never ending valve of emotion that is my confusing and beguiling heart. I cried for missing my sister so achingly as I heard a song that reminded me of her in the film. There were tears of self-pity, of the love I did not possess but ached so greatly to have, even one as painful and heart wrenching as the one seen before me. I half sobbed silently to myself, cheek turned from the screen as I could no longer bear the emotions stirring within me fiercely. It was all too much--missing things. A sister. Dignity. Half of my heart. It just seemed part mad of me to be crying at all, but once I did I couldn't seem to stop. I later cried in the car over the terrible state of severe pain my mother is constantly in and how she bears it too well for someone so beautiful and wonderful and kind. She is so kind. She only deserves peace and comfort in this world. Every good thing should have her lovely name on it.
But as I cried over a great many things I came to a raw realization within myself. It may seem simple, but I don't care. The realization was this: I am hopelessly, irrevocably, desperately living with an open, bleeding and healing heart--constantly. My life is a finite search for love that sometimes feels infinite, ceaseless and never ending. But the great truth is I find love everyday and every moment I do I can feel more fiercely and more decidedly than before.
I've decided to be happy and patient with the love I have now, even if it isn't the one I'm still searching for. It is still beautiful and this life along with it. Even when fears rattle within me, fears of not being enough, of not being enough to make someone stay and say, "I love you" forever. I still have hope for a love that is searching for me as diligently and sweetly as I am searching for it. I know someday I'll find it, even if the people in the film never did (not really).
I'm thankful for crying and missing things today. It reminds me I am beautifully and tragically human. It reminds me I am strong because I can feel things, not because I try not to. What a wonderful adventure I'm on. I'm enjoying every second, even when I'm hurting. How sweet this life really is.

-k.p.

12:57AM
June 7, 2016
Tuesday

art.

I guess I never really talk about my art which is kind of bizarre because it is such a significant part of me. It is indefinitely, inseparably, undeniably a large piece to the never ending puzzle of my soul. I cannot deny that I am extremely critical of it, but as of late, very much less so. I don't really see the value in critiquing my art so harshly I can rarely ever enjoy what it really is--an opening of my heart. I am trying a new goal--as of today, June 6th, 2016--to draw every single day. It can be a scratch on a crumpled napkin, a dump of ink on a scrap of post-it-note, an actual sketch in my sketchbook or a fullblown work of art! The details of what it is doesn't really matter, what matters is where it is coming from. Is it art? Is it practice? It doesn't matter if it doesn't come from the heart. So I will scrawl, scratch, dump, press and practice the pen across the paper, every moment getting better when I do so and every moment opening a corner of my heart like a turning page. That is most important. Truly, truly. 
-k.p.
est. June 6, 2016
3:12PM
Monday

My "smile" for the love of art.
September 2015

"You live and you die just for love!"

I don't want eventual.
I don't want someone else
or someone new.
I want burning fire;
to love is to burn
to be set a blaze and roast away the
feelings of
despair and loneliness.
I don't want another face
or a different smell.
I want familiar
to be home in the arms
of someone I know.
Is it wrong to want someone to share
to care about
to be loved
to be loved?
Oh what a feeling to
be loved!
I don't want 3 a.m.
or noon
I just want you
always.
What's so wrong with that?

-k.p.

May 26, 2016

Just Listen.

"Above the Clouds of Pompeii"
Bear's Den

We built our home out on the slopes
Pompeii beneath, she lay above
How she haunted our home
How she haunted our home

You were a god in my eyes
Above the clouds, above the skies
You were a god in my eyes
You were a god

You took me walking through the town
Showed me the statues underground
Said just don't they look in peace
Sometimes I wish that was me

I was the son you always had
Tugging at your coat while you were sad
I was the son you always had
I was the son you always had

Oh please, just don't cry
Hold your head up high
She would want you to
She would want you to

Just don't cry
Hold your head up high
She would want you to
She would want you to

You said stay in the car and wait
There's just some things I have to say
Don't you know I miss her, too
I miss her just as much as you

So my father and my son
As you end what she's begun
You'll lie patient by her side
With roses red come lilies white

I was too young to understand
The flowers slipping from your hands
I was too young to understand
I was too young to understand

I was too young to understand
The flowers sleeping in her hands
I was too young to understand
I was too young to understand

Don't cry
Hold your head up high
She would want you to
She would want you to

Please, just don't cry
Hold your head up high
She would want you to
She would want you to

And just don't cry
Hold your head up high
She would want you to
She would want you to

Please, just don't cry
Hold your head up high
She would want you to
She would want you to