Heavier than Heaven.
The first memory of you
is a dust-drenched window pane
lit up by the rising sun,
you, laying in a pool of light,
accented by the enveloping
white sheets and pillows.
Your feathers surround you,
hazy in the intense light,
but visible nonetheless.
It's hard to breathe,
hard to tell
whether or not
these feathers come from the angel
or the pillows which surround her.
Regardless, she's celestial
wings or not
a seraphim.
Finally you open your eyes,
I'm nearly blinded
by the shining azure.
Flames surround your head
as the sunlight shifts
away from the clouds.
How can I not love you?
When you finally speak,
your plump red lips,
your voice,
all of it speaks to me.
No words are worthy of your voice
and yet my ears are blessed by it.
Hark, angel.
I love you.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Monday, February 1, 2010
Acoustic Thought #1
This is long overdue, but only because it's taken me months to really let it settle into my stomach. I'm tired of moving around. I've lived in three different states for my High School career, moved around before that, had to make decisions between parents. I'm just done.
The constant pulling and pushing done to every aspect of my life is starting to wear me thin. I'm enveloping myself in bitterness because of it, bitterness I try hard to dress in sarcasm to soften the blows. It bothers me that I can't get along with anyone here in Florida despite the fact that I've no one to blame but myself. But this is my new home and I need to cope. Cope like I did when I was the new guy in Virginia, cope like I did when I had to sever myself from Pennsylvania.
Coping is all I can do now. It occupies most of my time and forces me to mature, forces me not to be bothered by the little things. Or maybe that's where I have it wrong? Maybe maturing is laying it all out on the table? Peeling away the layers of an onion until tears are had.
Regardless of what it may be, I've developed a thick skin because of my unstable living arrangements.
It really hurts me when I realize that my education and emotional stability has been sacrificed so my parents can pursue their own device on different fronts. In doing so, they've spread their second son thin and caused a lot of damage.
I don't resent them though. Their selfishness has rubbed off on me so it makes me the same; I even catch myself being selfish, but I don't stop. It's a lot like watching yourself behind a one-way mirror, there's nothing you can do.
There has been a lot of negligence in my life, forcing me into the company of classmates, friends, and even enemies. I strive for approval from my peers, strive to push buttons, get laughs, shed tears... I just want to impact people. I want people to remember who I am, rather than let me fall into a crowd of faceless memories.
I have a name and I have mission. God-given or not, my purpose is my own and I will carry it out in spite of my own problems.
I'm extremely good at getting people to talk to me, but I've always boarded myself up when it came my turn to do the same.
I love you, I hate you, I know you, I don't know you... Whoever is reading this, consider it a collection of my thoughts as they cross my head. Try to sort them out, try to profile me. I need your help on this one, thanks.
- Andrew
The constant pulling and pushing done to every aspect of my life is starting to wear me thin. I'm enveloping myself in bitterness because of it, bitterness I try hard to dress in sarcasm to soften the blows. It bothers me that I can't get along with anyone here in Florida despite the fact that I've no one to blame but myself. But this is my new home and I need to cope. Cope like I did when I was the new guy in Virginia, cope like I did when I had to sever myself from Pennsylvania.
Coping is all I can do now. It occupies most of my time and forces me to mature, forces me not to be bothered by the little things. Or maybe that's where I have it wrong? Maybe maturing is laying it all out on the table? Peeling away the layers of an onion until tears are had.
Regardless of what it may be, I've developed a thick skin because of my unstable living arrangements.
It really hurts me when I realize that my education and emotional stability has been sacrificed so my parents can pursue their own device on different fronts. In doing so, they've spread their second son thin and caused a lot of damage.
I don't resent them though. Their selfishness has rubbed off on me so it makes me the same; I even catch myself being selfish, but I don't stop. It's a lot like watching yourself behind a one-way mirror, there's nothing you can do.
There has been a lot of negligence in my life, forcing me into the company of classmates, friends, and even enemies. I strive for approval from my peers, strive to push buttons, get laughs, shed tears... I just want to impact people. I want people to remember who I am, rather than let me fall into a crowd of faceless memories.
I have a name and I have mission. God-given or not, my purpose is my own and I will carry it out in spite of my own problems.
I'm extremely good at getting people to talk to me, but I've always boarded myself up when it came my turn to do the same.
I love you, I hate you, I know you, I don't know you... Whoever is reading this, consider it a collection of my thoughts as they cross my head. Try to sort them out, try to profile me. I need your help on this one, thanks.
- Andrew
Free Verse Poetry #1
Scars.
Entertainment doesn't end until
the audience is bored.
Beauty exists only
in the presence of scars.
The question remains,
"Why must we learn it the hard way?"
Because we are special,
we exist in tragedy,
we shroud ourselves in depression,
forgetting the grass is greener
on the other side.
The question remains,
"Why must we learn it the hard way?"
Because life is like a skinned knee;
we won't ever let it heal.
We'll just keep picking at it until
the blood refuses to spill.
The question remains,
"Why must we learn it the hard way?"
Because we're human and
beauty only exists in the presence of scars.
Andrew Mousouris.
I can jot down my thoughts
in a vault of secrets.
Letting only those who can read my code,
read my mind.
But the truth is
I forget the key.
Letting myself sojourn in a place unknown
until memories shift back to remind me
of who I am.
But the vault is empty,
packing its self exponentially tighter
until it exploded.
I've left too many pieces of myself
scattered about,
left too many masks sitting around.
Now I can't even find
my original face.
I'm torn between different dreams.
I'm misunderstood by the masses,
but only because I misunderstand myself.
So dig with your silver spoon,
send your hounds after me,
please keep searching for
Andrew Mousouris.
For the truth is
I've yet to find myself.
Entertainment doesn't end until
the audience is bored.
Beauty exists only
in the presence of scars.
The question remains,
"Why must we learn it the hard way?"
Because we are special,
we exist in tragedy,
we shroud ourselves in depression,
forgetting the grass is greener
on the other side.
The question remains,
"Why must we learn it the hard way?"
Because life is like a skinned knee;
we won't ever let it heal.
We'll just keep picking at it until
the blood refuses to spill.
The question remains,
"Why must we learn it the hard way?"
Because we're human and
beauty only exists in the presence of scars.
Andrew Mousouris.
I can jot down my thoughts
in a vault of secrets.
Letting only those who can read my code,
read my mind.
But the truth is
I forget the key.
Letting myself sojourn in a place unknown
until memories shift back to remind me
of who I am.
But the vault is empty,
packing its self exponentially tighter
until it exploded.
I've left too many pieces of myself
scattered about,
left too many masks sitting around.
Now I can't even find
my original face.
I'm torn between different dreams.
I'm misunderstood by the masses,
but only because I misunderstand myself.
So dig with your silver spoon,
send your hounds after me,
please keep searching for
Andrew Mousouris.
For the truth is
I've yet to find myself.
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