Words
\werd\ n 1 : something that is said; esp: a brief remark. 2 : A sound or a combination of sounds, or its representation in writing or printing, that symbolizes and communicates a meaning and may consist of a single morpheme or of a combination of morphemes.
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I HAVE BEEN UNPLUGGED
I was driving
the wind was blowing
leaves were soaring above the highway
sometimes
even trash is beautiful
a plastic bag suspended in air
fluttering, floating
trying to escape
caught in the sunshine
sparkling, glowing
and I thought it was just like me
a piece of garbage suddenly caught
in a moment of sheer glory
flying, brilliant
sometimes
even trash is beautiful
rising above us all
trying to escape
sometime in '93
the boy in a dress
the girl in distress
she can never see
he is not what she wants him to be
and in his bright dress
he tries and he tries
but he will never make her happy
and he will never be happy
she doesn't understand
sometime in '87
She asked me if I believed in love at first sight
I said I don't believe in love
Then she asked again and started to bite
And I needed to breathe
I was drowning in the black, black sea
And everything was crushing me
I had lost my dignity
But it really didn't matter to me
So this is what you call apathy
As I drowned and it occurred to me
That to live and never bleed
Is to live in vain
So this is what is called apathy
As I drowned and it dawned on me
That I never believed in love
sometime in '90
I had never envisioned
How the shadows merged
and became one with me
And the ancient gods laughed
In spite of themselves
For here we see eternity
And I for one was quite impressed
As I felt myself touch down
The earth was strangely silent
While we howled and we danced
I saw my future going round and round
I saw my shadow growing smaller still
And I knew I was getting higher
One step closer to heaven
One leap into the eternal fire
Everyone has to die sometime
I close my eyes and see so clear
Everyone has to lie sometime
I shut my mouth and begin to hear
Everyone has to cry sometime
I spread my wings and fly
sometime in '90
I am completely and utterly awake. I can’t sleep, I’m not even tired. Although I know I will be
tomorrow. Laying in bed, watching the clock. Finally, I just had to get up. What is happening?. It’s one of those feelings that says... "Hey!
There’s something going on somewhere.” Wonder what it is? Now I’ve read a book,
played my guitar, developed 3 rolls of film and I still can’t sleep. And I’m daydreaming about
mythical London again. Faces, places, events, all seem to sweep over me in what seems
to have some reason, and then I forget. Maybe I am asleep and this is a dream! Nah!
So why am I typing this? What strange occurrence is (has) happening (happened) somewhere that
may or may not affect me anyway? Why can't I sleep? Or even just rest? My mind is brimming
with all sorts of things and I can’t synchronize anything. If it’s insomnia, why the hell can
’t it just go away? Damn, I am SO awake. Please let this be a lesson, because tomorrow
is going to hurt like hell if I can’t get at least some sleep tonight. I wonder if someone
died? Or if there was an earthquake or something. This is bullshit, I just want to sleep.
Paranoia, caffeine, what is it? Stress, being sick, what the hell? If I could cope with the
knowledge that I will feel awful in the morning, maybe I could use this time creatively.
So...
Staring at the walls
the wind blows outside
flame dancing in the breeze
what’s that? I heard myself say
as I rise from not sleeping
hold the questions of existence
staring at the clock
waiting for daylight
waiting for something
the clock just keeps moving
and here I am smoking
because I don’t know what else to do
typing, because it seems to be a good idea
waiting, because I can’t think of anything else
and because I do it well
or at least I do it
I want to say
I’m sorry to all the people I’ve hurt
I want to say
I miss you to all the people I have left behind
I want to remember the good times
and forget the bad
I want to learn from my mistakes
I want people to see
I am full of good intentions,
although I’m not all that good
I’m just me
that should be enough,
why, how can people be so vindictive
I have been myself, but rarely acted on it
I want to get better
I want to find what I lost
but not live in the past
I want to find something
I want to be good
I want everyone to be good
I’ve been as honest as I know how
tried not to hurt anyone,
people get hurt, I’m sorry
I didn’t mean it
if you knew me, really knew me
you would know I didn’t try to hurt anyone
no one really knows me
because I’m afraid to let anyone in
I tried, I’ve been hurt
who hasn’t been
make me stronger, hurt
make me whole
make me appreciate what I have
make me forget what I don’t have
what I don’t have anymore
free me, pain,
let me fly
I know I can, let me go
I can get to where I need to be,
let it happen
release the pain, the fear,
the anger, the bitterness
release the broken dreams
and make new ones
free me from myself long enough to find me
search through this wreckage and find me
though the darkness,
the humiliation...
cut though it
illuminate the passage, my life,
it’s there somewhere
waiting for me, waiting for me to find it
I know it’s there
it’s got to be
and whether it seems good or bad I have to find it
I am speaking to myself
no one else can speak to me like this
no one else can do it but me
I could be anything, anywhere, to anyone
let me go, I ask myself
can I sleep now?
Can I dream?
Can I?
I have to...
I must...
I can.
Good night.
1994
They found my ashes floating on the wind, they tried
to put them back together. To mold me into the
shape I once was, I felt nothing but dust sift
through their fingers. In time I came to rest in
the place I once loved, so dearly when it was
gone. I prayed that no one would try again to fit
the pieces back together. Memories, being as they
are, color and change the landscape, make it more
identifiable after it's gone, now I am gone and
there is no tommorow but the past, that rigid
structure that once guided my course dwindled,
fell apart and left me stranded. Now the ashes
scatter again and I float toward the sun darkening
the landscape of my dreams until blackness is all
that is left. What does it mean, mindless journey
or eternal quest where am I going, where have I
been and why has it all changed? Where are those
dreams now, the one's that so forcefully took
charge of my life, why did they desert me, when
did it all fall apart? When did love become the
sweetest pain, the bliss dissolve to nothing more
than dream? Am I running from the past, or
towards the future and what scares me so much?
Being alone or the memory of not being alone? Am I
to stop looking so that it can find me, or
continue the search? When I was younger it seemed
that the questions had answers, now the answers
bring questions and I'm always unsure. They found
my ashes floating in the wind and tried to put me
back together again, I wanted to yell, to tell
them to stop, but the ceaselss hands kept trying
to form me back into something I needed no more,
when will they stop? I'm finally free and I want
to call this state home. Bubbling up from
unconscience, the subtle feelings of loss and
friends long gone. Every now and then they
reappear only to melt into the shadows once they
get what they want. I was there. I offered. I
knew I would be used, and I did it again. The
stream of conscience, the stream of anguish, is it
better to just let go? Am I so lonely? All alone
in this world, I want to fly again. I want to
be again, want to be something that I let go of a
long time ago. I try but it weakens me, it hurts
to fit into the mold that I cast off. I don't
fit anymore and I never will again, and the past
is gone and the future is nothing and time stands
still while others change for themselves, and then I,
stuck in an unending cycle of loneliness and boredom
I can't even help myself anymore.
1995
As I look at the road ahead, it is featureless. No paths diverging.
It's possible to see this as a blank canvas. What I don't know is:
Am I the canvas, the painter, the viewer or the patron?
Am I all four? Am I everything? Am I anything?
2001
All content ©Kim Winkler 2001
