Posts Tagged ‘bluerain’

Men vs Man


Once there was a man with an idea
He didn’t know what to do with that idea

Then came a man who had a plan.
He didn’t know how to go about that plan.

Then came a man who could implement.
He didn’t know how to supervise others.

Then came a man who could supervise.
He didn’t know how to build.

then came a man who knew how to build.
he couldn’t build it all by himself.

Then came more men that could build,
And they worked until they were done.

When the idea materialized,
They were happy.

Then came a man who didn’t have any ideas;
He couldn’t plan. He couldn’t implement, nor supervise, nor build.

Out of anger, and on his own,
He destroyed the the building, and the dreams of the other men,

But he gave birth to the notion
That it’s easier to destroy than to build.




sneak peek: Live a little

The following entries were recorded from the diary of the late Donovan Jameson.

Wednesday, May 20 2009

My name is Donovan jameson. I find myself having to remind me of who I am. I know that I wrote that I’ve been lost before, that I don’t know who I am, but this is different. This is way different. Is it possible that…you could lose yourself so much that it becomes a reality, that you start actually losing your identity? Some weird things have been going on lately and…I just need to make sure, I need to have it written down that…that I am me. My name is Donovan Jameson. The past two weeks…The past two weeks have been scary.

Eve. And Adam

She was still. Her naked chest rose in quick successions. She felt the heat coming out of her mouth as she exhaled. There was a fire burning inside of her like a volcano of pleasure ready to erupt. She breathe longer and deeper, and swallowed harder. The emotions rose higher, much higher, and overwhelmed. And she wept. Silence is insanity, she swore. She wept. Inside of her, she was alive. Inside of her was a beautiful war.

Her warm fingers ran alone her naked thigh and her body erected in million goosebumps. And prompted another wave … continue reading this entry.

After the storm

“Don’t do this to me! Not on valentines day!” I ran after her. She hurried to her blue beetle. She swung and launched her backpack full of her clothes on the backseat. I ran barefooted after her, my heart singing a dreadful tune. Everything said perky outside. It was sunny yet there was an on and off breeze that balanced it out. She would have been the one to mention just how perfect the weather was, but she was a storm. She suddenly turned around, and I waited for the thunder. I waited for her to stab me with her words-Some truths that I couldn’t accept. She said nothing. She just looked at me a little longer as if her tears blurred her vision and she wanted to get one last good look at me before she leaves forever.

That’s when I realized that maybe without knowing it she was giving me another chance. And I realized that whatever I … continue reading this entry.

the couch

She came out of her room crying . I wonder how she ever found her way in the dark, and how she knew I was awake. She climbed on the couch, where I was sitting in front of the quiet color breathing TV. She pretended not to hear me tell her to go back to bed. She laid her head on my lap and fell asleep. she was three.

the next morning, she hurried to the couch where she left her backpack from studying the night before. she had a delicious wrap in one hand, and my mother’s mouth running in the back of her head. She was going to be late for school. She fixed her book on the couch where I was sitting. my father left the house first, he always grumpy in the morning. My mother followed him screaming one last thing as she walked out. She ran after her two minutes later. She waived at me and slammed the front door behind her

Later that evening, she stormed in through that door. she had that smile in her face. you know, the one that stains your mind for a while, like a pin on a small thread of your lifetime. She ran past me, and the couch, leaving a trail of joy behind. She ran to my parents, her diploma tucked under her arm. She ran through the house, my parents parading behind her. She ran to me and give me a quick, but rough hug.

The phone rang and rang that evening. I reached over, on the coffee table, in front of the couch, and I picked up the receiver. It was her, the most happy I’ve ever heard her. her words flowed like the fabric of time. She only stopped to giggled, then time stopped. she was telling me about her trip to Greece. It seems the flight alone was an adventure on it’s own. It seems the rest of her honeymoon promised to be nothing but amazing.

It seems that amazing is all she ever was. And I’m not just saying that because tonight she is sleeping over there, not too far away from the couch where I sit. Or because there is so much people gathered here in the living room. Or even that I don’t recognize most of them. My sister really is an amazing person. Even if she is not here to hear me say it. She has three kids. Her two sons are crying on her casket. The youngest is thirty years old, she has her eyes. I hold her in my arms; she tells me stories of her mother as she cries.

…and I cry too because this story isn’t about her.

You are…

so many time we forget about those that care for us the most. The ones that push us or show us the right way without ever lifting a finger; the ones that inspire us by just being themselves. So many time we ( I) forget what they mean to us (me). This poem is dedicated to them ————>

I am

I am…

Incomplete like an abstract puzzle

I am…

A whisper like their quiet muzzle

I am…

Boredom like tick……tock……..tick…………tock

I am…

Empty like the writer’s block

I am….

Lonely like the moon in the sky

I am…

Sorry like the coward’s lie


I am all this without you!

you may be excused!

Excuses, I have so many excuses. So many reasons why I procrastinate, or why I don’t do what I’m supposed to. For me it’s almost an illness. The weird thing is that I know that finding an excuse not to do something will only hurt me in the future, but I still do it. For instance, I am supposed to be finishing a story for a contest that I’m entering, but my excuse is that I’m not inspired yet.
I have too many excuses, and I have taken so little risks. 40 years from now, I don’t want to look back with regret because I had too many excuses.


“Excuses, she yelled, excuses”
– But they’ve strangled all my muses!
“Excuses, she yelled…they’re all excuses!”

– But I’m not lying,
I never have time to see,
Too busy dreaming
Never have time for me
Tomorrow is way too pressing.
I never have time to eat,
I’m always hungry for more
And walking is a feat
If you’ve never done it before
It’s never what is
Because it’s always what if
You See, there was never a time to seize!
Umm… But what if?
What if life was never ending?

“Would you write me then?” she said,
Lying motionless in her death bed
-But my muses!
“Excuses, she whispered, excuses”
Soon I’ll borrow the casket that she uses.

The outcast

He sinks where you rise

He’s wise when he thinks

Would you believe that

There is a jail in heaven

And a heaven in hell

You wouldn’t know that

He dwells within him

It’s a grim story when he fails

He is misunderstood and misunderstands

And he built a bridge with his own hands

It doesn’t hold “good”

So he crossed his heart

And vowed to never cross it

You can’t build with a hatchet

Or attract people with a magnet

He said he could make up the time

If he could go back in time

So he bought the last hour glass

And hoped that it would last

But he laid in the same lies

And lived the same life

So he started crying heavy tears

And tear down his dreams and cried

That the world wasn’t fair

No it wasn’t a fairy tale

Instead it was as plain as his pain

As lame as his aim

For he made the wrong choices

Chose to fly but didn’t make it

He kept his secrets locked in a locket

His identity in his pocket

T’il he lost it

And found out

That he, himself was lost and found

In the darkest time the light shines the brightest

He had found his calling while phoning a friend

Who told him that he could rescue himself

By saving others

That he could hear without listening

But to listen meant to give ear

Said he had a life to live

So he should live life

See life is hard when you don’t have the right people around you

Yea you, the table has turned on you