You have entered the realm of a writer.

Welcome to A Writer's Landscape!

You have entered the realm of my mind where words play with the fabric of our existence. This is the map of my imagination: the very foundations of inspiration, musing, and thought splayed for your wandering eyes. Dive deep into the tides of these forces and experience my reality, my fantasy, my world; and if you should be so inclined, share your words with this land.

Peace and Love!

J Hart F

Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Shh --

Listen up. Nothing.
Hushed before substance in hearts.
From naught bloom's a depth.

Will you answer?

Life's built of questions
sunrise, between known, sunset
Will you answer them?

Holding Emotions in Hiding

Break apart within
Outward still, collected peace
Touch: release the Dam

The New York Within

How easy it is to see
a city like New York;
to watch the sea of people
washing down the streets
among stoic buildings and
elegant skyscrapers;
to breathe the smog
hugging close like a veil.

Harder still to know
the hue of masses.
It's a city of its people,
for its people, with its people.
The city of walking sleepers,
dead faces and blank stares.
The city of meetings,
hardships and lfowers.
The city of music:
shouting, lyrical, and art.
The city of stereotypes,
non-conformists and tourists;
and still they are all
the same.

Hellishly difficult to know
the truth of the city
where eyes belie the strength
and hearts cry for more;
where souls secretly yearn
to escape and remain;
where a genuine smile
breaks tedium in the ocean;
where free hugs melt
the sorrow and fear of life;
where culture is regarded
and forgotten from step to step;
where lunch dates solidify
friendships needed to survive.

However, this isn't just within
a city that never sleeps.
It's easy to see this life
within us all.
It's harder to understand the
delicate movements of living.
It's magic to know
how we live in survival.

New Energy

Dancing life journey
comes in through windows opened
play across the grime.

Changing Seasons

It starts in morning
Cold tinge in the air
The days are shortened
Moon pushing her care
New seasons of thought
Bring much to our fair
And loneliness lost
Wrapped up in Her care

The Sentence: A Haiku

one line of your words
sheds blood where we stood just then
where are we as one

Torture: A Haiku

One feels for other
sort of Love hidden behind
Welcomed in Secrets

Friday, August 27, 2010

The Invention (Part 1)

Against the windowless wall, where darkness loomed from the crevices all around, a woman watched with intent eyes wondering from where her will to deceive came. It came naturally, thoughtlessly, and maliciously even though she cared not for the delicate intrigues permeating every instance of her deception. These myriads of information swam in her ind, developing, creating, and deepening the world towards which she worked.

Her desires didn't include the dead body before her. Nor did they include the pool of blood expanding towards the opened door.

however hard she pressed against the light-less wall, she couldn't escape without stepping into the world again. Into her world, and though she didn't feel emotions about the deceased before her, she understood the blame that would fall upon her character. None wold understand, no-one would help her once this was revealed.

Determination crept up her spine like the tingle of nerves being reawakened during a massage.

If I stay and call this in... They won't pin me for his murder. I haven't touched him. I didn't do anything. There isn't any evidence connecting me to his death. They'll find me innocent of this event.

And with that, she reached into her right pocket of her cargo pants and extracted her cellular telephone. She flipped it open and called the police, allowing the light to illuminate her face for a second.

"Hello, what's the nature of your emergency?"

"I'm in a room with a dead body. I didn't see it happen, but I was in the room when he died; I don't know who did it. Please send someone quickly."

"Yes, miss. Where are you?"

"At the Invention Hotel on the corner of Styx and Dawn. Third floor. Room 5."

"What's your name, dear?"

"...I don't know."

"Are you safe?"

"Yes. I'm quite alone."

"Are you injured?"


"Can you leave the room and get to the ground floor?"

"If I exit the room I'll step in blood, compromising evidence. There aren't any windows in this room, only a door leading to the hallway."

The lady on the other end began to sound genuinely worried. It was obvious she had some training in psychology and thought the worst of the situation. "Are you sure you can't find a clear path to the door? Look down at the ground around your feet, dear."

"I'm not in shock. The pool of blood is clearly blocking the entire doorway and has spread very far. I don't know if it's all real or if it's even all his, but I cannot bypass it without compromising it. I'm standing against the west wall in the dark so I won't be near the body."

"Alright, miss. The police are on the way. Feel free to stay on the--"

"I'll be fine on my own. Thank you."

"I have your information here. I'll call you as soon as the police enter the building."

"Again. Thank you." She closed the phone and placed it back in the right pocket of her cargo pants. The waiting began. Enveloped in silence she was able to think about everything.

She honestly couldn't remember her name, which bothered her. She comprehensively knew the characteristics that made her personality, the psychology that motivated her thoughts, and the inherent strengths of body, but much of her past was unknown. Where was she from? Who were her parents? How did she get to the third floor of the Invention Hotel on the corner of Styx and Dawn? The more she thought, the more questions arose in her mind about the situation. Who killed the man and why wasn't she killed also? How likely were the police officers to believe she didn't kill him?

This thought triggered something deep in her body. She knew, without a doubt, she didn't kill the man. It was an odd knowledge, though; like knowing she had driven from point A to point B, but not remembering the processes used to get there. She also knew that the man was familiar to her, someone who had spent much of his time around her, but not in a sexual or friendly way. The feeling was more business oriented, calculated and determined. She regarded his body and wondered if he was her bodyguard.

That answer was too simple.

Somewhere three stories down, the main door opened and closed with a hushed thud. The woman felt the vibrations of the building and knew the policemen were walking cautiously toward the stairs. In her mind, an accurate picture of five officers blossomed. The same dark blue outfits fit slug over their bodies with the same tool belts. Their guns were poised shoot anything that might attack from around any corner. Their steps were gentle but rushed, eyes darting everywhere. Tension hunched their shoulders forward slightly and their breath was shallow and smooth. Two of the officers had longer hair, while the other three kept to a shorter style more akin to masculinity. Each of the officers was ill-prepared for homicide: the small town wasn't custom to much more than petty theft.

The woman reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone a split second before the call came.

"Hello." She tried to make her voice sound a little less together this time.

The slight quiver seemed to have worked. "It's alright. The police officers are just downstairs. I'll stay on the phone with you until they reach the third floor hallway, okay?"

"Yes. That would be nice. I'm sorry..."

"There's no need to apologize, miss. You'll be fine."

"I just want to get out of here. I think I can smell his blood." The added drama only generated more compassion from the woman on the other end of the line.

"Dear, you're going to be alright. Don't look at the body, keep your eyes on the door. Soon one of the officers will call down the hallway and you'll reply and he'll appear in the door to get you."

She closed her eyes and saw the officers reaching the third floor door in the stairwell. "Are they almost here?"

"Yes. They're just downstairs. Don't worry. They'll be there in a moment."

The woman felt the door to the hallway open. Time to turn the excitement up. "Oh-my-god... I-just-heard-something... Someone's-in-the-hallway-What-should-I-do-Oh-my-god..." The words tumbled out of her mouth.

From the hallway, a shout resounded with perfect clarity. "Miss. This is the police. Are you alright?"

"Miss, it should be the police. It's okay to respond to them now. They're there to protect you."

The woman smiled in the darkness. Her chest was pounding, her breath quickening slightly, and her body tingling with excitement. This felt natural and fun, manipulating people to believe her to be in distress. "I'm down here... in here..." She closed her phone and put it back in the same pocket.

Loud footsteps, much louder than downstairs, came thudding down the hallway at a jogging rate. An instant later, the first police officer stood outside the door, shocked by the monstrosity displayed on the floor. The blood was everywhere, pooled entirely around the door and his body. His head was twisted with a bullet in his temple, eyes open wide and his mouth appeared angry. His cloths were in tatters, revealing skin which had been ripped open somehow, though not falling off his body.

The second officer pushed him out of the way and started taking pictures of the scene. As soon as a few were acquired, the third officer gingerly entered the room, shining a flashlight around the tiny, empty utilities closet until he found the woman. He froze.

She was almost a dream. Her hair fell down her shoulders: black with the shimmering hues of red, purple, and blue. Her face was thin with a cute nose and oval eyes. Purple irises looked back, tears wetting their lids and dropping down her pale cheeks. She wore a tight black shirt made of a material the officer couldn't name. The outfit revealed her strong, lean build in a perfectly proportioned frame. Once he had taken the vision in, she collapsed to the ground, fainting, as it were.

To Be Continued...

Thursday, August 26, 2010

The Changed Earth (Part 14)

"It's strange. This place doesn't feel normal yet everything about it speaks of home."

"As it should. She has helped us give this place our hearts."

"How long will we stay here?"

"As long as we need to. Hopefully long enough."

Nick hesitated.

"Don't be shy about your questions. I'm here to answer any and all that come across your mind."

Nick looked away, across the landscape they now called home. It was secluded in a vastly different way. Where once the view of oceans greeted the eyes, now a mountainous range covered in black and grey welcomed the small collective of humans. They were lucky to have found the natural protection which offered a long valley to start a civilization again. Home, they called it. Tall, full trees rose to magnificent heights, lush bushes and vibrant flowers grew abundantly in the verdant forests, and life renewed itself once more between the peaks. Nick understood the luck of finding such a place. He also knew the power it took in restoring this nature to the Earth, marveling in the speed to which Ethan had pushed their efforts.

After taking in the view again, feeling the almost magical sense of homecoming fill his heart and throat as always, he turned back to Ethan and slowly asked, "Why have you not spoken about what happened?"

Ethan took his turn to look away.

"Elder Adair I don't mean to pry or anything, but we're all confused. Well, that isn't necessarily true. Your council must know what happened and why we so hastily moved, but us commoners are ill informed. I've come to know many of them... perhaps if I knew I could tell them something..."

"Your training is coming along well and I certainly have no secrets from you." Ethan had been weighing the matter for a while. The council understood enough to move forward with ensuring their survival after the battle which nearly tore the planet apart, but only Alexis knew everything. She experienced most of it herself, but was slowly told of Ethan's internal struggles later. Now Nick wanted to know more, and he carried the ambition to lead the rest of their civilization, lead in a way a President couldn't. Ethan needed such a resource. After all, Gaia had plans for Nick, which meant Ethan had plans for him as well.

Ethan continued, "My brother has a different vision for humanity's survival, which everyone already knows. This vision has taken him on a potentially destructive path." Everyone already knew this as well. When Charles manifested the powers of the Sun in himself, fissures split the mantle of the Earth everywhere. The Cocos Islands were only saved because of the Council's quick responses to Alexis. "Now he embodies the Sun. He is infused with the power of Sol, as I am one with Gaia at all times.

"As we have always been, Charles and I are different and equal. We both want peace and survival. He is unwilling to risk history repeating itself. He sees democracy as a failed institution and wants the purity of his rule to guide consciousness back to supremacy. We are thus seen as a threat to his stability in the future..."

"He wants us out of the picture entirely?" Nick asked. The amazement wasn't hidden.

"Unfortunately he does. He's willing to make negotiations for the survival of a few as long as those who long for democracy are either converted to his thinking or gone. The Council and President aren't willing to negotiate."

"We're hiding then?"

Ethan chuckled. "In a way, yes. We're biding out time, and if that means hiding then that's what we'll do." He could almost feel Nick's mind churning over information, much the same way Ethan did. He saw so much of himself in Nick as their training progressed. However, Ethan also saw much of his brother there as well. Quick to learn, faster to advance, and the inkling of hunger behind it all. Once upon a time, Ethan felt a hunger for more. His father's death put an end to that hunger. Somehow Charles never recovered, which only fueled the ambition more. Oh Gaia, Mother, please help me keep Nick away from that abyss.

"So... Where were you last week?" Nick

"Building a system of distractions for Charles to deal with." Both Ethan and his pupil smiled. "He will certainly have discovered by now that we are no longer on the Cocos Islands. And perhaps he has moved some of his collective there to inhabit and maintain the nature that has been restored to balance. Given this assumption, I have set a series of... distractions... for him to come across in due time. There are about fifty fake habitats around the Earth that simulate our civilizations progressing. Some of these habitats are actually starting to thrive and survive without my nurturing. Others are simply mirages which will dissipate once the shields are destroyed. None of these are truly strong enough to sustain an onslaught from Charles' new abilities, but it will certainly give us enough time to figure things out."

Nick shook his head. "You are amazing!"

"I appreciate the sentiment, but I am merely doing what I can to protect us." Ethan looked away once more, uncomfortable by the sudden praise and admiration which poured from Nick's entire presence. "Hopefully my efforts will actually regenerate the natural cycles of ecosystems that have been lost. With enough time they should be able to survive without the protective bubbles currently shielding them from the worst of the weather, as it were. None of this would have been possible without Gaia. Her power is what allows me to be so effective." With that, Ethan brought the somber tone which always filled his voice when training was at hand. "Enough talk about what cannot be solved. We must complete your training soon." Soon, however, was still far off.


The wind coursed across the pinkish purple dome overlooking the valley. Soot, ash, and fine debris floated in the currents rushing in violent eddies. Darkness still encrusted the air. It was a darkness which shadowed the heart and mind, distilling ambitions and forgoing change; however ironically permanence disappeared in seconds. No particle dancing in the veiled days rested for more than a moment, dragging its death around the burdened skeletons of woodlands and cracked skins of prairies. Dried beds warped the canyons where hollowed echos reverberated through the muffled clouds. Not even the waves of dreams escaped the desolation of extinction. A blackened mud blanketed the seas in calmer waters, caking the wounds and mingling with the gills of primordial habitats deep within the womb of evolution.

Suddenly, the wind found another bubble to which it was not permitted entrance. The same eerie radiance of berated hope, of difficult love, of tragic misunderstanding surfacing from the heart brushed the blackened clouds. Over time, the wind discovered several of these solitary fortresses of life. The blackness within its dismal fortitude born of microscopic destructive powers began to ebb in its endlessly chaotic journey.

A ray of brightness pierced the canopy.

The besmirched land rustled in its sudden heat: dust unsettled at its touch in a gentle billow where the light landed, the wind circled idly around the elegant filigree descending from the heavens, and a silent uproarious gaiety sparked within the essence of the Earth spirits.

Two individuals felt the shift, and a voice spoke to both. Its notes soothed with the gentle warmth of love. Its tonality spoke of anticipated hope and tenuous joy. Where once it spoke in horror, in wisdom, in pain, it now cherished a moment of reprieve and relaxation. It said:

The face of the Earth is changing.

Thursday, August 5, 2010

One Mystery Passes All Everyday of Life

One mystery passes all everyday of life.
We see It small, we make It large,
we feel It whole,
and know Its emptiness;
on every level It exists;
for inanimates
to the blood,
given conditions
and hopeful for none,
in fleeting moments,
lasting forever,
and cherished in Its opponent.
Those who study the science of minds
play at Its causes,
pointing, prodding, and persecuting Its will,
regardlessly splaying with rules and logic,
while people struggle accepting
Its sublime
manner ebbing and flowing in westward winds,
swaying in lingo to strengthen or destroy,
fighting in lyrics of truth and
climbing down the tree of forebearers.

It is available to all who desire,
at any stage, any strength, any time,
yet many fight It
or hate It
or find jealousy in Its stead.
A memory full may explain these:
tears of both provoked
in joy or rage or hurt or purity...

I find It through beauty,
first in myself and then without,
in moments of laughter,
relinquished through tears,
gazing into celestial eyes,
between the pages of life,
surfacing through gestures,
painted across melodic words,
shelved in the histories,
broken by wars of mind,
and mended with a shy smile.
It depletes me until I'm full,
and still I want more.
Changing from day to seconds
and shifting Its defining characters with each glance.
Today it's the same, tomorrow It changes,
the next is back, and after death
It's reborn in flames of passion.

The trials It gives uniquely strive
for individual sights within a scheme
designed for hearts.

Living in Limbo

Living in Limbo, it looks like home. You've done what you can, said what was needed, acted how society prescribes... and still the lack emerges where desire should persist. Waiting in a relentless existence stagnant with itself numbs hope and forces it into residing somewhere beyond reach. After any duration like this, the individual begins to change. First goes hope. Then goes the drive, followed by intuition, then fear, until finally the personality begins to erase its self. Then, if one limbo is left behind, it's possible the individual merely steps into yet another limbo... because it's comfortable.

This is what happened to me, though I didn't realize it until listening to a constant background readily present in the mall. I'm in limbo, driving myself lower on the totem of strength, losing a sense of hope that what I want will come to fruition. My drive to push has disappeared, or rather merely diminished, and my intuition on things has evaporated. I'm watching the fear of being stuck simply walk away. Next to be sacrificed is certainly myself, succumbing to this rhythm, undesirable as it is. What's worse is that the last place I called important turned into a limbo which ate away at my personality! It manifested full circle until I fell into yet another line, but I fell straight into the first stages of limbo.

I have to escape. I need to find a ladder leading to something new, different, and exciting that I can pour my enthusiasm and strengths into! A new world away from cheap background music and emotionless answers and unreliable expectations. My search for such a hope is trickling feebly, unfortunately; and the only driving force is negativity hounding with threats of separation which hardly encourages pride or reassurance. Fire must be lit from inside. It must be forged in limbo, in waiting, in nothingness as aspiration is concerned.

The most bothersome aspect, which pains the very thought processes, is how comfortable limbo has become. It looks like home while the forces around me continue on. Living in limbo... I have to rise above it.

Loving Again

Sunny clouds dance high
Your hand, a touch of warming
Stand till death as one

Dark Mindset

A cage of mindset
Distributes torture outwards
Hailing loneliness

I See Love

The Wasted Moments
along conversation's way
awaken our love


Interest sparking
pages will follow the pen
A world once reborn

Monday, August 2, 2010

Obsessed Repressive Love

To Chad, an enviable blessing whose charm is veiled by humorous anecdotes only life could avail and only he can present. Thank you for always striving for my smile, even when it was the last thing possible in my mood. You're an unforgettable in my life!

A Love Beyond The Sky

A fresh rain enriched the colors of the Diner: deep red bricks glittering in the sunlight, the gold and green of the sign shimmering, darkened grey revealing every imperfection of the sidewalks surrounding and leading to the historic restaurant, and the vibrant greens of a willow swaying in the cool breeze. On a normal day, these occurrences of color and mood would dampen the spirits of passersby, but something about the sunshine persisting throughout, the crisp breeze rushing down the lanes, the time of day (not yet noon), and one particular couple made the atmosphere joyful and renewed. Besides, it wasn't like rain was uncommon in spring.

On this particular moist day, Alan and Yvonne were meeting at the Dancing Leaves Diner on the southeast corner of Gale Avenue and Willow Way. A coincidence? Not in the slightest: the current owner of the Diner happened to be the great-grandson of the city planner in charge of redesigning the layout of Adoreton after the great earthquake during the hurricane which caused the disastrous fires which decimated everything except this famous Diner. The owner back then was the city planner's mistress and bore his only child. She kept the name of the Diner alive and coerced, with her womanly wiles, the street names out of her lover. This was the reason Yvonne loved the Dancing Leaves Diner; well, its history and the fact they were the only place which served a decent French Cappuccino in town. Alan loved it because Yvonne loved it.

At 11:32 Yvonne arrived, early as usual, and grabbed a table in the window looking at the willow. She wasted little time explaining Alan's arrival so she could order her cherished beverage. Yvonne knew she had to finish the first one before Alan got there in order to avoid the condescending patronization associated with extreme caffeine consumption. Alan was quite the stickler for health, which Yvonne respected to a point; but she came from a long line of French descendants and thus loved her caffeine beverages. When she received her French Cappuccino at exactly 11:40, Yvonne immediately cupped it in her hands, feeling the warmth through the little ceramic cup, and began sipping the bitter and sweet concoction. Vanilla Chantilly and classic Lavazza espresso: smokey with a hint of pine nuts and cinnamon. The first cup was finished by 11:51, just in time to see Alan crossing Willow Way with a long, dark brown trench-coat and a dark blue scarf fighting a gust of wind. The sky above the buildings behind him had become a beautifully bright blue after the early morning rains.

After he disappeared from view behind the wall, Yvonne waves down the waitress who blushed slightly and hurried over. "Can you take this away, please? I don't want my friend to know I already started without him..." 

The look Yvonne gave the waitress caused the effect it was meant for, and the waitress, whose name happened to be Emily, smiled with rosy cheeks and said, "Of course, miss. Can I get you another then? Or should we wait for your boyfriend?"

The game was set. Yvonne smiled and said with her voice just a notch away from sensuality, "Oh, he's not my boyfriend, that's for sure. But I'll wait for him, nonetheless." Emily walked away towards the back of the Diner as the door opened. 

Yvonne glanced to the front and noticed an older gentleman entering, his hat in hand as he unbuttoned his jacket, flushed face looking nearly desperately around the Diner for someone or something. His balding head reflected the florescent lighting from the ceiling and seemed to give him a halo in his grey hair. Yvonne thought he looked late for something very important, and the suit and tie underneath his long coat seemed to prove his businessman rush to find his lunchtime appointment. See, this gentleman was an attorney who had set a secret meeting with his opposition for the case they were fighting. Lunch was the only time they could meet this week; but the rains had made this attorney 25 minutes late. The apprehension and distress displayed across his face grew worse by the minute as his mind decided the appointment was off due to his tardiness. Unfortunately, his lack of psychic prowess nor gut intuition denied him the understanding that his date was laying in a hospital due to a car accident caused by the rain. He sat down to get a quick bite, hoping through all odds that the same traffic that slowed him down had caused a similar lateness in the meeting.

After the gentleman had sat down, Alan walked through the door, similarly windswept and red faced but lacking the sense of panic just mentioned. He quickly caught the eye of Yvonne and made his way over to her table in the window. His smile was perfect, his eyes were perfect and blue, his hair was perfectly spiked (slightly messy though) and blond, his facial hair short and stubbly. Yvonne felt herself shy away slightly at her friend.

"I figured you were already here," he said as he sat, unwrapping his scarf. "And I also figured you'd have already ordered a drink..." Alan's intense eyes bore into Yvonne.

"Alright, alright. I already had one. So sue me!" She laughed.

Hanging his damp jacket on the back of his seat, he turned back to regard his friend. "How are you? I haven't seen you since last week. Seems like forever."

"Oh you know, things are simply fantastic." Her smile was broad but her eyes nearly closed. She couldn't help but notice how crisp Alan's shirt looked, tightly forming to his body and hardly wrinkled from wearing a coat. "I'm certainly not going to complain."

Alan didn't believe her. "Come on. I know you better than that... and the internet tells all. I've already seen what's happened. I just want to hear it from you."

"Fine. Alicia broke up with me." When Alan refused to question further, and the silence grew unbearable, Yvonne looked at her watch to realize it was one minute after noon. She was officially ready for another drink. "Where's Emily when you need her?"

"Who's Emily?" Alan questioned with that tone indicating mischief.

"The waitress. Geeze. You think I'm that quick to recover from a break-up?"

Alan shook his head. "No, but I understand the needs of companionship and the physical necessities intrinsic to being human." He spread his hands. "We are sexual beings after all, especially at our age."

Yvonne appreciated the sentiment of understanding he was offering her, but she hadn't taken up another lover as of yet. A week was hardly enough time for her to even grasp the reasons why Alicia had terminated their relationship. All the classic lines had surfaced during her monologue and Yvonne had sat there, red eyed and broken, listening to the words but hearing only air vibrating in rhythms supposedly creating the English language. Alicia was almost completely opposite to Alan: she had hazel eyes with curly black hair down to her waste, a foreign accent and tan skin, and the intelligence of a teenager pushing to find an easy college. The only thing Alicia and Alan truly shared was a sexual appetite, something Yvonne consciously wanted but couldn't bring herself to admit nor truly desire

Her question poured out of her mouth before she had the chance to edit it in her mind. "Why can't you be straight?" It was a question she had refused to ask ever since they met each other six years ago on a panel for LGBT high school students.

Alan laughed. "Because it wouldn't do us any good. You would have to be straight as well."

Since the question was out, she just groveled in the depression of it. "Then why can't you be a lesbian woman with me?" The stupidity of the question made Yvonne laugh. She felt a few eyes at the bar next to them fly their way, the glances filled with intrigue, some with venom.

"That opens a whole philosophical conversation I care not discuss now. However, I can tell you here and now that I love you dearly. You'll find someone, I'm sure."

"Do you guys know what you want... or do you need a menu or anything?" Emily had returned to catch the last phrase of Alan's comforting quip.

Yvonne looked up at her cute waitress: round face with dimples when she smiled, brown hair loosely pulled back, gentle eyes and a soft body (full but not overweight). An entire scenario played through Yvonne's mind: several dates and a few nights of passion and just as things got serious Yvonne would say or do something that frightened Emily which would make her reconsider what she would want in a relationship. Thus it ended and Yvonne's spirits fell down again.

Alan ordered a glass of water, a healthy vegetarian sandwich ("Hold the chips, please."), and a shot of lemongrass juice if they had it ("Sorry, no..."). Emily looked down at Yvonne and smiled, her eyes twinkling with the light from the sun. A gust of wind rattled the old windows, picking up the limbs of the giant willow and making them dance to a silent symphony. "And for you?" Emily asked with extreme flirtation.

"I'll have another French Cappuccino and... whatever you recommend to eat."

"Sure thing." Emily went off with a little bounce in her step, barely perceptible to normal onlookers, but Yvonne knew how a woman's body worked everywhere.

Alan was smiling. "Nicely played. You see, you still have all the facilities to get whatever it is you want."

"She's too innocent."

His smile transformed into a confused and irritated glare. "I don't think you're giving her enough credit. She has her wits about her. She's playing you just as much as you're playing her..."

"No she's not."

"You'll see. If she doesn't come back with something red or fruity then I'm wrong."

Yvonne didn't acknowledge the bet for a second, still considering the possibility of asking Emily out on a date. "Fine... I'll buy if you're right." Saying such was admitting her loss in the matter. She knew Alan was never wrong when it came to psychological evaluations of people. He had a knack for it and used it to his advantage. If he wanted, he had a man at his side within days. He also had that man decide to leave if it didn't work out. Never the bad guy, but always the perfect man. When Yvonne bumped into any of his ex's, they always praised Alan for his generosity, personality, and body. She knew the real him, knew his conniving and gentle way of dealing with boys, and she loved him for it. He was always her straight sex, if ever she were to have it. "How's work going?"

"Just fine. The museum is still struggling for money but wants to expand regardless. I'd rather take a pay increase if they're just going to throw away money, but I'll support their decisions. An expansion would mean more space for my artifacts, which would mean more time traveling to find said artifacts, which means more experiences and discoveries." Alan sighed. "I guess I really do want an expansion..." he shook his head while looking at the table. The drinks were delivered by a waiter who didn't stop to say anything. The French Cappuccino was placed before Alan. He quickly remedied the situation.

"Well...Since you can't stop it, there's no reason to get upset about 'wasting money', is there?"

"Nope, not at all."

Yvonne changed the subject again. Something was on Alan's mind, she knew, and he was less willing to carry a conversation. This worried her, but she knew he would open if she hit the right button. There was only one other thing he might care enough about to hold back his tongue. "How's Victor?" She knew she hit it as soon as he sighed.

"I think he's going to leave me..."

"You don't want him to?"

"No... I think I may love him."

"Then make him stay. You know how."

He looked at her, his face growing sad with the passing moments. Alan had already considered using his whiles to make Victor stay. It was what he wanted more than anything right now: more than an expansion, more than traveling, more than sitting in the Dancing Leaves Diner with his best friend in the whole world about to eat a wonderful meal and discuss the beauty intrinsic to life. "I don't want to do that. I want him to want to stay with me. I want him to actually love me, not just want to be with me because I'm great and nice and hot and... persuasive..." He shuttered. Alan didn't like saying these things because deep down he didn't believe them. "I don't know what to do."

Yvonne lowered her voice to a calming, sympathetic tone. "Have you talked to him about it?"

"No... I don't know what to say." She just looked at him. "Ok, ok... I know what to say, but I'm worried it would simply 'persuade' him again."

"You listen to me this time. I don't know Victor very well. I think we've only met three times, but he seems like a decent, rational, caring, nice guy, which is why I approved of you with him. He has his head on tight, no open windows letting out the intelligence, that's for sure. A good conversation is what you need this time, not some twisted psychology. Forget all that. You've got the goods, no matter what you think."

Emily had returned with two plates. She placed the sandwich in front of Alan, just as he ordered. "I, uh, made you something special." Emily placed a beautifully crafted delicacy before Yvonne. Chocolate souffle with strawberries and a sprig of mint. All around it was a drizzle of some red gel, waving outward in a beautiful pattern. "I hope you don't mind a little sweet for lunch."

Yvonne looked up, as did Alan, and saw a perfectly purposeful smile and wink. Yvonne blushed. "Of course. Sweet is delicious... Thank you!"

Emily left to go back to the kitchen to hide. Her part was done, and now she would wait out the rest of her patron's visit to make her next move.

The rest of the lunch date went fairly uneventful, except for the increased adrenaline coursing through Yvonne's blood. Her heart was mended so quickly, all because of an individual's attempt at wooing. It made her feel beautiful again, which was much needed. Alan and Yvonne finished their meal at 1:14, just in time for Victor to make a very important phone call to Alan. He dashed outside, leaving Yvonne to wait for the tab and Emily once more.

Before leaving Alan from the story, it's important to not the outcome of this phone call. Victor had found himself worried Alan was distancing himself to find the strength to quit the relationship that he, Victor, had grown to cherish and need. As much as Alan worried, Victor worried twice as much. He knew all too well how Alan worked in relationships and still decided to give it a shot; after all, biological chemicals don't allow for misinterpretation of attraction when first falling in love, and Victor had allowed every interplay to grow this love into a full blown requirement. He called to confront Alan, to see what Alan wanted in the relationship because he, Victor, was ready to take it to the next step. By 1:39, they had decided to move in together.

Yvonne and Emily's last encounter on this beautiful, joyous Tuesday transpired with similar reactions. Emily gave Yvonne her phone number and address, stating her interest in going out to dinner and a movie. Yvonne returned in kind, and that night they met for an evening beneath the stars. The rest is left to the imagination.

My Issue with a Song

At first, "Missing" by Everything But the Girl was a beautiful, romantic, and heartfelt song of a romance that disappeared or a love that got lost. Here are the lyrics so you can start to understand my issue:

I step off the train
I'm walking down your street again
Past your door, but you don't live there anymore
It's years since you've been there
Now you've disappeared somewhere, like outer space
You've found some better place

And I miss you, like the deserts miss the rain
And I miss you, like the deserts miss the rain

Could you be dead?
You always were two steps ahead, of everyone
We'd walk behind while you would run
I look up at your house
And I can almost here you shout down to me
Where I always use to be

And I miss you, like the deserts miss the rain
And I miss you, like the deserts miss the rain

Back on the train, I ask "Why did I come again?
"Can I confess, I've been hanging round your old address?"
And years have proved
to offer, nothing since you've moved
You're long gone, but I can't move on

And I miss you, like the deserts miss the rain
And I miss you, like the deserts miss the rain

I step off the train
I'm walking down your street again
Past your door, but you don't live there anymore
It's years since you've been there
Now you've disappeared somewhere, like outer space
You've found some better place

And I miss you, like the deserts miss the rain
And I miss you, like the deserts miss the rain

(repeat last two stanzas)
(c) EMI Music Publishing, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

Now, the woman in the song (yes it's a woman singing it, thus I assume it's a woman actually speaking to the audience) obviously has some stalker tendencies. She's going back to the old house in which either her ex-lover, ex-boyfriend, ex-husband, or whomever use to live. Looking up to a specific point where he probably slept and would speak to her out the window (or even yelled at her to leave), she's seemingly brought back to her senses and leaves back for the train... but she returns to the house again. It's a cycle she can't resist... She's obsessed with him or still loves him or something.

Now for the chorus: "And I miss you, like the deserts miss the rain." Ok... sure... the woman misses her ex-whatever. It's obvious because she's still returning to his old house and reliving her emotions or memories. But the allusion of a desert missing rain doesn't compute with these feelings she's presenting to us. Assuming deserts have mental capacities and therefore hold memories... The desert itself wouldn't miss rain. It might fear rain for how infrequently it falls. Think about it... a dry, desolate place, use to the day to day life of not having moisture except in the form of ever so slight humidity, would see rain as a suffocating experience overwhelming the landscape and covering every fiber of the desert with water. Not necessarily an experience most anyone would miss. I wouldn't miss that experience, especially if it made me change drastically into something green when I wanted to remain golden.

On the other hand, perhaps the desert refers to the people of the desert, or the animals of the desert, or life in general living in the desert. Even so... These lifeforms may only want a slight rain, not enough to drench the landscape and destroy houses or reshape the terrain by mudflows, flooding, etc. And the people and creatures of the desert don't miss the rain... they know where to find water, what to search for for nutrients, how to survive without rain. Yeah, it may be a nice reprieve... but not a missing notion.

This is why I have an issue with the aforementioned song. The woman doesn't miss her ex like the desert misses the rain. The desert doesn't miss the rain. Therefore she shouldn't miss him. And maybe that's the point the woman is going for, that the song is ironic in its intrinsic meaning. If that's the case, then I LOVE the song for what it represents. Perhaps moving on? Perhaps coming to terms with the loss of love and the association of needlessness that comes with forgetting him (but she hasn't forgotten him...). Bah, and I'm back to my issue. Bad song... Beautiful lyrics on the surface and a wonderful melody to accompany it.

Hey, if you have any other insight to "Missing," let me know! I'd love to have my emotions about the song resolved.

The Moments After

"I don't care what people say. There are only three stages of loss!" Beth said. "First is preparing for it. The second is dealing with it. The third is moving on..."

Chris let out an exasperated sound through his nose. "It's not that simple, Beth."

"Heh, I never said they were simple stages." She looked at her coffee, eyes reminiscent, shoulders tensing with each breath. Snapping back to herself, Beth declared, "I know what it's like to lose."

"How are you feeling?" Chris gently asked. The mood of the engagement had changed so suddenly.

"Oh, you know. I'm fine. Only sane people aren't fine. They get to know what they feel, compartmentalize emotions, challenge their beliefs and understandings... I'm just fine." Beth stopped just as the door opened to the coffee shop, permitting two girls to exit with their beverages of choice.

As the first girl held the door open for the second, she glanced over at Chris and Beth. Her face was slightly inquisitive, but her intentions were merely to see who was sitting outside in the heat of the day. Beth let them pass before she spoke up again. "I wish I wasn't fine, but I have too much to do."

"It's alright to not be fine with me, you know." Chris sat forward. "You can let it all out, right here, right now."

Beth looked away. "Thanks Chris, but I have to get back to work soon. Don't want to look a mess when I get there, you know."  Something inside her heart broke a little, a barrier she had carefully constructed to hold back a fountain of sorrow, a wall hiding her grief from even herself... Her eyes began to tear up.

Chris noticed and moved his hand atop hers next to the near empty coffee cup. There was silence for a moment while Beth fought back the tears. Finally, Chris broke it with a change of subject. "So, what are your plans for the rest of the summer?"

She wiped away a few of the droplets. "Well, distractions for one. Everything that isn't important or anything, you know. Work, I suppose, is the only obligation. I'm planning on going to the festival this weekend. After that, planned on keeping myself busy with volunteering and stuff."

"And social engagements, I hope! I don't want to see you disappear, you know?"

"Of course! I'm not giving up my friends because I'm depressed. Who do you think I am?" She took a sip out of her cup and finally looked back at Chris. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Getting me out today. Out of the office. Out of my house... out of my current life. It's nice." Beth's smile was radiant and truly appreciative.

Chris sat back in the chair and looked into the parking lot where a large group of men were exiting an SUV. "It's my pleasure. I can't let my best friend turn into a hermit. Even though I probably would..." He quirked his mouth to one side as his eyebrows furrowed. "Yeah... Definitely would be a hermit myself. All I need is a computer with an internet connection and I would feel completely connected to the world."

"You've been a hermit before."

"Yep. And you brought me out of that."

Beth looked at the six men now walking slowly toward the coffee shop. "Have you heard from him recently?"

"Uh-huh. He called me last week." The tone in his voice was definitive and held no opportunity to continue the conversation. Beth let it be. "How's Darren?"

Beth looked away. "A little more distant than I want him to be right now."

Chris regarded Beth as she spoke. "Want or need?"

"Oh you know... More than I need him to be. He took it harder than I did, it seems."

"That's silly... but understandable, I suppose. Maybe I should sit with him and try to snap him out of it?"

"You most certainly will not! I know what you want from Darren!" She laughed jovially. "God, you haven't changed since high school. Still after my man! Doesn't matter which one it is..."

"Can you blame me? You pick all the right ones." Finishing off his coffee, Chris stood and walked over to the trash can as the group of men reached the door. One of them looked directly at Chris and seemed to hesitate. "Hi," Chris said delicately.

"Hey," the guy responded.

Chris immediately turned around, walked back to Beth with a smile and sat to finish their conversation.

"Well well well... Giving up a perfectly good moment for me? I'm flattered."

"Oh get off it. We've only got five minutes before I gotta take you back to work."

She sipped her drink and smiled. "Thanks. I love you."

"I love you too, darling."

When Love Is True

Living for a day
unknown to longing eyes
which break sorrowed hearts
for near the instant of divine,
There is a thought
where none can speak of
gentle touches resting still
in minds lost to that stare before.
Searching for ever
long a road when love's
understanding revolves a point
no history can break apart,
But here a one
persists regardless time
in hopeful stance above
those figures of physicality.
All mind the day
when love breaks down
and showers passion upon
an idol of receiving without that touch.

To All Who Help Me!

Hope does not describe it,
Aspiration far too narrow.
Appreciation gives bu a sliver of it,
Yet I know not what is more.
To those who help my endeavors,
Whose love persists through time remains,
I hold my heart in arms outstretched
To embrace your willing minds.

Thank you!

Joyous Is The Smile!

Joyous is the smile!
Though its unpredictable manner made
doubtful its appearance.
It came regardless and true.
Every time when darkness triumphed
You came,
eyes lit with mischief, heart full of laughter,
voice hopeful and loving.
How could I not accept this gift:
broken reality for a smile,
renewed hope,
a joyous day!
Till next need allows, this
ship carries appreciation bound
to blue eyes.


and suffer --
me, with me, because of...
A challenge thus,
without cause, but there:
Though, beating remains...
a tragic experience
threatening stability, between
however one word,
if attained,
supersedes bonds of love;
if lost,
destroys, somehow sublime;
if never owned
between two...
where do
stand in turmoil when
tarnish teeming

The Raindrop

The Raindrop falls to its end.

Well, to an end within our perception,
but the end will repeat itself.

The tear falls to its end,

and thus joins the same cycle within us.