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

Friday, April 22, 2011

Peaceful Steps Climb

One by one they break the plane
stable, continuous -- rising higher.
Each path a moment's blink, each place
a battled breath
the moments are all the same,
scuffling about terrain strewn with
everlasting visions, with
the trappings between two lungs,
with the feel of reality from
a hand's touch and the smile's warmth.

This journey is back to stability,
equilibrium -- peace:
to reach from where I fell,
now battered, and scared,
yet missing the fall.

Exponential upward rise
pulls away from the fallen state,
a healing, mending, forging will
that hates the broken hatred plane -
but for longing to breathe,
to fly... to fall
it would be a pleasured pain.
Sorrowed mornings splay
the padded sole scuffing
concrete rises.

All desired is lost to descent
and ever is the rise without choice
-- missing pains the constant march
and stops the natural breath
flowing and ebbing
like memory flashing intense
corporeal emotions.

It's a step, one placement;
and to shall fade like the
echo of love's fatal cry.

Game of Hearts: Recommended for 2 players only.

The game can be extrapolated for 3. With 4 or more, however, it’s best advised to walk away with exaggerated velocity. The object of this game is to scale the barriers hindering your opponent from falling in love with you. Rules are invariably unstable and depend solely on the contestants; however, several meaningless guidelines exist for consideration: leave previous gaming baggage stored away at home [automatic deductions appear in red on the left side of the score card for revealing past failures], wear very little, if any, perfume or cologne [unless you smell horrendously foul, in which case take a shower prior to entering the game], avoid pungent, messy, and expensive food or drink [this can be foregone if, and only if both contestants see garlic as its own food group]. There is only one way to win: both contestants must admit to the deep pleasure of love. With three players, there will always be one loser. With four or more [good luck] all bets are off.

A clever hint: don’t take the game seriously.

Penalties for losing include a ten pound weight gain and large amounts of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream.

Thursday, April 14, 2011


1) A fruit made of many spheres clustered together.

2) "Thoroughly Modern Millie" made you an expressive expression of excitement and turbulence.

3) Blood stains on napkins bleach a soft red.

4) Trifle's perfect condiment

5) Is that hair between the crevices? Leading to the seeds hidden below your flesh?

6) Sweet bitterness just before ripening stimulates salivary mastication as we fondle you gently.

7) Plastic bushels lined next to Strawberry and Blackberry; is this the fruit alphabet?

8) No on says the 'P'.

9) Razzmatazz has it right - Razzle Dazzle 'Em!

10) Artificial tastes just as sweet and lasts ten times as long.

11) Red and blue... you must have been created by color blind men in a candy factory.

12) You're my favorite.

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

The Sundering

I guess I never knew
or realized
it     actually


catching your breath
          in vicegrips

s   q   u   e   e   z   i   n   g
                until the cavity feels
               infinite and infinitesimal.
          There's no room
          for beating, for breathing
          eating. - -

No space for me, or the void that was left,
nor the elephant stampeding
on the corners of
heart shards.

                                    I am slag
                             A remnant of me
                      useless, scrapped
                left over material
                from a forging by my own hands

maybe not
in time with secret motions --

     antithesis of everlasting

Shades are luminous in a way
only C.S. Friedman knows
          how to describe.
                     Unlight - dark fire
                     Searing through to an inner dimension
                            it   f   o   s
                                   l   w

     like the ocean:
          moments of elation,
                  merest of seconds --
     the mouthful of salt
     gags until the hope feels lost.

Natural light has a half life distance
of 18 feet once under the surface of the sea.

This unlight is overwhelming
     ever-always feeding the boa
     caressing and soothing
          my emotions.

Wake me!
     Ice water surprise.
          He won't be able to love me,
          lest his own love leaves
          self-inflicted tortures.

I am the oasis
               No man dares to know perfection
       Time is unforgiving.

                         I never realized...

Silver Tongued Ex

Breath lost against me
Time traveling to heartbreak
Darkness is Sublime.

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

The winning battle.

Time is justified, even in its illusion. As I favor to explain, time exists only because the reference of human experience feels the onslaught of forwardness as the spinning of the sky continues regardless of desire. We use time, we abuse time, and we blame time for the unfortunateness of life.

I wish to use time... I wish it to heal me, to mend me, to hurry up and push me forward so I'll be ok again. It's perhaps a little pathetic to think that time, a fallacy of a being, would come to my rescue. Time's indifference wins out over all expectations, so it cares not that I desire its help to mend what is broken. It helps, nevertheless, with each rising sun, setting moon, and revealing star.

As today, the second day after heart wrenching truths were unveiled in painless words... the shock and agony of the revealing is much less than yesterday. The constricting forces on my chest still exist. The doubts, and hinderances, in my brain persist; but the drumming isn't nearly as intense. This must mean that both sides of the battle are being won. Time is moving without adherence to desire, and I am helped by the very presence of the walking hands.

And I fear

I have nothing to give,
as words stollen to express
the shadow in my mind.

Freedom has come with unexpected
foreseen only in doubts,
experienced through nightmare
torn asunder in the wake of realization.

To be oneself.
To be myself...
the door is closed, handle scorching,
fire ready to consume.
          I'm not ready to be consumed.

And I fear.

          I have no idea who you are.
          No... I have no idea
          who I am.
You have no control of the window
peering past smoke
finding the central black hole
consuming the world around.

I can't find this place to grow from,
and yet I want to give,
to experience, to love
and Love -- my body hungering
     to touch and be touched.

And I fear.

Can he, any he,
let out the flames and
help the the phoenix rise from
my darkness?
Can you? Can I?

I feel gentle winds
rising with the sun -- but they
twirl away with spring dust,
compounding submillimeter
fractures in my heart.

And I fear
to love and Love.

Monday, April 11, 2011


The trees are dead.

Brittle grass, dried from a rainless sky
scorching even the death
under desert skins: golden and treasured.

Sitting in the new chairs, black and ergonomic,
the smell of putrid, fetid
wafts from the grass as it
masticates its fallen brethren.
Thumping in my chest increases,
breath staggers in the throat,
fingers claw for splinters
     --painful relief.

He said after eight years:
"I have no idea who you are."
He said while holding my heart:
"I have plans, but thank you for the offer for a ride."

The cloudless sky
smog ridden and brown tinted
churns as the cold front moves in.
          I'm alone on the hill
          Waiting, wanting, wallowing
          in the heat of the sun.

It's spring.
The world feels grasped
by skeletal hands.


The wild previews of summer delight is hampered by some frigidity still circulating the circumference of my underwater excursion into maddeningly shrouded warmth. It feels unbearable, swimming in this emotional pool, breaking the surface to discover erie green skies and ashen grey clouds from fires so distant and disturbed. That's with eyes closed and whispers of fantasy.

Sunbathing in the chilled breeze creates a welcome balance needed within. Warm skin, soft touch, cold breeze: bright light from the sun and dark mood within my chest... Comfort in that balance was so juxtaposed to my mind. Thoughts rolled around between infatuation and despair, heartbreak and flirtation, memory and hope. Therein lies the imbalance too: memory and hope. Memory of words that torment my heart and hope that tears apart the brittle fabric holding pieces together.

It's so disastrous even thinking. The quiet of the world blowing around me settled the nerves of fear. If only I could be as natural as the tides of air. Unfortunately, my soul is imbedded with the flowing recessions of tides bound by the moon, waving in and out, up and down; cresting against the breaks and swallowing what land resists the persistent onslaught of turbulence. Water... I am water...

And the water streams down my cheeks. Typical, even in the warmth of sunlight. Heartbreak is detrimental to my health.

Friday, April 8, 2011

And she asked:

Is there disjunction between love and sand?

Thank you for your question. Where they together before? I believe they go hand in hand, for sand is bitter and abrasive like love's jilted tongue after truth saturates the bitter brokenness of afterward. Sincerely, they must have been together simply because the pains embedded in love's fickle existence rubs like sand in a wound when things turn sour on the eye. In order for disjunction, then, there must be resolution to the sorrow and wallowing of the thoughts circulating the mind's survival. Disjunction is what we desire! And with it, love is happy and joyful, new and fresh, beautiful and free.

Pulling them apart makes the deathly existence of sand leave the liveliness of love. I've just discovered this. I've only just come to the realization that love isn't sand, and disjointed the combination so easily attained when I fell in love with someone unavailable. Sand... oh sand. The ode to sand continues, as love leaves and washes itself off; reborn in the flames of passion and infatuation.

That's it! The disjunction comes with fiery infatuation. Let's go find that connection!

Analysis of Two Week's of Woes

It’s been dangerous living as I have. Thanks to an unknown, unnamed foe, the appetite and thirst for permanence shifted toward reality while my appetite and thirst for nutrition diminished to nothingness. Freedom has had its toll, and the expenses to my love are reverberating within the chasm ripped by simple words. None of this would have occurred if I had held myself at bay, pushed myself into a state of emotionless living where the feelings toward another wouldn’t have surmounted to so much.

Unfortunately, that’s not in the plans for me. My new years resolution is still in effect, and I hope to continue resolving my life in conjunction with this resolution. I am unabashedly, uninhibitedly only ever telling the truth, always being honest about everything. No hidden subtleties. No smoke and mirrors. Just what is. Why is this poignant to what has happened? I can’t lie to myself either, that’s part of the condition; and due to this, I had to acknowledge that I had fallen deeply, madly, and completely in love with someone wonderful. I fell in love when I wasn’t ready, when I hadn’t dealt with the undeniable consequences of the sundering of my last relationship. Love came to me, took me as a fool and transformed me into something else: a wanderer, a believer, a desirer...

And it broke me. Honestly, it didn’t break me anymore than I was already broken. My eyes were opened fully and I saw into myself. The cracks and chips of my heart hadn’t grown back together. They were walled away in a corner of love to be dealt with at some unforeseen point, walled away by a dam which took my tears and made a lake, all hidden from myself in direct contradiction to my resolution. Only fallacies surface when explaining my actions to myself: “I had to be strong for him”, “I broke up with him so I had to be ok”, or even “I’ll heal in time.”

But truthfully, my love will never be the same. In honor of being a true Pisces, I fell in love with a beauty, an inspiration, a muse so quickly and thoroughly it was like misting over the past with fickle elation. And when this love’s ex-love came back into the picture with his silver tongue and shaded tales of their past, the world around us shifted. He shifted; because his heart told the truth neither of us wanted to know.

Love’s permanence echoed like a drumming noise rooted deep within the chest for the first love that rips us to shreds. He is still in the throws of such aching and won’t let me in to help mend what I can. My contentment with this decision, this truth, this undeniable fear of possible dissolution in the future comes on the edge of a treacherous knife. When his words of friendship labeled the actions we committed together... the edge broke the dam. He has no idea the good he has done for me; and I’m not entirely sure he will ever know.

What I realized as I drowned in my own past is that I left my last relationship because I wasn’t myself. Neither one of us truly was. Due to that, I didn’t feel love. Once freed of the constraints I placed on myself within the regulations of that relationship, my eye, my heart, and my soul began expanding beyond the borders of comfortability to find its true potential. I was, and am, looking for love; and specifically someone to truly, deeply, unabashedly, uninhibitedly love me. Whom I can love in return without fear of being myself or doing what I want to do or saying what I want to say. The idea of filtering everything, anything, something at all pushes me so deeply away from happiness that I know I will never filter again. I also realized I broke my own heart when I broke my boyfriend’s heart, and I realized how deeply I had done that.

As I piece together myself, I’m smiling again. Losing ten pounds in a week, loving and losing without a cause, drowning and coming to enlightenment... it’s all fantastic and unbelievable. I feel like a new person again. I feel like the reasons for my steps along this Road are coming to a point I strive for. “Love come light up the shadows.”

Thursday, April 7, 2011


Thank you for your question. When I see one, I'll tell you; but for now I think they live in me -- WILD! But they don't, because they live in you, and Caitlin, and definitely Collin; because Wild is living in when living does. So they must be -- be -- where we want them to be.

But now they live in a movie - for which I have not seen. Which I should --

Before, they lived in a fury book, printed for children (but really for their parents).

Before... they lived in the mind of a writer.

Which is, and isn't, me...

What is the question?


Thank you for your question. Truthfully, it exists only within the entirety of white as a portion of the longer length of peaks and troughs. It is slower, I believe, than the blues and yellows, cooler than the giants flaring in the night sky. It dominates the Verse -- for love and hate, for the heated experience of emotion, for blood dripping down the wound.

But it is only because we see -- so I ask is it at all what is seen, defined by three letters as representative from the unsure? Thus it is only as it’s made, only as it’s named.

What was the question?