Screen names and Nicknames… On cars and corny gestures
This is both: a recent story, and a story ten years in the making. The screen name “RoadsPoet” replaced “TwiceRoadsFool” years ago, when i closed a chapter in my life. (The story on TRF has already been told here, if you managed to find it). On RoadsPoet, the name tells a game i simply LOVE to play. Over the top courtship is something i adore, and i am sad that its lost on most of my generation. In High school, a friend and i with similar interests used to embark on wild-eyed journeys of surprising the objects of our affections. It became a driving journey (literally), and we all know the pleasure i get from circumstantial badassery on the road. But romance (imho) is best served in surprise- And if you shouldnt be able to be in two places at once, its so much more fun.
Recently i had been spending a lot of time and nights with a woman, but work was tearing me away… A few thousand miles, for a week. I was smart enough to know that reality would step in that week, and things would forever change. So i wrote my heart out in verse (by hand, which takes me forever), while i shouldve been packing. The town slept around me, as i compiled my silly notion(just my simple writing, sitting on a bed of roses), and i hit the road. There wasnt a need to rush- Kara was asleep, i had 6 hours til my flight (it was midnight), but… Therein is the dream. Not just for racing, but for knowing of delivery, and expectation, and all that goes with.
As they have, us intertwined, against your body i was folding,
In my eyes, as eyes lay opened, staring up upon my ceiling,
(Though eyes closed stare out to you, as sleeping eyes stared back), im feeling
The ones inside of me you pushed, (and maybe one or two of yours)
Found, as friends, as you see me, the way i let down all the faces
When your eyes peek, into my soul, delving in to all the spaces
The way with you, ambition lost: returns, (the passion not conceded)
As charades do not project, (for when they do you see them showing)
Other thans, and so i know, theres comfort in that you are knowing
And how (my friend) i love you dearly, when you put me in my place.
The way (without attempt) you reign, the Crazy out of me with ease,
The times bewildered i dont argue, anytime, you just say please…
But those who thought they knew me best, wide eyed, that i- easily tamed
Through words, a voice, the way it soothes me, as your words dance in my head
Hearing everything weve spoken, wondering, what went unsaid?
Between us, as our lips have touched, and my hands have commenced to trace
You, and memorized each inch, as they rolled across your skin
All the fires, all desires, you ignite in me, within
Were heaven, holding you so close, telling you ill always be here,
And i meant it, and ill keep it, any way youll have me ’round,
In my heart, you hold so much, forever, us on solid ground.
“Leaving me this week” you pouted, and the way that i was pleased,
Love you Pine, as we were folded, and the way my heart would waver,
Love you too, as i replied, behind closed eyes, as i would savor,
Doting on, as characters, we read, and how id love to be
Employed: in ’saving’, entertaining, loving: such a job description
fancies me, but as a patient, i await doctors prescription.
Life ignited, once again, a heart i thought that never would,
Open up unto another, the way my heart has taken to
My friend, my lover, my tree hugger, hope you know Pine Tree loves you.
Im not always well received on adventures like this, and i suppose part of being this kind of person is learning that a lot of people will laugh, make fun, or just flat out stare incredulously at you for such an idea. I had several hours of flying, sleeping, dreaming, and thinking, to contemplate what kind of a reaction this would propagate. There is a fascinating safety net in doing such a thing when you know youll be 2000 miles away when someone reacts. Still (while validation escapes me currently), i sit here sometimes… And reread the thank you note i got that morning. For at least ONE instant, the “crazy” in me was desirable, if not enjoyed. I’ll hold on to that, because *I* know i didnt make the whole thing up.Isnt ‘About Me’ really the first post?
So i recently read the Twilight series of books, by Stephanie Meyer. And i CANT believe this is going to be the note i start 
this blog on… But there’s a reason. Ive had numerous conversations about the characters in this book, as just about every woman i know who has read them dotes on “Edward,” the fictitious 108 year old vampire in a 17 year old’s body, with curt chivalry (chauvinism) and abrupt cordiality radiating from his being. That’s not to say i could blame them, but it brought on another conversation i had with a friend:
Double standards of desire. But we’ll get there later.
Someone else recently mentioned the movie/book The Notebook, which- I’m not afraid to say- i adore. In these two conversations, I’ve listened to people wax poetic about these two characters, in adoration for the feelings, emotions, and devotions they felt in their fictions. It got me to wondering: Can you imagine how crazy you would be seen as, if- in the real world- you displayed actions even remotely approaching those of these characters?
Well, im happy to say: As someone who is still naive enough to believe in the fairytale, ive ventured down roads slightly paralleling both (in both a multi-year unwavering contention of desire for someone out of my life, such as Noah; and in finding satisfaction and fulfillment in an overly chauvanistic (or is it chivalrous, thats another conversation) and overly protective adoration for another, and ive got stories to tell from both.
While as i go forward ill get in to the specifics of what ive written, and what theyre were about… I’ll start off with one that wasnt actually a story. Rather, it was the lack of a story.
What happens to those of us that still BELIEVE in love as those fictions depict, when we learn the real world isnt so accepting of such an obsession? Welcome, to the blog.
and im ready when youre setting my whole world on fire,
when the magic in the message isnt that of doom impending,
When i know against the hurting i can fin’ly stop defending
But i dont know who you are, and i dont know when youre coming
And i dont know if the beat i dance to, is the one youre drumming
I know at times, i dream of dancing, in the rain, or in the shower,
That im waiting, for the taking, it will be the finest hour
But i cant know, of who you are, i dont know who, i am this second,
I dont know who, ill be when called, but ill find out, when i am beckoned,
Maybe stronger, maybe fighting, (maybe i wont let things slide,)
Maybe weaker, maybe opened, (maybe in you ill confide)
Maybe Grace will be becoming, and we’ll see each others truth,
Maybe we wont need myst’ry, wont need to sneak as Lovers Sleuth,
Covers off, and sheilds thrown down, i’ll come at you, ill be unarmed,
We’ll escape, the life were living, we’ll walk on, and walk unharmed
We’re all alone, together standing, wondering who holds our hands?
When we fall, were were not pleasant, when were wrong to make demands,
In fear of hurting, insecure, in violence of hearts and minds,
The lovers who will love us best are loving (lovers, the best kinds)
But know them, no, not yet today, for here alone i sit in dreams.
And though its hard, we walk, one foot, in front of other, till it seems.
Were forced to get it right (alone), and so we guarded, rejoin crowd
We walk, and smile, and stare forward, always mute, never aloud
Of fears we feel, and longing, burning, wanting, craving, in our hearts,
Waiting for the dreaming lovers, waiting till that fire starts.
Maybe lit, and burning only, deep within, and waiting for,
A lock thats opened, and unlatched, im waiting: Come push down my door.
Ill be alone, in cold and rain, ill wait for you knee deep in dark,
Ill wait till you jump start my engine, put a lighter to the spark.
Its chemistry, and nothing less, though seeming lost, i know just missing,
To return, im patiently, awaiting… even if im hissing:
Craving for the chasing and the yearing for the pleasing,
The way i know i love the fun, when im giving in (and teasing)
Though the music plays of manic, Worlds On Fire / Tears and Rain,
Its hearts emotion, Sinusoidal, ups and downs, love, loss, and pain.
The game is heaven, when im running, Poet’s riding on his Road,
Bringing just a note, a flower, the way ive seen a smile showed.
Surprised, unseen, or seen unknown, the way it feels to then get caught,
The way i know such smile seen, are almost never done for naught.
Thoughts of pasts, of smiles such given, of eyes that cried (the “happy tears”)
Of hands that held, and fingers laced, together to weather against the fears,
The verse is turning, and i feel it, fighting to go back in sadness,
I wont let it, im daydreaming, no giving in to all this madness.
So i keep walking, and keep singing, and keep writing, out to you,
Except i dont know who you are, but whats a man with words to do?
Write the dream, and hope that someone, else is out there, also sharing,
Thoughts, that theyll keep looking forward, till in my eyes, they are staring.
