Digital Love

A while back I remember writing something about love. I don't think I've ever posted it anywhere as it was just an essay that came to mind. Now that I look back on it, I was right about a lot of things in that essay that I never stopped to actually think about. That's pretty much me, right there. Writing stuff down and never thinking what exactly I'm trying to say or what I've said.

The essay was basically talking about how people use the term "I love you" too loosely. As a race of beings that need to have some sort of sociality in order to survive, we long to have something closer than close friendships. We yearn to have that one person that belongs to us. Well, not really belong to us, but the person who we can say we share similar feelings with and not just on a sexual level. Though sex is a vital part in some relationships, there are some people that don't thrive on it. The act of just tactile contact in a non-sexual way can be more powerful than any form of sexual innuendo. Holding someone's hand can have more love than getting off on someone.

It's this form of love that seems to have left people in this digital age. With so many forms of communication available to us, we no longer have to go to physical places in order to strike a conversation with a complete stranger. Due to the technological revolution that we call the internet, we have a vast number of places where we are allowed to communicate with not only people who live near us, but also places that we may have never been too or probably never even heard of. However, if you've not heard the name of each major country in your life at least once, I highly recommend that you read a map before you actually start talking on the internet. It might give you a little help as to knowing where the person you're talking to comes from. And it might help you to avoid asking that ice breaker question "So how's the weather there?”

But along with all this communication comes the fact that people will and do fall in love with people whom they start talking to in this digital divide. It's not to say that people don't actually have working relationships on the internet that can still hold strong once people decide that they actually want to meet each other in person. But people who are not experience in what exactly "love" is will fall victim to a trap that is as old as the internet it self.

The internet allows us to throw up a person shield that we can chose to either put up or down. We can create a personality that doesn't have to be real or put our lives out in the digital open to see if we find people that find us interesting. It is at that point when we finally find people who wish to communicate with us and begin some sort of online friendship where we find ourselves the most fragile. Those who are poor judges of character out in the real world will find that the digital world is just as hard if not extremely harder since the only thing that we can see about the person we're talking to is the words on a screen. Even those who have web cams can't be the person they say they are.

Perhaps we take a chance and we get to know these people who find us interesting and, depending on your sexual preference, you find yourself strangely attracted to the person you're talking to. The lines of old start to come into play: "I've never met a person like you before in my life." , "When ever I talk to you I feel so much better." , "I trust you more than I trust anyone I know." , "I can't live without you." (and just when you thought the usually cheesy come-on lines couldn't get any worse, they use the dreaded) "I love you."

Sometimes, and I say sometimes because it doesn't always happen, where people actually say these lines and they turn out to be whole hearted about what they are saying and the friendships do blossom out to be more than just friendships. But for those people who fail to see beyond the shadow or the mask of the person they're talking to, they don't realize what form of attraction they actually have with the person on the other side.

This is not a physical attraction but merely an emotional attraction. People long to be with people who are either like the, different than them, or make them feel something that they've never felt before. This is a vulnerability that everyone has. Even the anti-social socialists in this world have this in their lives. They long to find someone who has the same "God complex" as they do so they can rule the world together. Some people fail to understand this play of emotions and when they finally discover who the person is behind the mask, the person in love is destroyed. Left with a spot in their heart and mind so cold that they either long for a replacement of that feeling with someone else or they build up an anger of hatred for the person who hurt them.

This non-understanding of this emotional attraction has hurt so many people. At some point the attracted person needs to ask themselves, how do I love this person if I can't see them or touch them?

I used to say that love transcends all boarders and that if love is actually real and is heartfelt, then long distance relationships truly can work. I still believe that even after all that has happened to me in the last few years. Whether it be friendships or relationships between a man and a woman, woman or woman, man or man, it is all the same. If you can't understand what you're feeling for the person on the other computer, you need to step back and learn more about them. A mask is never the real face, it's always to hide something.

On second thought...

Maybe this song does have a use right now after all. I suggest you find the song first that way this poem will have much more meaning.

The endless field
of a farm he had never asked
to see or live on.

The wave of green
that moves in the wind
so gentle as his mother's touch.

Why does he long to leave serenity?

Why does he hope to one day be gone
from the place that so many days
had brought him happiness?

He rushes through field
hoping to find the answers
to a question that's buring in his heart.

The leaves slap and the cut
yet he moves on.

He trips and and falls.
The ground scrapes his legs
and cuts his face
yet he moves on.

The sun shows him the way
and he follows it
as if it were the last trail
in his life he would ever follow.

Now is the end.

The path he can no longer follow
because the land has ended.

The ravine below
as empty as his heart
and now he asks...

WHEN WILL BE MY TIME!?

©Archangel

The Essence of Music

I have found nothing better to help me in my writing than the power of music. There is a place that writers need to go to that we can't always get there with our imaginations alone. We must be taken there by a force that we can only hear.

Through music I have always wondered about my first project that is started long ago. Everytime I hear a piece of music, I wonder about it. I can't help but wonder where it would have fit in the part of the movie I would have written about my book and how vividly I could see the images in my head.

I recently found a song written by the band Ra that gives me such an image. While I haven't fueled my works on anything they have sang yet, I'm sure that is only a matter of time when they make me write something that will express my love of music.

It sounds like a whisper
It seems like a dream
It breaks and it falls
It tears at the seam

Suppose that it happens
Suppose that it's real
Supposing you're right
Suppose it won't heal forever

And I will get old and tired
And nothing will get to me
No one will want to have me
Longing to be set free

If only the sun would take me
If only the wind was on my side [2x]

I wish I could see you
I'm stuck in a fog
I wish I had patience
A virtue says god

I wish I had wishes
A gold magic charm
I'd wish for more time
I'd wish to go far away

And I will get old and tired
And nothing will get to me
No one will want to have me
Longing to be set free

If only the sun would take me
If only the wind was on my side [2x]

I can hear voices calling
And I can feel weight upon my mind
You'll hold my hand in your hand
And after I'm gone you'll still have
Time to figure out the things,
The things that left me empty inside

If only the sun would take me
If only the wind was on my side [2x]
If only the wind was on my side...
Wooooa... on my side

Angel born in hell

And though he cried in the night
no one heard him coming
and they all slept peacefully
and wonderfully.

Through the silence of the night
his footsteps were thought
to be that of thunder
made by the sound of a coming storm.

Out of the depths of all that is evil
came a creature of pure hatrid
and much malice
that even those he loves
were not on his mind that night.

As he races down the town streets
no one can hear the clatter of his sword
and his shield.

Fueled by a rage of lies,
dishonored by those he trusted,
and above all,
the understanding
that he shall have no peace
until they are wiped from his mind.

As he reached the center of town
the streetlights were covered with moonlight
and it was just enough
to carry out his judgement.

Weilding his sword
and brandishing his sheild
he slowly rose to the sky
spreading out his hands and speaking
only to himself
in a trance
that only he understood.

"TONIGHT" ,he cried,
"I am through with my suffering,
I am through with the lies aflicting my heart,
and I am through
with those who have brought it to me."

And from the earth
there was a great blast
and the town saw only the light of hell
and felt the anger
in an angel's heart.

But one small boy
lingered outside the town
and it was his eye
that caught the angel in flight
and he could not be left
as a lone witness.

And as the angel flew down to attack
the boy crossed his arms
and covered his face....
and woke from his slumber.

He rose from his bed
covered in his fear and sweat
and said the words he would never forget...

"Angels bring vengence in the night
to those who cast hurt on those
we do not know are angels."

© Archangel

Until next time

Losing your thoughts

There comes a time in every writer's life (wow I sound old) when the inevitable must happen. All of us will have this one moment where we go "duh"! Today was my day. I have officially become a writer by having this small moment of weakness happen to me.

As I was cleaning out files from my computer, of which I have several hundred, I came across a file that I had never seen before, but I had obviously written it because it was a word file. I opened it up and it was written as a poem. It was at that moment, I went, "OH! I remember writing this!" At that point I realized, I have been writing way too long.

I usually have a backstory as to why I write each of my pieces, but it escapes me as to why I wrote this one. War has never actually been something I like to write about. This poem, however, was written just for that. I believe I wrote it from the vantage point of a soldier. Whom the enemy was supposed to be, I'll leave that one up to you. This poem is just as much a mystery as it will be to the people who are about to read it. Enjoy!

The Fallen

I kneel before my attacker
My guardian from Heaven
My demon on earth
My salvation in life.

I watch and wait
waiting for the moment to strike
secretly listening and watching
for the signs and signals
of their coming
and their second revolt.

I kneel to my protector
my rod,
my shield,
he is my only defense
When the time comes
for me to call out his name
and tell him I fight for him
I will stand with pride
and I will crush my attackers
and kill his betrayers.

The streets are silent
by millions of voices
of those who would be them.
Those who know they are something more
than just the people they think they are.
In my heart
They are
the ultimate enemy.

To crush evil dressed as good
or to save the good believed to be evil
will be the only question in my mind
when I raise my weapon
and we battle for the first
and last time.

The battle lines will be drawn,
the last of their kind
will be summoned from the darkness of light
and from the heavenly light of the shadow
and we'll see who will strike first.

The skies will darken,
the clouds will combine,
and it shall rain
the tears of a thousand angels;
the tears shed for the soul-less fallen
and tears shed for the souls who will fall.

I will don the clothes of the avenger,
sheath my weapon and draw it like he,
caress the shield around my neck,
kiss it one last time
and take the first steps at the nearing army.

And some of them will have plans in their eyes
and some of them will have tears.
I will show no fear in my face,
but in my mind
I will tremble with the knowledge
of what is my task.

Someday it will be their will
to send me to the place I have only read about
and it will be mine
to send them to the place
they should have always been.

Until next time.

Easy to forget

My appologies to those who've been reading my blog and wondering what happened to me. I haven't forgotten about my blog. I've just been concentrating on my latest book since it seems to help me focus alot. All those bright sayings that I have about writing I actually do use. Took be long enough to learn them all and figure them out, but now that I've got them down I actually use them on a daily basis.

About the title of this blog, I actually came to the realization about something the other day. I was talking to someone from overseas who just recently lost a baby in the family just as I did a long time ago. It got me thinking about how long my baby brother, Alex, has been passed on. It's easy to forget that we take a part of them with us once they're gone. They linger in our souls so that we never lose track of what we had. I don't think there is one day when I don't have his name cross my mind. While it's a little bit easier to deal with now that it's been years, that part lingers on and I don't really ever want it to go away.

Why talk about this? Of course I've got a poem for you, people. And for the first time, I dedicate this one to my new friend. May you soon find peace in your life as I did. This one's for you, Ashton... and you too Aaron.

Tell Her

Tell my love

she means the world to me.

The stars in the sky twinkle for her

and for the rest of our lives that's where they'll be.

Tell my brothers

we well always have the baseball field.

The place we grew up and lost ourselves in a game.

Remind them of the time I hit that home run, lost the ball for us all,

but hoped the hit made that ball tame.

Tell my father

I love him very much.

Tell him good-bye with a handshake.

Tell him not of where I am.

When he hears the news, our fishing boat and his heart will sink.

Tell my friends

I can feel them with me.

Their strength, their love, their prayers, their tears.

Comfort them with the fact that when I get to where I'm going

I will meet them there so there will be no fears.

Tell my mother

I saw an angel before I died.

Tell her she cradled me in her arms the way you held me the day you let

me see the light and the beauty of your heart through your eyes.

Tell her,

the angels touch was nothing compared to hers.

It will never compare to the way you held me when I cried or when I

slept on the couch past my bedtime watching TV with her.

My God, tell her that I wish to be there now.

Tell her,

I smell the flower in the distance.

Tell her I can smell the roses she told me to stop and smell when I

moved too fast. Tell her, I can see the one she picked for me to give my

love. Tell her, because of the thorn she left, I got to hold my love's hand

for the first time.

But tell them all,

tell them in in words only you can tell,

that the angels I see now don't compare to the ones I leave behind.

Tell my brothers, I see our field of dreams.

Tell my love, I see her wedding dress.

Tell my father, I see the fish we caught.

But tell my mother, I saw an angel before I died.

Tell her, I got to see her face one last time.

Until next time.

Early to bed, Early To Rise....

These last few days haven't been easy. Not only am I bored as hell, I'm litterally haunted by images from my past. The only thing I can actually describe it as is loosing something you really loved. Then days after you loose it, everything that you see reminds you of that one thing. That's what it's been like for me these past few days. In fact, that's what it's been like for me since the end of the summer.

That's how someone knows they love something a lot. When after it's gone, it's the only thing you want back. Nothing else seems to matter. My world has felt empty for the past few months and I think that's just the way I'm going to feel for a long time. Empty.

However long it's going to take me to undo the "thing" that is wrong with me, I'm going to have to live through. Whether or not I'm returned what was taken from me is another story. The truth is, I'm learning alot about myself now that this "thing" is gone. I'm able to see how much pain it caused me and how much it used me for all that I was worth and then looked for an oppertunity to get rid of me. However, I don't so much that it was waiting so much as something else in the midsts who was hoping to find some way to get rid of me.

Most of you are reading this right now and thinking to yourselves, "What the hell is he talking about?" I wouldn't blame you. Sometimes I have no idea what I'm talking about, but somehow that's going to all change soon.

One of the best parts about being a writer is being able to create characters at will. The true way that we do it is to adapt our characters from people that we have actually met or heard about in real life. This process seems to be the most easiest for me. I've met soom pretty colorful people in my few 22 years of life. Most of which were nice people just very colorful.

I say this for the fact that there is one evil thing about writers that no one ever thinks about. I've got a shirt that speaks bundles when it says, "Careful or you'll end up in my novel." That's exactly what I'm talking about. A writer's ultimate power is to take the people that he hates more than anything and to create a character that he/she can do as they wish. Once the project is done, the writer is able to sit back and have a good laugh at what he's done to the character based on the "asshole".

A project that I started a while ago is now back in process. After everything that happened this summer I didn't feel it necessary to continue it since the characters I created were actual people who I no longer have contact with. (Getting the picture yet?) But now that I've had the time to think it over and place my emotions to the side, all I'm left with now is the bullshit they left behind. So that's what I intend to do. You see, writer's analyze people before they ever concider what kind of character they would make in a story. I had six years to figure these people out and they never bothered to do the same to me. Now, I've got six years of fustration and I think some revenge is in order.

Project: Summer is now in full swing and I hope to have it complete fairly soon since I have most of the parts created. This book I will make available to as many markets as I can. Until then, still expect me to post stuff on here as usual. I know most of you are enjoying the poetry and as long as you enjoy it and come by and read it, I will keep giving you what you want. As a music performer, I know the most important part of the show is to give the audience what they want.

This next poem is about the one thing I had to learn how to do a long time ago, say "good-bye". There are lots of things that we say everyday now that we say because we feel we should, but we never stop to actually realize what we're saying and how much power it used to have. Take for instance: I love you. I've heard that a few times in my life and I realize now that those who said it to me, besides my parents, never actually truely meant it. Kinda sucks when you reach that point in your life when you understand how fake some people can be. And that's what this angel feels like in my poem.

Saying Good-Bye

Waiting to say good-bye
has always been the hardest for me.
From the day it all ended,
to the day I learned that our beginning
would lead to and end.

The war has left us
lost and alone.
and lost in a desert,
whose only known tenant is a star
who wishes no one looks upon.

You looked at me
and blew me kisses from afar.
I saw you walk into that tunnel of nothing.
Walking to a bird made my man
that tries to reach the heavens
that don't exist for the living.

For years, I was that part of you
that you adored like the song of the angel
that fell from the sky. Where is the love
you showed to me then? Is it where
you're going now?

I look through the shield
that keeps me from touching you,
from telling you, from loving you.
What is something so unyielding
that not even love may pass through it?
It's the steel of the hammer
that's breaking my heart.

I will keep my confession from you.
A symbol of my faultless epiphany which,
if I would have paid more attention to,
would have kept me from this moment in time.

It is, has been, and always will be
my curse.
It started from the beginning,
yet it gave no sign of and end. So could it be
that this is death? Could this be
the continuous, never-ending, beginning of my
melancholy way of life?

They say there is a light at the end
of every dark tunnel. But I just saw you leave
in a tunnel that was dark enough to swallow you whole
and then make sure you should not find your way out.
What kind of a tunnel is that? What kind of tunnel
lets you go forward, but not back?

I see you leave the earth on steel wings
that would not let any holy being fly in Heaven.
The walls around me close and there is nothing
but an opening to the sky above me.


God, damn these clipped wings!
What purpose do they serve if they don't let me fly,
if I can not wrap those in them who need me by there side?
What good is this sword of flame you give to your soldiers
if the shield you give them doesn't even protect them
from the fallacies of life, love, and friendship?

WHAT GOOD IS A MORTAL SOUL TO AN ANGEL
TO MAKE HIM HUMAN
IF THE ONES HE LOVES, CARES FOR,
WOULD DIE FOR, GIVE UP HIS SEAT IN HEAVEN FOR, AND MAKE HIM WISH NOT TO GO HOME,
DON'T LOVE HIM BACK!?

WHAT ARE THESE WORDS I CRY FOR?!
THEY ARE THE WORDS OF A MORTAL,
TO WHICH THOSE WHO RIDE ON STEEL WINGS
HAVE TURNED A DEAF EAR TO!

THEY ARE THE WORDS OF AN ANGEL,
THAT NO ONE WILL READ,
WHO HAS LOWERED HIS SHIELD AND SWORD
TO BE MORTAL AND DO AS MORTALS DO
ONLY TO FIND THAT MORTALS ARE CRUEL CREATURES!

LET THEM HAVE DIVINE LOVE!
LET THEM HAVE THE GRACE OF OUR FATHER!
BUT MAKE ME A FULL MORTAL
SO THAT I MAY HAVE IT TOO!

I snap back.
You're gone from my view for who knows how long.

On the other side of the shield
a drop of water falls.
Is it rain, is it a water spot?
I will never know, but
to look through it from the other side,
would look like a tear from me.

Let someone else carry my sword and shield tonight.
Tonight, I sleep as a mortal and I leave my questions behind.
Lord knows, you have already.

Until next time.

Just before bed.

This one was asked for by special request. No essay or opening for tonight, everyone. Tonight, I'll just let my poetry speak for itself. Tomorrow will be a different story.

The King in Her Life

Today is my day.

I watched the sun go down

on the day before today

hoping that something would change

from then to nowbut things have not.

The day is passing.

The night that I have waited for

is finally here.

My prince is in his carriage

almost to my door.

There is not much time to prepare.

I must start now.

I go to my mirror.

I open the make up in my music box.

The memories of you return to me.

The thoughts of your voice telling me

no matter how much of it I used

I would never need it.

The song that kept playing

as you showed me how to dance.

How great it was to be a child

when you were here.

With every brush of my hair,

with every dust of my face,

I'm only trying to hide my scars.

The woman in the mirror

is nothing without you.

It's strange.

I always thought

you would be here for this moment

and yet

you feel miles away

because you are.

I go to my closet.

There is the dress.T

he costume to hide the princess

that is really a pauper.

I take it from it's prison

and remove it from it's noose.

It fits perfectly.

But somehow, the embrace of your arms

telling me that you would protect me

from now until forever

fits much better.

The night is almost over me.

The symbol we gave to each other

the night you left on wings

and left us here without you

is shining high in the sky.

You told us to watch it with you.

It was how we would know of your love

and how we could keep our faith

that we were still with each other.

I watch it from my window.

I wonder if you're watching it with me

while you're protecting me.

In the distance,

I can see my prince.

You have not met him.

I hope you will.

I love him, but not as much

as I will always love you.

You would be proud.

You inspire him to be like you.

My guardian, my friend, my life.

A knock at my door.

The love of your life

How she covers the thoughts of pain

with the smiles she's given me since you've left.

I know what love is because of her.

That's how I know I'm in love.

"He's waiting down stairs."

she says to me.

"I wish he could be here"

I say as I look at your picture.

"He is, my love."

I walk down the stairs of my castle.

There is my prince.

In his uniform, just like you.

A symbol of protection, just like you.

And then he speaks...

"I have a gift for you tonight.

It's better then any night at any ball,

any gift of jewels,

or any dance with me."

What could it be?

He takes my hand and leads me to the door.

"Your wish is on the other side."

I turn the handle...

a rush of life...

the last moment I saw you leave our home....

the last time I saw you smile at me...

the last words...good bye.

There you were.

In your suit.

In your armor.

The armor you wore to protect us all.

You had the smile I saw you with last.

The smile that brightend up my days.

You stood with a tear your eye

and I couldn't see you.

My tears had blinded me.

My king had come home.

"I missed you so, my princess.

You're beautiful.

God let me come home today to see my angel like this."

"I missed you more,

my soldier,

my king...

My daddy."

Until next time.

Do you ever wonder...

...where they go?

Today being All Soul's Day, I figure I would put up this poem that I've had for a while. I never really understood why I wrote it until now. There are things we don't really understand at the time why we do them, but we know somewhere deep inside that in the grand scheme of things, they will have a bigger purpose later on.

That's where this poem comes in. Now if my internet hadn't gone out a couple of days ago, I would have completely forgotten I had t his poem. By the time I would have posted it wouldn't have had the same effect as it might have right now.

For those of you who know me beyond this blog and know sort of my backstory of my life, you know that it's been sometime since I lost my little brother. He was the only sibbling that actually looked up to me since my sisters were very much older by the time I was born. I was sort of the last one that my parents actually planned on. Then Alex showed up. There was lots of drama during that part of my life which I won't get into, but the point that I'm trying to make is that he's gone. I often wonder why it was I never actually mourned for him like I have for others who left my life. I loved him unconditionally and to this day I miss him very much and wonder what he would have become if he hadn't died so early in his life. Maybe I knew that in the grand scheme of things he would be going to a place that I wouldn't have to be sad about. I should be happy.

For the most part, death makes us realize things that we don't fully understand until we realize the person who's gone no longer has the time to figure it out. They're going to find out up close and personal. That is, if there actually is a Heaven or Hell, but we'll save that for another blog.

For now, I leave you with this work long lost in the Archangel Archives. I hope that after you read it, you find the same comfort that I did in knowing what we hope happens to us after a greater power than anything we know takes us off our journey though life.

Waiting

And here I sit.

Watching you from your window sile.

Being ever vigilant like the stars.

I'm watching you say your prayers by your bedside.

One for you,

one for your mother,

one for your father,

one for your sister,

one for me.

I can see your eyes in the moonlight.

The tears are forming.

You don't understand I'm right here.

I've never left.

I've kept my promise.

You wipe the tears from your eyes

and slip into the bed holding your angelic body.

Hours have passed and you've not yet closed your eyes.

There is no reason to stay up for me.

Leave the night to angels and demons.

This is no time for you.

Thought I lay somewhere with my eyes closed,

I can never pray, sleep, or dream again.

Turn to watch the moon.

See how it can fill the soul with things we cannot understand?

Remember how I told you to watch the moon if I slipped away?

I'm there.

I'm not that far away from it.

I'm not that far away from you.

By the light of the moon,your eyes become tired.

The sandman of your stories has come for you.

He sprikles his sleeping dust and calms the soul no angel would dare touch without my consent.

I rise from my perch like a bird of grace

and walk to your side.

I kneel like the knight I would have been to you and I here I will stay until morning.

No nightmare will hurt you, no fear of falling, no sense of loneliness.

I'm here with you.

Leave the night to angels and demons.

They have the night to carry out the business we cannot see and do not understand.Tonight, in this room, the night belongs to us.

Until next time.

Looking to the Skies

By now, you might or might not have noticed the medium for the basis of most of my poetry. The moon and stars seem to have this effect over my imagination that I have never been able to control. The Hunter's Moon this year was begging me for days to write something about my most favorite constellation in the winter sky, Orion.

Mediums for writing seem to be the hardest things for most writers to find. When you slowly make that discovery that you are a "Writer" then you start to realize that it's very easy to say you're a writer, but it's also another thing to sit with a pen and paper all day or to sit in front of a computer screen and write for hours on end. It's easier said than done. Then to top it all off, you might not even like what you're writing. I've been writing since I was thirteen and let me tell you, it never gets any easier. The writer who tells you that it gets easier after you've written so much, is pretty much full of it. The muse of your life changes and sometimes the biggest thing that you need in order to write some of the greatest pieces of your life, support, is never there. I guess that would explain why I've never actually completed a novel and in my heart I would love to.

The moon has become my muse as of late. It's a constant friend that I know will always be in the sky to guide my mind at night into a new poem or some new urge to get something down on paper. Writers are not born in the mind, they are born on paper. Although, anyone who has been writing as long as I have will tell you that without a mind, you can just forget about writing entirely. And then again, a few of us writers lost our marbles a long time ago. Hell, we take the chance of writing something everyday that might not ever get read by even the every day Joe or Jane like you reading now. Doesn't that tell you something?

Me on the other hand, I don't really care. Writers and artists are one in the same. We try so hard to create something that we hope others will flock to and stand, or in this case read, in awe and we will earn the admiration of millions. For a select few of us that actually happens. The majority of us stand back and just write what we know.

Perhaps one of these days I'll write the greatest novel of the twentieth century. Hey, I'm young, it could happen. But I won't spend the rest of my days thinking about it. I know that eventually I'll finish the novel I started three years ago about a reality that I really wanted and now I know will never happen. I guess that's why we have those little things that are part of us that give us hope. The reasons that we move on from the evils that conquer our spirits and help us to see that there is more beyond this one point. Tonight, I look to the stars one more time. This time, I look to the moon to wonder if a friend is still watching it with me.

He opens the back door
to his home and steps
into the veranda

The chill in the air
raises each hair on his arm
as sentinels standing guard

He wraps his blanket tightly,
his only protection
from sensation of the dead
moving in the night

The roof
made of crystal clear glass
to let in the sun, moon, and stars
and to proudly show
his favorite constellation

He waits for this moment
every year, through every season,
through every cover of clouds,
he's waited for his return

In all his glory,
there in the winter sky,
is Orion the Hunter

How proudly he stands
with the belt we know so well
and his arm stretched
brandishing his sword

How mythology has forgotten you
oh great Orion
but the stars make you shine
more brightly than the rest
in my favorite time of the year.

The Hunter's Moon
beckons your return
and all those who would be you,
but those who remember you
know there will always
only be one Orion.


Until next time.

It's hard to let go

I think once you read this one, you'll know exactly what I'm talking about. The real question is, who has the harder time letting go?

Untitled

A young man rises from his bed to find he is alone.

The one that he loved so much has left him by fate.

He realizes that he must face this world alone but fears his lost love does not understand.

He opens his French doors

to the second floor balcony in his funeral clothes and starts to sing.

"Jamas senti en el alma tanto amor

Y nadie mas que tu, me amo

Por ti rei y llore, renaci tambien"

The sunset sky starts to turn from a bright orange to a soft gray.

There is a storm coming. Though he can hear the thunder

in the distance, he continues to sing.

"Lo que tuve di, por tenerte aqui

Ya se que despedirnos es mejor

Sufriendo pagare mi error

Ya nada sera igual, lo tengo que aceptar

Ya hallar la fuerza en mi para este adios"

He continues to sing and raises his head to the sky to sing to God.

He explains that he has accepted this turn of fate,

but he does not know why his love's soul would stay to hurt him.

He begs for God to make it understand. Though rain starts to fall, he continues to sing.

"Alejate, no puedo mas

Ya no hay manera de volver el tiempo atras

Olvidate de mi

Y dejame seguir a solas con mi soledad

Alejate, ya dime adios

Y me resignare a seguir sin tu calor

Y jamas entedere que fue lo que paso

Si nada puedo hacer, alejate"

Now, he closes his eyes to hold back what is coming. He can feel

his love holding him once again. He begs for peace,

but the ghost of love will never leave him. He tries to explain

that he will move on in pain, but the ghost must leave him.

In his heart, he begs for serenity, and still he sings.

"No voy a arrepentirme del ayer

Amando te hise mujer

Por el amor aquel, por serte siempre fiel

Hoy tengo que ser fuerte y aprender"

He falls to his knees and begins to cry. He can't turn around to see

the ghost of his love. He cries that she must live so that others

may know of the love they shared together. He takes no

regrets in their love. He cries harder, and still he sings.

"Alejate, no puedo mas

Ya no hay manera de volver el tiempo atras

Olvidate de mi

Y dejame seguir a solas con mi soledad

Alejate, ya dime adios

Y me resignara seguir sin tu calor

Y jamas entedere que fue lo que paso

Si nada puedo hacer, alejate"

By now, the rain is falling harder and the lightning flashes brighter

then the sun during the day on the small town. The storm

shows the same rage that is in his heart. Once again,

the ghostbegs for him to turn and look, but he knows not to. He turns

his heart to stone and understands that he has said "good-bye". He understands that he

must live with her smell on his mind and the warmth of his love's skin far from him. Though

the wind and rain make him cold and shiver, he continues to sing.

"Alejate, no puedo mas

Ya no hay manera de volver el tiempo atras

Olvidate de mi

Y dejame seguir a solas con mi soledad

Alejate, ya dime adios

Y me resignara seguir sin tu calor

Y jamas entedere que fue lo que paso

Si nada puedo hacer, alejate"

The thunder and lightning have passed. Now all that's left is rain. But it is not rain. It is the

tears of a thousand angels crying with him. They cry because they can not tell him that his love is with them and loves him very much. The ghost is a gift from the angels to bring him peace, but he does not understand. His face marked by a trail of tears, he begs one more

time to God and to the ghost to let him cry the rest of his days. God listens to him and

takes the ghost from the room. The angels cry harder knowing the gift has been taken.

With his last strength, he turns to see the ghost is gone. His trial of pain is over. The last

person to cry is is angelic love. He lifts his head back to the sky, and says. "I love you, too."

Until next time.

For every holiday...

there is a ghost.

I don't make it a habit to do very many seasonal poems. I'm the kind of person who generally will just take the mood of the moment and create the story that wants to flow on its own. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't. I've have a few bad poems here and there where I've had to step back and wonder, "What the hell were you thinking, Archy?"

Truth is, writing is much like science. We experiment as much as we can before we find the right way of doing something. Only difference is that as writer we're so fickle that we know when it's best for us to stop and realize that it's not going to get any better. But we're determined to milk that idea for all that it's worth.

There is one thing I know I don't like writing about, though. Ghosts. I wrote a poem a while back about a man who lost his bride very recently in his life and started singing to the heavens in honor of her and also to beg her spirit to leave him alone. That was a bloody tear-jerker. I based it off of a Josh Groban song called "Alejate", where he sings about letting someone go. I'll have to post it sometime. Maybe I will in this blog-o-mania that's about to happen.

If this opening essay isn't making much sense, it would be because I didn't wake up not too long ago. I've been meaning to post these blogs for a really long time, but never got around to it. Last night a poem came out that was just too good to let it get by the holiday and never be read. This one is for everyone who has been waiting for the next poem.

Talking to the Wind

Quietly resting my mind

just to past the time

from a restless day

Listening to the sounds

of the cardinals and blue jays

singing in the trees

and hiding in the bushes.

- Their song doesn't compare to your voice

I lay on the crisp grass

with one hand behind my head

and lift my eyes to the clouds above

creating creatures with my mind.

There won't me much time

to do this as I always have

- No, there will be

The days of the autumn sun

will soon be gone

and left in it's place

is the winter moon

- Frozen tears are coming

I close my eyesand let my mind drift

into a silent reverie filled with your image

- Will you always dream of me?

A period of silence

created by fate

that decided that my destiny

was to wander this earth

questioning my purpose

without you here to help me

- The footsteps you feel beside you are mine

Heaven forbids me

to shed anymore tears

- Why cry when I am here next to you?

I've done all my mourning

and now is the time of rejuvenation

for you and I

- You will not grow without me

While I will never understand it;

the sensation of you next to me lingers;

it haunts me like a bad dream

- It is a curse we shall endure together

Somehow, I can still hear your voice

flowing in the breeze

through the trees

that blows against my face

making sure I can hear every word

- You will never forget me

I open my eyes again

and watch and the evening eye

cast its light on me

though the sun overcomes the world

- I'm there with you

I stretch my hand to the sky

in a strange hope

that you might touch me once more

- Heaven isn't so far to touch

I laugh at my innocence

and how gullible I must seem

to chase shadows and ghosts
- All will make sense soon
After all,destiny has separated us

for a reason.

We will have our time again.

-Only I know when

Only time will tell.

-Tonight.

Until next time.

No matter how hard you try...

you can never forget the things you love the most.

It's been a while since I've written here. A few of my new readers have joked with me on my MSN messenger asking me if I've not gotten "the urge". I remember a while back how much I used to hate that feeling in the middle of the night. Now I have it in the middle of the day also. It feels like the guilt that you've not done something you were meant to do. Now it's 12:04 A.M. and I'm sitting at my computer trying to fill in the words in this blog that have been in my head, gathering enough force to find a way out through my fingers. They're winning now.

My blog has gotten some attention since I started actively writing it again. My poetry seems to connect with a lot of people. That's the way it should be. That's the way everything thing you read should effect you. It's the essence of the writer that's in the work he's just created that should fill your heart and mind with something you can't quite put your finger on, but you know it's there. I love doing that to people.

I've been noticeably different these past few days. People I talk to can just sense it from me. I know what's wrong with me, but I'm trying my best to keep myself from remembering what it is that's bothering me. I have a tendancy to want to go back to the past and thinking that there is a chance to go back in time and change a few things. I guess the fact that I've written fantasy most of my life, I'm starting to think that some of the things I've created are actually real.

I can't say that my life has been perfect. Hell, no one can. Most people would give up a whole bunch of things in their life to have a perfect moment for once in their lives. I didn't have to give up more than money to get mine. For those of you who don't know what I'm talking about, I'll try my best to tell you what The Perfect Moment feels like....

The Perfect Moment

Picture if you will
a night of crisp air
and only the light
of the full moon
to make you foolish.

You stand in the darkness
and look up at the jewel in the sky
how it shines just for you
tonight.

Your mind wanders to that spot,
that place,
that moment,
where fate,
in all is vast mystery,
showed you it was truely real

And then the moon
it's blurred
by a tear
caused by a smile

A smile so strong
the stars shine brighter
the wind softly blows
and your mind plays
the perfect song
to help you remember
that one moment.

It's there
it's that point in time
you hadn't even known
you were waiting for all your life.

It's that first breath,
that first hug,
that first smile,
that first anything
that never was more real
than at that moment.

That point
where if you were asked
you wouldn't be able to tell
what was happening around you.

Cloaked in the moonlight
you hold onto that moment
for as long as you can
hoping that it will last a little longer

And then you blink
and just like that moment in time
it's gone.

That feeling,
that revery,
that ounce of hope
that there was a reason
you were meant to be here.

The moon
hidden by a cloud.

That experience
written over by time.

That moment
turned to memory.

And now
it's in the safest place you know...

Your heart.


And if you can remember something like that, then you know what it's like.

Until next time.

Taking a Breath

I took a step back earlier today as I was looking at my bookshelf. I have a habit of forgetting about the small paperback books I've got. Some of them are actually awesome. In searching through some of them, I found my own book. It's hard to believe that I spent three years of my life working on it and it ended up in the same place as the rest of the books I hold dear to me. On a shelf in my collection, forgotten about because it doesn't stand out like the rest.

It was so weird now to hold my own in my hand. To think that there are people who are holding the same thing that I am and it was something that I created. Absolute strangers are reading parts of my mind that I always told myself that I would never let anyone read. And now here I am. A poet. But even more so, a published author.

Peeling back the cover I found the first poem. It was one that I wrote during a lost period of my life when I was just realizing what I was trying to make myself to be. A writer. To this day, I can remember how this poem came to life. It was created between the lyrics of some Josh Groban song and something that I had always told a friend of mine to do; "When ever you're wondering about me, watch the moon. I will be watching it with you so you will never feel alone." In a way, it's something that's so true. At night, the moon is the focal point in everyone's life. Even when it's covered by clouds we know it's there. But if you stop and think about it and wonder for just a minute, remember this. There is someone in the world, maybe someone who loves you, is watching it with you. That sense that we are all alone will never enter your mind again.

To all of my new readers and new fans, this one is for you. Here is the poem that taught me to reach just far enough, but never more then what I should have.

Stars

Lost in a world of empty spaces.

The ruler of my world is the desert.

It never seems to care who enters its lands.

All it knows is that once you step in,

it's unlikely that you'll come out.

With my wings stretched out, I fell from Heaven

hoping that I could find something new for me.

But now in this decrepit land, never once used for the much,

I lay with my wings broken and my faith shattered.

Why did I have to dream of more then what I wanted?

Why did I give up eternal beauty for a land of solitude and dispare

which is built only for hermits.

Now I watch the clear nights with the sky full of stars.

They are the eyes of my brothers and sisters watching me.

The cold wind and dry air make me understand

they do not cry for me. Not a tear has fallen from the sky.

The sun rises and begins to burn me. Not with the heat

that it gives, but with the light that it brings.

It allows me to see myself. My shame. My broken wings.

I pray that the invisible flames may take my life and my soul,

but I am an archangel. We are cursed with immortality.

I will never die, but in my time here, I will wish many times

that I could.

And now the sand shall cover me. Breeze after breeze

shall bring parts of the land to cover me.

It will burn my skin, dry my eyes, and melt my spirit.

Soon the sand and I will be one and my wishes

will still not have passed.

My Lord of lords, I make one last prayer. Take my soul.

Take my soul and place it in the stars.

Not in the Heavens, but amongst the stars.

Make my star the color of mortal blood,

so that when they look up, they may not pray for me.

Oh Lord, I beg and plead that they will not pray for me.

My soul is not worthy of your grace.

Name my star, The Morning Star, for that is when my pain begins.

My real name is not worthy of a star in the beauty you have created.

Who shall look upon the sky,

and pray to see the star....

Lucifer?

Until next time.

Something new

I got the urge again last night. This time, I actually let my fingers to the talking and they decided that I was long overdue for a poem. I'm trying to move away from that particular style, but I find that it's the only way to keep a writer's craft from going down the drain. Poetry is slowly becoming a lost artform. I guess I kind of figured that out when my book was published. I never wrote it, though, to make money or to impress people. I did it mostly for the title of "published author". In my world, I would rather have proud titles that are hard to get, then the stuff that comes with them.

I created something last night that is rather different then previous poems that I have ever written. For some reason the word "there" just wanted to be the dominate force that was to drive this poem. So that was the way I let it run. It was interesting trying to figure out the different ways to use it. I'm pretty happy about the way it turned out. Enjoy.

One Word

Out there,
upon the lands I have now long forgotten
are the homes of those who have long forgotten me.

Up there,
In the distant place of unknown futures,
friendships, flames, and family
I left a part of me.

Over there,
Where the battle lines were drawn
and I left to fight on my own
as my allies became allied
to defeat me.

There,
where the quest for humility
for humanity
for history
was destroyed out of spite
because of one.

In there,
In the heart
of the creature who loves so much
to love
was hurt by love
by those he loved.

Down there,
On the green flowing grass
covered in snow
turned red by the blood
of his broken heart
a tear falls from his eye.

Up there,
he can see the stars in the sky
the clouds part for him to see the heavens
and he calls to the angels and begs
for the ears of a thousand angels
to grant him an answer to his prayer.

You there,
protectors of all mortals,
keepers of the peace who failed to see
the war that was brewing in the hearts
of those I once called my allies.

From there,
can you see how I suffer?
Can you see how I bleed?
Can you see how I mourn?

Were there,
times when you wondered
how far I would fall in love,
how deeply I would love,
what I would give up to keep my love,
before you would take it from me?

Is there
no justice for those like me,
from beings that call themselves divine
yet let there be causes for so much evil?

Was there
a plan for me to feel this empty,
this alone,
this unworthy of love's embrace
and love's humanity.

For there
can be no love for me
in this world
if I can never be loved
by angels.

Until next time.

Late nights

I'm sort of getting tired of these late night urges to write. Not that they're annoying, but it's just the fact that they only seem to happen at night when I really want nothing else to do but to go to sleep. Why is it that they only happen then I'm not sure, but I do know that it's always been this way. So to those of you who have the same problem I'm having, you're not alone.

I haven't meditated so I have no briliant sayings for today. Just as I woke from my interrupted sleep I thought of something that sounded good though. I was watching the president talking on TV the other day and heard him say that he was going to start bringing troops home. I started wondering about that over the course of these past couple of days and now it's just finally hitting me. Once you've been through something like that, can you ever really come home? Are you ever really these same after you've spent part of your life seeing things like what is going on over there? I have complete respect for the men and women who served there time and are still serving there time overseas. I know in my heart I couldn't do half the things that the government is asking them to do.

The new question I will ask myself over the course of the next few months is "Once it's all over, can you ever really let go of it all? Will I truely ever be completely over what has happened?"

Who knows...

Until next time.

"Forgive those you love....

even when they don't love you anymore."

I just learned that mantra today. There are times when I'm meditating that I learn things in my mind that make so much sense that I wonder where in the hell I come up with these things. I guess with all the stuff that I've seen people go through over the last few years of my life and now with the stuff I've had to deal with, the more mantras that can take some of the pain away and make me realize that I still have the whole world ahead of me, the better.

Someone asked me why it was I titled my last blog the way I did. The truth is, that's basically how it all started. Only, it wasn't with a notebook. It was actually just a bunch of sheets of paper that I wasn't using, a computer desk that didn't have a computer, and an old desk lamp. I was about 12 or 13 when I realized I was gonna be a writer. It happened one night while I was watching something on tv. It was really late at night and I got the urge to get up and write something. About five minutes later, I had the beginning of a story that has been morphing til this day. I've changed it so much that I think it will ultimately be the story that I get right. I get the spritit to work on it from time to time, but I haven't done it for a while.

Looking back on that night now, I wonder why it was I got that urge. Never before then had I expressed an interest in writing, however I loved to read. The librarian at my middle school had to kick me out of the library all the time so that he could go home. But if I think further back on it, I started writing in 5th grade, but I never thought anything of it. So I guess the ability was always there, just not the reasoning as to why I was doing it.

I got out of bed to write this blog because I got that urge again. The feeling that my day would not be complete if I didn't get the thoughts out of my head. At the end of the day, I often get that feeling, but I never put it to go use. Maybe if I did, more of the books that I've been planning to finish would be done by now. Call it the traits of a gemini, but that's just me.

There was something important that I wanted to write about tonight now that I'm up. Now that I'm sitting in my chair with the light from my desk lamp and the light from my monitor, I don't really want to write anything anymore. The urge has come and gone. The oject that was on my mind is no longer the focal point and I could probably dream about it and get it over with.

But for those of you who just have to know what it is exactly I'm wondering about, I'll just leave you with this. As time goes on, you realize how stupid mistakes can be and you wonder if they happened for a reason. As I look back at the ones I have made, I think there was a real good reason for them to have happened. I'll ellaborate more tomorrow. I just had to get my thoughts out tonight.

Until next time.

It all started with a notebook...

Wow... How strange it is to be writing a blog all over again. I used to have a blog over at myspace, but somehow the glitz and glamour of the whole "myspace era" has finally ended for me. Maybe it had something to do with some of the people I know on their or maybe I just finally grew up. While I'm not saying that older people who use myspace are acting anything but their age, I am saying that the fad is finally dying.

I guess I should introduce myself the proper way. My name is Archangel. Yes, I know that sounds strange for a person to be calling himself something of an angelic nature, but if it was completely strange then we wouldn't name our own children "Angel" and then later realize they are nothing of the sort. Trust me, I've known a few children who's name should have been Demon Spawn.
The name has lingered for a few years. No, Archangel is not my real name, but I think there is a certain anonymity that has to be left when you write things or talk to people on the Internet. I guess it just adds to the wonder of it all. The chance of becoming something that you're not and the chance of meeting people who are not like you or anyone you know.
There lies the real power. Being able to be who we are or say who we want to be. We take a chance everytime we meet someone new on these things called blogs or chatrooms. We take a risk knowing that the person on the other end of the message box might not be the person that we think they are. However, we trust them enough that we talk to them and know that at anytime we're not comfortable with the conversation, we can block them from our messengers or just leave the chatroom altogether.
But what if, there was that one person in some part of the world whom we talked to and felt for some unknown reason they were who they say they were? That somehow it just felt so right to talk to them and let them know everything about you and have them give you their opinion about your life's problems.
I know what you're probably thinking. It's stupid to think that the person on the otherside cares and you should never let someone know everything about you. You're half right. You should never tell anyone where they can find you, or give out your phone numbers or any private information that only important people should know. The stranger you're talking to on the Internet is not important. But if we didn't reviel certain things about ourselves, how would we know we were different? How would we bond with each other? How would we make friends?

"Ok, Archangel, get to the point". The point is that not everything is as it seems. If we don't take that chance to find things that we didn't know existed, find people that we don't know are living, then we are doomed to die without being known. The worst feeling you will have in your life is knowing that you will die alone if you don't talk to people or make amends with the people that you hurt. I know first hand about everything that I speak of when I talk about this. I've had friendships that lasted for years with people far from me who were very much different then me and then I soon learned that they weren't. Part of the reason this blog has started is because those friendships are now over. The only thing that gets me by now is the fact that I eventually got to see who I was talking to the whole time. I waited six years for that moment in December and even though I will never get that chance again, I will take with me the memory of the day I took a chance. I took the chance to meet people from a place I didn't know existed. I found in me the strength to let go of my prejudice for people I didn't understand and those whom I scared of. I took a chance and I changed my life.

If you want to know how real I actually am, then the only thing stopping you from messaging me is you. I'm always waiting....

Until next time.