Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Monday, November 14, 2011
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Monday, September 19, 2011
Love is...
impossible,
fate,
luck,
passion,
hate,
desire,
agony,
hope,
rough,
saddening,
fighting,
soaring,
smooth,
tasteful,
stress,
something,
healthy,
right,
woohoo,
possible,
infinite,
fact,
childish,
history,
novel,
character,
darling,
functional,
material,
good,
barbaric,
cute,
instantaneous,
insane,
physical,
wanting,
helpful,
tied,
childish,
basic,
needing,
breaking,
receptive,
short,
strong,
static,
knowing,
creative,
telling,
extreme,
possessive,
controlling,
okay,
work,
certain,
used,
even,
fair,
artful,
just,
bruising,
admiration,
energy,
attentive,
sleepy,
unnerving,
sure,
gay,
radical,
wrestling,
adoptive,
sick,
tender,
pain,
impressive,
better,
new,
reason,
teaching,
allowed,
realistic,
driving,
valued,
alien,
a unnicorn and all of the above.
Cheyenne Buchanan
fate,
luck,
passion,
hate,
desire,
agony,
hope,
rough,
saddening,
fighting,
soaring,
smooth,
tasteful,
stress,
something,
healthy,
right,
woohoo,
possible,
infinite,
fact,
childish,
history,
novel,
character,
darling,
functional,
material,
good,
barbaric,
cute,
instantaneous,
insane,
physical,
wanting,
helpful,
tied,
childish,
basic,
needing,
breaking,
receptive,
short,
strong,
static,
knowing,
creative,
telling,
extreme,
possessive,
controlling,
okay,
work,
certain,
used,
even,
fair,
artful,
just,
bruising,
admiration,
energy,
attentive,
sleepy,
unnerving,
sure,
gay,
radical,
wrestling,
adoptive,
sick,
tender,
pain,
impressive,
better,
new,
reason,
teaching,
allowed,
realistic,
driving,
valued,
alien,
a unnicorn and all of the above.
Cheyenne Buchanan
Friday, September 9, 2011
Living with the blind...
When I see people I hold my mind loosely…
But why do I see others as others don't see?
I wish I could see like them... superficially.
Then I too could judge and think more about me.
When I see people, I don't see them as they see me;
I judge neither by weakness nor disabilities,
I judge the inside, where you my friend... cannot see.
"Judge not by what's viewed as beast nor beauty...
for having such thoughts is a mind off duty."
Until they understand this, they will never be free.
They'll be too worried about what others see;
their mind will run rampant... a spree of negativity,
then they will have created their own internal hostilities.
When you feel the urge to judge, take a minute or three...
Judge yourself to the same degree.
By: Cheyenne Buchanan
But why do I see others as others don't see?
I wish I could see like them... superficially.
Then I too could judge and think more about me.
I judge neither by weakness nor disabilities,
I judge the inside, where you my friend... cannot see.
How can they judge someone that they don't know to any degree?
When I see someone I live by a self appointed decree,"Judge not by what's viewed as beast nor beauty...
for having such thoughts is a mind off duty."
Until they understand this, they will never be free.
They'll be too worried about what others see;
their mind will run rampant... a spree of negativity,
then they will have created their own internal hostilities.
So take your judgments, throw them to the sea;
let them drown, dead is where they need to be.When you feel the urge to judge, take a minute or three...
Judge yourself to the same degree.
By: Cheyenne Buchanan
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Amorous surrenders.
Behind her...
the moon dances through an open window, but it's light refuses to rest upon her;
She’s too beautiful to touch...
but it's a perfect love.
By: Cheyenne Buchanan
the moon dances through an open window, but it's light refuses to rest upon her;
She’s too beautiful to touch...
Around her...
clouds are forming and lightning dances everywhere she walks, but rain refuses to fall;
She's too perfect to douse. Inside her...
a now alcohol flooded system struggles to follow the rules, and slumber is refused;
She needs more than sleep can offer. Before her...
I stand resisting gentle providence, but her heart has already enveloped me;
She’s a conquistador... Classy at her wildest...
Properly untamed, she claws at my heart as I kneel before her;
it's a gentle surrender...
but it's a perfect love.
By: Cheyenne Buchanan
Saturday, September 3, 2011
The cry of the abandoned child...
Three years ago there was a man and his wife;
the man had all when he had her in his life.
They married two years and started a family;
their daughter reached two and then came a tragedy.
His wife was battered, then murdered and raped;
they caught the killer, whom said it was fate.
Throughout his life the man never loved again;
Said he had too much pain built up from within.
His daughter's now five and he's joined the marines;
the pain isn't gone, but that is how it seems.
The man loves his daughter and she is always in his prayers...
he wants the killer to get the chair, but nobody cares.
The killer wrote letters saying he would escape...
vowing he would come back and finish what was fate.
Then prison called the man, saying to watch out;
because the killer had, somehow broken out.
As time went by the daughter stayed with a sitter;
and the killer decided to come and get her.
He walks right in and takes the man’s daughter;
he shows the sitter his gift with slaughter.
When the man returns to his house he finds a note;
but You'll never find her is all the killer wrote.
He locks the little girl up, deep underground;
says where you are at, one would hear a sound.
He throws food from a dumpster onto the floor;
says Pay for daddy's sins you little whore.
The food is in a pile and he says through his smiles,
Your daddy won't find you, there is nothing for miles.
He says You must eat this food, although it's gone bad,
or else you'll starve, die and then never see your dad.
When the killer walks out and he shut the door;
it's light the that little girl will see no more.
She can feel stuff move in the food that she eats,
it's too dark to see and she thinks that its meat.
The man can hear his daughter’s voice and feel her pain;
it never lets up and its driving him insane.
The little girl’s cold and feels kind of sick;
the fathers listens until something clicks.
The man finds clues in the cries of his angel;
he approaches the problem from every angle.
He looks low and he even looks high;
he looks so hard and tries not to cry.
He quits eating so that everyone's clear;
he doesn't want to live without her here.
He's growing weak and she's on the verge of dying;
he knows where she's at, but she's no longer crying.
He gets to the basement and opens the door;
he's weak from not eating and falls to the floor.
His daughter takes a breath... pauses... and then another;
he knows in his heart she's about to join her mother.
He crawls to his angel, only to watch her die;
but in his heart he's happy, she'll no longer cry.
He lays his arm over her although she's gone;
he's waiting to join her and it won’t be long.
The killer says At least we've avoided the cliché;
then he shuts, locks the door and quickly walks away.
By: Cheyenne Buchanan
the man had all when he had her in his life.
They married two years and started a family;
their daughter reached two and then came a tragedy.
His wife was battered, then murdered and raped;
they caught the killer, whom said it was fate.
Throughout his life the man never loved again;
Said he had too much pain built up from within.
His daughter's now five and he's joined the marines;
the pain isn't gone, but that is how it seems.
The man loves his daughter and she is always in his prayers...
he wants the killer to get the chair, but nobody cares.
The killer wrote letters saying he would escape...
vowing he would come back and finish what was fate.
Then prison called the man, saying to watch out;
because the killer had, somehow broken out.
As time went by the daughter stayed with a sitter;
and the killer decided to come and get her.
He walks right in and takes the man’s daughter;
he shows the sitter his gift with slaughter.
When the man returns to his house he finds a note;
but You'll never find her is all the killer wrote.
He locks the little girl up, deep underground;
says where you are at, one would hear a sound.
He throws food from a dumpster onto the floor;
says Pay for daddy's sins you little whore.
The food is in a pile and he says through his smiles,
Your daddy won't find you, there is nothing for miles.
He says You must eat this food, although it's gone bad,
or else you'll starve, die and then never see your dad.
When the killer walks out and he shut the door;
it's light the that little girl will see no more.
She can feel stuff move in the food that she eats,
it's too dark to see and she thinks that its meat.
The man can hear his daughter’s voice and feel her pain;
it never lets up and its driving him insane.
The little girl’s cold and feels kind of sick;
the fathers listens until something clicks.
The man finds clues in the cries of his angel;
he approaches the problem from every angle.
He looks low and he even looks high;
he looks so hard and tries not to cry.
He quits eating so that everyone's clear;
he doesn't want to live without her here.
He's growing weak and she's on the verge of dying;
he knows where she's at, but she's no longer crying.
He gets to the basement and opens the door;
he's weak from not eating and falls to the floor.
His daughter takes a breath... pauses... and then another;
he knows in his heart she's about to join her mother.
He crawls to his angel, only to watch her die;
but in his heart he's happy, she'll no longer cry.
He lays his arm over her although she's gone;
he's waiting to join her and it won’t be long.
The killer says At least we've avoided the cliché;
then he shuts, locks the door and quickly walks away.
By: Cheyenne Buchanan
Friday, September 2, 2011
Withholding a Kiss...
"We can't, we'll be seen!"
"Then stop kissing me."
Slow and steady,
pent up, they're about to burst at the seams;
a long awaited kiss becomes but a dream.
Then a wick...
Finally, a kiss sparks and flame is born,
slowly burning off clothes.
His back hurts;
he's been clawed by something wild,
and his heart is dripping from its wounds.
A perfect ten...
Moments beyond measure cannot be described,
and amazing falls short.
Forcing herself upon him,
forcing him to take what once belonged to her;
nothing on her is hers anymore.
She's not welcome to submit here;
Forcing his will upon her as she struggles...
to protect what she wishes only to surrender.
Sweat...
"I hate you." - spoken with a bi-polar four letter word.
"You're hurting me." - spoken with inflection crying "More!"
"I'm done." - spoken knowing there's more to come.
"Please." - whispered in a thousand directions...
Positioning her at will,
inserting himself into
the situation is beyond his control.
Raping love from her heart...
Serious minded lips deluge all and
her teeth left solemn promises on his skin.
Two hearts deeply in earnest,
kissing and evenly passionate when they settle.
Slow and steady she begs of him;
"Burn me again."
By: Cheyenne Buchanan
"Then stop kissing me."
Slow and steady,
pent up, they're about to burst at the seams;
a long awaited kiss becomes but a dream.
Then a wick...
Finally, a kiss sparks and flame is born,
slowly burning off clothes.
His back hurts;
he's been clawed by something wild,
and his heart is dripping from its wounds.
A perfect ten...
Moments beyond measure cannot be described,
and amazing falls short.
Forcing herself upon him,
forcing him to take what once belonged to her;
nothing on her is hers anymore.
She's not welcome to submit here;
Forcing his will upon her as she struggles...
to protect what she wishes only to surrender.
Sweat...
"I hate you." - spoken with a bi-polar four letter word.
"You're hurting me." - spoken with inflection crying "More!"
"I'm done." - spoken knowing there's more to come.
"Please." - whispered in a thousand directions...
Positioning her at will,
inserting himself into
the situation is beyond his control.
Raping love from her heart...
Serious minded lips deluge all and
her teeth left solemn promises on his skin.
Two hearts deeply in earnest,
kissing and evenly passionate when they settle.
Slow and steady she begs of him;
"Burn me again."
By: Cheyenne Buchanan
Thursday, September 1, 2011
My Butterfly...
I'm not in depression,
it just hurts when this heart of mine lies...
and every day I don't see her another part of me dies.
I do everything I do for an angel,
an angel that I call My Butterfly.
I'm not asking for another chance, I just wanna know why?
Why everytime that I hang up the phone,
does this once strong man now cries?
How do tears flow so smoothly out of these iced and callused eyes?
She could do anything...
like spread her wings and fly,
but as these tears fall another part of me dies.
I used to cook her favorite food every morning,
like now as this bacon fries;
sadly, when I stop and look around I wont find My Butterfly.
I do know that it's impossible to love more than I,
so do not question me about how, when, where or why;
but I know the last thing I'll do before I die
will be to love an angel... I call My Butterfly.
By: Cheyenne Buchanan
it just hurts when this heart of mine lies...
and every day I don't see her another part of me dies.
I do everything I do for an angel,
an angel that I call My Butterfly.
I'm not asking for another chance, I just wanna know why?
Why everytime that I hang up the phone,
does this once strong man now cries?
How do tears flow so smoothly out of these iced and callused eyes?
She could do anything...
like spread her wings and fly,
but as these tears fall another part of me dies.
I used to cook her favorite food every morning,
like now as this bacon fries;
sadly, when I stop and look around I wont find My Butterfly.
I do know that it's impossible to love more than I,
so do not question me about how, when, where or why;
but I know the last thing I'll do before I die
will be to love an angel... I call My Butterfly.
By: Cheyenne Buchanan
A poet and his pain...
A poet and his sadness are like a clown & his happiness;
a clown can't truly laugh without happiness & a poet isn't until sadness.
A poet & his sarrows are like today and tomorrow;
today was once just tomorrow & a poem was one just sarrows.
A poet & his heartache are like a tornado and its wake;
a tornado goes unfeared without its wake & a poet isn't until heartache.
But a poet and his pain are not like an old man and his cane;
the old man could walk without his cane, but the poet couldn't write without his pain.
By: Cheyenne Buchanan
a clown can't truly laugh without happiness & a poet isn't until sadness.
A poet & his sarrows are like today and tomorrow;
today was once just tomorrow & a poem was one just sarrows.
A poet & his heartache are like a tornado and its wake;
a tornado goes unfeared without its wake & a poet isn't until heartache.
But a poet and his pain are not like an old man and his cane;
the old man could walk without his cane, but the poet couldn't write without his pain.
By: Cheyenne Buchanan
The dying character of humanity...
Regardless of your wealth or physical appeal:
Ever see someone you didn't find appealing in any way, (Friendship or romance), then end up getting to know them and think that they are amazing or beautiful? Or have you ever thought that someone looked awesome or beautiful until you get to know them and then all of the sudden they didn't look attractive anymore, even physically?
I just wanted to take a moment to say that the next time you see someone walking down the street or into a store... before you judge them on being poor, beneath you and decide whether or not they're up to par with your lifestyle and circle of friends, you need to realize that there is a chance that they are a much more beautiful person than yourself; regardless of what you think about your wealth or physical appeal.Status symbols are garbage; looks are over rated and human beings in general are shallow to the point it's wholly pathetic.
The character of the world around us is dying.
Besides asteroid impact, Ice age, ECT... human beings are the worst thing that ever has and ever will ever happen to this planet.
We worry so much about how we look in the mirror or in the eyes of others and we do it as if the little bubble around our personal space is the only thing that's important within the vast reaches of the universe.
If my death would take everyone on this planet with me that didn't want to make the world a better place from the inside out, (Inside first), I'd find out if there's a God or not right this second and I'd do it without wasting time to call loved ones to say goodbye.
By: Cheyenne Buchanan
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