Urban Starry Night

Twinkling in the darkness, these city lights, a galaxy at our finger tips

Maybe that’s why we keep building you, cause our childhood dreams of going to the moon feel closer

The glimmering sparkles Paint an urban version of Van Goh’s “Starry Night”

Skyscraper milkyways and neon labeled planets

Headlight shooting stars and street light moons

Traveling to the outskirts to overlook this galaxy.. silence, like watching an old movie. It brings a subtle peace and calm, there’s beauty in the chaos

Each glow like an angel's halo, maybe that's why you're the city of Angels 

Reflecting on the simple illuminating flickers scattered in the deep dark, allows you to breathe and reflect for that moment as you forget everything you were and every worry you had. Like someone went supernanny on your brain, organizing , allowing for clear thoughts

And as we look out we make wishes on the urban stars we've created, which is maybe why we made them, So we’ll have more chances to wish upon a star 

Eyes closed the end of the summer breeze, gently breathes through my skin and takes my anxiety away, I hear space ship bustle and moon police

Taking a step out of the galaxy to observe its beauty through your eyes telescope, can simply make you feel as though your own world has paused. As to let us see this meteor shower of our Urban Starry night.

Buildings for miles with thousands of flickering lights of early birds going to sleep or night owls awakening

An urban galaxy never fully asleep, partial insomnia from the constant commotion and so, this skyscraper zombie reminds me I need to take my spaceship back to that commotion and join the ones who've managed to get some sleep or maybe join the nightowls lost deep in ponder.

So I take one more breath, and watch the end of my silent motion picture of the galaxy we live in. The wondrous, beautiful, mystery..

of our Urban Starry Night.

Players

This was written after a writing prompt to write something about 2 people "playing" each other ...


He makes his first move as smooth as the skin he's seducing.

But like one of her reptilian locks the smooth skinned Medusa makes her move slow and venomous

His lips speak words more convincing than her own conscious

However, his eyes take her bate quicker than any fish.

He is the definition of foolish and she is his synonym

Releasing their love into chance, the dice tumble as the players carefully try to move farther from home.

They take turns pulling cards from the deck, holding lies lust and mistrust in their hands.

He pulls, then moves. She pulls, then moves, in this tug-o-war game of give n take

But when they both draw the card that says "Sorry go back to start"

The cliché phrase "why do I always fall for your type?" scrolls across the jumbo-tron as they're benched from this game they've got so caught up in.

They moved from red shirts to All American veterans faster than a Bugatti with an engine injected with blood straight from Usain Bolt.

They didn't realize they're as fake as the Monopoly $ they make rain on their game of LIFE

You see, this type they're falling for is the same face staring back at them in the mirror... A Player.

The face of a player made up in collage of the face cards they pulled holding lies, lust and mistrust

If they were honest like Abe, and real like Jordans, they'd see the truth clear like visine.

They would understand the strategy to win the game is to stop playing, because in love there are no rules.  And they would no longer have to ask "Why do I always fall for your type?"







For Grandpa

Grandpa,

Tired face, with wrinkles displaying the badges of wisdom time has gently painted on

Stern, yet gentle because when your life story has chapters titled Great Depression and World War 2, fighting for the life you have been given becomes second nature.

Yet it does not mean you are too strong to love,  because the following chapters read 60 years of marriage to Marilyn Lavaughn Wyatt, 5 beautiful children, the grandchildren and great-grandchildren that followed.

Many a golf swings taken on dewy mornings by a noble silhouette of a man who shares walks with God, laughs at newspaper jokes and takes advantage of books rather than technology

Because knowledge and imagination partnered with worn pages, the smell of paper, and the touch of a page can never be replaced .

My nose comforted by the smell of coffee brewing on holiday get togethers’ because it meant you were there.

An old pink vest and little pink pj’s sewn with your steady hands still kept safe, top shelf in my closet

Bow and arrows remind me of Robin Hood adventures in your backyard,

Where snowy days were spent sledding with Luke and Dan on the hill that the water tower claimed

And anytime I would see that water tower in the distance it would bring me back to those days at grandpa and grandma’s house

The back yard where every Mother’s Day my clothes were marked with little dirt hand prints from wiping the soil off, until they were put into gloves 2x too big because that day we all became gardeners , filling every pot and flower bed with newly petalled blossoms

Sipping lemonade on the red painted deck, and eating applesauce cake.. with raisins that I used to pick out, because I just wanted to taste the moist goodness and creamy hershey frosting. Funny how  I don’t pick the raisins out now, probably because with age I have learned to appreciate the little things.

I have always admired your unconditional love for Grandma, especially in a day and age where it seems love is only given when convenient.

You truly set an example that love lasts through anything and holds true even in the hardest of times.. because although her lips stay quiet and her mind is tangled in the web dimensia has weaved, she is still the same beautiful women your heart found companion with and her heart is still the one holding your hearts hand.

And now your body may be weaker, as cancer has made it’s home.. but I will never see anything less than the strong-willed man I have always seen in you Grandpa.

As a child I would look up to you in a literal sense, at the face with a jawbone defined in character and a laugh that was at its best when you would tell jokes at Holiday dinners

Not much has changed now because these brown eyes still look up to you, but not with the child like tilt of my head because you have always been taller.

Rather, I look up to you because your faith, passion, respect, honor, and love make you that much taller than me and I see how much room I have to grow from your example.

I have never really told you exactly how much you mean to me and I wish I could tell you in person, but I just wanted you to know… I love you Grandpa, always and forever will.

Love ,

Amanda Rose

For A Friend

A piece I had written as encouragement for a friend...

6’1” Shooting Guard on Space Jam Dream Team, from Palo Alto California

Ironic, your name has 3 L’s in it, probably because you Love to Live Life.

So live it. Live it big, make stats that will get you in the Hall of Fame in the book of life.

Keep your viral like smile with mamba scented breath cause your contagious energy spreads to those around you

Keep your head up, cause putting it down should only be a sign for mourning

Focus eyes on the basket to remember where you’re going, but use your peripherals cause they prevent ignorance

 Jersey tucked so they know you’ve got class, and shoes tied to prevent trippin.

Don’t just go through the motions until 4^th quarter.. regrets are for the weak, who don’t want to make the right decision when the pressure comes.

But they do happen, cause we all have our weaknesses, and that’s what teammates are for. Their strength supports your Achilles, so choose wisely who you pick to protect them. 

Cause when lungs are burning, muscles aching and sweats dripping, look in their eyes and you’ll see you’re not alone, like the number on your jersey .. they’ve  got your back

Keep in mind that who you want to be isn’t going to happen without the decisions you’re making now, so make your moves carefully, dribble with purpose cause once the buzzer goes off you can’t change the plays you’ve made.

The time comes when the lights turn off, the fans are gone and the court is empty, so don’t take advantage of the little things because if you learn to notice them, you will always have the sound the net makes with a shot, the squeaks from shoes on the court, the rhythmic bounce of the ball, the shriek a whistle makes, the sound of your coach clapping, and the voices of your teammates.

Until that time, realize a man of character can still be young at heart, not to confuse young with foolish though. Make sure you’re proud of the name on the back of your jersey every time it is announced.

Now here it goes.. lights flashing, heart beating, mind focused, hands in… Go get it.

Why did i fall in love with a musician?

Why did I fall in love with a musician …

Maybe it was the fact that your falsetto whispered to my skin, shivering goosebumps in response

A soulful river of music notes massaged my eardrums into close eyed enjoyment

Befriended with a smile as I floated down the river every time your hands made melodies with your guitar

And when your tunes suddenly gained an underlying theme, my cheeks seemed to continually be rosey at the sound of your musical love notes.

Cause when you fall in love with a soulful musician 90% of their songs are for you or have some relation to you.. so when they decide to break your heart 90% of music becomes painful to you.

So why did I fall in love with a musician..

Not only does this song and that song remind you of a memory, but the instruments you played, the notes your voice carried, and the beats your songs held do too.

Bringing back the simple moments of you relaxingly strumming on your guitar while we sweatpants chilled in your room and the music was like breath just letting us take in the oxygen of our love.. or when I would pretend my hands could magically make a tune on your 6stringed friend n you would just smile or laugh

 Or memories of the “I wrote this for you’s” .. I can still remember the first time you sang to me over the phone when we were miles apart.. or the time you sang in my backyard and it became a free show when the neighbors came out to applaud you.

But the biggest feat would be the fact that you somehow got me to convince myself to sing on your voicemail when you were having a bad day, cause since I never sang for people I knew it’d make you happy ..

Or the time I sang a little Alicia keys in the autumn Memphis air as we sat on the bench at the park because you’re arms surrounded me with comfort and your smile put me at ease letting me somehow find the courage

It brings back the high and lows of our long distance Memphis Cali love, like the way notes lay on a page going up and down through it all 

My email and itunes became my keepsake of your music ideas and things you’ve been working on that often no one else had heard yet, like late night after a long jam session when you were too excited to keep to yourself

And since music was already something I related life too, this is why life became so painful the moment you made music the source of my heartache.

So why… did I fall in love with a musician

Because although our love didn’t have a happy ending.. somehow the music in our story taught me many things. How to love, how to express myself, that sometimes letting your guard down is ok because your honest, open, lyric filled musician heart had a mouth that spilled beautiful words into my soul even when you weren’t singing.. so maybe I fell in love with a musician because it taught me to really feel the music not just hear it.

Now my heart is healed and new music’s been written, but this time by me. Each note a moment in time that I have come to pass by

Composing genres through emotion like jazzy songs of content and happiness, cheesy  songs of infatuation, spiritual songs of healing, deep songs of blues, and songs with rhythm n beats to dance my own understanding of life.

 See I’ve come to the conclusion that I’ll always come across pieces of you in music, but I will come across pieces of everyone I encounter in life through different things that spark memories and moment in time.

It’s just that you no longer fill my 25 top played, because I’ve discovered that will continually change and I’ll make all sorts of playlists hoping to constantly grow and experience the songs life sends my way.

Why Does Love Hurt So Good?

(After a writing prompt, having to write about the question received from the hat. I got, "Why does love hurt so good?")

Why does love hurt so good?

Because I know that after every fight will come another mending, adding a stitch to the coat we’re sewing. A coat that will keep us warm during cold times.

Love can also burn us, but a flaming love is better than luke warm compliments and empty embraces.

It hurts because the scratches you gave me in our little cat fight are better than the gashes I would've received walking into a knife fight unarmed trying to learn my lessons without you to protect me.

And that fight may hurt, but fighting w/ you means I trust you so much to be completely comfortable and vulnerable with you. To show you’re worth a fight and not a nonchalant brush off of my shoulder.

Love hurts so good because it’s real and when things are real they hurt, but not as much as fake does.

You see, love hurts so good because deceiving and pretending hurts much worse.  If I’m in love with you at least we’re in it together, fighting for the same cause

I would rather feel pain w/ your love than for my heart to be blindly led by fake until it I can no longer see, hear, feel, smell and taste.

For you see, fake numbs my senses until I’m lost in confusion, but love, love heightens them so I see, hear, feel, smell and taste so much stronger.

Making me more sensitive and in tune, feeling every single little thing into my soul, the good and bad, I feel it all. So Love hurts so good.

And falling for anything hurts, but you’ll never forget when your heart falls because the memories daily pump through your veins

We trudge through each other’s forests of all our complexities, habits, and secrets.

A long tiring journey, but making it through the wilderness together is the best reward. An unexplainable bond only reached through every step we take on this love adventure

It hurts so good because trying to understand the beats of a heart offering unconditional love has to overcome obstacles of fear, because we have no comprehension of forever.

So let me mend, burn, scratch, feel, fight and trudge with you. Let me tip toe in your thoughts,  hop skip and jump in your eyes, let me free fall in your heart, let my hand hug yours like it’s our last goodbye, and let my heart try to understand your offering of forever. Because love just hurts so good.

TATTOO

Another random writing.. and no through this I’m not saying you need a tattoo to be a part of life haha I am just saying that everyone expresses themselves in their own way through their own talents, character, and personality.  

 Each Person is a tattoo on the canvas of life

We all tell our own story, containing meaning behind the details that make us unique

However, there is the potential for regret.

What kind of tattoo will you be?

Will you be a design that makes life proud?

Will your mark be flaunted?

Not to worry, some tattoos take time to develop.

Maybe you're a tattoo that at first glance can be mistaken for a mess.

But after time and extra work you develop into a beautiful masterpiece.

Be unique, a tattoo is like a signature each different, none alike.

Sometimes we get caught up trying to be like someone else, forging their signature.

Don't try to be anything but who you are.

Every tattoo tells it's own story,

You know it best so no one can narrate your story but you.

Some complex and painful

others simple but beautiful.

Most of us are still not finished,

We have quite a few more visits to the shop,

it might be painful but worth it in the end.

However, some are almost finished, just needing one or two touch ups.

Then there are the tattoos that have been finely furnished

and although time has masked them with wrinkles

the story behind them is just as meaningful as the tattoos that are just being penned into existence.

When looking at this canvas, some may be ignorant, only seeing unoriginal tattoos,

you know, the fake press on ones that curtain the real tattoos.

Through the lense of some tattoos are seen as graffiti,

but whether you're one to bring joy through humor, energy through your colors, or perspective through symbolism, all tattoos are a piece of art each with their own exclusive blueprint.

Hopefully the fake ones will someday get it.

Rather than being a cliché picture formed through unoriginal creativity,

they will take on their permanent, raw and real form.

Tattoos might take some digging to reveal their meaning,

while others are simply upfront and straightforward.

But this is what makes life beautiful,

personality through the diversity, beauty through ashes, and clever imagination through individuality.

Each person is a tattoo on the canvas of life, what story does yours tell?