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Ami

I am here for Friends

About Me

I am dust
I am breath
I soar the skies, forever searching
what is to be found?
a glimpse of gold maybe
a twinkle of happiness
a meandering path
I wander uninhibited
I disappear
I am gone
It is hard to explain who I am in words. Maybe this is why I use poetry. They become the words that represent who I am. I am a poet, I am an artist, I am sensitive, I am caring, I am loving, I am strong, I am weak, I am a lover, I sometimes cry too easily and try to hide that I am hurt, I love to give and get hugs, intellectual stimulation is amazing, I collect rocks, my favorite animal is the cat, I get excited over the little things in life, I am the oldest of 4 kids, I sometimes hate myself, my favorite colors are purple, yellow, and green, I like to drive late at night when there is no one else on the road, I could spend my life out in the woods, I miss seeing the mountians outside my window everyday, I sometimes stay up just to watch the sunrise, I love to lay and watch the stars on a moonless night, I drift off and day dream often, I can't stay in one place long, I have a tendancy to wander off and not tell anyone, I don't sleep nearly as often as I should, I am only me and no one else.
A gryphon cannot be tamed, for it you try and place it in a cage, it's feathers will lose their luster and their eyes the fire... and the gryphon would slowly die of heart break and longing for the open sky...
If men had wings and bore black feathers,
few of them would be clever enough to be crows
-Henry Ward Beecher
If you talk to the animals
they will talk with you
and you will know each other.
If you do not talk to them
you will not know them,
And what you do not know
you fear.
What one fears one destoys.
-Cheif Dan George
I drift slowly out into nothingness
a small flame to light my way
this path is long,
winding deep into this canyon
whisper gently
your words echo against it's walls
burying themselves deeper into my heart
even the thudding in my chest seems to echo
harder, and harder
your warm breath mists the air
I can feel it against my neck
as you hold me in your arms
keep me warm
protect me against the frost
there is a long journey ahead
and tomorrow is a long ways away
***
MySpace Backgrounds
Can blindly continued fear-induced regurtitated life-denying tradition be overcome ~Alanis Morissette
I am lost, I am nothing in this numb shell that is me. Please allow me to find my true self, so I can dig me out.

My Interests

I'd like to meet:

Someone who knows their self. A person who loves easily and is capable of loving others. Someone who will hold me all night long, whisper the stars into my dreams, then fly me away on wings created with beauty.
He must be adventurous, excitement seeking, willing to go on the next journey any moment. Someone who is gentle yet rough. A risk taker. Loves piercings and tattoos. I want to be stunned with intellect. An original soul.

I, with a deeper instinct, choose a man who compels my strength, who makes enormous demands on me, who does not doubt my courage or my toughness, who does not believe me naive or innocent, who has the courage to treat me like a woman. Anais Nin

The Butterfly Collector
Born into the world, a butterfly, exquisitely sensitive, vulnerable, beautiful, fragile.
She takes to the air to celebrate creation, the gift of her life, and to express and experience the birthright of freedom.
The collector (Prof: mg, o.., xyz, cert, psych, etc) interested in, fascinated by, ignorant of, the way of the butterfly, nets her and takes her from the natural environment back to his laboratory.
In captivity, she is disorientated and fearful. She struggles to be free.
He observes her, recording the “peculiarities of her behaviour”, important for his research.
He administers a measured chemical solution, hydrochloric acid.
Heavily sedated, she ceases to struggle.
He examines her psychedelic wings, “intriguing”.
He inserts a sterilised needle into and through her thorax and pins her to a one-dimensional surface…. her spirit breaks.
He attaches a label to her.
He is satisfied. She is categorised.
She is placed within a case and displayed behind glass.
He has his prize…another one to add to his collection.
How clever he is.
What an extraordinary specimen.
by: Aidan Shingler

My Blog

Lyrical Essay

Winter    Six thirty in the morning and the buzzing of my alarm wakes me.  One of the tones from my cell phone rings annoyingly.  My eyes do not want to open, half of my body ...
Posted by on Wed, 21 May 2008 02:04:00 GMT

St Patties Day

   What’s this shit about the Pope being able to change the day of a holiday?  How many years has it been celebrated on the 17th?  I think he doesn’t like that drinking...
Posted by on Mon, 17 Mar 2008 16:55:00 GMT

Namaste- Edited version

NamasteBy Ami AllainShimmering light    dances across hardwood floors and         into what was once shadowed in darkness.      &n...
Posted by on Fri, 08 Feb 2008 15:45:00 GMT

Good Coffee and the Internet

Why say more?  :)I really enjoy a good cup of coffee, any time of the day. 
Posted by on Mon, 14 Jan 2008 13:06:00 GMT

Happiness

Some things were never meant to be.  Even though you can sense them when you first encounter the situation...sometimes you want to ignore those feelings.  Sometimes other feelings are ignore...
Posted by on Mon, 24 Dec 2007 00:10:00 GMT

Life is marvelous

Life has definitely gotten better after this last weekend.  :)  I've been walking around with a glow and a smile on my face.  
Posted by on Mon, 19 Nov 2007 23:43:00 GMT

I’m happy

Terra Naomi - I'm Happy Lyrics This city's just waiting to crack This house is not a home This is me under attack This is my self control And i thought you were somebody else I thought you were ...
Posted by on Thu, 15 Nov 2007 20:44:00 GMT

Without Love

Without Love I lie here on our sun kissed bed and listen Listen to the sound of your breathing Your red lips pressed Against my neck Body pressed to me Our hearts pressed together My finger...
Posted by on Tue, 09 Oct 2007 14:35:00 GMT

Smoke in the Darkness

Smoke in the darknessIn the window, an old dead bug liesas if resting, wingscovered in dustfrozen with last breathsmoke curls up and waversunder the glow and into the darkness.Rain patters down on lea...
Posted by on Tue, 09 Oct 2007 14:33:00 GMT

Canvas of Memory

Canvas of MemoryMy brush brings him here,slowly he appears,first whiteness,then a nose,a smile,dipping into cobalt,his eyes sparkle,I linger.The curl of hair on his forehead,brush it aside,his soft ch...
Posted by on Tue, 09 Oct 2007 14:21:00 GMT