tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36875422011-07-07T17:18:08.543-05:00ka's tangerineRobert Wiseman: I love reading the things you don't tell me.katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.comBlogger1531100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-70455398524739733602010-04-16T23:26:00.002-05:002010-04-16T23:27:28.898-05:00Kyle Gilmore and I are engaged!katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-73813118545650523562009-09-09T00:55:00.003-05:002009-09-09T02:38:28.969-05:00Looking Forward ToA butterfly landed on my arm,maybe looking to pollenate me withthe freshness on its wings. Itsonly success was that it left behindsomething that resembled freckleson my skin. I have alwaysenvied those dark marks on thehandsome boys that sit on benchesnearby, the sweet guys who cutacross the grass lawn gettingdusted by the sun where their rolledup pants and deep neck shirts katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-6134296773405043472009-08-11T00:58:00.007-05:002009-08-11T20:13:25.839-05:00Signed Over the Bumper StickersI sold the bus today.I can’t decide if it’s good to have ripped off the bandaid,or if I needed more time for a real goodbye. Who did you sell it to? I always imagined it would be someone really ignorant, or some guy who knew what to expect to fix. Which was he?Neither, just some guy who knew he wanted a bus.He and his son just bought some kayaksand needed akatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-86459068969518763552009-06-22T00:57:00.006-05:002009-06-22T01:52:11.352-05:00we played a game at our summer solstice party. each poem had two contributers. one person wrote out four words (or so), spaced them out over four lines, and drew a box around it to make the margins. the second person, the poem writer, had to start on the left margin and use the words the already written words as they fell on the page and into their new lines. the bolded words are the ones writtenkatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-72719484576705304282009-06-16T18:51:00.003-05:002009-06-17T00:00:08.031-05:00Woman Prophet, ProphetessGive me a bite of that thought,I'd like to grab on for a while. But you've got to put down that daffodil, girl. Put down your flower to stomp with these boys, take of your shoes to walk in this grass, girl.I can tell you about these mountains, sure, take youthere no charge. I can throwmy voice into the canyon,hop scotch that katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-53066827291620806352009-06-09T03:19:00.001-05:002009-06-09T03:19:32.197-05:00http://gaylord.ou.edu/poetscorner/test/thompson.htmlkatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-12240646717512025142009-06-06T04:11:00.006-05:002009-11-10T22:26:30.004-06:00Taken For a RideYou’ve got some pretty legsbut you don’t have to move them for me. JP takes his spot against the wall after bumping into my chair, and locks his wheelchair in place, brake, brake. Ain’t goin’ nowhere now.Is anyone eating this bread?The birds will love this,hungry little fuckers.I bet they’d rather have oatmeal,those precious little birds.The don’t take up much roomkatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-26862284786928242542009-06-06T04:10:00.001-05:002009-06-06T04:10:54.014-05:00Cracker Jack Ring FingerI pawned my tick-tock-stopped watch for some quick petty cash.I’ve got want but lack to please you. More want, less lack nowwith the change from my own wrist.I want to buy you a ring,or some swinging pendantto fit on your rib cage of a jewelry box,clavicle lid lock clasp a string of young girl pearl.I want to find you a dress,or some rich mess of garmentto pin up over yourkatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-91886827760653637832009-06-06T04:07:00.002-05:002009-06-06T04:10:33.769-05:00Deal maker, deal breaker. Glowing in the darkis a deal maker.I could handle it if he howledlike a wolf when he opened his mouth to laugh.Screaming in the shower is another maker,mostly since it’s not a breaker.Since it’s a hypothetical situation,I suppose I could love a manwho squats only and refuses chairs,or grows facial hair in quarter inch stripsCarrying eggs in his front pocketsis a katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-16952799158347084462009-06-06T04:05:00.000-05:002009-06-06T04:06:18.172-05:00Keep the Suitcase Open Mama needed a weekend. She left lasagna in the oven, instructions on the counter, and departing words on the doorstep. Mama needed a day without pearls. She packed only two outfits for her trip and took quiet pleasure in the wrinkles and creases. She wouldn't touch an iron for a while. Mama needed to wake up one morning without the boys. She drove quietly with the windows katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-77716395762839920422009-04-13T22:53:00.002-05:002009-04-13T22:57:27.895-05:00Elementary In the second grade we made buttonsin the school library after recess.Our teacher intendedfor us to scrawl with Crayolassome V seagull soaring high,so she’d know we had dreams to succeed.Looking back on it,this is what I’d presume about her.My button was a call hometo momma, me in tears, teacher in tears.Next to a daisy, “God is Science!”Far too challenging for my peers,how is someone katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-68363403723931333772009-04-06T23:31:00.000-05:002009-04-06T23:32:25.746-05:00Redwood Tree is Written Sequoia Sempervirens in CursiveI crawled like a mole beneath the needles.My fingers clawing through moist soil,my hair catching on roots as big as arms,my shoulders speckled with dirt where most girls likely have freckles.I heard twenty times from your mouth,at least, that you wanted to climb that tall tree.I am Atlas on my tip toes pushing the weight that feels like it katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-48221683517098912302009-04-06T12:50:00.003-05:002009-06-06T04:04:30.937-05:00Even That Little BirdCoffee Shop, VENTURA, CA. Saint Patrick's Day morning.One way conversation, but directed at Laura, Alex and me.Woman, mid 40's, zebra print pants with the fly broken, sunburned face, big hips, yellow from sucking yellow lolipop.They say I'm crazy.And I say "Damn right! That's why I take these pills!"Everybody's got a key.The neighbor's got a key in case of a fire.The police katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-24470810090696401572009-02-02T10:01:00.006-06:002009-06-06T04:02:43.519-05:00We Woke Up ParchedThis marks a day of change.change of day, pants on two legs ata time, right side of the bedI made to lie on and onward and upward and upup up on your feet little darling eyes opened!Follow the pound of my voice drum that can't go over itcan't go under it, around it,has to beat through the new dawn.Arise alive!Be thirsty for the river rising katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-70725943170100598082008-05-19T21:47:00.002-05:002008-05-19T21:55:55.056-05:00In girlhood I would waketo feel the sun upon my cheeka rosy blushI only thoughtwould come to rush when the bath ran too hot.katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-37558347016912951132008-05-17T21:34:00.006-05:002009-06-06T04:07:07.951-05:00Stallingripe fruit fall fast parch red groundbend slow tips reach knees low boundpearl hair old back late crisp grassrot pear old bones wait not foundkatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-41903478354739765752008-02-12T13:21:00.002-06:002008-05-17T21:48:46.010-05:00WillingI will swallow you, Jonah.You will find yourself in the pit of my bellyand you will be closer to me.I will feel the pressure of your hands,the undecided steps of your feet.Hum my favorite notes, force them deep in my ribs,and you will know my song.I will feel you stir until you are weary,the still weight of your frame given in to rest. Open my jaws wideguide the small rays into my stomach,katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-77170417743190350462007-12-28T13:29:00.008-06:002009-01-07T16:45:20.086-06:00Master of Foxhoundssomething punched my ankle and bit my heel while stripping the shoe and sock from my toes.the bottom half of my leg trunksare naked, and something, THAT THING,has buried itself in my digits. that hastylittle eager little arrowhead (hidden for one thousand years until now)beat me to the chase.katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-79226865443710955962007-12-15T18:01:00.000-06:002007-12-15T18:02:18.008-06:00Dark RoastThe taste of that darkness knocked me back into my chair.My tongue fought against the backs of my stained teeth,struggling to break from the prisonof my jaw, so rigid.Even the strongest muscle,which my body has preparedfor these very battles,is crippled by the bitter sip of espresso. No one warned methat this small ounceof mature flavoris aptly named a shot.A shot through my palate,oncekatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-51386248966500140222007-10-03T02:31:00.002-05:002008-05-22T07:34:25.596-05:00So I brought it here to you.I pull my knee downlike a mountainbelow the seaand these tiny cloudsare a crownaround the spacethe waters poolon the shoremy stomachlike a tide drawnhigh and outby breaththat motion coming and goingleaves a mark on the rocks,woven lines on my fingersfrom warmth of frictiondrops of watermake the fields of grassestumble down thesloping hillsmy shouldersmy hairthis hot katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-60518533869816651612007-09-25T21:04:00.000-05:002007-09-25T21:05:23.458-05:00TurnThere is a hint of frustration in the airon this burnt orange day,which is technically, by the calendar, fall.With my eyes closed and my feet stepping forwardI anticipate the crunching of leaves,but find June bugs beneath my shoe instead. I don’t know why complaints are our songs insteadof celebrations that the warmer airhas allowed our trees to keep their leaveswith green for at least a katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-45775115456528286852007-09-17T21:43:00.000-05:002007-09-17T21:44:28.751-05:00Night LightThe sun brings out a certain quality in you.Your eyes seem brighter, your laugh sounds lighter,but the shade shows me something more true.I notice the shadows hugging the linesthat make you look more like your age.Don’t call them wrinklesbecause I put them there!I brought those smiles to your face.I love how romantic and tender you get.The glances you steal have a charming appealwhen katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-57354637343837899812007-09-11T21:18:00.000-05:002007-09-11T21:20:57.712-05:00Feast Your EyesI just can’t waitto taste this dish.Oh,there’s such beauty in this room.Did you set out flowers,or is that just your perfume?Your apron must have come undone! Please, let me assist.It’s hard to tie, so sorry if I linger on your hips. You’ve got flour in your hair and some sugar on your lips,but perhaps you wouldn’t mind if I removed that with a kiss.I hope you don’t katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-88599156567696869562007-07-23T19:14:00.001-05:002008-05-17T21:52:53.689-05:00El Hombre Gris, Neruda, ViejoSus palabras son extrañasen mi país, mi mente,a mi comprensión sobrio.Sus versos de la liberacióndel agua en rios libres,poesía con el corazónde un niño enojado: un niño confuso que sabela realidad del universoy su vecindad.Me hace que deseauna vozmás riudosa así que puedasusurrar mis ideascon la convicciónde ese niñito. Pero,¿qué de ese hombre que hace amora cada katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-56209846357177799342007-03-27T00:55:00.000-05:002007-07-31T09:16:55.897-05:00Drive ThroughBabel, The Last Kiss."So is that all that happens?"I don't understand why our culture needs actionIt's precisely those kinds of movies that have the highest potentialto make people think and challenge their beliefs in the moments of silence and awkwardness they incite.and we want better endingswe want twistsand dramawe don't want realityunless it's not really real, unless we can votekatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1174339557671790032007-03-19T17:19:00.000-05:002007-10-03T02:19:03.472-05:00So Clever With ThingsI mean too much to myself now.I cannot compromise those beautifully unique things about myselfto satisfy even a lover who will share my heart.And please, if you know and love me,don't praise me for the sake of praising.It exhausts me to give thanks for the sake of the gesture.Just shower me with kindess,genuine acts and words of your appreciationwith no agenda for katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1150060242828271872006-06-11T14:51:00.001-05:002006-06-11T16:10:42.830-05:00Trouble Taking ComplimentsWe're a troubled societywith low self esteem.An insecure posteritythat can't trust what we've seen.We seem to lack sincerityin even the smallest of issues.We suffer anxietyover the styles that we choose.So just take it easy.Believe what they say.Let someone tell youYou look gorgeous today.Forget their intentions,there's beauty in humanity.Strokes to our egosaren't just katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1110496018402200092005-03-10T16:05:00.000-06:002005-03-13T11:43:44.686-06:00I fear those impulsive stumblesof thin words and empty observations,The air of comfort smotheredwhen receptiveness falls in doubt.Concluded by farewells and endsbetween fairweather friends,blank conversations fallfrom moment to memory.katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1104699288401510022005-01-02T14:50:00.000-06:002007-07-31T09:24:40.352-05:00Sing Me to SleepIf words fail me,you are to blamefor your eyes that steal my thoughts,my second-hand professionsof love.I'm beautiful when you look at me,so don't avert your gaze.Is it selfish that I need this love,this feeling of content,of sudden, overwhealming perfection?I can only hope my kisses reveal my desire,my heart for your embrace.For the first time,I feel like there is no mistake,thatkatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1103551543766294442004-12-20T07:54:00.000-06:002004-12-21T10:37:24.163-06:00Possibly you'll think of me,
devise some simple fantasy...
or maybe I will always be
the one you fail to notice.
Regardless of the things I do,
the words I say are all too few
to earn the love I ask of you,
but that won't stop my trying.
Perhaps I've set my aims too high
to wait in hopes that you'll comply,
but on my dreams I'll yet rely
with faith in one more day.
katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1100472312849622582004-11-14T16:37:00.000-06:002004-11-14T16:45:12.850-06:00Flash Photography
I comb the uniform shelves
for a mirror void of the cracks
of contemporary stylized judgment
said to make the image of one's self
believable
peeling the reflective tape
from the glass of the image maker
realizing there is no more
to glamour
than the lighting in a given room
katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1096312177407031562004-09-24T14:07:00.000-05:002004-09-27T14:09:37.406-05:00Jordan.
I love you and your birthday. Happy day my friend. How does it feel to be old? One more year till you can buy drinks in England. Or just buddy up with Hob Nob Rob....
17 is awesome.
katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1095022421029283312004-09-12T15:42:00.000-05:002004-09-12T15:53:41.030-05:00John Hancock
Kind, clever, caring, creative, and passionate as fire's red...
Above all things the world today could stand a bit more passion.
Thouroughly boundless like a fairy who suits her fickle fancies as she pleases...
Holding back my curiosity is a feat I find nearly impossible.
Even though I love to love, after a second glance you wouldn't know that I have never been kissed.
Really...why katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1094894632457036512004-09-11T03:50:00.000-05:002007-07-31T09:34:56.959-05:00Bedtime StoriesThis arrangement of ours is temporary,this moment fleeting at best.In our cleverness we have craftedsensations of mutual fondness.This thread of reason is tearing the seamsbut the look in your eye seems genuine,I have always been fooled by deception.Tonight we are fools for love.These declarations are biting to hear.The shallow words pierce through my heart.Our mere expectations katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1093349039835246942004-08-24T05:57:00.000-05:002007-07-31T09:36:59.500-05:00It's fantastic how illusions rise:our eyes create perfection,confections of our sleeping dreams,the schemes of our desires.Innocently hopes unfold,made bold by misconception,perceptions of how things should be,pleasantries conspired.Higher than realitywe place these fabricationsof expectation, feeding heartsthis artful complication.katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1089166411211526852004-07-06T21:12:00.000-05:002004-07-06T21:13:31.210-05:00adkjdlkatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1086731165908381362004-06-08T16:45:00.000-05:002004-06-08T16:46:05.910-05:00As I Recall
Have you seen the city
from the highest story
of the building standing there?
I climbed them once,
those cement steps
with bold inclines,
to reach the skyline
where the heavens meet the streets.
And in your eyes
the lights of the city
tell the secret story
of the boy standing there.
I knew you once,
your carefree steps
and bold inclinations,
when you loved the skyline
and found katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1083092375221126862004-04-27T13:59:00.000-05:002004-04-27T17:00:12.543-05:00The Highest Bidder
I want to hear you talk forever,
The clever things you say
inspire me to hold you close
if you wouldn't push away.
But you're bold and keep your distance,
Your resistance to my arms
just complicates my courage
and cripples all my charms.
I just can't divert my thoughts from you,
Construe a new emotion
to hide the fiction of my mind
or blind my heart's devotion.
Because katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1082590363029141632004-04-21T18:32:00.001-05:002004-04-22T18:35:38.090-05:00a kiss left your mouth
and was given to mine
where it danced on my lips
and our hearts intertwined
leaving me breathless
and blind with elation
hungry for more
of your sweet invitation
katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1082590331144298012004-04-21T18:32:00.000-05:002004-04-22T18:35:21.936-05:00Catch a Falling Star
Laying on my back at night
I've tried to count the stars
and pick apart that veil of light
to find what we made ours.
I'd take the silver moonbeams down
and tie them in my hair
so heaven's light would be the crown
of our glittering affair.
Upon my collar I would place
a strand of starry pearls
for every kiss upon my face
that made my dreams unfurl.
I'd pick a corner of katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1079876805886191942004-03-21T07:46:00.000-06:002004-03-21T07:50:04.326-06:00It's easier to love you when your words are naked and plain.
I don't trust imagination to manage affairs of the heartkatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1076690544841923592004-02-13T10:42:00.000-06:002004-07-03T14:04:38.573-05:00But the River
I find my reflection in the water below
but the river is blind to my face.
It makes no attempt to study my skin
or the wrinkles that whisper my age.
I cast my legs in the water below
but the river does not sense my filth.
It makes no attempt to push me away
but gently washes the dirt from my feet.
I sing out my stories to the water below
but the river is quiet and calm.
It makes katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1073084742154055002004-01-02T17:05:00.000-06:002004-01-02T17:07:17.076-06:00skywalker135: i'll waste time on you anyday girl
katapillerscheme: ooh la la, now that's a friend
hehe, thanks Chris.katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1072648447962296072003-12-28T15:54:00.000-06:002003-12-28T18:01:33.966-06:00my first assignment...a collaboration I guess you could say...the lovely Evan Park to thank.
Light Up the Sky
Your lips roll off mine
with the words of your heart
like beads of rain from the sky.
I can taste the stars and the moon
in your eyes that shine
like light in the distant heavens.
Those eyes, brown as the color beautiful
could shatter the world if you blinked.
Close your eyes my love
katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1072394825275158602003-12-25T17:27:00.000-06:002003-12-29T07:31:16.233-06:00This Day In Age
I'm glad we don't fit
the old time image
of old time lovers
and old time ways.
I was starting to get tired
of those old time stories
where the hero never fails
to save the day.
So sing to me
a new age lullaby,
let's rewrite the books
and change love for all time.
Let's paint a new picture
of how love should be
and promise eternity
that you'll always be mine.katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1072299588931258472003-12-24T14:59:00.000-06:002003-12-25T14:52:44.263-06:00loosechangeman02: you are so nice and cute and silly and friendly and OMG i love you
I don't think I've ever talked to him without having a smile on my face.katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1072124319110554252003-12-22T14:18:00.000-06:002003-12-22T14:19:59.246-06:00Butterfly Kiss
We shared a tender kiss,
a butterfly kiss,
and our lashes locked
like our fingers
as our palms embraced.
Your heart must have been beating
in your hands
because I felt the warmth
flowing through your veins.
Your lips met my ear
and you whispered
so the stars couldn't hear.
It was a like a sea shell
that tells you the secrets
of the world
and of your heart
when you rest it to katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1072022418287107412003-12-21T10:00:00.000-06:002003-12-21T10:01:37.140-06:00The Dreams of Your Face
I sometimes wonder what life would be like
if I was always asleep,
or my eyes were always open.
If by closing my eyes I dreamed of you
and by being awake I saw the world around you,
I would never stir in nights,
or never blink in the sun.
The life I would know
would be love
and your face.
Nights and days
would be one in the same.katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1071408549055506172003-12-14T07:29:00.000-06:002003-12-14T07:30:18.123-06:00Time Heals all Wounds
I haven't cried a tear
since your hand touched mine.
My eyes have been dry
since your fingers crossed that line.
Even my watch is stuck
in that moment of time,
It's own hands
will tell the story
of the moment that yours touched mine.
My luck that it's frozen,
the watch stopped,
but just in the moment
my heart started.
How can I cry
for the lost time?
My tears won't fallkatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1071278667635378462003-12-12T19:24:00.000-06:002003-12-12T19:25:34.793-06:00mabeldurr: sometimes it is good to feel likedkatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1070642260631335442003-12-05T10:37:00.000-06:002003-12-14T13:28:21.593-06:00I Can't Get My Feet Off the Ground
This bold streak runs thinner than the blood in my veins.
I try to be daring but fail for the pain-
too scared to fall from this heightened sensation,
too scared to fall from my mind's own creation.katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1070491244031370862003-12-03T16:40:00.000-06:002003-12-14T07:32:41.466-06:00this one is the only one not written by me. but since he is one of my best friends, I will pretend it is mine...
this is written by David Burget
The Lady Over the Sea
these voices raise questions like oceans raise waves,
your face like a memory, lost in the haze,
i look to your picture, lost in your smile,
my heart will stand idle, and wait all the while,
an ocean the barrier so placid and katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1067445971551669812003-10-29T10:46:00.000-06:002003-11-07T04:43:10.186-06:00Sharing a Wall
I would wake up to the sound of Tim
hitting the wall in the house next door.
When he needed medicine or his mother's help
he wiggled on his mattress
and the headboard jolted the wall.
I never liked the abrupt awakenings
that kept me from sleep at nights
but because the duplex walls were thin,
I didn't only wake to Tim's fits.
Through the single layer of dry wall
I could hear hiskatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1066837365985518032003-10-22T10:42:00.000-05:002003-10-28T11:43:33.360-06:00Through Clenched Teeth
My mother is making me apologize
for pulling your hair on the playground today.
I was just playing, and I didn’t mean to hurt you.
Don’t tell your mom on me.
I am sorry.
My mother told me to apologize
for being so late today.
We had a conflict with time
and traffic didn’t really cooperate.
Don’t hold it against me.
I am sorry.
My mother taught me to apologize
even when katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1066835955173917072003-10-22T10:19:00.000-05:002003-10-22T10:19:15.086-05:00Heaven on a Magazine Rack
It pains me that you bought that lie.
The magazines that preach a Modern-Gospel
cost you more than your wallet should be willing to sacrifice.
Five point sermons full of self-improvement commandments
grace the covers and find their way between advertisements.
Did you realize that each time you touch the glossy finish
of the pages, you leave a little of your self katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1065852759202713072003-10-11T01:12:00.000-05:002003-10-11T01:12:39.200-05:00katapillerscheme: always thinking on your feet
HockALuigi: that's why my brain is attached to my hips
kris...nice try. I really do think that was an excellent line to finish with. but no way can you top the ultimate. keep going for the gold though, or the pink(lemonade in the shade?)katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1065800621425034182003-10-10T10:43:00.000-05:002003-10-10T17:56:09.323-05:00Night Life
The girls stayed up late last night.
Or, later than their Mother knew.
It was one of those evenings
that the crickets played
their square dance music
and the fireflies had a social
flitting by the porch screen.
Those fireflies were the life of every party,
with sparkling personalities
stealing the lime light
and playing hard to get.
The girls made themselves comfortable
on three katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1065798648407274292003-10-10T10:10:00.000-05:002003-10-10T10:10:48.440-05:00The Mighty Jungle
underneath the darkened
green canopy
upon the shimmering
dew dropped earth
unaware of the light steps
of the young wide-eyed hunter
thumbing redwood arrows
a stout
iron gray elephant
restskatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1065742691892539182003-10-09T18:38:00.000-05:002003-10-09T18:38:11.570-05:00Mask Vignette
He just meant to be the messenger.
The more messages he shared, the more he felt why he was needed.
She was the kind of girl who could take the wits from a man.
He was certainly dumbstruck.
“He is safe.”
Or so thought his friend when he was asked to win her for him.
He pretended to be speaking for his friend but after her kiss he couldn’t play on.
Had he stolen her from his friend?katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1065712353867151262003-10-09T10:12:00.002-05:002008-05-07T10:23:00.290-05:00 brief pleasure a one night stand under thin sheets in chilled darkness bodies embracing frozen in between space kept in restuntil child mouth wants more flavor icekatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1065542139676700032003-10-07T10:55:00.000-05:002003-12-05T10:48:57.686-06:00One Thousand Ways to Lose a Love
She stopped on the sidewalk by the oak tree and counted the leaves as they fell from the shaking branches. The air was still and chilled. As her body shivered she closed her eyes and imagined herself lying on the cement below the bow among the fingers of the limbs covered by the leaves that fell this time of year. She was trying to distract herself from this day katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1065454581640422022003-10-06T10:36:00.000-05:002003-10-29T00:44:23.496-06:00Green Beans Aren’t Just Cheap Food
Parker’s wife sat on the porch snapping beans. In her 34 years of living, snapping beans was the only practice her family exercised cooperatively. Her mother was a non-practicing Jew and her father was a stay at home dietician who believed in the food pyramid according to cost efficiency. Her mother spoke a language of gibberish she fondly called Yiddish. Whenkatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1065412619199756342003-10-05T22:56:00.000-05:002003-10-09T17:23:31.643-05:00celtic 206: maybe we are walking in the shallow water until we are ready for the ocean
katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1065287327785430402003-10-04T12:08:00.000-05:002003-10-04T12:08:47.803-05:00Xandr05: fierce is the word gay's use for hot/neat/cool
Xandr05: that's so fierce
katapillerscheme: neat
katapillerscheme: he had a fierce look in his eyes
Xandr05: gotta say it with a lisp
katapillerscheme: he had a fierth look in hith ice
Xandr05: there ya go katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1065149990961707732003-10-02T21:59:00.000-05:002003-10-02T22:02:09.310-05:00A Friend
I don't know what to say to you
to tell you that I care
to show you what you mean to me
to make your heart aware
of all the charming, selfless, daring, caring things you've done
to share with me your loving smile
and give me strength in times of trial.katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1065133420648694062003-10-02T17:23:00.000-05:002003-10-24T10:19:37.060-05:00Through the Grapevine
Poetry rests upon the earth
among the beads of silkened dew
covered by the viney growth
awaiting the hour of moon's descent.
At the touch of sun's warm rays
against the face of the dormant sky
life begins to stir beneath
the bed where Poetry did sleep.
The drops of dew are guided down
from leaves that stretch their fingers out
to catch and hold the stirring wind
that raceskatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1065132143831786762003-10-02T17:02:00.000-05:002003-12-05T10:49:43.763-06:00Channel 32 on Highway 9
Your radio tuner just won't change the station.
You don't really have anything against jazz
but the big band blocking the intersection
could be a road hazard
for people who accelerate
when they tap their toes to the beat.
How many tires will blow out before your bank account falls in?
These off-road reunions are getting too frequent
but at least you don't have to buy katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1065131753548168662003-10-02T16:55:00.000-05:002003-10-09T17:33:46.150-05:00Late at Night He Writes to be Forgotten
At 10:00 pm the candle flickers
and the wick abandons the flame
that lights the dusky room wherein
the newspaperman sells his name.
He writes the stories to fill the pages
of headliners that made news that day
but no one sees his fairy tales
on the sections that get thrown away.katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1065131155287944752003-10-02T16:45:00.000-05:002003-10-04T21:19:50.666-05:00Second Hand Smoke
He was smoking in the car that night.
At least he wasn't drinking,
but smoking right in front of me?
What was my best friend thinking?
His awkward calm gave me a sense
that he hadn't made a mistake.
I guess he wanted me to see
the path that he'd chosen to take.
Forever I assumed he'd be
a person I would love,
until that day he drew away
and chose the cigarettes over me.
katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1065066831219401682003-10-01T22:53:00.000-05:002003-12-14T07:40:35.483-06:00A Dream to Build a Trip On
My best friend and I plan to go to Australia some day.
We dream of travel and adventure,
the sun on our backs and the wind in our hair.
We want to rent a shack,
which he and I will cover with psychedelic colors.
Both of us are terrible painters but it is our shack to share,
and we will be the only ones to see the clumsy walls.
But Australia won't be about katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1065066636372283742003-10-01T22:50:00.000-05:002003-10-01T22:54:41.616-05:00Bend the Spork With Your Mind
Just a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down
the long forked tongue of the serpent
slithering under the mattress that Connie and Body spooned on
after feeding each other chicken without a fork.
They studied their images in spoons that reflected like mirrors at the fair
past the fork in the road
where the blind man makes music slapping spoons on his knee
as katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1065062504110623342003-10-01T21:41:00.000-05:002003-10-01T21:59:18.026-05:00 As they walked, Petra boldly reached out and took hold of Bean's hand as if they, too, were lovers or at least friends who liked to stay close enough to touch. To her surprise, he did not pull his hand away. Indeed, he gripped her hand in return, but if she harbored any notion that Bean was capable of romance, he instantly dispelled it. "Race you around the pond," he said, and so they did.katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1064722918017182752003-09-27T23:21:00.000-05:002003-10-09T17:52:30.106-05:00Each Morning
My dream is to find love.
I hope to wake up each morning
in the arms of someone who cares
about me as deeply as I do for them.
Someone who isn't embarrassed or hesitant
to feel hopelessly devoted to me,
who will hug me
and kiss me,
and mean it.
My nightmare is to meet loneliness.
I fear waking up each morning
in the arms of a cold feeling
that drags me to despair,
losing me in a katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1064546861077987622003-09-25T22:27:00.000-05:002003-09-25T22:27:40.843-05:00katapillerscheme: you know what i was thinking yestderday? i just didnt tell you
BuRgEy100: what is that?
katapillerscheme: that you are a handsome guy
katapillerscheme: AND you smell good
katapillerscheme: just in case you had forgotten or something
BuRgEy100: how.... embarassing
BuRgEy100: i am not handsome
katapillerscheme: are you telling me i have...bad judgement?
BuRgEy100: FUCK YA YOU DO!
katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1063402818055687492003-09-12T16:40:00.000-05:002003-09-21T23:40:57.470-05:00Modern Nomad
I pack my bags
and board a bus,
a plane,
a train to somewhere
I've never been
and haven't seen
until I make my way there.
I'd say it was an easy life,
not having a fixed home,
or anyone to answer to
except my stirring bones.
But honestly,
between you and me
I wish I had an anchor,
some place,
some thing,
someone to miss me while I'm not here.katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1063295216213195002003-09-11T10:46:00.001-05:002003-09-16T22:22:07.446-05:00Forget Me Not
I was asked to forget
the rainy nights,
the bitter fights,
the burning lights gone dim.
I was asked to forget
the empty lies,
the foolish guise,
the broken ties of friends.
I was asked to forget
the awkward smiles,
the painful trials,
the endless files of sins,
of which you know,
I will always know,
those things I was asked to forget.
katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1063295186911580392003-09-11T10:46:00.000-05:002003-09-12T16:41:33.253-05:00Two Minds of One
He has the most beautiful hands.
With all the strength of his body,
with all the charm of his character,
with all the gifts of his talent,
with all the shadows of his mind,
his hands speak more than his words ever could.
katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1063207003599093672003-09-10T10:16:00.000-05:002003-09-16T22:25:08.083-05:00Keep the Suitcase Open
Mama needed a weekend.
She left lasagna in the oven, instructions on the counter, and her departing words on the doorstep.
Mama needed a day without pearls.
She packed only two outfits for her trip and secretly took pleasure in the wrinkles and creases. She wouldn't touch an iron for a while.
Mama needed to wake up one morning without the boys.
katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1063206417644336792003-09-10T10:06:00.000-05:002003-09-12T23:12:41.520-05:00Double Exposure
Your little baby is growing up-
he has his daddy’s eyes.
But don’t forget that precious smile...
he was blessed with his momma’s wild side.
Your baby who needs you was born independent-
he’s already out of your arms.
Learn the rules of shadow tag,
it’s as close as he’ll let you come
to mussing his hair and pressing his clothes,
goodnight kisses will be far between.
He will alwayskatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1062825969474530372003-09-06T00:26:00.000-05:002003-09-06T00:26:09.430-05:00Xandr05: lol, i love the debate thing
katapillerscheme: haha...thanks. you were great
Xandr05: he was kicked in an alleyway with steel tipped boots
Xandr05: all because he wanted a rainbow
katapillerscheme: everyone hated that queer
i am glad no one kicked you, and i am sad that you lost the office.
wait...it wasn't real! but that's what you get for being gay. (kidding!!)
i miss you, alex. ikatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1062443960237352822003-09-01T14:19:00.000-05:002003-09-01T23:02:41.433-05:00-a smidgen of the lovely aaron daniels-
loosechangeman02: katy, i love you so much
and you know what
i am proud to say that
i think that i am going to run around the house naked and scream, "I LOVE KATY THOMPSON!!!"
katapillerscheme: hehe, come and run around MY house naked and scream "I LOVE KATY THOMPSON!!!"
loosechangeman02: i never had a date that invovled going to arkansas
i can tell katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1059282646808350962003-07-27T00:10:00.000-05:002003-07-27T00:10:46.816-05:00I remember as a kid, I was always so anxious to pull my teeth when they were loose. A nervous sort of anxious...I was very much against pain. I guess that would justify me being a wimp. Secretly I admired the brave kids. The ones who would yank out random teeth, just because they could: "So what, they aren't loose? Well...I'll just show that sucker! Tooth fairy here i come! Cha ching!!"
On the katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1059195289176860742003-07-25T23:54:00.000-05:002003-07-26T23:17:47.020-05:00I have a funny feeling. A good feeling! It is just a feeling that everything is going right. I can't help but wake up and smile. I am so happy, and about nothing in particular. We will see where the feeling takes me...I guess I can get used to this.katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1057965481593942232003-07-11T18:18:00.000-05:002003-07-11T18:18:28.896-05:00loosechangeman02: Katy... she is an excellent source of protein. Like in English class she would sit across the room from me and we talk and talk and talk in our secret language of nothing. Sometimes when we were reading books we would look at each other and laugh for no reason what-so-ever. That is how she is. It's like we are neighbors now and that is freakin' rad. Sometimes I will go to katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1057893965093730672003-07-10T22:26:00.000-05:002003-07-10T22:26:05.036-05:00leah is here!
wow. july is an incredible month for leahs.
halelujiah!katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1057596152339758312003-07-07T11:42:00.000-05:002003-12-14T07:42:38.576-06:00I'll Pick You Up at 7?
he slipped her daisies through the mail slot
pressed his eye to the peep hole
and listened to her singing
on the other side of the door
she buckled her mary janes
moving with the second hand tick
waiting for a knock
on the other side of the door
her pearls gleamed in the moonlight
the smile on his face reminded her that she was lovely
tonight she would tell him
this waskatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1057366355433239662003-07-04T19:52:00.000-05:002003-07-10T22:25:06.700-05:00I believe that all men are created equal and that everyone has within himself the power to make a better world.
---The Lone Ranger's Creed
adios and thank you for the inspiration and the quote, Cody Hill!
Happy Birthday Leah! You kick my ass! 15 years. ow ow!
You are my hero, lu, and I love you.katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-1057069701595488542003-07-01T09:28:00.000-05:002003-12-14T07:50:17.700-06:00Oh, Mexico
It sounds so sweet with the sun sinking low
Moon's so bright like to light up the night
Make everything all right
-James Taylor
Sing it Sweet Baby James
We are back from Mexico, but part of me wishes we had never left.
It was an incrdible time of playing, watching,
talking, singing, swinging, laughing,
hugging, working, relaxing, learning,
teaching, changing,
and I couldnt havekatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-952154152003-06-02T20:21:00.000-05:002003-06-02T22:58:19.000-05:00today, i got my first sunburn of the summer. ouch.katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-951951622003-06-02T10:42:00.000-05:002003-06-02T20:15:39.000-05:00Main Entry: de·tached
Pronunciation: di-'tacht, dE-
Function: adjective
1 : standing by itself
As a tool of survival in many societies and tribes, the members therein practice exclusion of the weak. Survival of the fittest-Darwin would be proud.
On sport teams, when a player is injured, he is sidelined. Obviously, because he can't perform the duties required to be on the field.
In schoolskatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-951644352003-06-01T16:29:00.000-05:002003-12-14T07:52:27.123-06:00Has the Sun Set?
I really wish I could see the stars from here.
What does the earth look like from space?
I wonder if you could see all the lights
from our houses and businesses, and Las Vegas casinos.
It seems silly that we clutter our own sky with so many lights
then wonder why we can't see through the haze.
commentary:
summer breeze was fun, of course. i think more than anything, i katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-951432352003-06-01T00:33:00.000-05:002003-06-01T00:45:32.000-05:00katapillerscheme: you make me happy robby!
AtTheShow719: katie you make me robby
katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-951227052003-05-31T10:52:00.000-05:002003-06-02T20:18:14.000-05:00christie! hey woman.katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-950793782003-05-30T08:34:00.000-05:002003-06-01T23:56:00.000-05:00As of May 27, I became a working girl. I'd like to say I felt an earth shattering change, but coming home after that first day on the job, it felt more like a birthday, only I had turned 100 and still had the little kids at my birthday party. I work at Summerscope, which is a kid's day care sort of thing through the summer. So far, it has proven to be tiring work, but the kids are great, and it'skatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-936560862003-05-02T10:44:00.000-05:002003-05-02T10:44:34.463-05:00katapillerscheme: but the worst part is that i missed most of the saturday morning cartoons!
CeLtIc 206: but its friday
katapillerscheme:
CeLtIc 206: silly silly girlkatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-936220472003-05-01T18:05:00.000-05:002003-12-14T07:55:30.606-06:00Bright Eyed Fool
You've charmed my heart into believing
love is just a fool's conceiving.
Your clumsy aim at flattery,
your blushing pink sincerity.
The silly tales I've twice now heard,
you capture me with every word.
Your childish curiosity
lights a spark of life in me.
I eagerly await your touch,
the fumbled hugs I love so much.
Your kisses dancing on my lips,
your hands embrace my fingertipskatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-934947602003-04-29T18:12:00.000-05:002003-12-14T07:39:10.983-06:00Don't Forget the Sunscreen
My reflection in their cloudy eyes is cheap and far from real.
My silhouette is darker than my dreams that they conceal.
Stepping from behind the clouds, I hoped to see the sun,
The burning rays were peircing then, I had no strength to run.
The time I have is darker when I spend it on my own
yet, they make me feel more lonely than had I stayed alone...katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-924886632003-04-12T11:17:00.000-05:002003-04-12T11:18:16.000-05:00i just want to appologize..
to every wonderful person to whom i have failed to be as wonderful. sometimes i forget myself, and in my forgetting, i lose the people i care for.
so, i am sorry..katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-909610212003-03-18T19:50:00.000-06:002003-09-30T22:54:49.460-05:00Cmitch1028: you only find the perfect people when you dont want them
but more often, you only find the perfect people when they don't want you.katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3687542.post-909609692003-03-18T19:49:00.000-06:002003-03-18T19:51:50.000-06:00so.
im 16.
when does it get good?katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14016186684838313156noreply@blogger.com0