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Here are a few poems I recently authored. lukechrisco (Man seeking a Woman) Chicago Age 20 ~ Virgo Slim/Petite body 6' 1'' Caucasian (White) Some College Works Part-time None/Agnostic Doesn't smoke Doesn't drink No kids Doesn't want (more) kids Marital Status: Single Preferred Relationship Type(s): · Just Dating · Friends · Intimate/Physical Musician philosopher poet funny genius intelligence wannabe playwright I want to go to italy. I want to ride and camp with a horse i bought in italy. Just made a cd. Its good because i feel lots and imagine more.i am seeking an authentic partner, one who is comfortable defining and discussing relational constraints and potentials when clarification is needed. i am bouncy and wise a mix beetween dr.suess and karl jaspers. I am extremely intelligent and saying that is a warning if you don't like that then you won't like me. I am not ugly and could would have girls right now if i hadn't been moving around so often. I play jazz piano and guitar and i have a cd but it is not in full productiion yet. I just moved to chicago and am getting stressed because i don't know many girls.I am coming off of a serious relationship and am looking for a more mellow engagement. I want to make women feel special so cantact me and show me more about you so i can learn about women in general and stop reacting out of ignorance and emotional immaturity.The rest is that i am a real romantic sort but i am changing pretty quickly. Help create the most beautiful experience by not being afraid to talk to me. What is one special thing you would most like in life? To go to italy and travel around with a horse and camp and play music and live. Is there one special place you would like to visit? Back home in colorado i miss this one bench on main street that you can sit on at night and no one bothers you you just sit and listen to the music and watch the lights change for a few hours and then you get up and go home and maybe if you're luck you can do it again sometime. What would you do on a dare? On a dare i would drop anything and follow a really special girl just to walk with her for a moment and if that made problems i would fix them gratefullyright now i am tired of looking for the perfect woman so i am just going to meet alot of girls and have Interests: · Arts & Crafts · Community Service · Dining · Family · Music · Outdoor Activities · Photography · Reading · Religion/Spirituality · Travel Special Groups: · College Student In your family, who are you known as? The creative one What do you expect on a first date? A hug What's your favorite season? Fall What would you want to have if you were stranded on a deserted island? A piccolo What do you tend to daydream about? Intimacy What bothers you most? A messy house The coolest toy ever is... Play-Doh ™ The perfect escape is a... Rafting trip in Colorado How do you feel about pets? I don't have any but want one
French Writers The setting is the beach. I think of french writers and modern styles in which the subject matter is objectified and typified by the use of an impersonal descriptive medium. I think "fuck this society. I have enough, right here i have enough. They ask me of my enlightenment and I reply that it is no big deal. I reply with five words. I reply to them. With this excess and wealth of scenery i feel. for hours i feel i tire and sleep in the dunes and wake. With this my blinders are being blasted and torn down, with the breeze which is somewhat cold. i will not worry about that no i will not. There are simple things there is life pushing and swelling in this scenery envading my definitions and invading every thought. once upon a time i moved from childhood into this thing i am now, ever since the pureness and the elegance and the simplicity of my perception has been buried. For once, for now though i am connected; powerfully. This truth is interupting and demanding more and more as i continue to walk, my sneakers pressing into the sand. I think crazy thoughts and neuroutic thoughts and and boring thoughts and interesting thoughts and beautiful thoughts, but my simple thoughts are hard coming. I repeat over and over to the beach and the little stones strewn by waves receded long ago(well maybe not that long), and to the intervalic snorts and sprays of the lake shooting up from the shoreline of dwindling ice, asnd to myself repeat with the sacred practical down to earth feel of an ancient mantra "think simple-think simple-think simple" I do this with varying degrees of intensity but always completly sincere. Whether i am vauge in my ways or young and foolish in my wanderings and profundity, is not a big concern at all. Nothing is left here but the mantra and the here. The here only is the mantra. Remind and remaining and moving on, the "think simple", the eyes fixed on the rippling back of flexed waves. I am in love and in lust with the one halfway decent warm day in chicago for months. Although, I was away for christmas so I can't be sure on that and yet I can, one can, because of christmas and the anture of chrismas and the time of year and the nature of chicago and the nature of my arrogance or maybe not arrogance but logicality for lack of a better existing word. I lean in the dunes as before on the pier. I cry for happiness and for lust and for love and for my own life and the lives of others. I cry to feel the tears and to speculate on how my face looks and to conclude that its beauty has got to be something to cry about so i do. Wind like the hand of a lover spreads my tears towards the west as it was coming easterly and I am facing north along the shore, the shoreline. I am in love and lust with most things. It is simply so. Today clouds are above in a noticibly high way and in the same exact way my heart is broken. But for once it is full and fresh, beating with love and lust. The few people that I pass as the day moves on, and moves the fuck on, I am cool with; very cool and casual when the young girls come running by. As for myself and also the mantra, things pass, people pass, dogs pass, my fingernails grow (quite unnoticibly I might add), my hand trembles measuring the stillness with the angle and the time with thier tenderness. Once in a while I watch the girls come running. I am in love with them and that in lust over them and that, thier form and what they represent to me. I look at these women and fuck them with my eyes and i do not regret it. I fuck them and that with a discerning watch and move on.
When Living I Presume When living i presume there isn't time for all that i thought i would do for myself, for others, for love. Of this i am certain. There is time to walk down the street or take someones order or to write this to you. yes there is time for that and for that i feel thankful. But for the rest i feel confused. I used to feel cheated. I thought that i knew about injustice was. I thought this was it; being given a taste of life only to be told not much can be done. All can be done. I defy that nothing can be done or that only a little can be done, or some, or something faint. with this i defy that. With typing on and not looking back i defy that. In trampling my fear my hurt scared nuerosis' i presume. I presume that faith is my hands and my typing speed and my stubborness. I presume that my demand and accknowledgement of trust and cooperation with the universe on my own conditions is being heeded. I presume because i can do nothing else and i will not do little. Nothing faint nothing trite. No one person passes me on the street that i don't analyze and try to learn from if i have the time. When i do not have the time I cannot learn or remember i cannot presume to be broken or formed in split seconds. Besides its only me were talking about here not some other, someone who can fit within. No I cannot fit I can only die or break out of whatever i find is griping the life inside me.
Elegance and Might
Elegance and might What was it about him that the rest of us were laughing over in the day and mulling over at night. What was in the leaves that he would stand facing a tree praying in intimate whispers, mouthing sounds from a language of pure heart. Or in the heavens that his eye should search so long? What was in his skin for grass to leave wilts from sleeping in the settling elmshade. What was that vulnerability in his voice that made him so desperate when speaking of love,justice, and brilliant when sharing of life. What made him feel the burn in his scalp and chest when spring approached the world first through his own demand. What made him still captured by the land of ages past and hence and present. And when eating to eat with a boyish delight, and when clenching his fist or jaw to clench with elegance and might.