so long, and thanks for the memories

three years ago.
that’s when breathenoah began.

it began as an outlet. an expressionary experiment. and little did i know at the time, it signalled the beginning of a journey that was so rich, so empowering, and so liberating that…. breathenoah now has to end. the journey is over and my brand new life has begun.

my life three years ago was very different to my life today. i craved something. something beyond the walls i’d built around me. i craved the rain on my skin. i craved light. i craved living.

i didn’t know i was on a journey at the time, let alone where it would lead. there were times of sadness. darkness. almost depression. but there were also times of hope. beauty. and love.

for me, poetry has existed at the fringes of emotion. and my journey has been full of emotion, and the search for joy.

well, i’ve found it.

in these past three years, i’ve made some real friends. in no particular order i’d like pay tribute to those friendships with a simple hello.

amanda. my first blogger buddy. hello.
rachel. a shoulder and a friend. hello.
brad. a great writer with a great mind. hello.
paul. blogosphere legend. we miss you. hello.
catherine. maelinat, my journey’s butterfly. hello.

and to the many others who have contributed, commented, supported and inspired, namely;

ebbtide, narnie, maxine, gabe, sarah o, thepilogue, cocoyea, jason, thecrimsonthread, fantasia, marian, jayvie, 1writegirl, and jaclyn.

thankyou.

and of course thanks to sara, who became my sole journey-ending inspiration. themostattractivegirlintheroom. heart.

the journey of breathnoah is captured in my book, “poetry, fluxus, and other lett’rous collections.” essentially, publishing the book was the end of the journey, and a neat way to close this chapter of my life. i’ll still be around. reading, writing, exploring. just not as breathenoah.

i am breathenoah and my name is mark.
my name is mark and i am breathing, life.

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why i write, by noah

hello,

i have not really spent time thinking about why i write. maybe i will spend a few minutes now and think about it, and write down what i think. (i won’t edit what i write either, so you can rest assured that this is as raw as it gets).

here goes

i write because i am motivated by beautiful things. i think that emotion, in all of it’s forms is a thing of beauty. i find beauty in the simple things. simple observations of people, nature, society, and observations about myself. i think that while fear, jealousy, love, hatred, joy and sadness are all unique, they are also all beautifully the same. they can draw out our best and can exist at the edges of our being. i write because being at the edge of my being is experiencing life. i only have one life and i intend on living it right. what more is there to life than experiencing everything it has to offer? and since emotions are there to be experienced and expressed, what better way to express them than with writing? since i am very important to me, writing of emotion and therefore my life’s experience is a concrete way to record my life – just not in the boring chronological mundane way, but in a unique (me) kind of way.

so there you go. i did some thinking about why i write, and that’s what i came up with. i will probably read it back in a few months time and think it’s all shit, but it’s real for now so that’s cool enough.

keep flyin’

noah

indifferent fantasy, the dream

she opened up to me, and she opened up to me. i expected flow’ering of love and such but instead got words of foul stench and fuck fuck fuck dirrrrty disgust. that made me harder and made me grin with a smeared red and rotten mouth.

the next morning i woke wrapped in stained sheets and stained but indifferent memory. she brought me breakfast with welt marks on her ass and rope burns on her wrists

, but she kissed me gently and strummed her fingers on my bare chest as i ate. she told me she loved me. that made me harder and made me grin with a greased butter and bacon mouth.

soar

this is gonna hurt
but you’re ready
yes, i’m ready
you’re prepared, and you’re smart
i have the perfect plan
you’re stronger then ever
i’m strong and i’ll fly
you’ll fly high noah
this is gonna hurt, but i’ll fly, and i’ll fly, and i’ll soar

letter to depression

dear depression,

i never got to know you. i slipped past you without a touch, but i will never forget that rancid smell. i passed you by with just an echo of anxiety, and i ran hard. i ran fast and i ran ran ran away.

i dare to look backwards and there’s no sign of you. are you lurking someplace, hidden from view? no, i can hear someone else behind me, also running. you must be chasing them now. i know i’m safe from you. i have a running partner too, and she’ll keep me running in the right direction.

noah

yellow dress

across the other side of the park from where i sat, there stood a young woman. she wore a yellow dress. she was looking up into the branches of the tree that shaded her. she held her arms out to the side, palm facing upwards, and she gently swayed like the breeze. the world passed her by. time passed her by, but still,

she danced
in the shade
like the breeze
in that yellow
fantastic dress.

she, as now i, was lost in this moment.

in the breeze her hair flitter’ed, her dress flapp’ed, and my heart flutter’ed when she stopped and stood still. she slowly reached her hands higher to the branches above that shaded her. gently falling was a flower, from that tree, shaken loose by the breeze that swayed her. she cupped her hands and let the flower land gently in her palms. lifting it to her face, she breathed in it’s fantastic frangance. then as quickly as her smile beamed and lit up the shade of the branches above her, she let the flower float off in the breeze once more.

i looked down the blank page of the note pad in my lap and wrote “across the other side of the park from where i sat”. when i looked back up, the girl in the fantastic yellow dress was gone.