Finding ourselves in words

 

 

Finding ourselves in words

 

The throne of words unravels and are disturbed by the rubbish of sentences that fade into a

shade of screams.

I was sent to a corner of reality which extracted paragraphs, sewn into the fabric of planned

hostilities.

I toasted an event of a chameleon nature, to permanently mess with the weighing of

sentiments on the justice scales.

And there exists the flipping of the pages used as a fan during hot days from books but for all

intent and purpose, they are used as a creation of the pen.

During concealing moments and aspiration with a health and success, in a tempest of thoughts I

was wished many health and successes.

There was a panic in the land when libraries crumbled and the books petrified in twisted stone

barely legible.

The chord of servants dragged the future into the past neglecting the present, which travels in

peculiar motion against schemes.

Rare repeats in lines gone wayward with dictation dreamed in quotes of asunder laws in spaces

of ego,

While the seed was sown in this present realm, and taken momentarily to another dimension

for perusal, into a typeset with a foreign thought.

Spent gratitude was granted by the ink that flows, with an open mind that is endless in the

landscape of writing.

Libation of words flow with the newest imagination, which conquers an epitome of diversity in

the original torture of creation.

The mythical surroundings struck on the hourglass of envy only to climb and embrace habitual

desecrated patterns of repetition.

A staggered tradition gives pardon to a ritual only to rejoice in ignorance, while scrounging for

a harbor of frustration.

A visiting chapter was read carrying a succession of slippery reasoning, in the bosom of magical

memories.

A forgiven justice longs for consequences with misery understood in the novella of life.

A grip written holds a stride of a stretch with the game of allotted tears of stone.

 

 

 

 

 

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When voices inside scream

 

 

 

When voices inside scream

 

A child is born and yet another to touch lips that seals in becoming of oneness.

I was walking the avenue of memories with uplifting gentle clouds of desire that speak of bliss.

Looking at little stars flying off the fire living in the hearts of the hopeful romantic and keeping

secrets in the cupboard of betrayal.

The colors more than colors and the words more than sentences that describe our uniqueness

in this world.

Inseparable existence: birth in another dimension knowing the separation will occur in the

etchings of agony.

A short journey, a long journey the separation on the edge of sorrow twinkling on the edge of

the blade and who is eager to exact heartache.

The essence of ethereal wings that lift that falls in this perpetual duality in this life-one suffers.

The perplexity of a life’s plan–a soul mate, a bargain, betwixt and jinxed as what is created

conspires unscrupulously.

Intertwined with a cosmic sadness twin flames once completed when both are together

sensually writing each other’s line and the pulling of energy begins.

The chains do break, the paths traveled alone, the spirit broken gazing in the crystal ball of your

eyes.

Mysterious remembrances play on the carousel of thoughts not had, but present in life’s

chivalry which has been wounded.

Division the enemy of oneness our torment is ours, not understanding the grief when leaves

fall.

Fulfilling a destiny of two parts that became one so suddenly entices the other in war, the

antithesis of love, the burden of proof coexisting with regrets.

The ripping, the clawing, the scratching at the soul’s release with no relief in the understanding

of tryst.

The pain that rips throughout the essence of the universe is bottled for another day.

The pain cuts deep, the scars deeper in the delivery of a twisted, maniacal stiletto.

The curtains on the stage we play closes for the finale with death taking a bow.

The olive branch out of reach with no sympathy, no empathy with the treachery of symbols

scribbled into the Akashic records.

When I hear your name.

My heart stops.

And this is when voices inside me scream.

 

 

Another year in my life

Following my letter of what I have been up to there is a poem that follows.  One that I collaborated with my partner and recently found I decided to include it here.

 

 

 

Most people know that my partner passed March 29 2016  Although the grief has subsided a bit- only to be reminded with a memory that presses from the past.  When too many memories pass in my mind’s eye and the heart of my soul then tears flow.  My partner has put into motion the death of 11 friends.  As I was doing Christmas this year my address book was a lot lighter in people that I was sending Christmas cards to.  Just a reminder to enjoy every minute in one’s life and not take your partner for granted.  I haven’t really had a break since my partner’s death and only to be reminded how life is fragile and a reminder of all these deaths made me realize how life is short even though we think it can be long at times.

My sister is ill and she may not be with us for very long as her health is fragile.  My mother is 87 and her shelf life is beginning to expire despite her health being relatively good.

This year with a dear friend of mine were able to make sense of all the tribulations that occurred all year and still occurring in the world.  People are walking with their head in the sands and cannot see the dangers that can at any second put all humanity in grave danger.  My friend and I have made peace with it all and are able to talk openly speak about these dangers.  I am so lucky to have a friend that we can both share our thoughts on this subject.  Thanks Rita.  All we can do is send our love and I ask you to send your love, prayers, meditation, chanting and any which way that you want that can make a difference.

Not all is dire in my life.  I still have my health, my family, my friends, a roof over my head and not lacking food.  I consider myself blessed with the necessities of life.  I have more than most people and I am appreciative of what I have.  For years I have been detaching myself of material things.  The acquisition of the material objects was the thrill of the hunt.  Now the thrill of the hunt is over and I have been giving some of these items away more or less opening the gates for people who need the objects.  Keeping the flow to Spirituality.
I am able to see the good in people much more than I have in the past.  The reason I was jaded with humanity is that I was a Private Investigator and working in the security field for 7 years before I got really jaded by the events I was investigating and this soured my perception of humanity.  After those 7 years I left that job but the perception followed me with humanity.  Don’t get me wrong I still see people acting out but I am able to step back and seeing that these people need our love and not our anger as they are hurting on some level.  I see the good that a child’s laughter brings.  People holding hands still. A kind act towards another and there are many more examples one can list.  There is a lot of positive in the world if only we are able to see it.  That about sums up what has been happening for me this year.

I want to take this moment to wish you all a Merry Christmas and to others who don’t celebrate, then I wish you peace and love.  As I have been saying for years.  Be well and stay smiling.  Poem is below this last photograph.

 

 

 

 

Surrender

 

I am a child upon the path

And you – my guide must be

For I am lost and far away,

But you my light shall set me free

 

Still trust me in my heart

You see

Because your child I am

And that is how I know – for me

 

When I have lingered in the halls

Of darkness and despair,

I shall already know within

Your life and love that shows me care

 

I am a child upon the path,

And you my guide have cared

In all I’ve done I walked with you

And daily you have always shared

 

And I still know that I’ll return

To you as when I left

I will shine as bright as I’ve become

And you have never left me bereft

 

T’was the night before WordPress (Parody) Different than the acrostic

This is a poem I wrote two years ago and will appear every year at Christmas time.  Enjoy!

 

 

 

 

 

T’was the night before Wordpress

 

Twas the night before Christmas, and in and around Wordpress.

All writers were writing without brain power to access.

Papers were crumpled to the floor without care.

In hopes that a masterpiece would be an ace in the pocket to share.

 

We were all snuggled with letters in our beds.

While visions of blogging danced in our pretty little heads.

And comments uttered, puts a feather in our cap.

And we may even try our luck writing a little bit of rap.

 

In the computer arose such a clatter.

I thought it was dead and my Christmas poem would not even matter.

Away to the computer I flew like a flash.

In hopes that it had not become a piece of trash.

 

As a writer within I need to grow.

The ink in my mind does need to flow.

When what to my wandering eyes should appear.

A working computer that allayed my fear.

 

To the old pen so lively and so quick.

With an eager pen that give words a kick.

Fast and furious my racing thoughts came

I whistled and wrote and hoped for some fame.

 

Now letters, now sentences, now paragraph and a story

Come on articles, come on sagas, give me some publishing glory.

Writer’s block that before the hurricane fly.

Letters come tumbling in our writer’s blood we can’t deny.

 

Off of our chairs we all flew.

Started writing again without a clue.

And then in a twinkling I heard in my head,

The formulation of a poem that has not fled.

 

Computer screens and keyboards galore.

Typing crazily wanting some more.

I was dressed all in fur, from head to my foot.

And my clothes were all dirty with ashes and soot.

 

A bundle of leaky pens sat on my desk.

This blue ink glob of a monster looked grotesque.

My eyes twinkled, some and my libations were merry.

I drank so much alcohol that my nose was red like a cherry.

 

Drinking and writing are the best of friends.

These endless of stories that never end.

A mistletoe hangs but there is nobody to kiss.

I will write myself some exciting and delicious bliss.

 

The stub of a cigar I hold tight in my teeth.

And the smoke it encircled my head like a wreath.

I rambled my blogging underneath my breath.

I will write I said right up until my death.

 

I wrote myself in a story as a right jolly old elf.

I looked into the mirror and laughed at myself.

Words have the power with a twist in my head.

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

 

I spoke not a word, but went straight to my work.

Ideas were flying and I gave myself a smirk.

And laying my finger to the side of my nose.

And giving a nod I wrote on many pages some prose.

 

I grabbed my books and put them in a sleigh.

To be published at Amazon, Smashboard and others along the way.

But I did exclaim, as I am driving out of sight.

Happy Christmas to all and to all a good night.