poetry

2021/7/31 #poetry Take that stuff that dreams are formed with. Not that nicey sweet idea of a good dream, just dreams, the ones that people have when they sleep. Take some 'o that dream makin' material and put it all over a pice of paper. Perhaps store it in an inkpot first, and then take it up into a pen or a brush and work it onto the paper as you like. Make some moving and memorable, intense and activating creation. Do to that paper something fantastic so others that notice it are fascinated or afraid or hold it sacred. Build it into something that has presence, that takes up much more space than it should, that dominates the room. Something that you can't ignore or forget in a drawer. Something that surprises anyone that lifts it up that it only weighs as much as a sheet of paper contrasting with their expectation that it would be monumentally heavy due to its exceptional, grand, and magnificent character. Imbue it with all this power and see if that will change how you feel about yourself.

2021/7/28 #poetry She said she liked writing about writing. I didn't roll my eyes, or outwardly react, but I cringed. I only write about writing when I can't come up with anything better to express. When I don't have a story to tell. When I'm stuck and only have my current, present experience, of writing, or attempting to, going through my mind. She is supposed to be an expert, she's leading a class after all. She's been doing it for years. Teaching about writing. It makes perfect sense, there's no reason for me to react that way. That's my thing, not hers. If you love writing and reading good writing why wouldn't you like writing about writing and reading about writing? I must be still holding on to my hatred of writing from when I was first learning, and then all through school. I refer to it as torture. My resistance to applying myself due to my inability to learn has left me with inadequate skills to express how tortuous and traumatic it was. Most of school was torture, but writing, english, had an extra sting. No amount of effort would get me results. As if they let me play the videogame with everyone else but gave me a controller with broken wires. My intentions never carried out. Ah, well, that's what you get. Eventually I might use those experiences for someone else's benefit. Perhaps I already do.

2021/7/27 #poetry Some small piece of fabric, likely plastic, like a wisp of smoke it floats gently about the rooftops. Rising, turning, twisting, falling, any direction the wind gives, it takes. From light to shadow it loops about, then off down into the canyon between the buildings. Over the street it shoots, tumbling and flapping. Down to the sidewalk, a moment of stillness, then up again across to the other side. Around the trunk of a tree, once, twice, up past the branches and into the sky. Along the side of a taller building it bounces. Past a pole to taunt a flag with its freedom, while being teased itself by the image of stability. Soaring higher and higher it shrinks away into the tangle of currents, continuing along, a visible marker of invisible forces.

2021/7/26 #poetry After you nap The feeling is hopefully one of refreshment, If you got the timing right. As you look around The commonplace gives pause Qualities come through Not just labels As the light hits your eye And you notice Beauty in starkness Or warmth in color. What before, the nap, was dull now has richness, a new sparkle, the same sparkle that you would have called glare What is there an hour later? How long does that feeling last? Even once it fades you can't argue that you're not better off for having had it. That nap.

2021/7/25 #poetry In the moon moon moon moon moon moon light I've got to dance dance dance dance dance all night 'cause when the dark dark dark dark dark's so bright the energy feels feels feels feels just right

It's not that hard hard hard hard hard to see the way to move must must must must be free it's just the way it's got got got to be express yourself self self self self with glee come on and dance dance dance dance dance with me

You have to find find find find find your groove you have to make make make make make your move let the stars stars stars stars be your roof let go and find find find find find your truth

2021/7/24 #poetry In a moment, Sudden surprise, I find you aren't who I thought. I find that I am stronger than I knew, That I can take even this much pain. In a moment, My world grew dim, My body grew heavy, My head sucked into a tornado. I feel adrift But my raft is sturdy The current is steady The surface looks calm The Sun is warm The wind is too I still appreciate what I had with you.

2021/7/23 #poetry I would like to apologize to myself. I am sorry I didn't listen. I am sorry I persisted in making my mistakes even though I was aware that they were mistakes. I am sorry I took the easy route, the less physically demanding, more comfortable option. I am sorry I did not take the time to check in, to plan and then to execute. I am sorry I did not think ahead. I am sorry for leaving you unprepared or with more work that I should have taken care of for you, or at least started on.

2021/7/22 #poetry This isn't the only option. It never is. If you wait just a moment everything moves, the entire universe is in a different state. New options spring out of this change; or the realization of options that were merely unnoticed. Deciding & building a brace against which the continuous change of the universe must flow around. This is the craft we strive to master.

2021/7/21 #poetry Any day that you like. It isn't the best elicitation to action, is it? I, we, often use it in an attempt to accommodate all possible excuses. It backfires though, creating a net too loose to catch our prey. Not cornered, they find that they can slip away or even just fumble and delay. Three possible times is the advice on what to offer if you want results. Problem with this approach is that the effort is on you, you can't hand the work of figuring out a time over to them. Also, you may have to work fast. It's best to prepare ahead of time. Once you get used to it it's not so bad.

2021/7/20 #poetry Don't you wish you could have some certainty that your work was really original? It would be easier to keep going, the feeling that you were falling into cliche could be dispelled, and the refusal to continue in that vein could be avoided. I'm sure that I'm not pulling this from somewhere in my memory now but that doesn't give me any real confidence that it isn't the same work that someone, somewhere did before. A lot of people write a lot of stuff. It's fairly certain that your life and experiences are not that unique and your writing probably isn't either. You may be the first to publish, you may be the first to string all of those things together in that particular order, but that doesn't necessarily make it materially different from some other work. If you do produce a unique concept with your meatputer then you're still stuck with the framework of the language you use to express it. It can still end up sounding very similar to something else. No matter though, if you and the people you share it with aren't aware of any similar or substantially the same articles of media then it is unique enough.

Little lights poking through the deep dark sky. I make my home too far from it's clear view. Should I have the choice I'll go to a place away from the glowing city. To find that great crown of nightly glitter and wear it above my head with all of you.