All that remains: here in my afterlife as a 'mainstream' blogger, with what little I know.
Formerly: New Zenith To Hell…(all started with arc as writer here from the trials of Rising Stars to Preferred Author to WDC Quills Best Poetry Collection to the falling action I feel now that settles in a white case.)|
Got to hustle to preserve the best of me before fully fading on that virtual horizon glowing more brilliant with each passing day to permanent nuclear winter.
if people don’t get it, I don’t need to explain it.
We kill all that’s beautiful before we question it’s purpose. So many people find it easier to think in the black and the white. God forbid you get lost straying in the gray.
"Whoever fights monsters should see to it…he does not become a monster.”
I’ve been to the abyss and back. Not so bad.
The loneliest happy person you'd ever meet, when not the saddest person who needs to be alone.
In an ever-changing world, we need to handle topics at the ready. If you roll over and give in to the narrative without lending a voice of your own, you might as well hand over your civil liberties. We have voices that should connect to true conscience and spirit for honest and open discourse. Why feel so redacted?
Unify on issues and put drama aside. Open minds require complete objectivity. If none need apply, question the unbendable sources for answer. If you knee-jerk react to every issue lurking out there that clutches your neck, you fall victim to your own ignorance born from a life of apathy (no doubt) in pathetic cries of injustice.
Just writing what I feel without the narrative-altering mind f---ing with my head.
In your house, I long to be
Room by room, patiently
I'll wait for you there, like a stone
I'll wait for you there, alone
"It amazed me how truth was often suffocated in minutes, but lies were given sufficient air to breathe indefinitely."
"You are all better than you think you are, you are just designed not to believe it when you hear it from yourself."
"...lasting art is never anything more than a mathematical expression of the relations that exist between the internal and the external, the self [le moi] and the world." -Jean Metzinger
I'm in love with carefully chosen words, arranged just so, audible, edible, to inhale. I attempt to post new poems and epiphanies daily with some links to what inspires.
I am legally blind with a rare, genetic form of glaucoma. I'm described as "end stage" after two successful surgeries, still subject to further vision loss. Cataracts complicating matters. Writing Can get strenuous but seldom deters what yearns to emerge, despite a documented history of depression and recently diagnosed ADHD and undefinable social disorders and/or PTSD.
My recent poetry:
Sometimes epiphanies about my insights on writing and life and what goes on...
Making sense of life is maddening. Why do I need to know, when truth may not actually exist? Learning to accept would be a better pursuit? Flailing about in my own mediocrity, hoping to bust out.
I am visible. You can put a face with a name. I would like to see other writers, too. Fiction is what you write, not who you are.
Reinventing myself. I couldn't continue on the path I was on and needed a fresh start. This time around I want to put the focus on writing and the world outside of this community as it affects my life.
I realize now that I have been baring my chest a bit more, as when young. fake me much more boring and unliberated than the real me.
A world arriving as silent as that blossom in your garden that I told you about...
As I stumble through this life,
help me to create more laughter than tears,
dispense more happiness than gloom,
spread more cheer than despair.
Never let me become so indifferent,
that I will fail to see the wonders in the eyes of a child,
or the twinkle in the eyes of the aged.
Never let me forget that my total effort is to cheer people,
make them happy, and forget momentarily,
all the unpleasantness in their lives.
And in my final moment,
may I hear You whisper:
"When you made My people smile,
you made Me smile."
|Off and on, spent the better part of 16 plus years as an active, participating member in this community. Looking back on it now, had an epiphany when I was reading one of my own recent blog entries. It was, 'the only person you entertain here might be yourself.'
Musing alone is akin to inducing schizophrenic episodes. But, I'm been counted as safe from that affliction, because I'd be a mental institution or dead by now. So, chalk it up to a healthy imagination. That begs the question, 'when am I going to grow up?' Can't be a boy forever.
Just quit a job of 11 years the other day that was less rewarding and unfulfilling as time went on. I found a new job that I'm satisfied with. Fingers crossed. But, I'm at a crossroads with many things. Primarily, health should be my main concern. I'm ignoring that I'm putting my body through rigors that are taking a toll on my organs. I could ease back. We'll see.
Writing is another animal. I have more time for it now. I also need time to be in reflection and consider what I want to do going forward. Going through my blogs and other items and cutting some fat recently makes me realize that I spend far too much time with my ADHD brain spinning me around, instead of focusing on one true thing to be passionate about. What this is, I need to figure out.
So, in the meantime, since a lot of contests went cold on here, I can focus on me. I can keep trimming and paring back these mindless hedges and see if I can bonsai this portfolio tree.
I have other concerns that are related to my online words that I won't speak just yet.
|Maybe, what will do in the US Postal Service is the need to replenish its fleet of mail trucks. I watched one go by on a flat bed the other day and was reminded of a link I had stored with all the facts and specs about those trucks ordered in the 80s. I think some of them have been around the moon and back. I wonder if I would buy one if they went up for auction? Well, government doesn't have a plan in place to replace these near 40-year-old mail carriers. fingers crossed. Privatize, Uncle Sam. We don't need you snoopng in our mail anymore, because you snoop our internet browsing history. Sell it all off, with the caveat you can have oversight of any suspicious packages.
I'm going to google easiest delivery systems for felonious stuff.
I tried. Don't want to draw attention. Would have to pour through articles. Just thought I'd get an analyst on what carrier is most prone.