A new decade of musings from poetry to what inspires.
I've read poetry that opened my eyes, realize now mine have been closed when I write.|
The drive north is easier than south in summer.
If you only write when inspired, you may be a fairly decent poet, but you'll never be a novelist. -NEIL GAIMAN
And here I am
A new start for an old blog -- replaced by "Black Hole Super Nova Afterglow" , now at capacity as of 2018, focused on specific writing projects and goals:
Having no specific aim going forward...
I've hammered away at this glass with forefinger since resurrecting in 2014. I'm always ready to say too weary. Compulsion compels me, instigation informs, and still here I am...bright, full of light and dark, revealing hidden colors and shapes. That was before...
I hear what you are saying...but especiallly...what you are not.
Yes, I struggle. But I'm getting through it. How are you?
I've gone by other aliases. People remind me of that. Sometimes restrained, it's hard to understand what I write. It will be clear some day. Hard to hide what's in my heart. I'm making no apologies going forward for my feelings. Not interested in the trap of stereotypes. Not sure how we'll feel about that.
What I used to say: 'Maybe, I just don't get it. Watch me fumble with my version of reality, expose ignorance as truth. You don't have to get me, either. But, wish someone would explain me to myself.'Now that I've figured out the ever changing rules of your game, you take the ball away, no longer engage me to play. You pay a price for this kind of friendship. I lose, I guess.
You can't just read the parts that confirm (or can be construed as such out of context) your opinion of me, you mentally-stunted Neanderthal.
What? Oh, that? It's just a, ah, self-motivational speech I've been working on.
What? Yes, I should try to make it less negative.
Under The Skin (Eternal)
Jump in, the water's fine?
they could take dreams away but
I won't let them.
With the repeated tapping
of fingers on my tender skin,
memories would wash out to sea.
I was convinced
I needed you here with me.
But time widens,
that empty ocean I've been set adrift
too many times.
Weightless, sails bend
in rippled, parallel ventures searching,
seeking. No salt, odorless
breezes unseen ply
my veins full, beating in rhythm
somehow without you
on these time waves returning.
no oars, a needle could
sink so deep,
fill my blue until I'm green
with a fluid that leaves me empty
on this glass,
reflecting unfulfilled for the rest of life.
Some eternal sunshine,
in this foggy mind; needed
your compass to bring me to your shore.
I won't let them take you away; visions
seldom seen, recreated in vexing dreams.
My skin, my own. My heart, alone until
time returns tangible visions, spinning
on this plane I'm anchored to eternal.
If only once I closed my eyes by your side.
In Behavioral Health they use a method of tapping your wrist/hand to wash out the pain of bad memories that could have set a person's life on an emotional course away from rational thought. There's a more current method now I won't get into. Makes me think of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind or a scene from That 70s Show when an angel offers to take away all Eric's happy memories of Donna. Sometimes it's hard to give up the bad, connected to what is still good.
Bonus track (both songs featured on Canadian TV Show Private Eyes):