A new decade of musings from poetry to what inspires; casting words like seed worldwide.
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 "SuperNova Afterglow: Shining Brighter" , 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.
|Free associating feelings again, after a cluster of words pinged off the towers in my head...
Echoes And The Dimension Between
Echoes are hollow if you notice,
Like a shallow puddle you could avoid,
soak a shoe.
The distance to these empty places
the time it takes to return to present,
The car ride at night to these destinations,
No scenery to absorb over an absent infinity
in your heart.
The echoes -- louder...
Puddles -- muddier...
Why did I venture out, except --
You aren't here to fill that void
in the galaxy and dimension
4.30 new edit
|Feel like the flywheel spinning
my angular momentum
meant to capture this awkward
throbbing in my heart
at dizzying speeds
I'm just an instrument
for you to toy with
wicked gleams in fetching eyes
fool one as silly
who cannot lock onto
all loose from too much action --
just one aspect chained
to the axis
easy to gauge from your vantage
but not for me
by the time I get my bearing
Long you've been away.
I will give this more thought without directly implying a toy top...e.g.
Poem forthcoming, when I can free up brain cells to finish.
In the bourbon and water
Thought I'd add a cherry
To the bottom of the glass
Did I savor you?
It's been too long,
Ice long melted away
Chills a heart still,
foolish as mine:
Did you warm me?
I don't want to feel nothin'
Anchored to this empty bar
Eyes freely gazing in the glass
Did I see eyes stir?
With senses pinging for towers
I'd take knives deep in hollow skin
Valleys into concocted veins
for you again.
The longer I drink...
Here I am.
How To Sing With A Broken Heart
as yet (un)written
You sing a sad song with fondness in your eyes
Sparkling voice ever clearer
With green eyes that crystallize