Consummated Arrogance

The anguish of pride is a virginal bride

Willingly walking over  the threshold

Of disaster…

Refusing to be carried through to modesty

For she will have no master

 

She deserts the purity of humility

Leaving it slain as a permanent stain

Wrapped in defiled marriage bed sheets of deceit

Though the proof is now there

The anguish of pride keeps her blind… unaware

 

Will she ever learn that her mate will forever yearn

For the pleasure of a true coexistence – with much persistence

Daily longing to kiss her lips and fingertips

While in a strong embrace

Graciously savoring her would be sweet and humble  taste

 

If only she knew that as the morning dew

Falls and eventually evaporates

So would the anguish of pride

Gently drop…then gradually

Dissipate

 

 

Aside

In the Heart of…

Truth,

It resides in meaningful places, but

Empty facades of what could have been –

Yet cannot be are strained from

The solidity of

Solitude…

Preferring the brilliant glow of

Honesty, but facing

Rejection

From the other side of the

Facts of

Life…

Wandering aimlessly…searching for

Depth

In one’s own

Reality – suddenly

A loud shout from the

Heart

Brings fruition

 

Aside

Creepers

They walk in silence

And they run in fear

But they can only be heard

When we are willing to hear

 

On a typical day’s quiet stroll

Comes the caress of  gentle winds

When suddenly, they are there

As we take our surroundings in

 

While lying awake at night

Be it hot, pleasant, or icy cold

They slip in through small unsecured spaces

Bringing with them good, bad, new, and old

 

We can use them as we please

To create, enjoy, and build

Yet, we can also completely destroy them

Leaving them for dead in an open field

 

To forget, to remember, to cherish

To keep, or to throw away

Thoughts and memories continuously creep

On every given day

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aside

Continual Resort – #9|Stepping Stones

Finally! Installment #9 is done. A combination of a busy week and a good bit of research for this installment was the reason for the humongous gap between posts, but better late than never – hope you enjoy! 🙂

Continual Resort #9|Stepping Stones

stepping stones

Image courtesy of imagerymajestic at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Linda arrived at ‘Sweet Styles’ early Friday morning with excitement and a new outlook. Her secret meeting the week before with the agent from the Angel Investment company produced a reasonable amount of hope for her awaited dream of starting her own business just that much more tangible. She knew that she would also need to take out a loan to go along with this particular source of funding to make up for the expected high return on the investment, but this aspect would be discussed with Donny once she was sure that she would actually move forward. “All in due time.” she thought to herself as she set up her station. Despite the  possibility of a small business falling apart within its first year, Linda knew that she would be a success because of her skills and yearning to further her ability in the industry of her craft. A mark would be made in the state of Missouri, and her name would be on it. She had also been researching the ins and outs of running a business long before her discussion with this agent, but she was anxious to learn more from him.

Thinking back on this secret meeting being the cause of Donny’s suspicious questioning and her loss of temper, Linda was still determined to be discreet until she was absolutely sure about beginning this endeavor. She was not sure of how to keep Donny at bay…her only hope was that he would not see her again with that agent or anyone else that she would be having discussions with and that she could hold everything together without looking suspicious in any way.

Many thoughts went through Linda’s mind as one of her regular clients made her way from the shampoo bowl and into her chair. She was glad that she would be able to get some rest that evening by her only having seven heads lined up for the day. This would enable her to be fresh and ready for the upcoming week when she would have her next meeting with the agent…but her cell phone rang just as her client was caped and comfortable.

Linda excused herself from her customer by pointing to the break area to indicate that she had to take the call…she rushed away to answer the phone.

“Hello?”

“Well, hello Linda! This is Steve your agent from the Angel Investment Program…do you remember me?”

Linda’s excitement grew. “Of course, of course! I’ve been waiting on your call…I’m working right now, but I was just wondering when I would hear from you. Are you calling to set up an appointment? Oh – I’m so sorry Mr. uh…-

“Oh don’t worry Linda.” Steve feigned an honest little laugh. “Actually, that is exactly why I am calling. We need to talk about your options along with your plans in the case that you are willing and ready to get this ball rolling. Call me Steve, by the way. Also, I wanted to let you know that your credit check came out as clear as a bell. After all, no credit is better than bad credit – right?”

Linda was a bit embarrassed of the fact that she had no credit although she did have several cards. No more than two years ago when Brianne was born, she and Donny had decided that they would not run up a pile of bills that they were not sure they would be able to pay despite Linda’s acceptance of the cards that she held. On the other hand, Donny wanted no part of being a credit card holder. “If I can’t get it right then and there, I don’t need the shit.” This was his apparent motto pertaining to the issue, but he had no problem with Linda’s choices on how she controlled her finances as long as she took both of their budgets into consideration.  Although their finances were basically separate, they both provided for their daughter and paid regular bills collectively.

Bringing herself out of her thoughts and back to the conversation, Linda thanked Steve for his help, but also reminded him that she was still in the process of sorting things out such as finding affordable companies to buy equipment and products, etc., as well as hiring her staff.

“Well, Steve, I’m actually glad to hear that…you are right about the credit. I try not to go overboard with those cards because you can get yourself into a heap of debt that way, and I do not need that especially with what I intend to do. I’ve thought really hard about where my equipment will come from, and I know that I’ll have to start out pretty small at first – the hiring situation is a little rough too, but – ”

“Oh, you have to stop worrying so much my dear! That is what we’re here for. I will be the one to help you get these aspects together and the Angel Investor program will also give management advice and even helpful contacts if needed. Keep in mind that this is not a government program as you cannot actually get a grant from the government for a small business start-up. Funding and help from the Angel or should we say ‘personal’ investor program comes from people who have the experience and expertise to I guess you could say – ‘bring in new generations’ of business men and women – for a price of course, but what’s most valuable is the knowledge that you’ll receive to keep your business going successfully. That in itself will pay off in the long run. I know you’re anxious – maybe even a little scared, but I’ll be by your side every step of the way, so you don’t have to worry your pretty head about any of this. As a matter of fact, I was actually calling to set up an appointment with you so that I can give you more information about the program and what it involves, but I can tell that you’re kind of nervous about it all, so instead of meeting me at my office next week, how about having our meeting in a more relaxed environment saaay, over dinner – tomorrow? I really believe that you’ll be able to take the information in much better over a nice meal – my treat! So whad’ya say…do we have a date?”

***

Friday morning at Robertson’s looked to be a day of ease for everyone at work – except for Donny who had already given the staff their directions for the day. Customers were still coming in to try the new dish which was apparently good enough for a party of twenty to make reservations for an alumni celebration in the establishment’s special events area; the dish being everyone’s entrée.

“Word of mouth is getting around, y’all. We gotta work it this evening, so let’s get set up!” The staff was still congratulating Donny on yet another great creation and were glad to be playing their own roles in this success. They all cared for and looked up to Donny; knowing that his passion was solely to create. They were also aware that he was an aspiring writer and supported him completely…everyone except Derrick.

“Dude, its fish and some damn fruit.” Unbeknownst to Derrick, his brother overheard the statement and saw the ‘big deal’ gesture as he spoke to one of the waiters who nonchalantly shook his head, shrugged and walked away. Donny refused to be negatively phased by his brother’s remark. He even felt a tad victorious in that he knew that Derrick was jealous and still had to follow his orders despite the fact that Derrick would practically throw himself full view into the spotlight for unearned credit – all with the support of their father. “Little shit.” Donny muttered as he made his way to the office to write plans for his next  dish. He had gotten no further than a short list of ingredients for a side when an abrupt knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.

Frustrated now, Donny hurriedly unlocked and opened the door to see his father standing there.

“Hello, son.” “Hey, dad…what brings you here so early?” Donny was surprised to see his father after his long absence at work. ‘Payback time…damn! Here we go…’ Keeping his thoughts inside, he stepped back to let Donald in. A ball of nervousness now accompanied Donny’s initial frustration as his father pulled up a chair to sit directly across from him at the desk… staring straight at him.  Determined to keep eye contact in spite of his inner jitters, Donny thought, ‘Whatever it is, I still ain’t kissin’ no ass, so go for it!’ 

“So…how has this Friday gone for you so far? I heard about the success of your new entrée, so I came by to congratulate you. You may not realize it, but I do know that you work your ass off here…even though you’re not interested – right?” Donald’s genuine looking yet sly grin spread across his face; contemplating an answer.

“Well, yeah…I guess you could say that since you put it that way. I do feel pretty good about how everybody’s taking to the dish.” Donny decided to refrain from mentioning his brother’s reaction to the praise he was receiving from Robertson’s workers…he would stand on his own two feet.

“Good, good! I’m glad to hear that. Looks like you’re already working on something new, huh?” Donald bent and slid the paper over to his side of the desk; looking at what was written. “Hmph! I must have interrupted you, so I apologize for that. Always working, my son…I’ll bet you can’t guess my real reason for coming to speak with you, can you?” He smiled again.

“Nope, not really dad. No harm, but I really was into a new plan, but since you’re here – shoot.” Donny forced himself to control the impromptu visual scenario of his father raising a pistol to  his forehead  with that grin and pulling the trigger. He was in complete shock at his father’s next words.

“All right, son…I’ll get to the point, and I hope that you go with the flow with me on this because you really deserve it. My thought this morning is that you’ve been busting your ass for a business that you really don’t want to be a part of, but you still need a paycheck until your writing career takes off. Your loyalty shows. Though I don’t agree with the life choices that you have and are still making, I still appreciate all the work that you put in here. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be able to keep this thing up like I did as a younger man. Your father is getting up in age and I truly depend on you to teach your brother the ropes for the future, but you’ve been at it so hard lately that I thought you should have a little break. How does taking the rest of the day and Monday off sound to you? Just relax, do whatever you please, especially since you’re getting your new system set up next week, so you’ll need that day off too. Now, how does that sound? Oh yeah, and on Saturday, I would also like for you to come and visit your mom and me…you can actually check out my new system and save your um…your work – just for old times sake – I’ll even come and pick you up! It’s got to be a hell of a lot on you to be writing and working like you are. Who knows…you may even want to attend Sunday service with us…your mother will be giving the Sunday School summary and I will be doing the prayer for service.” Donald gave his older son a questioning look.

With much reluctance and a bit of comfort also, Donny agreed to all of his father’s suggestions. Overcome by a ‘just get it over with’ outlook on the situation, he was altogether sure that his father feigned wanting to spend time with him because he knew that this was exactly what Donny could do without, and for an extra added torture – church? ‘Yeah, right!’ Donny thought to himself while giving his father a goodbye hug. He felt that all of this would be worth the trouble come the following Monday.

***

Thanks for reading! If you would like to see installment #8, here it is >> Continual Resort #8

 

 

Aside

Bad Blend

I scribbled this down one night while seething in anger. I am looking at it now and it is difficult to read my own handwriting when in that state, but I finally made out the words…here goes.

Bad Blend

My world is my mind,

My life lives in three hearts

My cubbyhole is a box

In which I shall not depart

Although I peek outside

Every now and then

My senses become numb

And can’t say ‘stop’ or ‘when’

Don’t do that again!

After the fire, there are no ashes,

The ‘calm’ disintegrates

I don’t see what I see…

Sad truths are instantly erased

But appeasement

Follows and soothing words sweep up like a broom

The reality of what went wrong

Keeps me from darkest darkness;  impending doom

Though not entranced by shiny objects – rings and things, they all glisten

From sticks to bricks – they all hurt

Except for when I don’t listen

Staying the course can be a many splendor thing

But if not careful, splinters pierce veins

This pain deeply stings

I forgive, but cannot forget

Forgetting is graciously God’s elected job

I am relieved to know that this truth is set

While I without fear violently rob

The thief that comes in

To steal, kill, and destroy

The circle of my love, washed in anxiety

Somehow I maintain naturally induced joy

The spigot of eternity awaits me through dogged faith

I shall remain bold

For fear of becoming lukewarm

As opposed to keeping myself hot and from turning cold

There is a river that flows continually from within

Please let it do what it does –

Undisturbed

To avoid creating new sin

 

This was a little weird for me…I’m still not sure what I was actually trying to express, but I do know that it came from deep inside a burning heart and a mind that was filled with anger and hope all in one mixed up package.

Thanks for reading.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aside

Continual Resort – Part 3 – ‘Cohabitation’

The next morning came as usual with Linda not realizing that she had fallen asleep on top of the covers. With a groggy head, she headed for the shower to wash away the dizzying high that had apparently lasted during her deep slumber. It was Saturday which was always her day to go and get her daughter from her mother who lived only about half an hour away. It was a neighborhood that was slightly better than the one she grew up in. Sheralyn now lived in a house which was improvement number one. Where Linda had grown up was a horse of a different color in that their front  yard consisted of the dirty confined space in front of their trailer. Sheralyn had an actual lawn now. The environment was not plagued with chemically dependent individuals who had time bombs for tempers, and the area was clean. Everyone pretty much minded their own business with the exception of that one nosy neighbor that most neighborhoods have the pleasure of knowing, even if not by choice.

While brushing her hair back and binding it with a scrunchy into the usual ponytail that she wore daily unless she was going out for a night of fun, Linda thought back to the small dorm sized refrigerator that housed eggs, milk, ice cream, and not much else.  Although they also kept an ample supply of potato chips,  boxed cakes, and canned meats in their little cabinet, the idea of home cooked meals was a mere fantasy because back then, they never knew when they would have to pack their garbage bags and boxes, head out, and leave for another trailer.

Linda truly felt that her mom wanted to do better in those days because she eventually did, but at that time, it was easier said than done.  Her father – Stanley Wright, had been working for a local mechanic shop that helped him to provide somewhat, but he did not feel that what they had in their small abode was enough, and when he decided to hook up with some fellows in the park to run a lab in one of the vacant trailers, things were good need-wise, but this ride was short-lived. Linda was sure that her sister just as she would never forget the day that the NARCS  burst through their door and made everyone inside lay face down – guns in position while other officers tore their home apart creating much more clutter than what already existed, and later handcuffing her dad (who had nowhere to hide) and taking him away. With no money for his wife to bail him out, it was the last day that Linda remembered seeing her father. With a charge of five years, there was no way that Sheralyn could help him, and over that five year span, Sheralyn and her children assumed that Stan had gone on with his life somewhere else, with someone else…with a new life…somehow.

Despite Stan’s angry outbursts of frustration that often became violent – however, brief incidents involving Sheralyn, Linda had vowed to herself the day that she turned fourteen that no man would ever treat her that way. “One hell of a birthday gift.” Linda thought aloud. Her torn feelings about her parents’ actions and her love for her otherwise happy-go-lucky but seriously  paranoid father crept up through the back stairwell of her memories like a medieval king shouting death penalizing orders from his throne to armored knights who would drag a fort encamped kingdom invader to the guillotine to suffer his inevitable demise.  “His severed head on a platter is my wish.”, the king would say as Linda imagined her dad’s loud yells at herself, sister, and mother to just sit down and shut the fuck up for a friggin’ minute so that he could friggin’ hear himself think. If there had only been shouts and yells, Linda felt that they all could have dealt with these outbursts a little easier had it not been for the whiskey bottles, ammonia containers, shoes, and anything else that he could get his hands on to throw before ultimately knocking her mother off of her feet just before profusely apologizing to the two young girls who were forced to watch in horror.

During these incidents, Sheralyn would usually get herself up as quickly as possible to show her girls that she wasn’t actually hurt, but the truth rang loudly when on this particular occasion, she did not rise immediately and Linda’s older sister ran to a neighbor to get help. All in all, Sheralyn never made a trip to the hospital in hopes that she would prevent her children from being taken away.  Linda remembered her mother sitting while holding an ice pack on her face as she and her sister sang “Happy Birthday”. Stan had stormed out in frustration and did not return until the next morning.

Her mother was determined that a better life, environment, and day would come to them if she could only make it ‘this time.’ Sheralyn would explain to the girls on those nights that though things looked bad, she still loved them and that their lives would get better.

Though they were young, Linda and Sheryl knew full well that their mother had gotten herself into a situation that was practically impossible to get out of, but with their mother’s constant and seemingly empty explanations, they still had hope that what she was telling them would one day come to pass.

With a splash of cold water from the bathroom tap and a shake of her head, Linda washed away the negatives that always greeted her in the mirror each morning. Showered, dressed, and without a second thought, Linda made her way to the kitchen for a glass of juice before taking off for her mom’s house. “Shit…should’a known better…I’ll just stop and get some on the way back.” Grabbing her purse and heading for the front door, Linda knew that Donny had left the empty jug of orange juice lying dormant in the refrigerator. It didn’t matter…she’d had her good time too, but by it being the weekend, she would need another jug for them both. The apartment complex was enough for their lifestyle accompanied by occasional parties, gatherings, and important company, but she still hoped for something better just like her mom, and she would have it someday…by any means necessary.

She did not deserve to wait endlessly whether Donny worked his ass off or not, she needed more – she and her baby would get it – as soon as she could manage, and in the meantime, she would make sure that while Brianne  was in her custody she would eat as well there as she did while at her mom’s house. “M’kay, gotta stop at the store too, no biggie.” All plans in order, Linda had made her way down the stairs and to her car with her thoughts clear and ready for the day ahead.

Donny’s Night…

His confusion and unease had finally simmered once he’d had enough drinks. The orange juice was gone and there was just enough vodka for one more drink, but at that time, he did not feel like travelling the five-minute walk to the store for more. He knew that Linda had to go get Brianne from her grandmother’s house and upon noticing, would also stop for more juice. By the same token, he realized that Linda knew that he would be bringing in a fresh bottle of vodka along with other treats. Although he had enjoyed the buzz from the night before, he did not end up falling asleep, but rather up with pen and pad which sat on his end table to hurriedly jot his thoughts until he could get to his father’s house to file his entries and save them. He could not wait for the day to come when he had his own laptop where he could continue building his collection of rhymes, and hopeful lyrics that he dreamed would someday become a reality once published and accepted by any famous producer or at least anyone – famous or not – who was willing to hire him as a songwriter.

His father did not support him or his dreams except for allowing him to save his weekly entries  as long as he promised not to post anything publicly. “I know I raised you better than this boy! Why can’t you just face facts and get into the business like I’ve worn my head grey trying to convince you for the past seven years? It’s just no damn sense talking to you, so go on and write your little words, so you can get the hell outta here! How can I call you my son when I have to watch you screw up your life day after day? Well…know this…you  will either shit or get your ass off of  the damn pot, cause I’ll be damned if I’ll give you another stinkin’ penny when you’re hell-bent on layin’ up with that tramp thinkin’ I’m gonna keep helping you. Write your shit and be gone!”

He listened to the same lecture each weekend, but Donny dealt with it along with swiping up the rubber bands from newspaper subscriptions that his father so graciously elected to save for him which would be lying on his kitchen table. As weird as it seemed to him, Donny accepted his father’s rejection, anger, and collection of rubber bands knowing that he had committed an unforgivable sin in not following his footsteps in the family business, but his words as Donald Sr. called them had led him to instead follow his heart and mind. It was a fact of life that could not be helped.

Aside

Continual Resort -|’Back to Life’

I guess that this is the making of a chapter, a part 2, or something else…I’m not sure how all of this will turn out but I will continue with it as I am able. Anyway, I used Kellie Elmore’s word bank from her Free Write Friday prompt from last week to help me out…thanks Kellie! ❤

‘Back to Life’… the next scene from an earlier post Continual Resort.

At first sight of his reality, Donny Robertson came to, finding himself standing dumbfounded in his kitchen with a look and brief feeling of disbelief at Linda who was huddled on the floor glaring up at him in anger, but strangely with no fear – no tears. Slowly she raised herself from the floor and defiantly uttered, “Well, I guess you feel better now huh?” Her statement brought on a sense of knowing that swathed him like a blanket as he realized what had just happened and why. It was yet again another blackout that had followed one of his outbursts of anger that seemed to overtake him from time to time though not often. He had ignored what he called his ‘fits’ because usually after it happened, there was no real memory of the cause and surely not the effect of them. “Damn!” The guilt that he now felt overrode his surprise of the realization that this was the first time that he had ever gone this far. He had never hit her no matter what. That is what he had been taught all of his life, but somehow what he had vowed to never do had crept its way into his life – he thought – without warning. “How could I have known that I would one day hit this bitch?” He questioned himself as if some other entity accompanied them at that time, but he knew that it was actually his own mind and conscience who had been the author of his questions, confusion, and actions. He was truly sorry for what he had done, but when he apologized (knowing that this was his system of survival at home with Linda, but with no one and nowhere else), Linda rubbed her cheek, still holding a light burn where she had been slapped. “Don’t worry…it’ll come back to you later.” With a calm demeanor, Linda casually walked off to lock herself into their bedroom, grabbed the remote, and flicked the television on to her favorite drama series.

Standing there alone in the kitchen, Donny immediately reached up to open the top right cabinet door to grab the bottle of vodka and his glass. “A good screwdriver will clear my head…yeah, right!” he thought to himself as he reached into the refrigerator for the orange juice. Overtaken by cumbersome mobility, Donny set his glass on the counter with shaking hands, but with each clink of ice to glass, he felt more comfortable with himself; especially once that first swallow made its way down the hatch. He needed to calm down, he needed his hands to stop shaking, he desperately needed to admit that he had ultimately fucked up royally this time. Upon gathering his ‘needs’ collectively in his mind, he knew that two out of three wouldn’t be so bad after having the same number of drinks. 

Finding comfort in the relaxed state that he was now in while still sipping and watching the sports channel, Donny knew that his last need would take a lot of work to get himself ‘right’. The problem was that he just didn’t know what it was that needed to be done about it, but not slapping the shit out of his girlfriend would probably help. “But, how can that happen when I can’t let go of what she did?, Where dey do dat at?” Swinging his past shoulder length dreds where they could all fall to his  back, Donny lifted his backside off of the worn sofa while still holding his half empty (half full) glass to reach into the pocket of his rough-dried jeans for a large rubber band. He had collected several of them from various dollar stores along with gathering them from his father’s newspaper subscription. It didn’t matter as long as he acquired the look that he wanted while also moving the hair out-of-the-way. “Moving shit out-of-the-way and still being fab rocks.” With the first glass finished, Donny returned to his kitchen and proceeded to make another screwdriver.

Meanwhile:

Linda was getting high. With a light cough she told herself, “Ahh, pleasantly relaxed again, hehe!” As she reached over to the nightstand for her pair of tweezers, she clamped the short of the marijuana cigarette so that she could savor the last puffs that remained.  Texting back and forth to her sister about the show only added to the funniness of their conversation which was full of mutual laughter. Her older sister had been through thick and thin with Linda.  The trailer park that they had lived in growing up had been their home as well as their worst nightmare, but that didn’t matter now – for once. “Girl, did you see that? Aaahaha! These people are so fucked up that it makes me feel like I’m not so bad after all!” “I know, right sis?” “Yeah girl, you would think that rich folks would act like they had better sense, but apparently you can take the bitch outta the ghetto, but you can’t take the ghetto outta tha bitch.” Linda burst into laughter loudly with her sister while in both the back of their minds, images of their past lay dormant despite its presence… each of them playing their own starring roles as if in a  best-selling cinema piece, but residing in the back of their minds…the presence danced menacingly…silently.

When Linda and her sister were done with their conversation about the series, she lay herself back on the bed…her mind went to the incident that had occurred with Donny, “Dude, get it together, it is what it is – ugh!” She nonchalantly turned on her side and fell into a liquor with hemp induced sleep. Moving images slipped through her psyche similar to one who held too much change in the palm of their hand as one lone coin managed to slip through the fingers of the holder…the sound of the series of pinging spins before lying perfectly still lulled Linda into a slumber filled with darkness without real dreams. There would be no valid thoughts or philosophies when she awoke…she would simply become conscious to greet the day ahead.

I AM SO GLAD TO HAVE FINALLY GOTTEN THIS DONE! I NOW FEEL THAT I CAN PROGRESS WITH THIS NOW, YAY!!!

Okay, it has been a while (about two weeks) since I have posted anything. In all honesty, I have dealt with some health issues and in the midst of that, my mind has been in a bit of a whirl spin. The only comfort that I have found has been to read the blogs that I follow as well as blogs that I have found because of the wonderful writers who daily lead me into another world straight from my WordPress Reader. There are so many other writers that I follow that have blown my mind with what they have and are still expressing on their blogs that I can’t even explain how you guys inspire me, but I hope that what I write will give you an inkling of an idea of how much I look forward to waking up each morning to log in to my reader.

I have learned so much from reading the work of Ms. Elmore and so many other bloggers here that I am not able to post every link that I would like to refer to, but as time moves on, I will get better at this tech savvy stuff. In the meantime, I hope that you enjoyed reading ‘Back to LIfe’. It was suggested by a fellow blogger that I continue with the story that I started 2 weeks ago, so I really appreciate that suggestion because it has put me in a place to break through yet another shell.

Thanks for reading!

 

Aside

Poem #3 – The Starving Artist

What if your pen and pad were all you had

No money, no home;  just you and your thoughts alone

While sitting on a stool in an empty room; would you concentrate on your impending doom

As angry groans from your belly reveal; that you know not from whence will come your next meal

Would you beg, borrow, and steal; or would you write about it in order to heal

What if your voice was your only choice

No family or friends to consider your pain; as you stand outside alone in the rain

Wondering if anyone will have the guts to care; as they continue walking past, only stopping to stare

Helplessly you shiver, overcome with your fears; as drops from the sky mix in with your tears

Would you allow suffering silence to shield you from all that is wrong; or would you defiantly sing out as a way to fight back and be strong

What if  your only means of sight; came from touching and hearing – not from light

No blue, green, yellow, blue, or pink; only notes and rhythm in sync

 Enshrouded by pitch blackness, unable to escape; moving forward in time, counting each step that you take

Birds become melodies, strong winds harmonize; every sound that is near makes you realize

The use of your hands on wood and strings; brings you out of the darkness, uncovering all things

What if we all were willing to share; our gifts with everyone – here and there

No homelessness, no loneliness, no darkness for the blind

Pens, pads, voices, notes and rhythm, all working together in time

What would this world be like if these were all we were required to give

Would you keep it all for yourself, or provide for others to live

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