Amazement

Tiny, little love;

Sweet, small creation;

Magnificent thoughts packaged,

By the Divinity, imagined.

The foot print of Eternity,

Pressing into the sand;

A glimpse of forever,

I can hold in my hands.

Proverbs 9:10

Principum sapientia timor domini, et scientia sanctorum prudentia.

Not for the easily offended.

It seems the older I get, the more my old acquaintances dislike me. Like's and interests change, but I remain the same person in the way I think and act. I feel lately as if a lot of people have taking the scenic route of their life-journey just to drive by and throw eggs at my proverbial house. I, for the most part, remain very quiet, smile, and try to treat everyone with a general respect for humanity. I don't purposefully hurt people, or rag on things they do or say just to provide myself with entertainment. Granted, I very well could, and my thoughts tend to be quite cynical, but 99.9% of the time I stick to the "if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all" rule. This is why if you ever talk to me and I just look at you for a long time before I reply; I was digging to find something good to say, because you must be an asshole. This is probably the only place you will ever see the uncapped stream of my disgruntled thoughts. Still, names are spared and no one that I know in my life, internet or otherwise is called out directly. I do not even reference events. I do this all on purpose, because there is little else in life that I hate more vehemently than drama. I don't even like reality shows, I don't like to watch OTHER people's drama much less be involved.

If you ever doubted that basic premise that people are extremely selfish, try to get someone else to be supportive of you for 5 mins. It's like the world is nothing but a land packed with 4 year old children with severe cases of ADHD. I have been nothing but a ball of rage lately, every apology that comes out of my mouth to avoid an argument adds a bucket to the ocean of spite. Somewhere along my life time people have learned to hold me up to this un-achievable standard of perfection. It is easy for people to create an image of a person and attempt to hold them up to that created image; this always, 100% of the time, leads to disappointment. Sorry match.com, that is the human flaw that makes what you do difficult in reality.

In conclusion, I like heavy metal, and lip gloss. I will talk to you about role playing games and politics. I am a sensitive person, I am an incredibly lonely person who struggles with thinking they are somehow bad because of their inability to have friends of the same sex. Go ahead, rip on me. That's right, I like makeup and I can't spell. Have a frigging field day. Your dislike of me cannot and will not change who I am, it's sort of in my DNA.
Oh, and please don't pity me, I don't want or need it. Just because I'm a "nerd" or in your book a "looser" doesn't mean I need to be pitied.

Visions that encompass me

When I look into myself, to find my inspiration to write, there is always a scene that my mind plays back to me. If you could take the culmination of what you are feeling and create a place that was the representation of it what would it look like? That is how The City of Rain was born. For me it is the ultimate representation, the metaphor, for my artistic mind. Well that's pretty depressing you say. I beg to differ, it perhaps can be a very somber place, however I find it quite comforting.

The streets are grey cobblestone, the houses are all similar to small mill houses. The windows are old panes, smeared on the edges with paint and time. The doors are worn, the handles shine from people passing through. The town is silent except for the penetrating sound of soft rain, falling on the rooftops, the tree leaves, and splashing on the street. The sky is thick with clouds, the blue of the sky softly radiates through them, giving the grey tones a soft muted blue hue, the world feels cool and serene. The dampened colors and the perpetual pit-pat of the rain envelop me in a comforting world deprived of any sensations but ones born of the natural world. There are no cars humming on the street, not telephones ringing, no people crowding and talking, nothing to ignite that alert state of sensory abuse we live in.

The constant rain is something that always drives my mind into a contemplative state. People so often recognize rain as something to do with tears and depression. Soft gentle rains that nourish our world are favor poured out onto us. Rain is an amazing thing, powerful at times and frightening, but is also able to lull us into the most peaceful sleeps. It can represent our mood more truly than many things, providing us with a sense of understanding. Feeling that our state of mind has some how been picked up on and mirrored by the world is comforting to us.

There is always a small chapel, empty except for me. A very small cemetery outside guarded by a large oak tree. The chapel is the only place I ever enter into in this city. The rest of my time is spent peering into windows. Only two people besides myself have ever existed in this city. A little girl drawing figures on a broken window sitting in the grass, and a middle aged traveler. Perhaps in these things I see each stage of our mental lives. An unabashed creativity in the child, the ever-seeking, ever-changing, life of the middle aged traveler, and the culmination of all things in the small grave yard.

What does your place look like?

Fun With Poetry

Something I was asked some time ago, found itself bubbling back to the surface of my creative brain as I stared out the window on this Rainy day at a Finch perched on a pole.
The sight and the question inspired a poem that is a bit childish, however true.

Where will the birds go when it rains?
Dancing, haven't you seen the Crane?
Where will they go in the Winter Snow?
Vacation, ask the Robin he would know.
Where can they live where others cannot see?
Well, the Cardinals have decided on the trees.
One last thing, and please be kind,
Tell me, surely they do not eat worms?
Don't worry my dear, as the Blue Jay has assured me
That worms are quite free of all germs.

Enjoy :)

[Sea] The Blue Skies

The invisible sea, flowing
Around us, a winter leaf drifts
Like a boat without a captain,
Caught up in gentle breezes.

Adrift, bound for the distant shores.
Where will you go, uncertainty.
It matters very little here
Out in the blue waves of heaven.

The destination is unknown,
This vessle, a sigh on the wind;
Drifting quietly down, down, down
Signifying a seasons end.





I went through this poem putting it into metrical feet with every intention to go back in and work on the rhyme scheme. Well, I messed and I dawdled and I came to the conclusion that sometimes things are better left alone.

Broken Glasses.

Have you ever dropped a glass and broken it? Sometimes it just breaks off in one big piece, sometimes it shatters into a hundred little ones that you find with your foot many days later. No matter the way it broke, it is no less broken. No matter if it cracked or shattered it can no longer hold water. I have been feeling very broken, I am a cracked glass. You may not see me as a hundred peices on the floor, and I may not stick you in the foot, but that doesnt change the way things are. You get to a point where you are not even sure what to say about it. The choice is not to be made, you want to close your eyes and wake up sometime later when these problems do not even exist anymore as opposed to facing the possibility of them playing out. My problems are small. They will be nothing in the long run, keep them in perspective, be positive. All these things are mentally true to me but everything else that makes me, me screams this is it! It's the end of the world how will you ever get past this giant road block? My problems are nothing to anyone else but me. So what do I do with this cracked glass? What is there to learn and what is there to do? What is the right thing and what is the mistake. Do I go big and dramatic and change up everything and see where the wind takes me or do I sit back like a spectator and wait for the natural course of time to change things? Would my adventure be a success or a failure? Would waiting patciently by change everything or change nothing?
I am a planner and I need to know everything that goes on in my life, and everything that is going to go on so I can have it scheduled and prepaired for. I do not like being caught off guard but it seems to be that life's favorite thing to do to people like me is to catch you off guard. You have plans? Let's upset them. You think you are doing this? Well, no longer. The Who, What, Where, When, and Why's of life haunt me. They distress me. They Weigh 400 lbs each and sit on the couch of my heart eating pop corn, nuts, and watching reality TV shows while cackling at the dismay they find in the charecters.
What am I to do.
Get off my couch or I'm calling the repo man.