My Name Is Not Pain –

“If people refuse to look at you in a new light and they can only see you for what you were, only see you for the mistakes you’ve made, if they don’t realize that you are not your mistakes, then they have to go.”
Someone
When as a child with innocent ears
I heard my name with violent tears
Then known as a child abused
My name whispered one being used
Older and with children of mine
My name was called all the time
Years went by and then I left home
My name became as one unknown
Later in life the blooming occurred
A name of mine was an addiction slur
An old man now an ancient in days
My name is what I make it say
In a bold unwavering voice I pray
My name will never again be pain

*

First published in Opinionsofeye.com

02152013

The Power Is Yours – Allocating your energy to create

“There is a vitality, a life force, an energy, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all time, this expression is unique. And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and will be lost.”
Martha Graham
 
You have energy in you. You feel it building, through the hours, through the days, and through the years. Perhaps from success, perhaps from suffering, no matter how, it builds. It longs to be let out, to be used. You feel the need to do something. Celebrate, cut loose, anything! Slow down for a second. You can use this energy for great things, wait before you spend it. Acknowledge it, then use it to create something…words, music, art, or an idea. Anything to bring life. The energy is there. You will do one of two things, destroy or create. Harness and direct the energy to create a powerful positive force in your life. Turn the potentially destructive energy generated by suffering into creative energy and create something positive. Bring life from it. The power is yours.

Also published in Broowaha Magazine 


12282010

Poetry Is For The Dead – Words beyond an epitaph

“Let me tell you how the story ends, where the good guys die and the bad guys win. It doesn’t matter how many friend you make, but the graffiti they write on your grave.”
  Gerard Way
lblairphotography

Poetry is for the dead.

Mocking, that’s what he said.
As life pours from my pen,
His word echoes, poetry is for the dead.
Life breathed through the written instead
He repeated, poetry is for the dead.
New beginnings from what is read
Poetry is more than for the dead

11262011

Now On Wings – Sitting still

“I have discovered that all human evil comes from this, man’s being unable to sit still in a room.” – Blaise Pascal
 

overlord

Please tell me this is all

not a waste

I struggle to be content and just

let life be

How easy is it to lose yourself

along the way

Like rain falling, silently gathering,

it flows down hill

What will stop the wayward descent

into my oblivion?

I look out from my hidden world

beauty all around

Could it be that all that is required is

to just sit still

I see you running, madness chasing you

just like me

There is a rest from all your panicked flight

in His arms

These are no fanciful delusions

of a religious man

Only the musings of a man once flightless

now on wings

07252011

Now On Wings – Sitting still

“I have discovered that all human evil comes from this, man’s being unable to sit still in a room.” – Blaise Pascal
 

overlord

Please tell me this is all

not a waste

I struggle to be content and just

let life be

How easy is it to lose yourself

along the way

Like rain falling, silently gathering,

it flows down hill

What will stop the wayward descent

into my oblivion?

I look out from my hidden world

beauty all around

Could it be that all that is required is

to just sit still

I see you running, madness chasing you

just like me

There is a rest from all your panicked flight

in His arms

These are no fanciful delusions

of a religious man

Only the musings of a man once flightless

now on wings

07252011

Seven Faults Of Foolishness – Fault #2 Starving Your Spirit

“My religion consists of a humble admiration of the illimitable superior spirit who reveals himself in the slight details we are able to perceive with our frail and feeble mind.” – Albert Einstein


Spiritual starvation is just as sad
Every man consists of a body, soul, and spirit. The fool feeds his body with food, his soul with pride, but even in the basest of applications, refuses to acknowledge his spirit. Spiritual food is required for spiritual life. The food comes from God. If my idea of God leaves me wanting, it benefits me to seek that God which satisfies my needs. I cannot define God, I can only tell where the food that feeds me is found. The point is to seek God. Whatever that may be, however that expresses itself in my life. To deny my need of a power greater than myself and human wisdom, is to starve the most essential part of my being. 

If I am hungry, if I am thirsty for something that satisfies, I must go to the source of spiritual life, that being God. Continuing to exist and perform day after day, giving more and more of myself to pleasure and surviving, will eventually wear me out. Just as my physical body depletes its resources and begins to tap those things which are vital to my survival, so it is with my spirit. I must find a source that strengthens, that pours into me, replacing the energy used in the act of living. 

There is no other option, I must find and acknowledge God. I give no opinion on the God I must find, only that I must go in that direction. I need not defend my God, who will show himself to those who look for him. I encourage myself only that I must seek and apply that which I find to my living choices, I must feed my spirit.

And So It Begins – an end to pain

“A fool’s paradise is a wise man’s hell.”
Thomas Fuller 

 
 And so it begins, my journey through hell

Change in my life, at the tolling of death’s bell
Pick up the pieces, never yielding the spell
Still I press on, advance, though it’s just as well
It will soon end, my journey through hell

Dead Tree? – Appearances can be deceiving

 “A cold wind was blowing from the north, and it made the trees rustle like living things.” – George R.R. Martin, A Game of Thrones
 

c-4-r-n-a-g-e

The tree throws off its leaves, drawing in its energy, preparing for the battle.

It appears dead and for many months, no life appears.
But beneath the surface, vitality runs, coursing through its toughness.
Don’t be fooled by the appearance of fallen leaves,
for deep in the coldness the tree yearns. Soon
the leaves will return and I will
find shelter under the branches
of what appeared
to be, a dead
tree.