The Separation of Friends

“A perverse man spreads strife, And a slanderer 
separates intimate friends.”  Proverbs 16:28

“It is more shameful to distrust our friends than to be deceived by them.”  Confucius

My mind’s intrigued with fickle people concerned only with the direction of the winds of gossip. They blow this way and that, regardless of the benefit given by myself. I’m wary of this crowd, of the hearty followers, of the “humble” acquaintances in my life, for those by my side in friendship today are at my throat, without hesitation, tomorrow. All that’s required for this shift from friend to foe is discomfort in their lives. Whether financial, physical, or social unrest, it gives them impetus to turn the trust into a sword and cut without mercy. “He deserves it because….” – this is the mantra that sears their conscience.

They’re masters in this game, the game of turning the opinions of those around me to their benefit. It’s no disgrace this art of war, but it bears repeating that those closest to me, those I help the most, will grow to hate me, if for no other reason than I have and they have not. Despising that they asked for my help, or owe me something, or just hate that I excel in some way, they desire to quench their envy and jealousy by disposing the one to whom they are so envious or indebted. These master players will be burned by their own hand and it won’t be long after starting many fires that they’ll make a mistake and corner themselves with the flames. As for me, I learn to encourage myself, and with this one thing I’ll rise above the petty crowd – after all the hate shown towards me, I’ll still be good to people and serve my friends and leaders with undying loyalty.

09262012
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Cold water, Dry run – Heal the wounds of yesterday –

“Pain feels like a fast stab wound to the heart. But then healing feels like the wind against your face when you are spreading your wings and flying through the air! We may not have wings growing out of our backs, but healing is the closest thing that will give us that wind against our faces.”  – C. JoyBell C.

Trying hard to find water in a dry land. A parched, dry, burning throat tortures me. My lips, peel like mud flakes baked by the noon heat. Life was here, now, only the memory of life conveyed in the carved, hard mud of me, a dry lake. Then a soft wind blows, the temperature drops slowly, a coolness invades, and the clouds gather promising a new thing is on its way. Soft drops escape at first, slowly building a faceless mob. Each drop makes a mark, dimpling the ground. The little craters overflow and begin to form a growing conglomeration of streaming water alliances, gathering momentum and finding their way to the thirsty lake, filling the deepest cracks first.

 
Notice the deepest cracks are the ones first filled with the life-giving water. Likewise, notice how the deepest hurts are the first healed when the fulfillment of your hearts desire comes to pass. It’s a beautiful to see life restored. There is a fulfillment in hope and contentment after suffering. It feels so good, like cold water after a hot run.
Also published in Broowaha
First published in Opinions Of Eye
08172011

Unrelenting

“The basic thing nobody asks is why do people take drugs of any sort? Why do we have these accessories to normal living to live? I mean, is there something wrong with society that’s making us so pressurized, that we cannot live without guarding ourselves against it?” – John Lennon

pow-pow

Coming in a sudden burst, forcing itself, peace a detrimental casualty
Pressure from expectation, performance under intense scrutiny

Unrelenting, the pressure builds
Unforgiving, the anger burns
Undelivered, the solace capitulates

Closing my eyes makes me a target, can’t hide from the squeeze
speaking in halted phrases, tongue on fire with words that tease

Undeniable, the pain is exquisite
Unbreakable, the vice of lies
Unchanging, the facades of players

Praying for release, the knotted feeling in my stomach grows
a fist pushing its way up my throat, agony in my neck it shows

Unprovoked, the attacks keep coming
Unstable, love’s foundations destroyed
Unanswered, questions form opinions

Where is the breaking point of my brilliant mind and tenuous sanity?
What will happen when it all falls, without conscience, no lucidity?

Unrelenting acquisition of carefully sifted fantasies 

09182012

Wrestled Notes

“I know why the caged bird sings, ah me, when his wing is bruised and his bosom sore; when he beats his bars and he would be free, it is not a carol of joy or glee, but a prayer that he sends from his heart’s deep core.” Paul Laurence Dunbar
andreation

Simple prognosticated rhythms flow and diverge

Collapsed principles pile in crumpled beats

Pounding the seconds to say a moment

A tickled thought dances in pretend reality

Hobbled by fettered hope in surreal mist

Finding shadows that breathe life in short bursts

Life’s nemesis throttles the throat of peaceful suns

Wrestled notes become a winged song

Bottoming Out – Lonliness exsanguinates life

This poem was written by a talented fellow poet, Mark Davison and first seen in Elbow Lane Poems. Enjoy.
campusbasement
I am alone
This scenario is not freedom
 
I see tiny glimpses of hope way over there
But now, here, at this moment, I see shards of me… cracked shards

I am angry and full of tears that well halfway up my throat
The tilt of my head and a desperate breath detain them

I am sad
Sad that I am not happy and that my heart is redundant of it’s secondary duty

Intermittently it flickers into life
Abruptly ending; but just doing enough to?

To what?
Existence can be an exhausting burden

While I happily slept
My soul got took, my mind too

Which means I’ve lost my soul and lost my heart and lost my mind
Pointless looking currently

I am alone
The new ‘single’ me scares people!

Flamboyantly shy, aggressively meek
And ferociously gentle in bed

I ride the conflicting reports and assessments of me like a surfer
Wave after wave me goodbye

I am lost
Confusion is my compass and desperation is my map

Folded pieces of paper in my room partner empty wine bottles
I’ve got nothing else

Comfort I suppose but that’s cold
In fact that insults my own stupid intelligence  

The child that smacks it‘s parent and sends it to bed I laugh

My smile is now a faltering grimace
Plastering my anguished screams and voiceless cries

I am alone
And the weight of that compresses me into a thin nothingness

I am alone
And I’m bottoming out 
 

Mark Davison 7/3/2012

Certificate of Insanity

This post is from fellow blogger, Miss Audrey. Enjoy!

I’m trying not to cry,
the tears want to come out,
but I’m holding them captive.
The thought of me being insane
is my only relief.
I don’t want to believe
that this is me being normal :
that would mean that
I would have to live my entire life
with my tears wanting to come out,
with the lump in my throat,
with the rocks I have on my heart.
No, I must be insane,
a passing insanity.
I will go at the doctor,
to put his stamp on the certificate.
It’s only a temporary certificate of insanity.