Spark Of Life – Your Touch –

“I’ve told you the four thunderstorms – disappointment, frustration, unfairness and isolation. You cannot avoid them, as like the monsoon they will come into your life at regular intervals. You just need to keep the raincoat handy to not let the spark die”
spacefairytales
Seen it come and seen it go, many days high, many days low.
Something about creating, lets me see.
Something about feeling it come over me,
Bringing a spark of life to everyday things.
 
Without your touch those words will die were they fell.
Without your touch those marks are lost in gray hell.
Without your touch those plans are hard to tell.
Bringing a spark of life to everyday things.
 
Seen it come and seen it go, many days high, many days low.
Something about creating, lets me see.
Something about feeling it come over me, 
Bringing a spark of life to everyday things.

First published in Opinionsofeye.com
 
01062011
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No Fear –

“Bran thought about it. ‘Can a man still be brave if he’s afraid?’
‘That is the only time a man can be brave,’ his father told him.”
George R.R. Martin, A Game of Thrones 
Noctturnalromance

 

Walking towards the house, I just finished spending another evening with my church youth group. On the way something sinister stirred in the shadows. No sound, just glimpses of dark figures, darker than black, accompanied by a deep foreboding fear. Forcing myself along the path, all my nerves on end, I scramble to find a weapon worthy of this opponent. My fists were no match, guns likewise. I needed something without form to battle the unseen opponent. Words, that will do, they have no shape and find you even when your hiding. I’ve got the weapon, now which words? The pastors taught me words exist that are extraordinary, having more weight and value than common words, words that were in themselves different. The most powerful of these are the words that looked ordinary, but are changed by my belief about the source and effectiveness of them, i.e. they gained value in this battle by virtue of the faith I placed in them. It wasn’t that faith did it, because I had to actually use the words, but it was faith that gave them the edge to cut the dark. I read this somewhere, “You light a lamp for me. The Lord, my God, lights up my darkness.” Repeating this I tried to understand how to fight the fight that is not fought with fists but with belief. I believed that Big Daddy (that’s what I called God) let me find those words as advice. Fear has torment and I was always afraid, so this whole thing was a training ground to overcome fear and learn how to fight what is called by others as “the good fight”. The victory to press past this feeling and not turn around and run, was not a gallant one at all, it was horribly clumsy and vacillated between wanting to run and wanting to face this fear. All said and done, I made it through, I didn’t die and I learned a valuable lesson that equipped me for the rest of the craziness called my life.
Also published in Opinionsofeye.com

Lie Anyway – Lies threaten Love

“I’m not upset that you lied to me, I’m upset that from now on I can’t believe you.”
 
cool-story
Speak with your face turned away,
words that I long for you to say.
I believe them even if they may
Holding my aching mind at bay
go ahead my love, lie anyway.

Also published in Broowaha


The Sound of Silence

 “When truth is replaced by silence,the silence is a lie.” Yevgeny Yevtushenko
alexcorleone
I wish my tongue would stop moving. Just get stuck to the roof of my mouth, and never say anything again. After so many things being said that are ignored, mocked, or cause problems by simple statements. Problems not started or imagined by me, but by those paranoid and insecure souls around me. I just want silence. I’m tired of saying my peace trying to help people. Advice, wasted breaths. They don’t want it, I’m tired of giving it. So tired of talking, energy given that ‘s never returned. The words that burn to be said, let them smolder and die in my stomach. I won’t speak them, never reveal them. So many words, clutter in this world, a messy and disease ridden clutter. I close my mouth, did it really matter anyway? But, surely at some point in our history, words have helped shaped the course of lives and nations. What makes me think I can change my world by ideas expressed in words? What if just one person, lost in the anonymity of the internet, reading my words in some dark cave of seclusion, could resist an evil impulse, come to realize they are not alone, or find that they share a common experience? This is why I speak, it’s not the well that need a doctor, my words cannot help those who aren’t sick. I only want to help one, that crazy one that hopes someone understands.

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

Thinking

“I think and think and think, I‘ve thought myself out of happiness one million times, but never once into it.” – Jonathan Safran Foer
Weheartit
Starting small, a little fire, a gentlebeginning

Fuel consumed by circumstance

Flames are bright, I think to much.


Pull the sand, a gentle river, contained by nurture

Releasing it runs, events of chance

Rapids form rolling hills, I think to much


Words spoken, few arrows, swiftly flying away

Wounds bleed from peaceful intentions

Broken shafts are faults, I think to much


Drops floating, small crowds, in heated drafts gather

Billowed followings, a dark horizon

Deluge free falling fast, I think to much

Hammer – Wisdom in the glyphs

 “All our words are but crumbs that fall down from the feast of the mind.”
Kahlil Gibran, Sand and Foam
My dwarven frame easily pulled the hammer from the tree. Only the handle revealed what nature had covered in growth, the bark swelling over the mauls head, hiding its width. Lightning is what freed the dull aged tool from its captivity in the trees belly. I studied it with curiosity, swinging it and flipping it in my hand with instinctual proficiency. My trade gave me ample strength, spending long hours with pick and spade pulling trinkets from greedy stones in the ground. Thinking nothing of it, I slung it across my back and meandered down the muddy trail. Noon came, and looking for my daily treat of fruit from my trees, I discovered that all within easy reach were picked clean. I’m not lazy but I really didn’t want to climb my bulky girth up those darned trees, so with my dwarven ingenuity, I thought to sling my hammer into the tree to obtain my bounty. With a mighty heave my new friend flew into the fruit laden branches dropping their delicious meals in a scattered buffet. Thinking the hammer to have gone through the branches and fallen elsewhere, I turned to the fruit. Right as I bent over, I heard a rustle and whoosh behind me. Turning to see what fate had in store I caught the hammer right in the chest. Knocking me to ground, I liedthere stunned by a new bruise and this thought, “the hammer came back!” Now that I knew what to expect, I played with it. I enjoyed this little trick of magic that made life easy, however, at times I grew angry and threw her without a thought and she, being without mercy, would come back with her own ferocity and near take my head off. After suffering one to many broken ribs and a couple of black eyes, which, if not for my dwarven constitution, may have knocked me senseless and never to recover, I rubbed her and looked closely. During my curious examination I saw, in dirty and molded letters, this inscription, “Be vigilant where you throw me, for I am your word”.