The Demon Worry

“Drag your thoughts away from your troubles… by the ears, by the heels, or any other way you can manage it.” – Mark Twain
“Some men storm imaginary Alps all their lives, and die in the foothills cursing difficulties which do not exist.” – Edgar Watson Howe
xsleeplessness

Worry is a demonic embryo, its umbilical cord attached directly to my peace of mind and contentedness. It draws creative energy from them while imparting a deadly pathogen of anger, haste, and anxiety in a sticky mire of mental paralysis. The foul sinister infant spoils achievement by robbing me of the pleasure of attainment and eating the beauty of “Now” by a bloody spell of “What If”. To what do I owe the conception of this deceitful child? The copulation occurred by a rape of my mind from circumstances beyond my control. I thought it best then that I destroy it, to rid the world of this scourge. Many coat hangers of those attempts at abortion litter my thoughts. The wounds I inflicted are worse than the thing itself. Still, I made it this far, although I see it kick in my belly, its grasping hands pressing against my skin, deforming the beauty of birth with its sickening form. There is one antidote, a thing just as evasive yet, powerful enough to counter the poison of the demon Worry – my lover Faith. I follow her close and with every wonderful kiss she imparts a temporary immunity to my anxious contractions. There are nights I lay in her arms, as the thunder approaches, and instead of frightening me, it provides a romance for our affair, our bed alive with the fiery passion of battle. Faith, how is it you can take my dreary anxious nights and give me smiles of joy in the mornings after? The battle rages on, the sickness only cured by death, wherein Faith and I will join in eternal matrimony, our children never cursed with the vile afflictions of Worry.


Midwife of Creation

“I’m not ashamed of heroic ambitions. If man and woman can only dance upon this earth for a few countable turns of the sun… let each of us be an Artemis, Odysseus, or Zeus… Aphrodite to the extent of the will of each one.” Roman Payne, Rooftop Soliloquy


“The artist’s job, I think, is to be a conduit for mystery… and sort of midwife that mystery…in such a way that it isn’t damaged in the process, and may even get heightened or refined.” – George Saunders 
 
Artemis – Goddess of Childbirth

Holding my infant of creation’s muse

Enemies of worry outside being used

To slay my desire before it grows

Limiting my dreams and blocking the flow

I’m the midwife to birth the newborns

Stand aside doubt and thoughts forlorn

I cut the cord and new life is freed

No chains of anxiety on those parts of me

Hitchhiker

“Yes: I am a dreamer. For a dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world.”
Oscar Wilde, The Critic as Artist 

 

 
Pain demands my nurture forcing my mind to comprehend,
worry and pain will come, as hitchhikers on my journey.
 Do I choose to accept these passengers
 harbingers of future discomfort and agony
 or shut the door and speed past the beckoning stare.
 Find your joy in the speed of passing
 not in the bend of examinations after the fact. 
 My head turns upwards, back towards the road
 finding my dreams beyond torturous riders.