Monthly Archives: July 2013

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 Gravel Road

Posted on July 31, 2013 by MuseWriter

7/9/13
Blindly walking down the gravel road
Outlined in wavering oak trees mixed in with pines
I count each forward step, grateful for the movement
Thankful to have the strength to be standing at all
The random rocks scattered below foot
Offer an uncomfortable pathway to travel
Carefully avoiding sharp edges protruding from the dirt
Sucking in breath as one quick glance fails to notice the pointy canine of a monster
Fangs out, hungry for flesh
Bloodthirsty stranger claiming ownership
Gouging the arch of my left foot, leaving a trail of blood behind.

A Master of the Call

Posted on July 30, 2013 by MuseWriter

Passion seeping, seething to begin to tell the story of an introduction of the most extraordinary kind
A kinship of identity, feeling apart of something at the very first discovering of voice.

A master of the call patiently carrying out thoughts and creating thinkers who long to continue the traditions:
Of thought provoking, mind boggling, completely ordinary phrases that trump any trained structure taught to little boys and girls;
Who paint pretty flowers that represent the generics of an underground world, but not him.

Disregarding the perfectly placed soapbox and stepping off into the crowd, emerging self to penetrate the barriers of the weak mind
One of the brightest stars known to our eyes,
I can still see him burn, burn, burn
Igniting the fuel in those who feel alive.

1 + 1

Posted on July 27, 2013 by MuseWriter

The backdrifters:

A picturesque display of the 2D sideways view of the

stick figures climbing

The stairs into oblivion

Is this transition so modern, so irrelevant

To anything meaningful at all?

Patiently we tremble

Buckling from the strength “borrowed”

for the good of the people and all of the good that will do

Masking consideration with indifference

So as to not draw any unwanted attention

Of what he said/she said

Have you heard what he said/she said?

Would it be alright if we could

replace uniformity with a new kind of thinking;

to save lives?

To promote the spiritual awakening within the familiar

memories of everyone gazing at the stars,

Those curious enough to see past the barriers and restrictions

of our world

and forget the basic math of 1 + 1

Where are the heroes?

Posted on July 26, 2013 by MuseWriter

Making friends with the little face in the blanket

An onlooker with a friendly smile to offer

at just the right glance, to see the full bearded grin

Knowing me, myself, deeper

perceiving all of the idiosyncrasies to claim, that I navigate

Giving in, to someone

Anyone relatable to vulnerability

An abstract being committed to acknowledging

every ounce of the commitment to waiting

Even if I dive down into the deepest depths of the ocean,

just for a quick dip, every once in a while.

To find balancing minds that comprehend a particular understanding

Those who challenge all of these pent-up frustrations;

Every building block balancing on the last square’s sharp corner

Escaping face, running away

Blaming those who claim to penetrate the thought

but then falter when the war horn starts blowing;

Cowards that brave the training but abandon the reality

Of it all, if this is all

just a daytime act of the fairytale world

Who are our warriors?

Where are the heroes?

Everything, or Nothing At All

Posted on July 24, 2013 by MuseWriter

6-14-13

 

Soft humming, whispering through the dark

A song that carries a familiar melody,

a voice that I hear often

Deep, harmonious onto itself, splitting moments of sound into a stereo

speaker of what is being said, sang

I understand what it costs, to be yourself and forget

the thoughts that project, interject

from everyone screaming around

The intensity is loud, overbearing, uncontrollable

What of this awareness if there is no one to see it?

Time always proves the existence of man

To see him stumble, fall, and still rise, to lift himself up;

True will; impenetrable determination,

until light is eventually extinguished

Is this the song, the meaning behind the feeling suggested;

An introduction to the power of what rules the world?

The angel sings, echoes softly within the breeze

Catching on the particles that reflect off of the moon

They flitter, flutter

Dancing to the flow

Little fairies of a fraction of light to behold

I hum out a wish to further push the troops along

A breath of exhaling frustrations searching for the mutual understanding

of companionship

and what that means, if I could believe in everything,

or in nothing at all.

Old Shoes

Posted on July 23, 2013 by MuseWriter

Someone I once met, was an advocate of shoes

“The most important aspect of walking,”

Said an older man with a learning soul

Enjoying the day, enjoying the people

Showing off a younger brand than expected;

However, they were all white,

I’ve heard that’s cliché?

But he didn’t know, and if he did, he didn’t care

Happy as a satisfied customer invested in selling his satisfactions with another

Who happened to be me, as I reflected on

The time I first put my shoes on my feet

One year, maybe two; my disregarded

necessity of almost everyday wear

Mostly gray with a rubber sole of neon pink,

Perfect balance of my kind of fashion, comfort

If I have to be convinced of buying new footwear, it must be easy to find the replacement;

This, coming from a skeptic

I’m hesitant to admit that my shoes are old.

If you were here today…

Posted on July 22, 2013 by MuseWriter

Laying back, ground warm and soft

Wrapped in your arms, on the comfort of an old quilt

Pretending to care about the stars shining overhead;

Making that a reason to be here anyway

Whatever works, I’ll take it.

This is how I would imagine it

if you were here today…

Ink Blotches

Posted on July 22, 2013 by MuseWriter

A festival for summer to gather the thinkers

Collecting names and creating futures one by one

Marching them in like cattle to be herded and sorted

Ironically matching identity of self into what self stands against

Creating an image, creating a challenge, creating a burden?

As a child I wander; not searching, nor pretending

Was this to witness a gift or a plot of destruction?

Another thought added to the list of doubt and pessimistic questions;

But I think everyone has some of those

Whether locked up in the moldy storage trunk, long forgotten in the attic

Or, burning in eyes until question mark ink blotches stain face black

Music

Posted on July 21, 2013 by MuseWriter

The melody is soft, playing slow,

harmonizing air to produce the flow of sound

With vibrations thundering through to the heart, keeping beat or count,

of how much life costs

A transcending thought from artists to listeners, connected by the

shared moments of understanding

One medium yearning to strip naked of bodily self and

give soul to all;

the other, open to enlightenment and

characterizing feelings and emotions,

empathy

A satisfying gift to witness, to experience

Assisting in quenching the thirst for inspiration by saving the full glass of motivation

for the dry tongued, those of the communicators

of mouth and word;

conducting phrases of letters and

weaving them into various

sequences of belief(s)

Only those worthy of

interpreting voice should ever

listen to music at all.

Anew

Posted on July 21, 2013 by MuseWriter

Searching the crowd

Dedicatingly scanning faces for someone, anyone

My body as self-aware, before mind could respond;

maybe humbled by the overall feeling

Foreshadowing that any particular day may have an outcome

that defines the rest of life

Sometimes fate leaves the harder decisions up to the Universe

But not always; sometimes one’s given the chore of deciphering

choice from careful consideration

Although I find balance best, it’s harder to be patient for the motion to end

Carrying the weight of the world and assessing the burden of mankind against

the sky and the trees, the prairie grass and the seas, or the mountains and the river streams;

The natural magical wonders that feed the curious,

tempting retreat outside of any kind of stressful physical means:

I envision an oasis of pine and oak leaves bordering out

green edges against the blue summer sky

A slight breeze to shuffle the air and freshen the mood,

to create energy and movement

When I picture myself standing inside my utopian safe-haven,

I am not alone

But with you, a new lover of heart who

answers to the call of the beat when heard

Imprinting empathetic minds, living in the world anew.

If it is…

Posted on July 16, 2013 by MuseWriter

If it is song, then we can sing

If it is prayer, then we can pray

If it is silence, then we can think

Too many if, then contemplations to consider

I find myself remembering less when I focus on trying to figure out more, details

Of this and that, of her and him

Faces that shift shape and illuminate questions of recognition

But are we that familiar?

I ask for forgiveness from the deep vibrations of my bones

Can you hear the echo bouncing off of the muscles and tendons

digging down into the deep, dark edges of my soul;

Hiding from the reaper, seeking within?

Belief seems fake and brittle these days

But I’ve never understood the belief in the falsity of placing so much meaning on

any particular word, words, to outline:

Some definition of phrase to listen to or compose for a muse’s kind of gathering

Would you listen to the voices calling out random names,

Quiet whispers dancing on the erratic changes of the wind?

The identity of a character determined by the mind of the reader,

And who hears, what is being interpreted the “correct” way;

to trust in communicating and giving up on all other

interpretations to shuffle through.

If it is song, then we can sing

If it is prayer, then we can pray

If it is silence, then we can think

 

The Monster Within

Posted on July 14, 2013 by MuseWriter

Glancing down through the storybook
Fumbling through the pictures and stopping on a familiar scene of intense contrasts
Background black but outlining a lone figure illuminated by an opened door’s light
Just a shadow caught in-between the different realities and wondering how to connect
As the true self opens up, the metaphorical sharp teeth grow into a snarl
The monster within scaring away the person who finally solves the riddle, whatever the answer may be?
Understandable resentments that pop when squeezed hard enough,
And ooze a tainted green slop of contemplation; not that it really matters.

I feel a sense of understanding; wondering why darkness seems so stereotypically engulfing?
This liminal body, reflecting curiosity into the story
Always tempted by learning, perhaps addicted to the questions asked as chance happens
I try to focus, least of all, on the other aspect of individuality;
That we often find ourselves exploring these thoughts alone.

No One

Posted on July 14, 2013 by MuseWriter

Should I cover mouth and smile,
Through eyes so as to cause less discomfort?
What child stands upright at the break of learning how to walk?
There is no one who can blindly lift themselves up;
every pathway cannot be claimed, walked
We are a body of matches and pairs
Silhouettes of shadows and meaning
To disgrace oneself by judging the unknown;
no one is good enough to predict the many faces of the future
But if you have opinions to share
Please let me offer;
if you can’t believe than get the fuck out.

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