Tag Archives: Faith

Blue-hue Figures

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stock-photo-3423707-mysterious-people-shadow-in-doorway

 

Who is the wanderer

Wishing for contact

The imaginary wonder

Between night and day

Take these dreams

To keep them asleep

With their absent memories

Hushed in discovery

There’s a key

In this wicked scheme

And it’s with me

As I am, the keeper

Shadow silhouettes raise fist

In knocking attempts

Twisting hopeful access

Without entry

Blue-hue figures stay

To claim the palisade

Unknowingly entering

The sealed gate

To only run away

When confused thoughts sway

Into here and now

Of multiple realities

 

I am grateful for Monday afternoons ❤

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Monthly Archives: April 2014 / April 2015

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Monthly Archives: April 2014

Eldorado

Posted on April 30, 2014 by MuseWriter

How long is an acceptable

timeframe for one to attain

his or her prize for the life

that is hoped for and wished?

 

The CEO sleeps in his

10,000 thread count silky sheets

Head on pillow while sweet

dreams fill his eyes with happiness

Remembering from a time

of beginning, when wallet was empty

Now, blessed from earning

his ultimate happiness of affording any luxury

 

The sister of spirit sitting in her

house of god reading her psalms

Dedicating her life to holiness

and many moments spent “alone”

Waiting her entire life to finally

compliment herself in her

obtainment of Heaven;

loving everyone and everything

 

What of joy, what of this true love?

A mission to accomplish for any

foolish boy or girl, romanticizing and

getting lost in the many lovely fairy tales

Or, motivated by goals of self

Whether selfless or not

Words are not to be trusted in

circumstances such as this

 

Four seasons depicting times of change

Flashes of life and death celebrations

Individuals interchanging ideas of an Eldorado;

Mine, has always been the same

 

Scalp — Toenails

Posted on April 29, 2014 by MuseWriter

The circuit board highways

Traveling in and out of the

pores on

top of scalp,

Dissecting time through body

in a confusing arrangement of

directional pale yellow street-lamps,

Down to the tips of any of the

various toenails

These lines narrating the interstates

paved out by fate

Destiny as it’s seen from the

focuses of those meant

to see, to ponder

to create

 

Monthly Archives: April 2015

 the look

Posted on April 30, 2015 by MuseWriter

The look, the stare

It’s there it’s there

Dark eyes questioning

The response isn’t felt

Practiced glances glare

With judgement and disgust

I hope you’re happy

in your tower of guilt

As you sit upon your throne

of conquests

Good luck to your

future heart for it is

shrunken

Just like all the rest

The look the stare

It’s there it’s there

 

Three Crows Bathing in the River

Posted on April 14, 2015 by MuseWriter

Walking along the trail I saw

Three crows bathing in the river

Their feathers ruffled from the wind and water

A brilliant blackness glistening in the sun

Mimicking the water’s surface

With its diamonds and mirrors of light

I stumbled forward

Tripping on the unseen root

My eyes focused on the

Three Black Birds

Staring back at me

While the scenery started

Morphing into something different

Than my original interpretation

Of the river, of the flock

A slimy sheen covered the water

The sun masking my first glances

The distance preventing acknowledgement of other senses

The stench burning into my nostrils

The three black birds standing proud

With their beaks pointing towards the sky

Then I realized

The murder was actually

Three white doves covered in mud

 

Monthly Archives: April 2013

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Meteor Shower

Posted on April 30, 2013 by MuseWriter

Walking, marching, feet trembling

Knocking from the contact touching earth to soul

Connecting in knowledge of grace and truth

Staring straight ahead, calculating a destination;

a sunny piece of grass in between the trees

I continue until I fall, sit, in the middle of the light

Ablaze, controlled, alone

I notice the clouds ahead, glowing in various shades of pink and purple

Puffy masses being fast-forwarded into movement

Tracking the centuries of the world below;

and noting everyone who stops to embrace life, those who love

A scene so powerful, so moving that the ground engulfs me

Pillowing my head and offering protective covering

As if I melted into the soil;

one body, one earth

A lover’s touch to penetrate the warmth and to fuel the strength within

One kindred spirit, a gift of sacrifice

A black night illuminated by stars

On display during the latest meteor shower.

Take a peek…

Posted on April 29, 2013 by MuseWriter

To pluck a single strand, a smooth blade of grass
Cool to the touch, feather light
Consuming perfectness of the Artwork, feeling it seep in while braiding the stem through each finger
The force of pressure, squeezing the drink from one of nature’s mysteries, the nectar of life
Learning to make a plant bleed, humanizing, understanding
Splitting the shaft down the middle
Opening the body up to take a peek inside
Using the sharp edge of a fingernail to conquer and divide
Planting new seeds to grow, to survive.

Connections

Posted on April 26, 2013 by MuseWriter

What is it, that pounds in the pit of stomach, that tastes a bit metallic?
A sharp bite to eat that brings a couple of drops of tears to the corners of my eyes
Reflecting images of memories being replayed in my peripheral vision;
Tempting constant sideways glances to count down the minutes
for just that one look
that one picture
Trying to capture it all,
As a ghost, facing everyone backsides front, all wrong
Offering open hands with determination; consternation?
Always waiting for just a part of an explanation
to feel welcomed, even after spilling out any truth or story
Disregarding modern ways and dialing the numbers of fate on the pay phone, by the theatre where
the grand opening of the new story is featuring
About a boy, who grew up to be a man
A mortal without the limitations of the jaded, the wasted
A new lover’s exhale offering every fresh breath a small prayer;
Requesting them to be sacred gusts of wind to travel,
In a straight line to those connected.

Master Illuminaries

Posted on April 25, 2013 by MuseWriter

I am, just as you are, as we are,
A cluster of master illuminaries, the various torch holders of destiny, a group of multiple ultimate miracles;
Shining their grace into the soil of the Earth
The layers of flesh and dirt, that echo off of the platform at the base of the mountains,
And jump off the cliff into the valleys; Dramatically encircling the territories
Like some sort of scout or invader
The sweet nectar that lies breathlessly awaiting, seeks, is seeking, the steady stream that flows into the sea
The vein that carries the rhythm of Her predictable heartbeat, the blood of her soul
A refreshing swim to remind Her that She’s alive

Forgetting

Posted on April 25, 2013 by MuseWriter

Comfortable, but forced, as if saluting in attention to the flag;

The fabric and the thread of our destiny

What colors will remain when the skies start falling?

I join the ranks of concrete statues,

balancing fact from fiction, truth, or worse, lies

I find, a certain picture brewing, floating to the viewpoint of my eyes

A world of a land and of seas,

A world of guiltless lives and sheltered, coffined deaths;

Acknowledging:

This idea that we are given a reality that fights the tendril hair of knowledge that leads to igniting what we dream

A World with no pipelines, no shipwrecks, no signs of life from anywhere but

From the heart of the Earth, her core of gold,

Pulsating fiery energy to her children she placed above

Who then use it, waste it, ignore it

Lines of tiny ants that march in troops to conquer new goals

To abolish anything original, unless the idea suits the “world,”

However many times She claims She has never once requested any help,

only our love

We seek nourishment, encouragement but trap ourselves by binding to the shackles of narcissism and disappointment,

to add those to the list of accomplishments,

Checking off each box as another step into the assimilation,

Forgetting that there will always be something, anything,

Worth listening to,

To fight for.

 

 

A Starry Night

Posted on April 23, 2013 by MuseWriter

4-8-13

Sitting at a bistro table, in one of the two chairs

Picturing a view of a diamond sky, and being entertained by the crowded streets of the night

My pointed toe traced the outlines of the cobbled stone,

A piece of concrete to record the history of the street;

raw, shiny, from all of the feet before me.

The waiter, a skinny, balding man brought my water and a straw

Two separate pieces laid out before me on the bistro table.

On the marble top that is speckled in brown, beige, and tiny geometric shapes of green

A sturdy image brought to life by Van Gogh in a dream;

Of make-believe, what we seek to define as real

To replay the conversations of the passer-bys of the night, and to question, dissect them.

As my fingers fuddled with the straw paper

Twisted the object, crumpling it, as if trying to figure it out too,

Only in touch and sensitivity;

Making common sense out of inanimate objects, and feelings

Trying to keep my hands busy, to steady the mind focused on the table itself, the bubble that I put in place to surround

Ignoring those who live in the apartments above, my reverie

And not looking at the others who may be:

Eating.

Dreaming.

Misdirectionally Thinking.

Bleating;

There’s nothing worse than distractions during our most important conversations, interactions.

The bubble succeeds in sheltering the lost minds who find themselves wondering,

always thinking, about everything.

But it’s tight, sometimes suffocating;

The force of the task creates awkward lapses in recreating,

Anything sensible at all.

It’s amazing how the barriers we create can feel like all of the weight of the World.

I fumbled with the wrapper, daring a few glances towards the doorway,

The gate of the future, blocked off to the sight of everyone, except me, from my seat

Still no one entered.

Losing patience of strength and pride, I contemplated rising, leaving, escaping.

Too many thoughts are too many enough.

But then, at the height of my anxiety, almost the last step up before the leap,

I felt a hand on my shoulder and knew that you had arrived.

The constant flow of penetration disappeared at that moment, and it was quiet.

It’s unmistakably rare to find ones to share the weight of the world.

To not feel alone at a picturesque marble bistro table,

Underneath a starry night.

Heartbeat

Posted on April 23, 2013 by MuseWriter

The echoing last seconds of a boom of thunder lingered within the waking moments of memory
Flashes of light blinding, even through painted eyelids, afraid to open
A storm of importance, demanding to be heard, to be seen, felt
A single dance partner impatient to start moving
I collapsed into awareness, jumping out into the blackness;
For the moon and the stars had shed away their shine to give all attention to the flashes that penetrated the night
The white explosions of blue, gold, and green;
Shards flying off into the fragments of the living; Earth
The Storm, expressing its determination of telling a story, trying to be heard
Given the brief luxury of the creation of wind and water,
Binding air particles that recklessly spin faster, upward, to start a rhythm that’s trance-like,
Blinding; pounding: the lover’s heartbeat.

Boundaries

Posted on April 6, 2013 by MuseWriter

How many steps ahead is the subconscious intellect?
The telescopic third-eye,
Blinking into an open window of time
Where everything means nothing,
Of what we see;
Of what we seek and believe.
A hazy glow, encircles the picture playing in front of me:
Of a child chasing a remote-control car,
Of the cardinal that sits at my window,
The little girl that mourns over the dead bird;
What is it, that we dream?
To exist within the conformities of time, and place,
To understand what it means that nothing has boundaries;
And to be a slave to them all.

Murder

Posted on April 5, 2013 by MuseWriter

Looking down, I see a tiny blade protruding from my chest

Wounded

Watch, as the thick crimson flows down in a thirsty trail from my heart

Dying

The pool, turning black at my feet,

As in the representation of the extinction of life; and it is

The tar-like edges clinging to my skin,

Covering the pink flesh

I’m falling

Fading out,

Clouding vision,

And I am alone

Dead

The murderer, refusing to sacrifice, ran away

 

April 2, 2013

Posted on April 2, 2013 by MuseWriter

If there were an instrument of Heaven,

It wouldn’t be the harp,

nor the flute, the clarinet, or the trombone.

It would be the piano;

Mixing the different moments of sound

Into the stories of the world

to flow freely, stream-like, winding around the various twisted letters.

To caricaturize their meaning

Inserting contextual lines instead of placing images,

to understand, is to appreciate the living;

What it means to live.

I love

so as to find the love in others,

the ones left undiscovered to me yet.

The majority of friends who,

compliment the shared community of time spent

Creating;

Minds of philosophical masters;

like in the great classics.

To express the knighthood among the learned;

to continue the traditions.

Who is bothered to stand taller,

than the limits of physical proportions?

I know I am.

Red Light

Posted on April 2, 2013 by MuseWriter

Today, I felt the kiss of spring

As if I were embraced by the woman in the wind,

She hugged me

I could feel her warmth;

A motherly touch that promised of love.

 

Her long fingers strewn through my hair

Catching on a few amber curls

My windows down, to stay connected

I heard her talking, mixed within the music

The noninvasive compilation of instruments playing;

In ceremony, the birds chirping

Along with the exact rhythm and melody,

It felt like Heaven.

 

A minute at a red light to offer a moment of reflection,

And prayer

One where the Universe finally understood;

Could feel my need,

Then forced Its hymn

The music playing a light piano with:

Translucent waves of harmony

I happened to notice the sky at that moment

A blue so pure,

Completely magical

I could get lost in that ocean forever;

The only view to supplement the subconscious listening.

 

But as it seems now

At least most days

Reality consumes

And I’m forced to follow

The line of traffic

When the light turns green.

Puzzle Pieces

Posted on April 1, 2013 by MuseWriter

The rounded puzzle edges were spread out across the table

Their splash of mixed colors thrown carelessly together

An explosion of rainbow that added up to form the big picture

Of some unimportant field with blooming wildflowers

As a portrayal, it’s not an example of terrific photographic artwork;

Just a field, another grassy plain that awakens us to its declarations,

By sprouting colorful rainbow temptations

Or, at least that’s what I gathered, but it was the actual puzzle fragments;

Themselves, that caused stop for attention

How can cardboard evoke such feeling?

Relating to the trials and triumphs of picking up the pieces,

And saying farewell to the parts of me that I’ve lost;

The missing puzzle shapes that imperfect the overall vision

There is no reasonable order of the pieces that remain

Put together, they display empty holes that have been dug down deep to the pits of Hate

The heat cauterizing each new breach to be plugged with a distorted rosy scar,

Never to be puzzled over; as if in punishment of losing the allotment forever

But mixed within together, the puzzle pieces put into a pile,

They collectively seem whole

There is no such thing as a

missing core outlined by a cutoff print of green weeds and tall grass.

Isn’t it funny

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They say there is only

one life to live

Isn’t it funny how tragic

I can be

Says the stranger across

the kitchen table

Who says we can talk right before

we just shutdown

Isn’t it funny how we seem to

balance, but then not

Memories rip apart at reality

leaving seams shredded

Exposed and vulnerable to

misunderstanding

Voices shout out in their

big white bubbles

With their pretty meanings of added

text for emphasis

Everything colored for absolute

greatness, or whatever

It’s just one comic scene

after the next

With a writer on a mission

To kill, kill, kill

They say there is only

one life to live

Isn’t if funny how unattainable

that seems

 

I am grateful for this ❤

 

Seeing Above the Clouds

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Ship in Heavy Storm

Photo Credit: Painting “Ship in a Heavy Storm” by James E. Buttersworth

 

True blue waters churn into an inky black to mimic the clouds moving in overhead

All colors swallowed below in a web of columns of light as the current attempts to suck me in

The picture unfolds its secrets in shadows but my eyes can’t focus to see

Shrapnel of spray wets my face veiling the tears raining down my cheeks

 

I shove down the bile slowly making its way to the surface

My mouth opens wide exhaling soundless cries of heartache

I steady my feet squarely to prepare for the expected damage

Consumed by the fate of the gods (or whoever wants to claim this time)

 

I’ve been holding my breath forever within the walls of my mind

To avoid seeing the wreckage of each storm that passes by

The salty water replaces the blood crawling through my veins

Pouring myself into the sea and mixing within the immenseness

 

It’s always the same, this familiar tradition of destruction in the arts

We become lost ships scattered throughout the swirling stream of consciousness

Shoved into empty wine bottles discarded as misplaced fragments forgotten

As the sands of time fall exactly into place filling in the layers inside the grave of our hearts

 

I am grateful for art ❤

Minstrel of Grief

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There’s a phantom in my closet singing hymns to me

A shrouded black creature that wills himself to be:

A human, a lover, a minstrel of grief

Surrounded by nothing but his lost memories

Is it time or life that he comes to seek?

I know I’m alright if I feel the cold breeze

Because feeling is living, whatever that means

Lessons to learn from the nameless beast

 

I am grateful for music ❤

 

Monthly Archives: December

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Monthly Archives: December 2012

 Halves of Myself

Posted on December 23, 2012 by MuseWriter

A single tear falls
A silent rain before the dawn
A drop so pure all feeling melts
Creating a soft blanket of fog
Someone’s shadow hovers nearby
A blissful remembrance of truth
It’s as familiar as an infant’s lullaby
All uncertainty is removed

An aching pain of innocence
Is all I have to offer you
With a full heart of love and forgiveness
Staining my soul in its residue
A slice of balance left wanting
Shaking in fullness of the thought itself
Because even knowing is better than nothing
A piece of your love is worth, the halves of myself
A piece of your love is worth, the halves of myself

A wave crashes back
Unnoticed by the body
Too small to cause damage
Only a force of mockery
The sun slowly penetrates
The weak vapors of breath
Passion boiling over to fate
Suffocating me with its kiss

Brick Wall

Posted on December 20, 2012 by MuseWriter

12-7-12

Two palms stretched out to push back the force

Never surrender

The mass has never felt so strong

But we stand

I see faces through the throng that seem familiar

Memories of relations once had

To me, everyone is a stranger

I need them all to understand

Our crowd wanders, we migrate

But the borders continue to hold us in

We stumble, some fall, it’s such a bitter battle

There can be no winners if the world fails

We’ve underestimated the control of the fallen

We’ve forgotten ourselves

Distractions cloud my focus

To live is to suffer and enjoy

To learn is to feel and grow

The backs of my hands seem familiar

I amaze myself back to the reality

A brick wall of force is blocking the way

 

A Pool Made of Glass

Posted on December 17, 2012 by MuseWriter

5-19-12

Sitting on the edge of a pool made of glass

Fingers touching cold panels of time

Overlapping lines point arrows to wisdom

We can all taste the reflection of our lives

The shell is too weak to capture it all

Compensations blur our vision

The lights turn on, to make me laugh

The painting on the wall is my sanction

The door to life is glowing there

Pulsating truth to and from beyond

A unity surrounds as our souls mold together

The story continues to play as we are one

Restlessly still, unable to relate

My mind is bright as I am floating

I can drift anywhere, my eyes hold my fate

Memories from events still left to be discovered

Every movement takes a moment

One second to convince the mind

 

Those Eyes

Posted on December 13, 2012 by MuseWriter

Those Eyes

12-19-2004

Staring at you

Your innocence and blindness shining through

Look around me

I know those haunting pictures that you see

I see those eyes

They tell me the stories of your life

And I guess I really knew all along

That this image I see is of my own

Look at your lips

My lips, the lips that have shared my kisses

See her nose, her cheeks, her chin

They are all a part of her

But those eyes that stare so lonely

Those eyes belong to me

me

Self Portrait: Those Eyes

Pin Cushion

12-12-12

Pin Cushion

A fine point is sharpened
Kept up, to never lessen the blow
Its target awaits in uncertainty
Soft to the touch, vulnerable
First one strike, and then another
The needles penetrate
Killing me now, they cover
A pin cushion full

The One

Posted on December 12, 2012 by MuseWriter

12-11-12

The One

It’s a shade of white that envelops me

Hugging me, the warmth penetrates my soul

My love for you is unyielding;

So strong and pure.

I am a lover, the best kind of them all

It’s an essence of being that encompasses me

My happiness is guided by you;

The one who has my heart.

A sense of self that is unknowing

A feeling from deep within

A fervid wave of passion;

A powerful love is born.

Representing the future of reality

Picture perfect glances at the life

A dream only capable with him;

I would sacrifice it all.

August 2, 2012

Posted on December 11, 2012 by MuseWriter

Tick, tock, Tick, tock

The humming noise is just the air inside my ventilated head

And this is real

The lines across the page and the ink beneath my words

I’ve come, to deny them what’s rightfully ours

Or so we claim…

Tick, tock, Tick, tock

The numbers go around as the faces pass by

There goes the time

Another dawn has passed, another awakened

We’re merely statues so that we keep standing tall

Or so we claim…

We would like to claim it all

But we know we can’t, we like to forget

Lost memories are easier than the withheld

But can we move forward without remembering where we’ve been?

We would like to forget it all

Tick, tock, Tick, tock

The trees grow taller, encapsulating the reality of now

 

Monthly Archives: December 2013

 

Picnic

Posted on December 2, 2013 by MuseWriter

Spreading out the patchwork blanket

of random shapes and colors that

are sewn together to request the concentration of the craft.

The food is getting cold as the crow

overhead offers a sociable holler;

hoping for a bite and an overheard tale of gossip.

Nosy creature squawking out his narcissistic wisdoms

demanding a crowd but leaving us in wanting

as attention is shifted and the first glance to

notice is wasted after a moment of realization

that the annoying little bird is gone.