Tag Archives: Spirituality

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 ❤

 

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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.

Insert Title IV

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Psychosomatic 11-8-15

Psychosomatic hunger pains

That grow in anger to

Purge the stomach empty

What the mind is lacking

 

 

Smiling 11-17-15

Blanket spread in a flower field

Long golden hair of ringlets

Poison in a necklace

One pill dropped into a cup of tea

The girl found lying on her back

Sun in face with eyes closed

Peacefully smiling

 

Time 10-16-15

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

i am the crow *new music*

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Have you ever heard that there is never enough time in the day? Totally feeling that but in a good way. 2014 brought many changes, including incorporating writing into music, and here we are launching off into a new year.

Happy New Year everyone!

i am the crow

Soaking Senses

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clock

11/11/14

There’s always a slowing down of time when the Universe plays its hand
Vision blurs into a drunken lapse of connection
As the last seconds of every whispering thought
float in and out
From those who pass by; gnat-like noises to buzz into the mind
Their penetrating musings muffled by the compilation of instruments composing stereo emotions and feelings
In my left ear and my right ear jointly, and separately, as I
investigate the audio stimulation (versus the intruding glances that I turn my eyes against)

Chance hollers out, seemingly always unexpected, and
Awareness is interrupted by my flustered responses;
heart racing to catch up to the unpredictability of the moment,
pupils enlarge as I squint from the commitment of answering the nagging mouth of a limitless curiosity
I’ve never retained an imagination capable of ignoring even the most unwelcomed sides of all of the angles of questioning,
for too long

Now, focusing in on the details of the shape
A picture that’s ironically freeze-framed into my view
There are no “Hi, how are you?” or, “My name is…” awkward dronings
There is only the inconsistency of time when two consciousnesses collide into one
A few seconds of riding the tidal wave to shore within the ocean of reality
Soaking senses with the intensity of the change in the air
and how it feels

Everything stops and
we stare

Calling for the willpower of concentration, while maintaining gratitude for the fortune of this gift of an intangible absurdity
Meanwhile,
Memorizing the particulars to mentally store the answers to the questions not quite thought up yet
The discovery of another or, at least something like it
Until time speeds up with the blinding state of determination
Its eyes glazed over as it greedily attempts to account for its precious lost minutes

Such a finger of fate trying to erase any trace of remembrance of the two people who stepped outside of time;
confused into accepting the responsibility of understanding that we’re not alone…

…even if we become lost and forgotten after the weight of acknowledgement disappears into the normalcy of the continuation into the
seconds to minutes to hours to days to weeks to months to years

I am grateful for the good times ❤