Stand Tall [Poem]

Live this life,
Make it stand tall
Live this dream,
Never think small
Pursue this path,
To whatever end
Be ensnared in Love,
In the time you spend.

Do not tarry,
Do not wait,
Step through your fears and past the Gate
There I shall see you, my good friend
Up around the corner, just around the bend.
From star to star, waxing and waning light
Cherishing our dreams,
Setting them free to take flight.

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Bright Desire [Poem]

Catch Fire,
Bright Desire.
Little Flame,
Never the Same.
Sun Flower,
Light Power.
Self Light,
Mind’s Flight.
Catch the Sun,
Born to Run.
Chase the Dream,
Catch a Moon Beam.
Stop. Listen. Feel.
Your Heart Beat.
Be Complete.

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Soul Wanderings [Poem]

Where does one go
Between the ebb and flow
Betwixt wasted days and sleepless nights?

Where does the soul wander
When one stops to ponder
When a spirit takes its lonely flight?

All of these dreams
Threads between seams
A fog of wisps and wishes

We chase our destination
Or fall to procrastination
As we hurry and wait

In the end, the failings are a grace
Since we cannot control the pace
For that is what is needed

To Grow
To Change
To Rearrange

The Tapestry
And Scaffolding

Of One’s Mind.

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Pieces of Life [Poem]

Pieces of life
Corners of strife
Family and friends
I may never see again
Wistful sounds of children playing
Promises failed and empty sayings
Regrets of the past
A tunnel of sad years
Finding smiles that bridged the fears
Laughing with companions through the gap
Waiting no more and escaping traps
Although I am happy to see the sun at last
Yet there are things I am glad of in the past
The souls and spirits I have loved from then
The triumphs and falls in the monstrous den
Still I love how the wind howls and sings
With the rain falls and the growth it brings

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To fear
To clutch one’s cold heart
To flee from dreams created
Destiny derailed,
In a mental jail
Responsibility therefore abated

To face oneself
To embrace or be averted
Make a stand,
Determine to land
Or see one’s nature perverted

Stop waiting for a perfect shard
Of intrinsic glory
When acts of failure
Fashioned and tailored
Are the greatest part of the story

Do not ponder overmuch,
Do not wait any more
Plunge on into your icy beating heart
Allow it its part
And see what is in store

You’ll see its not so bad
And certainly less sad
Than waiting for the false monsters to take you.
For time races with fate
And fate is part of glory

Fear is but enticement
To whistle along with the rest of your story

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Of bad poetry and happy writing

I have a little hobby I sometimes indulge in, which is bad poetry.  You see, I love words, how they jumble and tumble, how letters and phrases look. There is an art to them, and I find it personally interesting that our minds can take letters and pictures and interpret them on a mental level.

Sometimes, when I am not really thinking, a snippet of a thought runs my way. I have a word or three, certainly not more than a rudimentary phrase. And I like to see where it goes.

So I a have decided to post some of my bad poetry.  I proclaim no literary training whatsoever.  I just go with what I feel.  People that know poetry will no doubt cringe at my lack of form, poor knowledge of poetry in general.

On the other hand, I would rather be a bad poet or artist than no artist at all.  So I’ll be posting some of my scribbles in a bit.

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I decided to go out today for a walk at my local park to combat my pot pelly, who’s girth has reached such circumference as to have the gravitational pull of Jupiter.   As I was consoling and giving myself a little pat on the back that I finally got myself up and out to do something about my rotund little body, about halfway through my journey I encountered a young pregnant woman, shuffling up the path towards me. She looked very pregnant (around 8 months into her maternal journey I later found out), looking quite distressed.  She asked me if I could help her, since she left her cell phone at home and needed to call her friends.   In my mind, I made a smidgeon of a calculation of the risks, but truthfully, I’m more than a bit of a pushover, I didn’t want a miscarriage on my hands, and I have a bit of a hero complex, so I readily agreed to help her.

It turned out she couldn’t get a hold of her friends, who she was travelling in a car with when it broke down.  For some reason, she told me she was self-conscious of people staring at her, so decided to go on a walk and leave them.  This was starting to sound kind of strange, but I thought, well, I might as well help her to get her somewhere to get something to eat, since she wasn’t from this area.  She looked pretty far along, so I thought get her at least to a convenience store, in air conditioning, and somewhere she could rest.

At the convenience store, she still couldn’t get a hold of people, so eventually we took a gamble, and she had a friend across  the town that lived in an RV and said she would be safe with him for the time being.  And so  I took her there, and bid my farewells.  And I must say, not a moment too soon for me. And I’ll tell you why.

I was glad to help her, and I was keenly interested in her story.  What I heard though was so full of stress and drama.   I felt sad and repulsed at the same time, but I kept it inside and stayed positive on the outside.

She was 22, and her mother was a drug addict and died from heart failure from complications of the drug use.  She swore she didn’t take drugs, which may have been true, but I don’t know. She did seem troubled.  I do know she was very stressed, full of guilt (her grandmother and uncle blamed her for the stress that killed their daughter/sister), she also was jobless, didn’t have a boyfriend/husband to help, a dropout and had 2 other children.  She was living out of hotels with her friends, whom she got in arguments with, or her family, who she also argued with.  I was very nice to her, told her that she was still young, that she shouldn’t live with guilt and also that once she had her child, she could get eventually get a job and if she was diligent things would work out and be ok.

But statistically, in my head, I knew this was someone who, unless she let go of her guilt, got herself away from people dragging her down, and applied herself, that she was going to be a statistic and a drag on herself and society.

I was nice to her, but in my head I wanted to say “STOP HAVING BABIES!”, “STOP BLAMING YOURSELF!” “START TAKING RESPONSIBILITY!” and understand, even if you have a bad life, you have to OWN IT, UNDERSTAND IT, AND PLAN FOR A WAY OUT.

During the time I  was in the company of this young woman, really little more than a girl by years, and felt a combination of empathy for a fellow human being, repulsion about what she had become and what she may become, sadness that she is doomed, wanting to help but also wanting to get away as fast as possible.  All of this I purposely ignored while trying to get her somewhere safe.

I don’t believe in auras, bad mojo or any of that.  But wow, I could feel just crazy amounts of negative emotion, loss, pain, obliviousness, but mostly confusion from a woman who didn’t know what to do, who to be, and how to pull herself up.

I tried to tell her, without telling her.   It’s not my business, and also I could only give her understanding, not lectures in the short time I knew her.   Also, all life lessons can’t be learned from someone else.  They have to be learned from experience.  She has to experience all of the things she is in full.  She needs to understand, and then get so sick of her life she resolves to change it.  She’ll either emerge from it a strong self-sufficient woman, scared but undaunted or (what I fear), just a broken person.

I dropped her off, and once clear, I messaged the people again she tried to contact and told her where she was and what I knew of her status.  They finally replied, but in the end I was glad they didn’t again once I gave my message, I admit it.   I have been near that sort of thing people with train wrecks for lives, in the distant past.  And I wanted none of it, the baggage of a person’s life just coming apart at the seams.

And yet I still hope for her.  I love a story about comebacks and redemption.  That is my fantasy, and I want it to be true, desperately, and I realized today I want it for others, not just myself.  As I looked at her, I knew that was her choice, not mine.  If she just could have made better choices as a teenager.  People can pull themselves out of terrible backgrounds, even worse than hers.   But her chances were few because she had to make mature choices when she was too young for most people to make them.  The older one starts making good choices, the harder it is to atone for the bad ones.

In the end analysis, she is most likely to fail, and although her faults as an adult are hers, I can’t help but think of what could have happened if she was raised in a in a happier home when she was young.  If she could have been taken away from the familial mess she was conceived in, she might not have become what she was, which will in all likelihood, continue to perpetuate.  I hope that she makes the right choices in her life and I am terribly wrong in my analysis of this human life.

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