My heart has been full, but just today it overflowed; And it’s been brimming with unspoken truths that threaten to spill from my lips, my eyes, tinging my words and gazes with an almost melancholy emotional depth at any given moment. At times it feels almost unsettling to be so outwardly vulnerable with such uninhibited …
Tell me where I was misshapen that others always feel the need to “mold” or reshape me – My being true to myself disturbs the comfort of others so much that their first instinct is to change me instead of simply accepting me. 22522
My writing is automatic flowing forth from mind to medium the comfort I hide myself in as I purge myself of thoughts, emotions, pain… It’s the sanctuary I’ve created the shield against the unsafe spaces I seem to always find myself in. The one thing I can get lost in that those around me leave …
So what if my writing sometimes refuses to go any deeper than surface level and touch all the raw, sore spots, the gaping wounds, imprinted onto me by the egopinions of everyone but myself? Maybe I’m just tired of pain, and the remains of my own ego seek to shield me from the traumas of …
How’s life? I don’t really know, I – Can I get back to you on that? I’ve been writing about it in my mind of what it is, what it could be, what it has been and there are vast imbalances between its scales. But this story isn’t done yet so I just keep writing …
Being of light that appeals to the lucidity of my dreams came to me the other night and said the world needs to know your story… Funny, the other night I couldn’t even remember – When I woke up grasping at twilight’s fading straws; But today, it was clear as the bell ringing my subconscious …
My body is not your home, you can’t just leave all your…things here, and come and go as you please; They leave with you if you’re leaving – they only stay if I choose to agree. My mind is not your dumpster – You can’t fill it with all your junk and expect me to …
Each drop of water is precious, Each has been here before. Every drop of water is timeless, they are souls that return again and again not to the worlds they know, but to the worlds they are, that are within them. Always here, whether as rain, dew, lake, ocean, sea – Whether they fall from the heavens …
I think I’m ready now to face down my shadows; The ones that burrow deep and that I attempt to run and hide from even in my sleep. I’m not afraid of what they’ll reveal, not even fearful of what they’ll make me feel. I don’t worry about how they’ve marred my soul – I determined long …
Sometimes, I just sit and allow myself to feel deeply the emotional agitation and pain and sorrow that I absorb from others as I progress through my days and allow to blend with my own… And I hurt for every soul who knows and endures such agony… Then I release it screaming to the edges …
True wealth is the wealth of the soul
Poetry, story and real life. Once soldier, busnessman, grandfather and Poet.
A collective of thoughts, poetry, writing works, blurbs, and other randomosity
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