The Monster Inside My Head

There is no music to use as a lead in

To introduce the monster

~

That existence just relies upon a moment

A beautiful sunshiny day where the world

~

Responds with love and activity and sweet

Sounds and spirits of summer solace

~

Yet, inside lays a force of reckoning

So layered with practiced venom

~

To only reveal its self in angry lashings

Challenges to the serenity of positive airs

~

We look at fear with a certain lens of weakness

Brought upon by lack of focus, missing the verve

~

To ignite the soul to battle the energy of depression

That lays itself down to be met with submission

~

Such a powerful tool to rely upon for explanation

When nothing else will help define  my confusion

~

My soul is along for the ride always tucked away

Letting my mind wonder at the power of persuasion

~

When the pain becomes so overbearing I silently

Scream out of pure agony, then the soul comes alive

~

I’ll reckon the hours that have drifted out of control

And begin to rely upon a new waking day to help ease

~

The pain of loss, of helpless lacking strength to overcome

The talons, the icy walls of burden carved out in etchings

~

I will knock upon that door to allow the light to enter

In quiet realization, I will look towards God’s granted path

~

Until that moment arrives the sunlight streams in only to remind

Me of how just out of my grasp today’s happiness has held court.

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A Bully Moment (Will There Be Shame)

Today’s ‘moment’

Came in a picture

A little boy

And I do mean little

~

Young enough to cry

Innocence that creates naïve

Mystery mixed in with the ugly

Reality of actions that may

Resonate throughout his

Remaining childhood

~

If childhood exists any longer

~

I see the boy standing

With a badge of dishonor

While mom ‘looms’ nearby

Not sure why

But I can’t see any humor

In her eyes

Though there is that pain

I can’t tell in the fuzziness

Of the glossed over moment

Whether there are tears

Or strains of rage

~

Someone took the photo

Who are they?

Family friend of torture

A passerby that knows no

Boundary

Just wants to recognize

A display of pure ugliness

~

Who am I today

Another passerby

Noticing a moment

A little boy

Carrying a sign

With pain in his eyes

I wonder about him in ten years

When he reflects upon this day

~

Will there be shame?bully

I Wonder What I Look Like In Your Eyes

So often

I will ask

A classroom of students

What they see

When they

Look in a mirror

~

Really, just waking up

Breathing

Facing a new day

Knowing people will look at them

But first

Who do they notice

Standing in front of the glass

The eyes connect immediately

~

When does the mind

Kick in

To offer fearful

Notions

When is it

That our bodies

Become the focal

Point

When do we

Move beyond the eyes

And begin to contemplate

What others are already seeing

~

Miles away

They’re readying their

Judgments

After all,

What we see is what they get

Interesting

How we might twist words

To favor our own need

Our opportunity

To define

Who we are

Want to become

~

And then it begins

The walk through miles

Of eyes and quick, decisive

Glances

One simple corner of the eye

As you round a pillar

Might change an entire day’s

Course of action

That smile didn’t add up

To the telling outcome

In my mind

~

Instead our fears

Draw back the curtains

And anxiety steps

In while no longer do the eyes

Contain the soul.

Instead now we subject

Our selves

To another perception

We instead of internal

Safety zones

Allow our bodies exposure

To all of the elements

~

Harsh

Windswept hallways

Filled with rough edged

Swords

That sweep the mind

With quick slicing talons

Of hurtful commentary

Where is our hope

Where lies the beauty

And grace of our own

Identified human condition

~

Look inside my eyes

And you can tell who I am

Because it is there that defines

The beauty and grace of

Vulnerability

My passion is my need

To hope and love

And feel blessed with the

God-given ability

To love back without agenda

Simple, honest, truthImage

Stained Glass

Just a picture frame

Is all I can imagine

~

However small or gross

The pattern, the complexity

What reality exists

That helps design the scheme

Is it really patterned art

Or speaking to a moment?

~

When I glance at a piece of fabric

I can imagine there are designs

Addressed in the early concept

Of the sewn artistry

And remains is a visual

Definition of a time

~

Yet, falling back into the glass

Shattered remnants tossed together

Become the stained artifacts

That brought in piecework

Help organize time’s clarity

~

While an interpretation

Helps define a suggested

Path I wonder how easily

A cloth might grace

The texture

And leave no mark

Beside a previous notion

~

Stained glass

Words by Design

“I close my eyes only for a moment …”

Still life

~

I watch the skies every morning

And look fervently for a sign

~

Some drift in the clouds – a  pattern

I read about symbolism all the time

~

And listen while people suggest

The underlying meaning exists

~

Just what is it that I’m missing

Or do I already have the answer

~

That’s it isn’t it

We already know

~

We’re told the world is not meant to

Be figured out, analyzed, determined

~

Yet, I spent thousands on that guy

With the New England accent

~

I just listened

I guess I really

~

Didn’t hear anything that stuck with me

Like spectacles of ‘dust in the wind’

~

My life has taken a stroll

And everything I’ve lost

~

I have regained in a new design

The texture is different, soothing

~

To the touch. The icy edge I once felt

Has been polished over endless time

~

And while I might imagine a telling

Lyric from a favorite band in Kansas

~

Embrace, embody

Still life

Dust In The Wind. by *Anoxia-Photography deviantART Related / deviantID©2009-2013 *Anoxia-Photography

Dust In The Wind.
by *Anoxia-Photography
deviantART Related / deviantID ©2009-2013 *Anoxia-Photography

Wild Nights

The freedom to bend

Carrying our state of mind

Beyond what is typical

In-house behavior

You know the moment

When logic says good night

And everything lucid

Begins to blur itself

Along some new line

Of thought

Everything around seems to turn opaque

And lose its usual crystal luster

~

Our worlds are not that different

It just seems

There is the occasion

When we choose

To live within sane constraints

Rather then entertaining

Loose ends

~

However,

One might argue

Especially you in the moment

One might defend

Their choice

To devalue normalcy

For the sake of the edge

~

Aren’t we always fighting

To maintain

That separation

That allow

Us to feel

To breathe

To appreciate

What lies beyond our grasp?

~

Is it that simple then that we can surmise

A true path of freedom is to fight the tarnished code

Relief

A technique in artistry

Raised impression

~

Brings a moment to life

We see the beauty

~

In a master’s hands

Elegant lines

~

Always a story

Being told

~

In Webster’s words

Or Collier

~

A comic moment

Is designed

~

To break the tension

Ease the mind

~

And today I glance freely

The western sky

~

And recognize the beauty

Of a common sunset

~

The relief of another day

Provides a setting

~

Tonight I appreciate beauty

In human kindness