My 9/11 reaction to FB Ultra-Patriot-Down-With…Post

I posted this on my facebook account after reading so many peoples post that really shocked me…;

I love the Ultra-America bandwagon hoppers who love freedom, yet won’t provide it to those of a different creed…or those who deplore violence committed by brainless radicals, but who call on us to kill those who are misled…..or who blame our current leader for being weak when he shows an attempt to build bridges. H…ow many of those who bitch actually use their right to vote? Arrogance & ignorance do not mix well.

Into The Wound

Lord, take these shattered pieces

in your wounded, wonderful hands,

mix them with your blood,

our wine.

I beg forgiveness, if the jagged edges

of my life

increase your pain.

But I know you are The Lord,

our God.

And will suffer and Love us

in ways that are Truly beautiful,

and

mysterious

Poetry Vomit

My best poetry comes from the gut, in an inspiring moment of unspeakable inspiration, it just flows, and the pen in hand, captures it….

When I have to think about the poem-in-progress, idea, hunch, whatever….my ego takes over and creates many creative flow charts, all which lead to no-where…

Poetry, should come from the gut….shouldn’t everything?

Remove the mote, the plank, what have you…..

Random Rantamble;  Driving home from work after 11hrs.  I’m tired, damn hungry and sticky.  Low sugar, humidity and traffic are my foes.  Nothing good on the radio, so nothing to soothe me (CSX, please stop playing Bon Jovi.  Your Classic Rock, not Pop).

I’m behind a metallic olive green Toyota.  Two females in the front.  Child in back.  I’m in the lane behind them to the left.  Out comes the drivers hand, with a nice long piece of plastic wrap, which she very gracefully lets go so it can fly and be free with all the other litter in Detroit.  I get enraged ( I hate littering, especially smokers who think it’s their God given right to throw all their butts out into the environment).  I go to pass, frowning, just to give a glare, and the driver is sitting there sucking the crumbs and leftovers out off of her fingers.  How disgusting.  The whole ordeal didn’t phase her a bit.  Someone without a care in the world indeed.

But why did I care?  Why do I care?  There are so many people like that…..selfish….

I immediately tried to “justify” their actions….to put myself  in their shoes.  Only thing I could come up with is that they just didn’t care about anyone or anything but themselves…..pretty compassionless, but honest on my part

By the time I got home, I was able to self-talk myself into realizing that I am not perfect, and should not judge….but what should one do, when others, unlike oneself…. just….don’t…..care….

New International Version (©1984)
How can you say to your brother, ‘Brother, let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when you yourself fail to see the plank in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye.

Mental State and Movie Review, oh boy!

Mental recovery day today.  Week at work drained me….but my spiritual side was up.  Having a fun, relaxing day with family watching movies, reading, creating, etc….

Mini-Movie Review;

The Happening. Haven’t really like anything M. Night Shamalamadingdong has done since Signs.  This movie bordered on comedic horror.  I haven’t witnessed such non-characters or bad writing in a long, long time.  In fact, this might just take the cake.  Some of the lines made laugh out loud: “What kind of terrorist are these?” says a distraught women.  Really, is she looking for some compassionate terrorist group or something?

Or all the train conductors standing around outside the stopped train because they can’t go on due to the fact of “losing contact with everyone”, meanwhile all the passengers are standing around using their cellys.  Ugh.

Stay away from this movie.

Watching some favorites now…including Signs, Shutter Island, and some LOTR later.

Will be reading some more Beowulf and doing some game creating and poetry writing later and tomorrow.

Good Day indeed.

Working on an experience…

Had this real surreal experience on the way to work the other morning.  It was early, around 0430, and I was stopped by a train leaving a steel mill.  It had many empty cars.  The morning was slightly hazy, warm.  The trains went by, thumping the pavement, with a rhythm that danced with the warning lights.  The train was so dark, and black, but the lights around would break through each car.  Very beautiful and peaceful.  First time I didn’t mind getting caught by a train….

Trying to work this into poem…

Still breathing, struggling….

So sorry for the delays in posting to you my few but faithful friends.  Hugs to you Arkay.

Still working on the zine idea, but man, I really need a blog to vent and post, and share and such.  So, even though the internet connection I have is shaky for now, I need to focus on this little blog, for my mental health sake to say the least.

Look for lots of writing here, poetry, and zine updates.

Peace and strength.

Zine

Working on making this a blog/zine tie-in…..Made one zine, aka Asylum Letters, would love to do another one……or two, or thr33, 4our

Escapism vs. Waking Up

In the West, reality is never an option.  Escapism is a must.  A lesson learned, but bitter for one who wants compassion and simplicity.  Wake up, wake up, wake up…..but don’t look…cause you won’t like what you see…

24 hours later, and the sky whispers to you in a sunshine voice, “Those bandaids are ugly ya know..”

I should’ve been reading Bukowski

If I had only read Bukowski as a teenager, maybe I would of been made wise that it didn’t matter what path I chose, life is a struggle.  A young man with dreams, became a family man with dreams, became a number with dreams.  I rebelled and reached for my dream of writing, and nearly lost everything.  Though the wisdom I gained in the process is priceless.  

A  man with dreams, now a number once again, but with the young man in his heart.  There are no gaps, there will always be struggle. 

Live, struggle, but only do it with passion and strength.

Image from http://bukowski.net/photos/