Archive for the ‘Creative Writing’ Category
Another Random Stream
The random word generator has been put into production for no other reason than simply the fact that there is no reason and therefore unmitigated silliness of the most nonsensical nature ensues for those of you with stomachs strong enough to slog through the seemingly limitless onslaught of useless rambling that is almost as painful as the wicked punishment unleashed by the television broadcast industry when it allows their all too valuable incoming financial gains from advertising to arrive via far too many versions of sales pitches associated with a certain holiday that happens pretty much most of the way into the month of December and far removed from the month of October when it all started this year unlike the smooth ‘less-is-more’ styling of years gone by which brings up the possibility that just because we are all one year older with each advancing year that goes by there must be some reason to always one-up the year before by trying more, sooner, longer, louder, bigger, faster and every other ‘er’ that relates in that regard and there goes the attempt to just leave out punctuation altogether here by needing to separate all those ‘er’s in making a point about why in the heck everything seems to need to out-do the time before and all too often folks can’t allow there to be the satisfaction of having something be just as simply good and fine as it was the previous time we enjoyed the pleasures of whatever it is we hold dear when all the world around us is crashing down in over-hyped melodrama because for some reason simply making a point isn’t good enough anymore without the extreme outlying fatalistic possibilities being threatened at every turn while the baby slides out the door with the bath water while we forget to sing together around the piano with a libation in worship of the humble act of fellowship with other actual human beings whose faces are seen not just on a book and people hold each other dear for years and then even decades from which threads become woven into a rich fabric with strength that supports in times when it is most needed like when the myriad of material possessions being hawked for our vanity finally proves entirely counter-productive toward soothing the longing that originates deep in a primordial place in our biology that was meant to drive our survival mechanism when there wasn’t anything but sticks and stones and carnivorous predators sharing the territory with our little selves to help us feel loved and worthy and hardly at risk of being harmed by someone else getting more attention than us especially when someone like Tina Turner can continue to entertain huge numbers of fans as if she was no where near achieving her 70th birthday this month which sure seems different than what 70-year-old women were doing when I was a boy and that sure says something about the fine art of keepin’ on keepin’ on if you know what I mean and I sure hope you do if you hung on this long to arrive at this destination which for all intents and purposes is in fact pretty darn similar to that place they call nowhere.
untitled, just because
and then
there was the time
and time again
when things didn’t go
quite the way
we did intend
as if what we are waiting for
isn’t simply hiding
just around the bend
in a place that’s twice as real
as the one inside our heads
unlike what we read in books
about any wild thing
never happening to us
that we compare with our life
of normal happenstance
harrowing familial dance
and every daily grind
to see the pieces we use
to frame our reference
to build a psychic fence
we know we have to climb
from which we then feel fear
for what we might see
on the other side
of the inside of ourselves
we hardly intend to reveal
even though we always do
every single day
by saying what we say
and saying it in a way
that paints us every day
with our own broad brush, okay
Normal Thinking
The difference between dysfunctional and normal is relative to how you frame it.
It makes sense that it applies to the usual, typical, or expected. How often have we heard a qualification about someone’s strange behavior being okay because they have always been that way; that is normal for them. But then the definition above goes on to reveal that when the word pertains to a person, it describes freedom from disorders, physical or mental. So, when someone is not free from making bad decisions, and they always do it, their behavior is normal for them, but it is not normal behavior for people in general.
Have you ever experienced the phenomena where a simple word you are reading or trying to write suddenly looks entirely foreign, like, “That can’t possibly be how it’s spelled?” Or, “Is that even a word!?” …Is that normal?
How come, during the work week, when I wake up, if I linger under those warm covers for just a moment, plotting how I will get a leg out and inspire the rest of me to follow, I can fall back to sleep in an instant, yet when I wake at approximately the same time on a weekend, my mind takes off on some amazing adventure-train of thought at record pace, leaving sleep behind in the distance? That’s normal for me, but is it normal?
Maybe I’ll go see if I can get the cat’s opinion on that.
A Poem for a Season
In honor of the rather swift shift in our weather of late toward the cold and barren season looming before us, I dug out this little memory of the time of year just opposite…
.
There is a light touch
that is somehow related
to the depth of the blue
in the sky today
standing in such stark contrast
to the green of everything
else
it makes you wonder
if you forgot to breath
would it all just end?
The sounds that dance
about this vision
of blues and greens
not only fill in the blanks
they bring about an overflowing
taking it over the top
making it nothing
short of
more than one can whelm
not just the birds
or the breeze
shaking so many leaves
even the planes
plying their brand of physics
in mother nature’s sky
but it is the smell
of each and every fragrance
unleashed by spring-to-summer dramas
that makes it all look so swell
and causes us to think
about what we didn’t tell
of the times we learned so much
they return to us again and again
when we are caught by the glorious invasion
of beauty above and beyond
sun shine bathing green things
on a blue-sky day
the last day of May
at one of our favorite places of all time
© 2007
Relative Something 