Relative Something

*this* John W. Hays’ take on things and experiences

Posts Tagged ‘creative writing

Questions

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who were all those people
in my dream this morning
before I woke up
where did they come from
and how did they know me
to include me so
why did my sunglasses
begin to flex the wrong way
confusing me
about which way they’re worn
I sensed right away
the flexing of the nose piece
would lead to a breach
which it did
as the dream progressed
and my search
for some tape
was a visual trip
past more people
I didn’t quite know
although I did
don’t you know
and while wrangling
with tape and sunglasses
several levels of failure
away from success
why did that guy
put Super Glue
all over the right lens
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Written by johnwhays

May 12, 2018 at 7:26 am

Buds

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Words on Images

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Idle Distraction

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Some days I would like to ignore everything that I really should be doing and focus unlimited hours of idle attention on a familiar jigsaw puzzle, regardless how gorgeous the weather outside might be, how many home projects are screaming for attention, or all the work responsibilities to which I am duly committed.

I am a master of idle distraction, however, I rarely allow myself to revel in idle passions to a fraction of a degree worthy of being considered mastery. Maybe I should instead state it as being a dreamer of idle distraction.

It would be fair to say that a Monday morning in front of my desk at the day-job, with multiple issues simultaneously calling for immediate attention, happens to be a time when my urge for idleness can be greatest.

In a similar vein to Lewis Carroll’s “The hurrier I go, the behinder I get,” I am more inclined toward “The more I have to do, the less I get done.”

I don’t know whether it would surprise you to read how often this plays out when I would like to compose a daily blog post. The greater my yearning to have a post written and proofed, the more idle my brain seems to get.

One good thing about distraction of an empty brain, it allows plenty of room for imagining creative somethings from nothing. Except, sometimes, nothing is all that comes. It’s distracting.

Seriously. You can’t make this stuff up.

Well, that’s not true. You can make it up, but what good would that do?

I suppose it could serve, in a circular sort of way, as something of an idle distraction, no?

Don’t mind me. I’m just distracted by having too much on my mind that should be getting my constructive attention all at once. And doing nothing.

Maybe I missed my calling as a congressman or senator.

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Eyes

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Words on Images

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Written by johnwhays

April 13, 2018 at 6:00 am

Changing, Again

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At the rate the transition from winter to spring has been playing out this year, this Words on Images post from April of 2013 resonates enough that I’ve decided to give it a fresh viewing. The prolonged cold and snow is getting mind numbing, but the change will eventually swing through to fruition. At least, that’s what we keep telling ourselves.

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Words on Images

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Written by johnwhays

April 11, 2018 at 6:00 am

Years

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Words on Images

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Written by johnwhays

April 8, 2018 at 9:37 am

Thereof

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I’m trying to think what it is
that’s eating at me
I’m sentimental
this much I know
but I think there’s more to it
than that
it’s a feeling
or something that is creating
a feeling
deep in the farthest reaches
of what constitutes
me
or it could be a lack
I know there is something missing
something I’ll never get back
just like every other time before
what is it about this instance
that makes it any different
I was lost when I got here
why should it feel any different now
other than the added loss of foundation
in all I hold dear
daily being victimized by a bumbling buffoon
who somehow hoodwinked enough people
to make off with a prize
thoroughly and completely
undeserved
as if just to make some point
at the expense of all that’s good and right
and now an invisible sooty stink
sticks to everything
while the best and brightest
stumble around trying to make sense
of a system that is collapsing beneath them
like sand castles against unrelenting gusts of wind
I no longer remember
where I set the things
that mattered to me most
and the grains are flowing fast
through that graceful narrow space
of my delicate hour-glass
yet my work seems hardly done
pushing so many stones
up all of these grassy knolls
with all the water rising
and glaciers sadly waning
none of the genies
will ever go back in their bottles
and maybe that is what’s eating at me
but I have my doubts
my mind is a fragile thing to trust
busy both directing and reacting to
the chemistry experiments
simmering and sublimating
within my flesh and bones
while the invisible forces
of heart-fields and magnetic solar waves
simultaneously push and pull at us all
blindly gliding through
their ephemeral energized confines
we’re all distracted by shiny things and squirrels
dashing for the proverbial carrots
dangling in our minds eyes
sentimental racing rats
too often forgetting to focus
on the ultimate binary truth
concisely boiled down to
love
or
the absence
thereof

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Written by johnwhays

March 25, 2018 at 9:18 am