The Creator’s Dilemma

I opened my eyes this morning, and determined there were many ways which I could get out of bed, and even more ways with which I could feed my heart, and spill the colorful soul I’ve got within.

All day, all day, I wanted to be me & write and laugh with the people I dig. Smiling, breathing, and looking up at the sky catching some rays and not catching anything remotely sad. So I grew my hair out and moved in ways that I thought was becoming of joy.

I did my best by waking up at 5 a.m. I’m driving over 150 miles to the city of LA which I dread with excitement – while I work on a large government contract which gives thoroughly unspecific directions ambiguous enough to discuss the teaching practices of vageuries and meditative floor sweeping in a post Pythagorean world. A younger me would have considered this as far off from my true self as possible; most likely using a semicolon much sooner in this caption.

Thus I learned that making the work light, with spirit and jokes, will help to ease life’s rough edges; that someone who comes into your office saying they are all about the money probably isn’t lacking passion – also the importance of sarcasm.

What will I make for you today? 

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So what is this dilemma? You just make and make!

In this moment I lack the capacity to mold each spark into what it deserves to become, and lack the ability to give it the autonomous initiative to complete itself. Months ago today I began to create, and did not have all the moments required to complete each sparking from me. They still exist, but as I am no longer me of that day, they no longer suit my direction. They sit without review, they survive unsatisfied, and lack the train to drive them where they ought to go.

But even fragments of gems are beautiful

We Drink From Tiered Fountains

Are you intrigued?

We drink from tiered fountains when we’re thirsty. Call it poor etiquette, barbaric behavior, or a health code violation, and we’ll just laugh you out of your own courtyard until the moon comes mad in the night; howling dares up at the gods to come join us in your bed.

We drink wild, and thunderous libations not made for us, but hell we down em’ and taunt you to say something vivacious – with such a fire that livacious might be considered a word – Actively engaged in living energetically; abounding with life; being in a pure state; with more to lose than a lascivious candle watching its wax melt down and drip on hot iron rather than flesh.

I watched your dark clouds roll in, and your heavy atmosphere coalesce long before the cool kids turned you into songs about what you do to their wind chimes and dream catchers.

Ages back it was just us and the moon.
No other bodies or forces mattered.

Now the force is with everyone and,
no one has a clear read.

I won’t go back, I have put foot to this field,
and on the other side is my death or cleansing calamity

And I’ll tell you why when get there

Lessons From Vesuvias & the Other Yous.

She was soft, the kind that made me see a whole other world outside my own. It was dividing though, because it pissed me off sometimes too. 

No owl,  I wasnt pissed. I was challenged. I was charging my head against a wall that I couldn’t break down with my brute perseverance. A soft wall that absorbs the force of my mental efforts. My annoyance was a sign of my willingness to reach deep for calm, to find deeper soil I could stick my hands into and root. I wonder if vesuvias learned anything about himself the last time he let obtuseness get the best of him. All those innocents, all that beauty… Just because he couldn’t open his eyes and see the fertile soils. But that’s just the way we turn over. How many others might have blown the same fuse had they not lived in the time of pompei?

And yet I have. Learning first hand is just so much more exhilarating, and efficient. As much as 14% learn from their own mistakes compared to the 3% who learn at all from others–And perhaps pulled from it aptitude to work smarter.

Mordrid, Mordrid, boy – There are some things in life that can not be made up. Alibis are not one of those things. — Lessons from Vesuvias and the other yous.

 

I got the juice, I got the juice, taste it — drink it, tell me you ain’t thirsty too, tell me you ain’t got wounds! Drink this and watch it all pour through, flows have always been my swoon, ohhhh you never tasted clarity, fizz, bite on your tongue — BOOM

You’re The Sun In My Morning

Is there light? With the shade drawn you’d never know. And that isn’t a shot at your ability to apply the proper techniques while shading. I had to say it before you started analyzing far too deep into the trenches again. Sometimes people just dig holes, love, they dig holes not to bury anything, nothing to hide. They dig because it’s in their nature; Look how you dig.

Come to me for us,
Come to me for us,
Because if you don’t come,
Something has to let up

Wrists for a powerful stature. Weak wrists can’t hold anything. Tied up or let loose.
Your hands do all the speaking I need, and your wrists don’t let whisper slip. If I were any bit of the rage I’ve decomposed I’d have a few lashings, roared up and resulting in quivers. Sage and nothing else. You are very sage.

I’ve been really a ghost,
That’s not fair to the ghosts I’ve met
I’ve been less than present,
Ive been trying to escape,
You know me I care
But I feel the reveal,
The hidden sketches
The tightest chest
Breathing is all I can do
You’ve given me so much
I admit now I can’t hold it,
At this time I don’t have a reading

All your chalk should be smeared, what essence I’ve felt smearing chalk, washed together we are now our cleanest. And smoke, just enough smoke and ash to understand the danger of this talk. What is of greater importance; What has taken place, or the potential that still has to pour out? Rain washes it away, but we go where the rain goes and that’s a long cycle to be patient for.

Who cleans the rain? Well the Earth does, and we are in part that body of land and water.

Close To The Edge A Man Will Make His Choice

It’s probably morning now where you are. And I know there are breezes confused with whispers, perhaps it isn’t wisdom to leave no feeling leashed; Coming down is the hardest thing after all when you have no wings. None practical! What is this contortion of speech, could it be honest craft? Let it be left at this: May you not shake in presence of those who must see you as the pillars of what you stand for.

And It’s silly of me because I’m talking to myself again. As I make these high risk decisions with nothing more than a craft cocktail imbibed – Hell I don’t shake an ounce – The drink is stirred of course, but I’m talking about my tolerance for danger

There would be times we’d drink, and she’d start speaking her language; Her language was people. When she’d speak it she was this light; Warm, she became bliss. She would revel in my arms knowing nothing but bliss. At rest in close propinquity to my chest, I’d place a kiss upon her forehead. That was my language – I stopped speaking it.

And I guess I can flashback – Well what’s the furthest you’ve ever driven with your eyes closed?  I’ve counted to ten. –
She’d smack me saying, “You’re going to kill us one of these days.” I always knew I would be the one to kill us. Everyone knew,

I’m not quite sure how to explain this. It’s surely love, but not like I ever imagined. Maybe that’s because love can’t really be imagined the same way we are able to feel it. I can go days living and never worry that I’ve missed a thing. When enough time has passed we come to each other; With all the learnings of the days gone by; You kiss me with intrigue – A constantly shifting river flowing from the one and only source. It can be summed up only like this; If you know how to love, you’ll never run out.

At least that is how it should have been – We’re human though – We aim to be gods, and on our own we have a shot; Together it seems we fall short in communicating visions. When all reason says we should be able to do more in unison – We do less. Even if we build the tower higher… Have we gone further? This could be the wrong direction. I know me though – Here talking to myself again before I take this risk always trying to understand your voice in case you might convince me – You know me though.