My introduction page as a writer trying to get publsihed and a collection of posts showing who I am through ancetdotal musings about my life or how I am inspired to write or why I write and how I write in my own wierd little way.
I see life going by for the majority to my eye
on a whim.
Some,
I call Friends?
I’d like to feel that most of them
are.
But sometimes I feel like a whim
to them
As well.
At times.
A tolerated indulgence,
a distraction
they don’t have a
compulsion to fully realize.
Because the coolness
in me
doesn’t come close to them or those they
seek for true company.
I have been weighed you see,
by eyes that only
see what they wish to see.
in me.
So they never seek beyond
the surface to the
true me
That I rarely let others see.
So I live in whimsy
Now
Free from the, “What now?”
Mentality that once ruled
Inside
Of asking all the other lost encounters did you
I don’t believe in any of the three thousand plus gods which meander through the minds of man now or ever have throughout the ages.
I do believe we are an important inception point in Earth’s history, but perhaps even that is a vain course of thinking of our human condition.
Time will tell if we are but a fundamental fantastical failure waiting to happen or something more than we even suppose.
Ah, but there’s the rub. How ever are we going to truly know the outcome of us?
Time is a far-flung thing.
It cannot be curtailed or cut, bought or borrowed, it can only be endured, we are self placed into a closed box with a flask of poison like Schrodinger’s cat but instead we are the cat and also the very poison that may kill us inside as we are closed inside with it, us.
Eventually or not at all, are the only two outcomes.
It’s not for us to know, for we are dead and alive at the same time and the poison just sits with us in that box looking more menacing but delicious with every day we sit with it.
Even if we had a road map in this maze
of life we would still get lost.
Reason why?
We all go the way we ultimately want,
even through pitfalls, dead ends
and switchbacks,
Thinking we know better,
feel we know better,
know we know better than
the lines already burned onto
the pages of the past
from the ones who
came before that,
drawing their travels in blood
and then us tearing up the map.
The current oh “wise ones” say, “I see your pain you
went through, sir or madam,
but ya know what? I think I wish
to go through the same
just to see if the outcome
will be different for me.”
And surprise, surprise
it isn’t,
So we cry, we cry
and wonder why
we were all denied
that blue ribbon or
that shiny gold star that others seem so often to attain
Is it perhaps because you never
learned that golden lesson…
When I was kid, I soaked up the world like a sponge, I lived and loved life like it was breathing into me, from building a fort, riding my bike, daydreaming on the grass while figuring out what was in the clouds, hiking in the woods with my brothers, making discovery upon discovery, with my family even when it was at its hardest. I felt it all, the joy, the anger, the rage, the sorrow, the fear all the certainties of a day. I felt it There was no ambiguity about it. I was in it and it was glorious! Head down, I strode forth into it. from school, to my first girlfriend, to lost girlfriends, to family dysfunction piling upon the pile that had already been there, to marriage, to birth, to divorce, to remarriage, to new joys, to new stresses. I road it all like a surfer catching a wave, I was cheered and revered at my feats of strength, my charms, and my worth at being such a great man. Somewhere along the way through all that I became afraid of reaching, feeling, seeing, breathing, knowing, discovering, engaging. I want that wonder back. A part of me won't venture there, for whatever fear that dwells in me sees it is a perilous path, a wish that is fraught with failures not wanting to be found I still love and notice the all seeming magic that is life, whether tangible in a kiss or a touch, or a breeze rushing over you at just the right time on a sunny day. I do still feel it but a majority of that magic has been muted perhaps forever more for me.
She has ever flowed in this world, miles and miles she has traversed in life, across countries and continents seeking purchase to lands she may truly never call home, for her spirit ever wanders, and splits and meanders, through various tributaries in time spent wading the reeds of sandy shorelines but never truly staying still.
The Nile has a source and she has ridden it since it’s conception, mile and miles of it, at various depths running deep to shallow, wide to thin, precarious to serene.
She is a Princess of that Nile, through and through, but if you were to call her that , she might scoff but give you a grin all in one, for she knows her frailties, and all her seeming feelings on how life can throw a whirlwind into the small space of you and upend your world in a moment letting you know the humility of life and the choices you think you may own.
But she is a Princess, a proud one, a strong one, a respected one, a forceful one, revered and honored, a friend, a sister to me and to many. She knows the strength in her bones and the force with which she wields it, even though she may not admit it, she will still give you a grin even though that grin may not reach her eyes.
She has wisely guided others in this existence, this wandering, even as she herself chafes against her own that pushes her down, yet she lifts others up.
The river has taken a precarious turn again, bend upon bend , upon bend…all sharper than the last, she sees them all plainly ahead, on the horizon.
She is resolute however. For what other course can she travel but the one already laid bare before her?
She may not want to see it, but the resiliency in her is awe inspiring, and that this Princess of the Nile needs to know that she has found her home in all the ones she has touched in her travels and her in them a hundredfold.
(Candice is booked to go to the Mayo ClinicAugust 14 for 2 weeks. She is doing a GoFundMe because the cost of living up there for two weeks alongside the medical expenses and travel will be substantial. She wants to thank everyone who has helped, even $5 goes so far and helps so much. Even sharing the GoFundMe or just being supportive, is life saving for her and I am so very, very grateful. If you can spare $5 please go to the GoFundMe which is legitimate and run by her here: https://gofund.me/66328c9d or her PayPal at candicelouisa@rocketmail.com – thank you so very much. She hates begging but it’s so important to finally get there and get some help after these awful eight years of ups-and-downs and her being so sick now again. Any amount however small really adds up and helps her make this happen. ( her words, but just changed to third person by me)
I am Don Quixote and Sancho Panza in one, I tell you!
Half of me is this fantastical fearsome force, no matter the farce wrapped up in blurred realities of my own making.
I am hopelessly honorable, seeking justice down a well worn road on my trusty old steed that meanders as much as I do in the wanderings of my own mind.
But my path be ever straight. Ever true!
I seek all the adventures and perils no matter how big or small the questing task may be. A Dasmel awaits at every turn, as does the promising kiss upon my triumphant victory in the field!
She dwelled deep in the dark woods, on the isle of Aeaea off the west coast of Italy in the Mediterranean Sea in a glorious palace all alone.
Alone you say? You would be wrong to think that. Oh very wrong indeed.
For she was surrounded by a menagerie of pets always keeping her company; from the wolves that roamed far and wide, to lions lazily lingering near her as she sat her throne, to the birds nesting at her feet, or the occasional pig rutting the grounds outside.
Some called her a Goddess, others knew her to be an enchantress, or the darkest of witches to ever run afoul of.
What ever she was, all knew her as Circe, the woman who lived on the island of Aeaea, with hair of flowing fiery rays and oftentimes a temper to suit.
She was no temptress, yet some did claim her to be the daughter of a sea nymph, so that is perhaps why many a man was beguiled to find himself led to her isle.
Lucky you could be, if you were to find her. However, she did not suffer fools, for if you were funny and clever and easy on her eyes, she would take you as her lover and perhaps let you leave after a year and a day.
But be you arrogant or a swine, well, she would surely turn you into one, to rut the grounds of her great estate like the pig you were.
Turn away her advances of love and devotion, she might just concoct a potion for you to drink to transform your soul and form into that of a loyal lion always by her side.
Think you her better? She would send you to join the pack that roams the island always at her beck and call, and you would serve, oh so willingly with a snarl and a smile.
Oh, be you a resistant King come to call? Well, a bird you could become, wings clipped, with a special place for you nesting at her feet nearby.
Never satisfied was Circe of love being denied when wanting to be given, she is a cautionary tale of many a man’s follies followed soon by her own.
So diabolically desperate was she, always to love, that none ever did in return, for they always saw the darkness seething underneath tucked away in her heart.
Unrequited love will forever perhaps be her destiny until her heart finds its true form from whence it was first born, at peace, light, and burning with the intensity of a thousands suns.
~ Hinterland: an area lying beyond what is visible or known
An area I wish to go,
to get lost in like a hermit
in the woods of nowhere,
that somewhere no one else goes to because it can not be found.
Not at dawn, nor dusk, nor the in-between times
It’s all my time, my time.
My adventure, my mind, my place in my head of heads
where I softly tread a Universe of my own discoveries and foundlys of unique thought.
Mine to wrestle and wrangle and comingle the depths of philosophical phrases.
No matter how crazy, cruel, lazy, kind, or neurotic, dare I say perhaps erotic.
Just let it be. Let me be.
Let me find the way, or get lost on the way to this Hinterland I wish to call my home.
Ain't no rest for the Wicked - Philip Wardlow - The real and the sensual sides to life in all its facets.. 