When the End is not Near Enough

Chest holds grenades pulled of their pin

Daddooms counting down those ticks from within

Strokes falling short of a meaningful measure

Beats that retreat, as aching’s trump pleasure

Oh how chambers chime in a pitch out of tune

Rhythms depicting a heart now in ruin

Daddooms void of lust, rings stripped of luck

A life that’s no must, screams a “who gives a fuck”

Oh… but action takes motive, motive takes might

Who’s the lacer of gloves for living this fight?

The pins now been pulled, but whether to throw

Or wait clasping down for more souls than your own

The fight isn’t over, life’s in your hands

Grenades can be tossed to better-laid plans

Throw at the daemons poisoning mind

Let pins release pain, without blood on the line

Life isn’t over when thoughts muffle dreams

Life only halts when silencing screams

When a heart stops its course, short of fulfilled

When minds current racings are finally stilled

When that trigger is pointing to the one in the frame

When the mirrored reflection ends its own game

What is the fuel for pulling life’s pin?

Don’t rely on the mind that scolds what’s within

A stranger, a friend, a soul in the light

Is the lacer of gloves for winning this fight

Hearts soften voices poisoning minds

Rekindling hopes that alone you can’t find

Echo’s in mirror should be spied by another

Sounded in tongue, not by daemons you suffer

Put down the knife that’s intended to pierce

Cut down that noose that will cut short your years

Turn from the ledge that tows now caress

Discard the drugs you intend to ingest

Is your hearse laying chosen? Is the grave trumping life?

Is your hand on the trigger while your rolling deaths dice?

Please reconsider the bed you have made

Rest tomb bound plans covertly laid

I’ll lend you my mind to offload your daemon

My heart can fill yours, life’s not in completion

Image, Hand By Gilead
Image, Hand By Gilead
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Dear Words…My Tribute

It’s amazing how tears never flow when fingers bleed through the screen.

When a mind becomes tangible through etchings. The feelings caged find face. A picture. A palpable existence. Words are my minds eternal soul.

Dear Words,

If I didn’t find you, who would I be? Would I live among the pill shakers, decision makers or life takers? Would med packet’s “riddle rattles” chime  life’s battles?

If I were not in fear of breaking, would I attempt to preserve my sanity right through your art? You make me whole like nothing else can. Running through mother natures playground is bliss. A familiar or foreign smile warms my heart and mind. A door held for me or by me gives strides another few inches in length. Yet, you… you do something different. You envelop warmth in societies cold. You attest to sins and confront them. You teach me what is important. You project emotions wheel, and yield significance in its circulations.

I love you for being my dearest friend when solitude needs a plus one. I cherish the smile you furnish me with in your wake. I value the melodies you create when etchings are attuned to elation and darkness. You have taught me the importance of friendship, connection, love, devotion, growth and emotions. I experience the intensity of life, yet you provide meaning in the spectrum of sensations.

I am indebted to you forever. Let this partnership hold a piece in societies evolution. 

Yours Faithfully,

Renae

creation not circulation

The Peace in Life’s Puzzle

An emptiness that’s full. My face void of emotion yet enriched with life. A quiet mind amongst deafening awareness. Eyes closed but seeing. Body contoured to the world, yet mind non-conforming to the chaos. It is in moments of resolute peace that I am complete yet uninhabited. Bare yet sheltered. Senseless, yet stimulated.

In it’s wake, my existence is afloat with limitless expansion. An acute resolution for opportunities I was blind to. Do we all get these moment of serenity? Is peace imparted by chance or is it as innate as our beating heart?  It is new to me. Therefore I suppose we are not all so lucky.

Never have I before been open to its domination. A slave to the feeling of completion. Maybe I was never complete. When you return, I will be ready. Until then, peace out.

Image by Orzz
Image by Orzz

Take this Dance with me?

The safe play finds no admiration. The risky is revered when success is in the chance taken. The dangerous is envied, whether triumph is its fruits or failure its afflictions.

Take the chance? Yes

Shall we dance? Yes

Match my prance? Yes

Regret this stance? No

Courage should never be wasted. Dance with me?

By irv-artshark
By irv-artshark

Ambivalence Turned Influence

Life on a whim. My rise and falls matching the occasions. Success and failure without accountability. I was just there.   A bystander to life. A witness to the despondency of my existence. I embodied ambivalence.

Then….

I found my heart could speak. I am a speaker

My sound harked for the weak. I am a teacher

Then..

The ground cracked under feet. I feel my power

Now my mind embarks on life’s feat. This is my hour


Hope is in each hour“Equip your lips with tactfulness to unshackle what resides

What keeps us up at night, producing pain when lips confide

Assemble with me, armed with words… to pierce a callused skin.

Corse coverings, now seeping… with solvents to your grin”

Mind to Unbind

I would love to hear your thoughts. Please feel free to comment, like, share or further peruse my mind.

Mrs. Insignificant: The Uninspired Teacher

Time seems to have decomposed the vitality in her methods. Mark the roll. Twenty minutes fade away into O’Sullivan, Smith, Sommers, and finally, Williams…. Attendance of non-attendance. A movie! 1.5 hours of reprieve from obligation. Not my reprieve. Mrs. Insignificant’s. Sitting with purposeless promise. A vow to teach. A pledge to motivate. An endeavor with the best of intentions. Intention without invigoration however, is fruitless. Mrs. Insignificant, the teacher who reaps away time from young minds to bolster her own inadequacies. Upon reread, that synopsis seems a little harsh. Her fire may have been smothered by the system or dampened by perpetually unenthused students. Maybe it is the over worked, under paid, over tired, underlaid collaboration. Whatever the reason, her engagement is largely out of my control.

Am I just unlucky in the lottery of education? Will this un-fortuitous stint affect my future? Only if I let it…. Mrs. Insignificant may just be the stimulus for perseverance executed with the utmost wit and tenacity. Time will tell…the significance is in reflection.

Are you a Dream or a Nightmare?

The possibilities are endless amongst dreams.

Awakened amid slumbers. The world is limitless when journeyed under covers. Uninhibited imaginings! Uncontrolled delusions! Suddenly, the blue fades to grey, as clouds become the feature not the addendum.The blossoms decompose to mulch, as birds chime’s begin to crow. It is amongst the twisted bed sheets that heaven and hell greet each other. A dream darts between the realms without consideration of the dreamer.

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