Friday, August 15, 2014

August 15th - #Writeyourselfalive - particles





 
Can I have another 24 hours?
 
A Blackboard eraser
Just a spritz of water to allow it to run away.
Remember when you were a child at the end of the school day
Raising your hand to be the one to wipe the board away
to pound the dust away
particles of knowledge floating in the air
entering the brains of children through inhalation
 
 
 
 
Knowledge, if not copied, just disappears
they are what they see, they become what they hear.
Can I have another 24 hours to pound away the lessons of yesteryear?

Sunday, August 10, 2014

Day 10 - August 10, 2014 - #writeyourselfalive - A Wave of light so Small Pandora Unleash

 

Definition of Pandora's box

1. Noun. (Greek mythology) a box that Zeus gave to Pandora with instructions that she not open it; she gave in to her curiosity and opened it; all the miseries and evils flew out to afflict mankind.




A box labeled: Vacuum Attachment Tools, topples over as I cut left into my drive.
The scent that spills is that of long ago perfume, spritzed upon cards, holding heartache and empty words.
Promises of long ago that never reached the harvest.

I gather bound memories and carry them over the threshold.
Placing them upon the table preparing the surface for dissection.
This is a massive autopsy of a soul. Memories that run intestinal miles.
Will I every find the blockage?

Vacuum Attachment Tools: how appropriate.

Every card, every word splayed upon the surface.
Piles of parts in organized stacks.
You promised to be an organ donor, yet you donated a diseased heart and your breath of words escaped from cancerous lungs.

Too late for sutures and bandages
The Box is open, yet the box is me.
Welcoming the wind of Memories.
Memories of another gifting them to me.
The Giver to the Given.

The Giver alone holds the memories of the true pain and pleasure of life.
The receiver of memories
Memories shared is a Soul lifted.


“But why can't everyone have the memories? I think it would seem a little easier if the memories were shared. You and I wouldn't have to bear so much by ourselves, if everybody took a part."

The Giver sighed. "You're right," he said. "But then everyone would be burdened and pained. They don't want that. And that's the real reason The Receiver is so vital to them, and so honored. They selected me - and you - to lift that burden from themselves.”
Lois Lowry, The Giver    


No they don't want that, yet too late the box is open.

At the very bottom of the container was the last thing to come out. It was something that wasn't evil. We call the good that Pandora unleashed by the name of hope.



"Not all the ties, for one, a little one, remains, like hope in the bottom of Pandora-s box. A wave of light so small that a thousand would scarcely reach ..."  Outlines of the Evolution of Weights and Measures and the Metric System by William Hallock, Herbert Treadwell Wade (1906)

Friday, August 8, 2014

Day 8 - #writeyourselfalive - tis but a dream









The waking from discombobulating dreams
leaves me disoriented and hovering between the worlds of awareness and mist
half my mind is stuck in elsewhere while the other attempts to shake this feeling of woe
It's all but a dream they say
An envelope filled with sand, sparkles and sadness
 
I would've assisted if you only asked it states
yet how could I ask if I never knew
even though the assistance was not needed, only the asking of you.







Wednesday, August 6, 2014

Monday, August 4, 2014

Day 4 - August 4th - #writeyourselfalive - Lucid Waters Damn the Wall

This might become a jumbled mess of thoughts, a stream, river, yet maybe just a slight trickling spring running down the mountain, free to roam wherever it wishes - UNLESS there is a DAMN DAM - BLOCK - manmade wall. Then it either dries up and cracks or becomes a muddy muddled mess of quicksand.

I find myself at times at the Wall
Towering laughing rumbling
Looking down tossing stones
"YOU WILL NOT BREAK MY BONES" stones
Because I, little trickling spring, am lucid
I move and flow, bend and smooth
Your rockiness I will shape into creative curves.
We all have cracks and yours I can find.
I will slowly wear and run through you.
You might not feel me at first, yet that crack will open wider as my fluid washes away your sediment.
An opening ,so glorious, will appear that the sun will rise and shine through you!

 

Sunday, August 3, 2014

August 3- Day 3 #writeyourselfalive - Where did Yesterday Go?


Yesterday came and gone and I sit and think of all the Things I could've, should've, would've done if....

I attempted this #writeyourselfalive back in February and I go back to my first writing of that time




February 25, 2014
Write your life away they say. Type your life away I do, yet not for my pleasure – for the pay. I sit behind this computer hours on days, days to weeks, years years and more years. My shoulders are quasied and my back is aching. Wrists splints, pinched nerves. I crumple with every clack. My keys are worn along with my body. No letters to remain on the board just memories of my fingerprints feeling the ghost of alphabets.

 Where is the letter N my daughter asks? Well I can feel it for you, but you won’t see it because my clack has worn the N right off the board.  How do you do that type without eyes? It is all programming of the mind. Oh the mind programming we go through to survive this path they call life, yet my mind is on an adventure, yet my body is trapped behind the screen. Almost a semi paralysis, but not really since I have the option of standing up.  So really no comparison there.
 
I am no longer "shoulding" myself. Like YESTERDAY... how many times did I say you have 5 more hours until this day is over... you SHOULD write something! 11:23pm: It is almost Midnight... a new day is upon you... you SHOULD write something! 12:13am - next day... Day Three... where did yesterday go I ask?
It went on a Journey with two little girls in tow to find the perfect pair of shoes in a wonderland of thrift. It went to watching my littles clippity clop around in sparkled heels and purses of plenty that held stories within their folds of previous owners. It went to the giggles of littles hiding in the largest Narnia Wardrobe ever. Yesterday was a room filled with wonders of others, left behind or gifted away so that others could play amongst the broken, used, and tossed.
I will not Should myself because even though the pen did not hit paper or the fingers did not clack, the story still wrote itself upon grey matter.
 
 

Friday, August 1, 2014

August 1st - Day One of #writeyourselfalive - Did She Really Want To?






 
The sound of incoming incoming incoming....
another chime
another bell
Ding
Ringtones
Another invite via Facebook Nation
I look at the Title
WRITE YOURSELF ALIVE
how appropriate since today I feel anything but
 
I have spent the past month doing almost everything in my power to NOT write...
why you might ask? well ....
lately words to me are just that words. At times so meaningless coming out of another's mouth.
Me a LOVER of words, the breaking down of them, the meanings behind them - the blasting honesty, yet Words of Weather - not much of a fan lately.
 
When the invite glared me down I hesitated, exhaled and accepted knowing I couldn't hide any longer, knowing that I needed to purge the word prison within.
I sat for a moment pondering: Oh you really need to think of something creative something spectacular, yet today spectacular isn't just that. I stop myself knowing that I will not do this for the applause that I will do this to continue to grow and fight through these shadows that blur my vision.
 
This past week I have had the urge to write, yet didn't want the waters to wash me away, because if I opened the door I would dissolve, or so I felt.
This is just it - words can be covered in sweetness, yet when bitten into there is an extremely sour center. Uncover the Sour - and write until my face puckers and explodes.
 
So with a puckered face I salivate a thank you for the invite to #writeyourselfalive