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Writing. What an interesting medium of expression. I find what begins in my heart travels through many filtered corridors within, only to exit through my fingers onto the page as revelation or revulsion. Odd how the creative process wiggles its way through the essence of who we define by our actions, yet appears to defy our external character.

That’s the way the writing goes this evening. Either the words make sense or they die miserable deaths on the digital clotheslines of this blog. Strange moods deliver bizarre views from within. I’ll leave the thumbs-up or down to you, the reader. My of-the-heart offering this evening with no editing interruptions:


I dreamed one night of a room like this
Five color lamp – red, blue, green, yellow, orange.
Music on my stereo then as now
Boston – More Than a Feeling.

Today, Brad Delp is dead – suicide
My room splays itself with clutter in both times
My heart still knows itself to be sad and wistful
My dreams continue to soar while I sit and watch

Elton still cranks out tunes
Bernie still pens incredible life observations
I still lose myself in well written material
Age still plays games with my psyche

Days of Futures Past
Moody Blues, god what a great creation

I long to dance
I long to soar
I see thrills in jostled breezes
I feel alive with possibilities

Children’s eyes see more reality
Adult sensibilities destroy our souls
Music’s intrinsic power rests in passive passion
Melodies the bow to our heart-strings.

Long, cool midnight walks
Clouded eyes and clouded skies
Soothe only the partnered person
Wrapped in arms of love

Long to dance
Long to soar
Feel electricity in dead voices
Live dreams on notes long ago sung

Good god, every moment we live should be captured
Imprisoned in our heart and soul
Savored and delivered to perpetual examination
Beauty reveled, pain reviled.

Each breath drawn imbibes precious time
Precious consciousness, precious existence
Each time we pass beauty in all forms without acknowledgement
Stands as a crime against our lives.

Can’t you breathe it? Life? Can’t you drown in life’s miracle?
Cold. Hot. Sexy. Bland. Colorless. Vibrant.
Lilting. Jerky. Flowing. Crimson. vacuum.
Can’t you taste it? Life? Can’t you gorge yourself in life’s fleeting spontaneity?

Thrills. Joys. Mountainous melancholy. Depths-filled depressions.
Winding around curvy roads of complexities.
Life’s simplicities beg our attention away from our distractions
Our prioritized focus lost on pointless escapes from our truths.

Land your hand soft on her shoulder
Paint a thousand words of beauty in her ear
Wink at the night and its smug knowledge
Smile at the cosmic joke played on us all

Find your answers by not searching
Seek your fortunes by realizing no monetary system on earth contains value
Slip into joy by releasing your control
Smile in the knowledge that you will never know.

Many precious breaths await you
None containing more importance than the one you suck in reading this
None more full of life and vitality than the one leaving your lungs this moment
None less capable than any past or future inhalation

Appreciating the moment, pain or pleasure
Defines all we ever possess.
Find that moment. Pain or pleasure.
Breathe it. Live it. Cherish it. Acknowledge it.

Odd how words flow in peculiar ways
Yet they paint tapestries in our life’s fabric
Which struggles for definition –
Best when patterned ourselves rather than copied

Greet yourself as an old friend
For who knows you longer?
Invite and hold dear the connections of others
Realize their sweet intrusion in your life will never be permanent.

Bittersweet flows the lifeblood of our years
No joy ever lived that didn’t know pain
No devastation wrought without the experience elation
For measurement, however incalculable, must own a reciprocal.

Slip your heart’s hand into every ounce of good you find
Wash that same hand of all life’s fatalistic grime
Capture the sunbeam on your face, the music on your tongue
And release it all back into the world that others may enjoy.