Thoughts of the Hour --- 10/28/09

A Freewrite with the topic of "Spoken Word".

I had ideas, I had a foundation, but now all I'm left with is smoke.

My thoughts blown out the window, the walls collapse around me.

This "reality" as i'd thought, was just as gaseous as a dream.

And now, as I try to regain my consciousness, my piece of mind,

I am constantly reminded that reality IS a dream. Life IS a game.

Everything is nothing in the end.

The points, the money, the status.

They vanish just as a flame dipped in water.

Nothing is permanent because "forever" is impossible.

A Love, it is said, can never die. And while that may be true,

When the "carriers" are both dead,

Who will be the one to send, receive, or judge their love?

Despair is short lived compared to the life of text.

The Chariot of Death can not be outrun, it can not be drowned,

And it can only be slightly slowed down.

So why fear Death?

Throughout our lives, there are landmarks of maturity.

The coming of age, the gaining of wealth,

The loss of teeth, and the departure of Life.

Death is just the next level.

There is always one more step for everything.

Words can stay, and remain,

As well as go far beyond that next step.

Words are an elevator in this world of stairs.

Update!

I am sorry for the lack of posts recently. I am working on it, but these last couple weeks have been really difficult for me to think.

Time will improve things. It always does.

BUT I have entered a poetry contest. It is world-wide, and I am excited. Results don't come until February, so that is a very long time to wait, but I am excited and confident.

Send me good thoughts.

Thank you.

www.dorothyprizes.org

Week 6 poem: DRUGS

DRUGS

The pharmaceuticals have all the power,

Then they give it to you in pills that make you sour

“You have shortness of breath?

Then let’s take some death!

This will all be over by the end of the hour.”

It’s a silly little limerick

But you’ve signed so now you’re bound to it.

It’s a contract so grim,

It’s impossible to win.

It’s a system you can’t outwit.

The pharmacists and psychiatrists

Make their livings on commission.

They give you pills in small boxes,

Call it a sample,

They say “it’s trial-sized, I swear!”

But then the addiction starts,

And the jitters begin.

You’re stuck in the middle of the ocean,

And you don’t even know how to swim.

Now, I am not a doctor.

Nor a smart-ass with a degree

But answer me, oh misery,

How can such things come about to be?

From the doctor or the grocery store,

It’s all the same these days

You can get your OTCs or Ecstasy

Just with a stroll down Pharmacy St.

Thoughts of the Hour --- 10/9/09

Cancer

Leave me empty, leave me naked.

Leave me hidden under

A knit night-cap

Make me embarrassed, make me ashamed.

I've got no fault in this, yet it is me that keeps getting blamed.

Blamed for the expense, blamed for the time.

Blamed for everything else YOU can't take responsibility for.

You are a LIAR!

A burglar and a thief

I'd love to throw you in jail,

But you're already in my cells,

Calling them your own home.

You are close to my heart.

Closer than anyone will ever be.

Closer than is possible,

For human, or technology.

You live inside of me,

Draining energy,

Taking my hopes and dreams away from me

The white-blood-cells can no longer help

Because the chemo kills more than the cancer itself.

Thoughts of the Hour --- 10/8/09

From a freewrite in class today, with the topic being related to a "cacophony".

Freewrite 10.8.09

This cacophony of errors,

Chirping crickets in the creek.

I can not focus, I can not think.

My brain is filled with sound,

Music and noise bleed together with

The ambiance of the building.

The room is filled with sniffles,

The sickness comes nearer.

A new song, a changing season

The influenza epidemic comes more in to focus,

Its effects ever clearer.

Week 5 poem: Shoes

Shoes

Covering the feet of those big and small,

Creating, changing, destroying the world,

With the plaguing wrath of fashion.

Rise and fall.

Shoes.

An item so simple and common in our country,

But in others,

Children's feet stay battered and scarred.

Their callouses thicker than hides.

No money for footwear, it is all spent on food.

Yet, in our land of abundance,

We can spend more on a pair of shoes,

Than some families will make in a year.

A Walt Whitman style poem (2/12/08)

Train of Thought

Nothing to do, nowhere to go,

Looking for a topic to write about.

Searching, searching finding nothing,

Wanting everything. Waiting.

For the day to arrive,

For the package to come.

For my birthday, turning 16!

Topics now flow as if liquid.

Minds are a puzzle, a mystery, a game

Shifting, changing, constantly thinking

Always moving, "how interesting!"

Sleep beckons me, now its time for a conclusion.

Night fades in, good night.