Tag: reading

Strange Things

Strange things

happening here

Right outside my door

shots ring out in the valley

Where has my youth gone?

II

There in the road

You see the dreams we had as children

There’s a boy over there

With gravel in his hair

Ghosts in his eyes

And the winter

Comes in

From the gap in the window

And the river slowly fills

The bucket under the sink

III

She says she doesn’t dream

But she’s been whispering in her sleep and we both know we’ve changed

IV

We can’t go back but oh, it won’t let go

Even after you grow old

Or did they forget to tell you?

V

and there’s a girl over there

She’s a silk question mark

She doesn’t double speak

But every beautiful thing comes from some kind of pain

And it’s a long hard fall

But walk with her a while

In her garden

She will carry you

And it’s the world in her eyes

It’s the electricity in her lips

She’s dark energy

She’s the space between the chords of the blues

Shes my rescue

She’s my rescue

Strange things happening here

She’s standing at my door

30 for 30 (slide away)

I woke up

Trying to write again

The streets are silent

The talk is on the inside

It’s all the same lines

And
everyone smiles at the table

Drink in their hand

We’re all real good liars

Does the future look good?

And we saw the signs on the interstate

We saw the signs but we didn’t mark the time

We keep waiting for music to save itself

But we’d have to touch something that makes emotion

And we’re still numb from the great promotion

Someone said

It would take a sound

only your gut could understand

What happened to soul ?

I took a walk

My shoes wear down from the unpaved road,

The humidity is so thick, sometimes I feel like I could cut it with a butter knife

I try to write,

But my word document keeps freezing,

So I break out a note pad, you know the ones, paper, pens,

I transfer it to a typewriter

Now I can mail it to the Paris Review

Turn on the radio –

I don’t recognize anything I hear

I don’t relate

What happened to soul?

They say Blues won’t pay your bills

But Blues is the only thing that knows the way I feel

This is a mill town

But the mills are all gone

Does that make this a ghost town?

I like old things

I don’t know how to change

When was the last time you heard a sound

That took you by surprise ?

When was the last time you read something that opened your eyes?

I dress everyday

I Pour wine and coffee

When I write

I have to take myself seriously

get up

Get up off the floor

No one else is going to make you-

Sometimes it takes the change

But one of these days

You’re going to have to start again

Writer’s Log 21

I’ve been writing a lot of drafts

And putting manuscripts together

I’ve sent off three so far

Or was it two?

I didn’t even realize I have Archives on here

I started going through them…

It goes as far back as 2011

(Don’t go that far back…for your own sake just go to 2014)

I’m trying to read more

I’m convinced social media is going to crash like a bad marriage…

One day we will try to log in and it will just be a blank sign in screen for some business app.

Everything will be gone and the world will cry together.

In other news

I’m still trying to stay healthy

Living with Crohns and IBD can be difficult, but you don’t have to feel isolated or alone. Click here for more info @crohnscolitisfoundation can help with information and motivation. Keeping you moving forward. Remember, one step at a time. One day at a time. One flare at a time.

It takes courage.

Keep writing

Keep reading

Never stop learning.

Zelda

To all the summers

Waiting for the sunrise to touch the earth

The fields of open wheat

The blankets of lights beside the moon overhead

The late nights

Dreaming

Writing

Speaking

To all the women

Told they are too shrill

Too emotional

Or just how to misbehave

Remember

The lamps do not have to cease

Or go out

Alabama

Also gave you

Zelda Fitzgerald

She is one of our own

And you are enough

On your own

Remember Z

Read her

Carry her with you

Think of her

And

Stop apologizing

For taking up space

And existing

Start living.

The moon Queen

They say, she left her heart open, in the rain…

Every Tuesday

She would pick her flowers

And write her songs

No one knows much about her

What she really thought

How she felt about things

They only remember her sadness and her tragedy

I like to think

I know what she felt,

Some nights

At 3am

I can hear her playing the piano

Its music fills the halls upstairs

Some nights

When the moon is full

And melancholy

You can see her window open

Her wide, deep, dark eyes

And her blue dress

Sometimes it’s white

But she’s only there for a minute

And then she’s gone

You might see her at the top of the stairs

Or entering someone’s room

Trying to find something she’s left behind

I’ve seen some of her paintings

Some of her sketches

And heard her songs

I think I know what it must have felt like

To be filled so full

And not know

How to express it

To feel so alone

Like an outsider

Maybe she’s still trying to work it out….

They say

You feel the fear

And the terror

If you see her face though

The pain of dying

The air turns cold

I don’t believe it

I think you see the emptiness inside of yourself

No one knows what really happened to her

Her letters

Still show up under my door

That’s when I find her paintings

Inside empty rooms

Sometimes they’re in the park

I’ve seen her walking

When the moon is full

And the fog is down,

I don’t know why she talks to me

Maybe it’s because we are both alone

Filled with things to say

And unsure of how to say them

Maybe it never goes away

Maybe it doesn’t ever let go,

Maybe we just keep on trying

Even after we’re gone….

I don’t know her name

I only call her the moon queen….

Bleeding Ink #1206

Three hundred thousand miles

And the meter runs …

Dust on your shoes

The dreams

Inside

You’re building –

The weight

You carry –

This old house

Gets so worn down

It’s morning

&

You feel

You’re already

Out of time –

Feel the weight on your

Shoulders

Feel the darkness cloud the sky

A hundred days of rain

And it’s alright –

-regardingsamuel.com

Image origin unknown

Beagle in the City #215

Simon: I’m just saying, James Bond should have a dog.

Ethan: I hear what you’re saying, but I don’t see why he would need one.

Simon: 007 1/2

Ethan: What would he be licensed for?

Simon: To steal lunches and sniff butts.

Ethan: I bet Garf has been licensed to kill. He’s a tough guy. This is probably just his retirement.

Simon: What, that’s not true…he was adopted.

Ethan: I don’t know where he even came from, I don’t even know his past. He was probably lost on a mission. He just showed up one day.

Simon: …

Writer’s Log #17

Finished Go set a Watchman while we were on vacation. It was like walking slowly, chapter by chapter, into the ocean.  In a good way, and even as old as it is, almost half a century, forgotten and unpublished until 2013. I wish it had been published earlier so my younger self could have read it and learned something. However, I’m glad we have it today. 

I also have some other books I need to read. 

It’s raining and I’m able to work on my reading list to prepare  for my annual short stories for Haunted October granted some are simply bought because I want to read them. You can’t have too many books right?