Instant Poetry Vol. 1

This past week I posted three poems on my Instagram account and wanted to share them here. I am very proud of them and hope you find something in them that moves you. If not, then I did my best and I wish you well. If you do, then stay a while and maybe we can inspire each other.

IMG_3764IMG_3769fullsizeoutput_620

As a writer I typically always carry a pen on me regardless of whether or not I’ll actually use it, I just believe I’ll always need it, I usually have a little notepad with me too. In the days of smartphones and tablets though I find myself using my phone now more than ever to jot down story ideas or concepts and even to craft full projects. I still absolutely adore the feeling of pen/pencil to paper, but it does feel good being able to share something with you so easily.

Thanks for reading, may these find you well and may your heart beat strong. Be kind to one another, love deeply and be weird.

Advertisements

<Creative/CONtrol

I feel as though something every creative person struggles with from time to time is the concept of doing it for themselves or doing it for them. The “Them” I am referring to is the clients/employers/general population. It can be easy to get caught up in the idea of producing art or otherwise creating things for a paycheck. I mean isn’t that the dream? Being able to do what you love and being financially secure from it? At the same time though, can’t that be torturous if you wind up doing something thats only a fraction of the craft you love? Something thats diluted and watered down by the interjections of an institution of some kind? I myself do freelance writing and while I do enjoy aspects of it, I find that it takes away from the time I used to have to create in the way that I love to.

With that being said, I’m not complaining, only stating that in those situations you need to make sure you find a little bit of time to do what you truly love and balance your passion with the paycheck.

Heres my effort to do that exact thing.

I present to you Chapter one of “A Bastard’s Last Dance”.

The liquid that filled my mouth was thick and tasted of metal. My jaw was clenched tight as another fist swung into and connected with the right side of my chin. The blood I had been holding onto fled the vessel of my mouth with vigour as I fell. I landed on my left side supported by my hands and knees, the blood slowly dripping from my now open mouth. I had no words for the man standing behind me though he had plenty for me. I wasn’t altogether sure anymore why I was here on the ground. Not to say that I didn’t think I deserved to be but to say that I thought I had more fight in me. While assessing my beliefs in my combat abilities I felt the business end of a steel toe boot connect with the left side of my ribs. I am ashamed to say this is when I first cried out in pain. It wasn’t the two punches to the stomach or the two to the jaw. It wasn’t even collapsing on hands and knees in an abandoned warehouse where not one of my friends could find me. It was feeling the tip of that boot connect with my ribs and hearing the loud crack that went along with it. To clarify the audible I must confess that it wasn’t my ribs that cracked, though I imagine there are fractures. No, it was what I had placed in the inner pocket of my jacket that emitted the distressing sound that caused my outcry. The item to which I was affectionately attached had initially belonged to my father. It was his favourite watch that he had left me. The last object besides the DNA within me that connected us. I knew that the destruction of a material item such as a watch could never sever the bond or dissolve the memories I had of him. Though it was the principle of the item that I had wished to remain intact. As I rolled onto my back with the pain in my ribs pulsing through my torso I clutched my jacket where the now broken watch resided. It was neither the item or my possession of it that brought me to this low of a place both literally and metaphorically. It was something else entirely that can neither be truly possessed or otherwise owned. The man was pacing around me saying words that I both understood and didn’t agree with. He made claims of trespassing and theft though to which he referred could as I mentioned, be neither owned or possessed. As I lay in pain on the ground surrounded only by emptiness and the words of my villain, I managed to retrieve the pack of cigarettes i held in my right side pocket. He didn’t seem to care as I flipped open the lid and produced what was now a half sized cigarette presumably damaged in the struggle. I lit my small but equally as appreciated saving grace and took my first drag. I was overwhelmed with an awesome wave of calm as it soothed my aches. Intent on savouring my chemical bliss I let the smoke drift slowly through my lips as I noticed his ranting had stopped. Drawing my eyes back to his presence he stood now several feet away. All was as I’d left it save for the knife now clutched tightly in his grip.

“Well alright then”

I mumbled softly. My eyes floated back to the smoke still escaping into the world. I took another long drag, this time enjoying it more as my last. As he took another step towards me the plume of smoke I exhaled reminded me of a rose. A beautiful and elegant rose, like the very flower that got me into this mess. I closed my eyes to his advancing and basked in the memory. The warmth filled me as a pot of hot water and I floated away silently. Drifting away just me and my flower.

A Song to Cry To

This is my fourth attempt at writing this line. I think thats because I strongly dislike starting the conversation. Even here, by myself, to a potentially non-existent audience. Which is a very good point as well right? If there is no audience then why write. I am sure some of you are asking why I write these at all. Maybe I bore you, or maybe my writing is boorish. Either way. For those of you actually reading this, thank you. Oh, and I probably like you. Maybe a lot, or maybe only a little. Part of that is because you’re choosing to read this instead of something else which would probably be more rewarding.

Something I like to do a lot is make statements. I also love asking questions. However if any of you were to ask me whether or not I enjoy either of those you’ll probably get a response similar to “No, I don’t like either of those. Why?”.  Which is an entirely perfect example of who I am. At least at this exact moment or at least who I pretend to me. Its kind of fucked really. (Sorry mom, bad language is bad.)

The truth is, while I claim to dislike people, conversation and small talk. I actually like those things. Its probably some deep seated fear of abandonment or failure that prevents me from reaching out or actually participating. I’m trying though, and learning and growing (you know, grown up stuff). This really does feel kind of syrupy and sweet though doesn’t it? As if I’m writing some tell-all in the hopes that any one of you will relate and think that I’m interesting. Unless that comment is just me self-deprecating in the hopes of also relating and hooking you in because of some twisted fascination you may have with people who talk too much about feelings.

Regardless. There was a point to me starting this thing, and even a point to the title. If you bare with me I’m sure we will make it that far.

Okay.

I guess I just wanted to paint a picture. It’s sometimes thought of that crying is a sign of a weakness or sadness or any other thing that is anything other than beautiful. I disagree with that. A lot, and for specific reasons. As I’m sure a lot of you know, its an incredible release of emotional build up and can be extraordinarily therapeutic. Also, Its healthy. Whether you’re genuinely sad or not, its sometimes just the thing you need. I don’t necessarily mean that you should garner a habit for it and stock up on kleenex. Just that maybe if for some reason you feel a pull in that direction maybe you follow it.

I myself fight it, instinctually. Sometimes it seeps through and other times its bottled.  Either way, something I appreciate as I grow older (cliché, I know) is when you find a song that just splits your heart open and eases out those tears. I’m sure every one can relate to that. Thanks for listening, or reading I suppose.

Life is exactly what you make it. The only things truly in your control are your actions. and your reactions.

Sorry if I come off as pretentious. I promise that in life I’m more deer in the headlights and less modern day wanna be philosopher.

 

Group/Activity_README

Being a part of a group is a magical experience. No matter what kind of group you’re in it’s an experience and it contains magic if you’re willing to look. And by that I definitely mean being the creepy guy at the end of the table who watches everyone else interact. It’s wholesome and fantastic! Always. It never fails. Unless you get engrossed in an interesting and captivating conversation, then you’re screwed. Or maybe then you’re actually participating. But isn’t that overrrated. I mean really, you could be watching the events unfold instead of actually being involved. Wait… that could be the anxiety talking. 

Hold on. My point makes sense. What I’m saying is that a group dynamic is intriguing. You have a varying collection of thoughts and personalities all colliding in a giant melting pot where we all contribute different aspects of our culture towards a larger gain. Right? Isn’t that what America was built on? Or maybe that’s too trumped up of a statement. My point still stands. When you have the opportunity to be present at a group event, you should do it. Worst case scenario you make a new friend or learn something new. 

As my dad always said “pour me another beer” but seriously, as my dad always said “pour me another beer”. So in the wise words of my father whom I love. 

Pour me another beer, kid. 

Also, I need to get back to my group event now. I’ve been very absent through writing his. 

Post_Vacation_Bliss.exe

I’ve never really taken a vacation before. I mean, not one that was longer than a weekend and in a country other then the one I live in. Not one that I can recall while I sit here and type this anyways. Which is fine, because I’d rather have gone on few amazing vacations instead of many mediocre ones. Which is just my way of justifying a lack of vacationing I suppose. Its like when people say that its not how many friends you have its the quality, they’re just ashamed that they aren’t likeable enough to have more friends (I’m joking). I think I jut never thought I really deserved to take a vacation because I never really felt like I worked that hard to have earned one. I don’t feel that way now. About the vacation I just took at least.

It was time anyways, my partner and I have been together almost four years and had never had a real vacation and after the last year of endless hard work we just went through it was hard earned and well deserved. I mean she works hard, very hard. I suppose I don’t like, save lives or anything, but a friend once told me that its all perspective. For instance, I serve coffee at my day job and do freelance writing in my nights. You could argue that with the coffee I provide, I am saving lives. That isn’t to say that I’m on the frontline of salvation armed with percolated glory and a sling of holy coffee beans. Though it is to say that maybe that old yarn about “Give me my coffee before I snap” could be true for someone on a specific morning and I’m the one postponing the breakdown. Either way.

I don’t actually believe that I save lives, but I do believe that I at times have the ability to make a difference in someones day. Even if I’m just a blip on the radar, which is okay with me believe me, I think I leave a mark. Now I want to clarify that I don’t mean leave a mark like a lasting legacy and they’ll tell stories of my wisdom at the campfire to the younglings before bed. Just that maybe they’ll smile and think for a second that the day isn’t bleak and the end is a little more distant seeming than the horizon (Which isn’t me saying the end is nigh, we’ve probably got another ten years at least, or twelve).

The strange thing about vacationing to me is that you leave your home, go somewhere new to you (or familiar) and you live like you would if you weren’t restrained by work or obligations. The reason why I find that strange is that if we really wanted to I think a lot of us could live like we want a little more frequently in the place that we do call home. Not to be little the vacationing aspect of life, I do love it dearly, I just think that we may idolize a concept that can be applied more directly to everyday life. I mean think about it, maybe your idea of a good time is to climb way up into the alps or ski down a mountain in the freezing cold at break neck dangerous speeds (I’m not a skier, can you tell?). Then of course you cant just do that on a whim because your day job felt extra boring on a Tuesday. Maybe though, we can do more of the little things daily that make us smile and keep us happy instead of postponing them for that big trip you’ve been planning for two years and haven’t saved up enough for yet. Just a thought.

Regardless of what works for you, you should do it. For me, a vacation seems to have worked at least a little bit. The inner monologues have slowed down to a reasonable pace and the hordes of people I share this world with don’t seem quite as intimidating as usual. Maybe now I can get back to being productive in a creative way more frequently. I mean I do love money (money money money) but I should spend more of my time doing the things I love. So without dragging this thing out into a rally or a Ted talk. Lets all raise a glass of whatever you’re drinking as you read this and toast to love, dreams and whatever it is that makes us tick (unless its illegal, then cut it out you cheeky monkey).

Also, one last thing, never gamble. Even when you win, you wind up losing. Unless you win big, like really big, then always gamble and always win.

 

Sometimes It Works Out.

As some of you may know. I started making music from time to time. What I had done was set out to create a 6 song EP that I was proud of. I have finished that. Now, there are a lot of changes I still want to make, and only three out of the six songs I actually love. As well I plan on completely changing one of them. I do have to say I am proud of my commitment to the work.

With that being said, I did wind up creating a song I turned out to be quite fond of. I haven’t shared it anywhere yet, and I actually made this on December 30th. I wanted to wait until the album was perfect and I could find a way to release it to you, but I really want you to hear this.

I hope you listen to it, I hope you like it, and I hope that maybe it moves you in a way that music moves me. The song is one that I like, and it completes the story I had tried to tell. The album itself isn’t perfect yet, but I like to think that this song might be pretty close.

After The HoliDaze. 

Once we’ve all had our fill of Christmas dinners, presents, and family traditions. It’s time to sober up from the holiday buzz that overcomes us all. Whether you get drunk off the gift giving and holiday cheer, or just the eggnog, it’s a great time to take some self inventory. Did you get what you wanted out of the season? 

If your answer is an all around resounding “Yes!” Then I’m proud of you and happy for you! If. It’s not, then why is that? Keep in mind I’m not a therapist or counsellor so I’m not trying to get in your head or solve your emotional problems. I’m trying to open a dialogue. Something I always used to get hung up on was personal satisfaction. 

I mean that in a specific way such as, I would only ever find it if I managed to make everyone else as happy as I could over the holidays. Then I’d second guess myself and wind up miserable. It didn’t matter if I KNEW that I did a good job of gift giving or spreading holiday cheer, it would somehow get twisted. 

There’s no real solution to this that I can offer you, so instead, this is what I’ve been doing. Try and understand what you’re capable of accomplishing, and then what you’d like to accomplish. If those don’t line up, then adjust your perspective. It isn’t possible to make every single person on your list perfectly happy. Yet it is possible to do the best you can and feel good about it. 

As we trek through the last week of this very curious epidemic we know as 2016, don’t get hung up on the holidays. Look forward to the next chapter or the next project. Even the next holiday if that’s your bread and butter. Either way, acknowledge that you did your best, and you’re loved no matter how many gifts you brought to the tree, or how many hours you had to work through this season. 

It’s sometimes hard to fathom, but we’re all doing a little better than we’re feeling. 

Happy holidays, may you have a peaceful and love filled end to the year.