Sunday, January 24, 2016

A Little More Food For Thought

Leaving Your Mark on the World

There are a lot of people in this world. Some are okay with being mediocre. Others strive to be the best they can be. Those people who are striving, working, running to be what all they can be are usually the people who think the most. I am one of those people. I am the one who wants to be remembered. I am the one who wants to leave their mark on the world. I am the one who wants to be seen. I am the one who is stopped by insecurities, by fear, by doubt, by that little voice in my head telling me that I can't do it, by everyone's voice telling me no, no, no. I've been kept in a box, chained up, and one of these days I'll find the key and break free. And you better bet that this world will remember ME.

An Open Letter to My Future Son

Dear future son,
There are but little bits of advice I can give you to ease your journey through life
They are to make you brave
They are to make you strong
They are to make you fearless

Dear future son,
Of course words will be daggers
They will tear you up inside
And if you allow it
They'll have the power to destroy you
Don't give it that power

Dear future son,
Of course fights will be wars
They will hurt you physically, emotionally, mentally
And if you allow it
They'll have the authority to break the greatest bonds
Don't give it that authority

Dear future son,
Of course tears are broken mirror shards
They will portray you as weak and broken
And if you allow it
They'll have the puppet strings to control you
Don't give it that control

Dear future son, 
Of course Anger will be fire
It can burn you everywhere inside and out
And if you allow it
It'll have the chance to deprive your heart of love
Don't give it that chance

Dear future son,
Of course happiness will be rain
It can make a flood or save the day
And if you allow it
It'll have the opportunity to make everything okay
DO give it that opportunity

Ode to Fear

Fear is a clenched fist
He has a deadly aim
But whose blood is on his fists?

It cripples and cuts us down like a lumberjack
Hours we spend falling on our knees
And why can we not rise?

You’ll never leave us alone
Our minds take in your poison with no extra thought
You needn’t even disguise it as something good to drink

You pounce with power
We feel your grip wash over us like waves on the sand
But your undertow takes us to places we’ve never been

Spiral out of control, already
You’ve made a maze of my mind already
Why would you stop to clean it up?

Attack with your sword
Stab me through the head
Would you even hesitate?

Feed us with your friend Doubt
It’s somewhat the same as you
There isn’t a soul on this earth that you haven’t visited yet

Chain us to a rock and throw us out to sea; leave us alone
Drowning in the cool waves is better than living with you inside my head
There isn’t a better way to die than to be surrounded by the waves

Fear leave! Doubt leave!
I’ve cleaned my mind; it’s an open grassy park
Did you think I wouldn’t bother to rid my mind of your twisted mazes?

Hope is a new feeling; Reassurance is as well
But we like the feeling
Why would we ever give it away?

We wouldn’t

Kept in the dark

I’ve been kept in the dark
Away from everyone
I’ve heard the screams, the shouts, the cries
But no one could hear mine

I close my eyes to brace myself
Against the hourglass of time
But I watch as the sky falls down
All around myself

I’ve shook hands with the sunrise for she was cruel to me
Accountable she was not
I was glad when she went away
For that is when I became alive

I touch the water like I touch a snake
Afraid of it biting my hand
I was glad when the water was gone
For then I wouldn’t drown

When we were wrong we would watch the truth die
Abiding by the falseness of everyone’s lies
We were glad when the hourglass ended
For then we would suffer no more

I’ve been kept in the dark
With nothing but my thoughts
Who would have guessed that thinking could be deadly
I assure you, I did not

To Move a Mountain

What does it mean to 'move a mountain? Some think in literal terms of a real mountain, standing all tall and proud. Most say it's impossible to move mountains. Others tell their children that they will. So what does it mean to 'move a mountain?'

To move a mountain, first and foremost, you have to have courage. You have to look at that mountain no different than you once looked at the next sofa to get over the lava which was the floor. You have to determine that nothing is going to stop you; no one and nothing is going to stand in your way. And by all means, you must have that adrenaline rush when you decide to take that leap of faith.

To move a mountain, you must be strong. Not in the physical sense, of course, but in the emotional and mental sense. You must bear the most trying people. Other's words and actions cannot phase you. You have the power, the authority, the choice to ignore it all.

To move a mountain, you must have perseverance. The same perseverance you had when you conquered the monkey bars at school. Though your hands were moist with sweat and your arms were burning hot, you had the mindset of a warrior, determined to finish his mission.

To move a mountain you must have attitude. No, child, you don't have to be arrogant or prideful. But you must be confident and be proud of yourself, just like when you got up in front of the crowd and performed for the first time. Stand up for yourself just like that mountain stands all tall and proud.

To move a mountain you must have faith. Faith is something that can be demonstrated or found. It's something you can feel deep inside of yourself. Faith is believing that you can do anything, no matter how far fetched or how impossible it may seem.

Moving a mountain is no easy task, little one. It will try your very soul and tear away at all that is left in your dying heart. But you have the courage, that adrenaline, that strength, that perseverance, that attitude, that faith. You have all that you will ever need to move a mountain.

So by all means, do those things, little one, and watch that mountain move.

Why I Write Poetry

Why do I write poetry, you ask? Aren't they just empty words? Aren't they just another human's soul being poured out on paper? Don't I know that no one cares?

Well, you should know that I don't write poetry just for people. I write poetry because it's the antidote to my wilder mind. It's the drug that eases my breaking heart. It's the rain that saves the crops. It's the music to my listening ears. Poetry has become an outlet for me. When I write poetry it's the only thing (because a person wouldn't) that let's me be me freely. I don't have to hold anything back. I'm not confined to what people think I should be, or what people think that I should write. This is me; I am the one who has ink mixing with her blood in her veins.

Why is your poetry so morbid?? Why are you so morbid, you may ask?

Who wouldn't be morbid? It's almost like being mad. As Alice from Alice and Wonderland says, "You're mad. Off your head. Bonkers. But I'll tell you a secret, all the best people are." Though my mind is morbid, writing it down gets it off of my head. It keeps me from doing awful things I'll come to regret. Writing poetry and cleaning my morbid mind is a way of taking out what is inside and putting it out there for everyone to see. I write what I feel because I lack the speaking capability and the words to say what I really feel. Writing what people think is morbid is my saving grace some days. Some days it calms my beating, broken, breaking heart so much that I no longer have the need or the want to be angry. What you can morbid is what I call beautiful. That's why being morbid isn't so bad.

Aren't you afraid of being judged?

Of course I've afraid of being judged! I am judged. You are judged. We all are judged. So why should we be afraid? Ha ha! Why, what would happen when I all would stop being afraid? Would it make things better? Or in fact, would it make it worse? It's better to have your misunderstood people than to have a utopia where everything is perfect, but you really don't think. I think, I think it is better this way.

This is why I write poetry.

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