Nope.
I write to hear myself think
to live my life in the pages of a journal
to wander through each line
to sit on top of adjectives
to hide behind verbs
to form myself into an exclamation point
on page 263
as if it were my last page
I wrote when i saw rows and rows of corn on my drive to Owosso
crunchy golden corn husk
feathering the descended cloud mist
and with my chin to my shoulder i watched them
I sped by
and was surprised to see them
rows of them
chatting patiently with each other
making friends
corn friends
husk to husk
I wrote again when i saw my friend
who had given in to a familiar sin
status quo had eaten him alive
even though he appeared to be
well done
I wrote in my sleep last week
when i couldn't figure something out
but i did figure it out
and then woke to the smell of my wife at my side
sometimes...
by the time my head levatates each morning
i have had fourteen ideas
for explaining something with my pen
though i always forget my best brainchildren
like a preoccupied mother
and end up with those forgetful ones
the ones with red hair and such
BUT...
the best of the best
were only alive in MY head
and they made it out of my conscious
to the land of the sub-conscious
And they will swim
because that's what they do
I write my signature on things
because i am famous i guess
the mortgage companies
must be selling my autograph on ebay
becuase they request a new one each month
i know, i know
you "need it"for the "payment"
i understand how that "works"
I write the songs that make the whole world sing
and it's not even hard
just write a dumb line or two
one that gets everyone all worked up
one about life and those less fortunate
and you will get every tender heart gathered in one
big sappy crowd to sing "we are the world"
but when the song is over
they will change the channel
they will go home
they will not lift a finger
to do a thing around this place
I write out my anger
i lash it out more like
the pen is mightier than the sword
when you finally say what you mean
but don't really mean what you say
And lastly,
i write with a blade of grass
in the carpet of the earth
among the bugs and the caterpillars
they have lives too
and i explain theirs with words
I dip my proverbial pen in a puddle of rain
as they sit by and watch me write their lives
and they are thankful that someone cares
and they turn into butterflies for me
and wrap themselves up in cacoons to say "thank you"
and they rub their legs together...
and write the songs that make the whole world sing
12 comments:
Why do you?
I don't.....but thanks for asking!!
HOLY COW!
I love that you can do that, lay down words in colored pictures.
I write so rarely that I still have that little assignment you had us do at Orville's. Sad huh?
Thanks for sharing.
I (used to) write to know that I am heard by unseen forces, spirits, the unknown, and my dead mother.
I (used to) write to validate my feelings and emotions when no one else will.
I (used to) write to channel emotions of anger, sadness, hopelessness and fear... somehow I think I never feel better at the time, but I really do.
(Rarely) I (used to) write from inspiration of others inspired.
When I was 13 I wrote a sappy, melancholy-filled song called "17 Little Children" dedicated to the children who were killed as a result of the attack on David Koresh and his compound. It was horrid, and I didn't keep it.
I don't really write anymore... there was a tragic event that happened to me last year that I can't talk to anyone (except Jeremy & my therapist) or write about lest anyone finds out. Tragedy upon tragedy last year- I believe it is pretty closed up now. I can't even write in my baby's book really.
Besides, I wrote flamboyant and dramatic- there was never any simplicity or calm in the writing storm, and all the songs I tried to write REALLY sucked big time. ick- I can't believe I actually put people through the horror of it- especially at church! YIKES!!!
(sorry this is so long! I do miss reading your penned images though- this was really great)
Kim,
Your reference to Orville's actually made me miss Flint.
Lily,
Are you kidding? Sit down and do it girl. I still remember "as pink as one drop of blood in a bath tub full of water" Now who is going to give us images like that? I'll give you the subject. Let's see...hmmm...got it! How about the little marble in your belly (marble -awww). Something from her perspective. Her plans for her life as she stews in that belly. AND I WANT TO SEE IT ON YOUR PAGE!!!
I'm so bossy.
I love it when you bring my boy Barry Manillow into your Blogs - nice work! By the way, awesome stuff. You had me at "Nope."
You amaze me with your thoughts and metaphors. Thanks
Good stuff. I wish I had one poetic bone in my body...nope.
Hey, did you finish the book yet? Whatd'ya think?
honestly? the real stuff I write, not the stuff here...but the stuff hidin in my computer...
written totally in hopes that someday it will help someone else...well, not really even help, but maybe just give someone else the knowledge that whatever it is that is there "thing", that they aren't alone...that there are others of us out there with the same "thing" or maybe a little different....and at the end of it...there is HOPE...well, and that actually isnt even true...I want them to know that even in the middle and beginning that the HOPE is still there!
thats why I write!~
So, I did, and it'll piss you off and you will see why I shouldn't anymore...
Love that Laundress. Thanks.
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