I would hurl words into this darkness and wait for an echo, and if an echo sounded, no matter how faintly, I would send other words to tell, to march, to fight, to create a sense of hunger for life that gnaws in us all,” -Richard Wright
In a musty old cave lie’s a treasure chest and inside are scattered amongst the various pages of an odd notebook or two contain collections of poetry and prose without a home, with no prospects in sight. These words are to the point and do not own any lavish pretenses of grandeur. They simply speak their truth as directly as possible, such as the truth a child will convey out of sheer innocence. I fear that these short verses will fill volumes if I allow them as much and bring me to task for my truth. But I will do away with my unwanted disposition of fear and let this long and winding road of words take me to where they might lead, to the river of my memory, with its rich loom on the alluvial plain of my mind.
*copyright jc 2020- 11 by 9 image9
Ogleo peaked through the crack of his bedroom door. He heard his mother’s door to her bedroom close for the night and the faint click of the light switch turn off. He stepped out into the hall, flashlight in hand and proceeded on his nightly ritual to his father’s great library occasionally shocking himself from the static electricity he caused by his socks rubbing against the recently steamed carpet. Of course, his mother knew where he was going and he knew that she knew. It was all a part of a ritual with the finale coming at 6:30 each morning where she would find him in his fathers leather recliner fast asleep with any number of books lying about him. Continue reading Ogleo
We began our romance deep within the confines of a world we conjured from the depths of our harmonious souls; a land of green pastures, thick forest; days of bright sunlight; afternoons of gentle rains and at nightfall, a celestial array whose radiance was only diminished by the luminosity emanating from my beloved. Call it Eden, Shangri-La, or Valhalla; we were its only inhabitants and the sole owners of all we felt for each other. The moat around our paradise was deep with swift currents, the bridge drawn and tied up, and no one dared to trespass who might take it away, for we were otherworldly and human prowess ceased to have any power here. Continue reading Arianrhod
“Go on and break you crazy heart” -Hank Williams
It seems like ages since I lived this one particular life and year after year it grew a little fainter leveling parts of my soul in total darkness. But always with lessons in tow, This should have been a day of joy and happiness… a celebration; but I chose not to attend and thus ruined the party for all concerned. Well, maybe not all concerned as some were glad the party didn’t take place at all and for them that was the real party.
But what do I feel and doesn’t it count for anything? That little intuition inside me kept saying, “no way, you can’t go through with this” even though I fought it tooth and nail out of fear that I was destroying a life. Better to ruin my life than another. Isn’t that the chivalrous thing to do?
What nonsense, cried our Pilgrim. Be true to thyself and that will bring you to a higher truth. Hide behind erroneous thinking and that will leave us as a naysayer of depressed energy longing for a life it thought it knew.
Yes, whispered the heart, fingers crossed, bowing slightly to the head. Likewise exclaimed the head winking back to the heart.
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“Love, what a mess it can bring to your life, guaranteed to screw things up, but what a glorious screw-up. For it is out of this world, of the universe.”
-Joseph Campbell Continue reading Love and the Particle Accelerator
Science looks to find the connection between Parkinson’s and Creativity
If you hear a voice within you say ‘you cannot paint,’ then by all means paint and that voice will be silenced. -Vincent Van Gogh Continue reading The Starry, Starry Night, Van Gogh & Parkinsons.
“To tame the savageness of man and make gentle the life of this world. Aeschylus Continue reading Song For Bobby
I’ve been a fan of Neil Young for many years now. It all started with, Buffalo Springfield, after that came Young’s solo albums along with various other incarnations. His music is contentious at times and harsh but melodic. A prolific songwriter which provides for a constant state of flux, Neil changes direction like the wind which is why he’s still viable today. Continue reading What Neil Young Taught Me About Life And Love
“Words used in different form and measure tell the story of our lives. Such stories conjunct other stories creating a collective story, word for word. When perfected, and connected, they sound of music playing in perfect harmony. They dance to the rhythm of meter and time on the road to meaning and understanding.” -jc Continue reading Mother