The idea is to write something every day, quickly, without fretting too much over words or taking any time to edit; just let the words flow in a stream of consciousness! I’ll see if they give me a story, a lyric, a poem. It doesn’t matter. If it blossoms into something fuller later that’s fine, but it’s ok if they remain fragments. Life is made up of fragments. Some of them become stories and some of them are just pieces of a larger story. Some fragments are singular moments in time. Forgettable or life changing they all have their place. -Lorelei Moon
Where did all this anger come from
What chasm burst to let it all run spilling forth
Who fed this fire to such a state of raging conflagration
That rain drops scorch and steam upon the earth
Who loosed this red horse spiked for battle
To trample the most tender heart beneath his hooves
What child has cried in pain to fuel this unhindered devastation
While stony backs remained unturned unmoved
Burn it down
Burn it all down to the black
Let the night share the dark with more than stars
Let the moonlight shine along the rivened scars
But let each lash out bring something back
Let each death bring something new
Let each wound be a furrow for a seed
Let bleed what needs to bleed
I’m finishing and loading up a bunch of things today, because I had that marvelous combination of time, internet access and my neuropathy being veddy, veddy quiet. Enjoy!
“You can’t understand someone until you‘ve walked a mile in their shoes.”
What a ridiculous idea!I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes for two steps and I won’t let you walk a mile in mine. I wouldn’t even let you walk around the block in them.
This is my path.My pain. My difficult road. And sometimes, it’s my easy street. You couldn’t stand to wear my shoes for a minute. Stop looking at them.
This isn’t some kind of challenge. And walking in my shoes won’t make you more empathetic or less judgemental. You’ll just end up pissed off with sore toes and a twisted ankle.
Oh, it’s possible the whole experience would give you some fleeting respect, a little awe for how I’ve managed to traverse such uneven ground in mismatched shoes for all these years. You might marvel at how most of the scars from my falls ended up on my insides instead of on my knees. But your appreciation won’t last because after you’ve taken your pity tour, you’ll be tottering along in your own shoes again, feeling quite superior. While you’re strolling easily or scrambling over debris in YOUR path, you’ll forget all about walking a mile or a minute of mine, although from time to time it may cross your mind that you’re glad you don’t have to.
I’ll let you in on a little secret because I know you won’t remember it next time we meet. I don’t always walk in my shoes either. Sometimes I kick them off and run completely off track for a while plunging my bare feet in sand or wiggling my toes in the grass. Sometimes I stop and lie flat on my back and thrust my feet into the cool night air and laugh at the sensation of lightness.
Sometimes I think subversive thoughtsabout not putting them back on again or just buying a new pair. But, no, they’re my shoes. Sometimes; a comfortable old friend, sometimes a particularly cruel bully that shadows me home, taking my refuge. Some days they hurt me to my bones, other days they soothes my soles.
I’ll walk in them until they become ghosts. When they fall off in tatters, I’ll walk barefoot until the sun sets.
Anger has stolen my tears
Or maybe it was the distraction of that side show magician
His assistant the pickpocket
Rifling through my grief
While the acrobats in shiny silver costumes
Swing on trapezes of dubious construction
In his red tails and towering top hat
The ring master whispers
Don’t look in the corners
Where the dust has collected
And the real side show horrors live
That’s where all the tricksters are locked up
So they can’t make you laugh
Or unveil the truth
No. No. Follow the sound of my voice
This pretty obfuscation swinging makes you sleepy, does it not?
And if you look or listen long enough he starts to seem quite sensible
You’ll be quite ashamed you ever questioned his bonafides
He will congratulate himself on his showmanship
Another sucker sold
But if you’re brave enough to really look
With both your eyes
And what’s left of your heart
Like I did
You’ll see the bears are really tiny dogs
The lions have no teeth
The tigers are declawed
But the elephants, they never forget
They trumpet the truth
Even when it means a hook in the side
Or a heavy chain embedded in their foot.
And if that doesn’t make you angry
Or fill your veins with righteous venom, what will?
Let it out, speak the truth
For the elephants who remember
And the tricksters who would show you that the sun doesn’t make the shadows
That shame is slight of hand
Blame is artifice
Wrong is wrong
I’ll speak the truth and the circus won’t like it.
They’ll make a circus out of it
A melancholy melodrama
You do me wrong they’ll cry
But then the wolf will come along
And I’ll have my tears back!
In respectful memory, hail & farewell to my big brother, Mike!
As all shadows fall away may he bask in the sunlight.