Tap Into My Mind

An Explanation, If You Please

2011-06-28T00:23:00.003-05:00

I realize I haven't posted anything on here in a long time; there are several reasons for this.

One of them is that I've become rather more picky about when I let my writing out into the public. Along with this, I haven't really been doing much quality, completed work recently—as I've been spending my creative time more on music than writing. Maybe I've also gotten more self-conscious about my writing, I don't know.

The other reason for my lack of posting is the fact that I had, in my mind, restricted this blog to only creative writing—poetry and such. And while I haven't been making much finished creative writing, I do have a lot of more "traditional" blog material floating around in my brain. Several times I've had the urge to write an entry of that sort, but stopped myself because, "that's not what this blog is for."

Well, not anymore, I've decided! Henceforth, I am lifting my self-imposed restrictions! (let freedom and liberty reign! or something)

Don't worry (I'm sure you were), I'll still post any creative writing I happen to make and deem good enough for exposé.

Planted

2011-01-04T12:44:00.001-06:00

Swirled and swept and cradled—
Little brown seed among
Rocks and violent eddies—
Shivering river foaming, flowing
Down, and around,
Carrying a tiny piece of life—
Like a mother, until
She sees at last the spot;
And slowly sinks the seed
Into the soft soil, its foot is a root—
Deeper, stronger, clinging
To the earth its stronghold,
Borrowing his stability while
Around the soft new body,
Sunlight replaces water
As the last strands of river retreat away,
Leaving a tree to stand
calm,
still.

Solitarity

2010-01-16T23:02:00.001-06:00

Walls are easier and
Far less risky than
Doors can ever be.
Clay the face to
Play the part of
Desirability.

The Sinking of the Trade Ship Prosperous

2010-01-14T10:49:00.002-06:00

Everything was going well —
Nothing wrong could we foresee;
    Now we sink beneath the swell.

One week since we bade farewell,
Fair winds blew us strong and free,
    Everything was going well

Warning none, but stricken bell
To the tempest made its plea —
    Now we sink beneath the swell.

Spices, cloth, and gold to sell —
Wealth giv'n to us by the sea —
    Everything was going well.

Traitor ocean, now our hell,
Swallows cargo, rich debris,
    Now we sink beneath the swell.

Ev'ry hand now feels the knell —
Fateful, solemn guaranty.
    Everything was going well,
      Now we sink beneath the swell.

The Difficult Journey

2010-01-13T11:45:00.004-06:00

     I tread canyons unseen by the sun,
    My eyes have grown weary with strain
   My next foot-fall may fail for the ground is unseen,
But stopping now carries no gain.

     I have no place to rest for the night,
    Some weeds and a rock for my bed.
   I can't tarry too long, for the hour is late—
Too heavy the message unsaid.

     I am tired, unable to stand;
    My soul, it refuses to move,
   But a purpose runs through me, abiding and sure,
And that strength, I am ready to prove.

        My eyes are fixed ahead—whatever
          Befalls me here, it doesn't matter.

Citrus Sinensis

2010-01-12T17:27:00.001-06:00

An impenetrable carapace sheltering an invaluable cargo—
Glassy smooth and coarsely pocked.

Not quite glowing, but bright with unearthly sheen—
Small facade of a fusion reaction.

A product of a timeless, pervasive, and delicate mystery—
Singular droplet of crystalline life.

Chasing After The Wind

2010-01-11T10:06:00.000-06:00

Was May (I believe) when all things froze anew—
For better or not. You see, we all grew
Accustomed to our place here; we thought—for decent enough reasons—
That nothing could stop. we saw it in the pattern of the seasons,
That rhythmic repetition which seemed to promise permanence.
Permanence, yes, but not—as we learned—for us.

It started innocently enough, people just need
To improve their position. But those who did succeed,
Who had the most to lose, became blind
to everything around them—even when the chill wind
was reshaping it all. There was no
Love, none you could see beneath the snow.

Greed was the catalyst—the thing that was able, in the end,
to bring a species to it's collective knees—that and
Fear. Greed made the land cold, but
Fear kept the sun forevermore tightly shut
away from the stony masses striving in vain
to warm ourselves from inside with our strain.

Presence (II)

2009-12-31T12:31:00.001-06:00

As I sit
And look,
The world is moving around me.

A glassy sky
Slides easily across mountains,
Stirring the light, and
I am inundated
By the eddies and currents
Of fluid firmament
On its way to everywhere.

Grass ripples
And sways in an elegant dance
For miles,
Reveling in the glory of living.

The world moves and lives
And saturates me with
Serenity.

Presence (I)

2009-12-30T15:30:00.000-06:00

Soft earth my cushion,
Sitting against a firm tree.
Grasses dance in the field.

Breeze runs fingers through my hair,
Lazily toys with the mill nearby.
The sun wraps me in warmth.

Luminous clouds migrate,
Shadowing acres as they pass.
Mountains can't fence them in.

Presence fills all 'round,
Stirs my core to pure joy.
Stones needn't speak.

To Stray

2009-12-28T11:15:00.001-06:00

Shoes hit pavement echoes round
Lone pilgrim wandering through
Streets pressing with silent empty

Birdsong through cotton mist
Siren's song in dimming light
Draws beckons urges lures

Compulsive overcomes qualms if barely
Pressing into unknown realm
Guided only by gleaming note

Futher stranger further into
Tangles branches moss webs hanging
Obscuring thread which leads somewhere

Nowhere here nothing hear
Sound gone rushing noise
Twisting sliding falling grasping

Blue bath of light now
Circle of earth walls surround
Stillness calm and serene yet
Wrong and needles to heart and mind
Alluring yet not without feeling
Caught or already soon fettered

Thoughts Upon Observing An Impenetrable Forest

2009-08-16T20:12:00.004-05:00

The human race is like running water: it always flows into the paths of least resistance. After a while, these paths become ruts that offer even less resistance. These ruts join other ruts in their common flows of time until the movement of the race is like a complex network of rivers, branching here and joining there, ever flowing where everyone else flows, where it is easiest.
There are places, however, that the ruts never penetrate - areas of hard, rocky soil that none dare venture into. Through time, these places become islands, not worn smooth and slick by the rushing of humanity, but coarse and full of texture. The human race simply ignores these islands. They are by no means easy places to travel - completely inhospitable to the liquid flow, and so they go on forever: untouched, pristine, entirely unknown to the human race.
Every so often, however, there comes along a one who decides to venture in, and what that one finds there can never be understood by the rest.

Dreaming

2009-08-12T00:38:00.001-05:00

Shock of realization,
All things solid now undone,
Oh, nowhere to run!

Watcher

2009-06-18T12:28:00.002-05:00

It is in ev'ning, clear and red,
That most go finally to bed.
But one there is, unseen though near,
Who lifts his head and turns his ear
For sight of wolf in shadowed glen,
Or sound of bat in cavern dim;
For he it is who guards the bed
Of sleeping peasants in their dread.

Haiku 2

2009-04-28T12:33:00.001-05:00

Hopping on pavement,
Flash of crimson brilliant;
Stops and stares at me.

After The Fact

2009-02-23T14:31:00.004-06:00

Was I sleeping, earlier?
The day seems somehow diff'rent
Than how it was before.

I feel back to normalcy,
At least normal in the sense
Of what I was before.

But normal?
What is normal?

I will never be the same -
I think as I look backwards
To how I was before.

What is to become of me?
Brand new person, now set free?
What was I, then, before?

A dead man?
No. A deaf man?

The ground was up above me,
The clouds around me swirling.
"This was my home, before".

Comfort was where I called home.
Comfort is gone, but at least
Someone has gone before.

Stars

2008-11-11T20:17:00.001-06:00

The hemispherical console wrapped darkly around my seat under the dark glass of the windshield. The few stars that could be seen through the port lights were faintly visible from inside. I sat down in the padded chair. I've never liked five-point harnesses, something about the idea of the impact that that fifth point would have if I were to rapidly decelerate. The safety advantages outweighed the discomfort, however, and I buckled myself into the harness before pressing my thumb against the small, cold, glass of the print-reader to bring up the auxiliary power to the instruments around me. Picture the scenes from those ancient movies that were supposed to be what the technology of the "future" (now, of course, the past) was going to look like: hundreds of small L.E.D.s flashing here, blinking there, holding steady in other places, all greens and oranges and blues (no reds this time, thank God). I guess they got the aesthetic effect right after all, even if they were off on their dates.
Once all the lights were solid, I flipped the small red toggle on the right, next to the engine feedback screen, to start up the engines and get independent power to the systems.
The screen in the center of the console began to scroll the self-diagnostic log up and up. Systems software – online, batteries – ok, fuel – 100%, life support – ok....ok....ok....ok, control surfaces – ok....ok....ok, control hydraulics – ok....ok....ok, engine temp – 3000, engine cooling – ok, and so on.
I could feel the beast beneath and behind me coming to life. From behind I could hear the dull rumbling of the engines; from around me the vents started breathing, the faint smell and taste of ionization in the air. I radioed the traffic control center to inform them that I was ready for departure, and a few moments later the reply came in my ear, acknowledging and telling me to wait for clearance.
I sunk back into the seat's cushioning and tried to relax all my muscles as much as I possibly could. My left hand went out almost unconsciously to the small touch screen in the upper left of the console, touching it where i knew the triangle-shaped button would be, filling my surroundings with soft music from another era.
Just when I had all but lost myself in the slightly overdriven guitar, the crying harmonica, and the smoothly chaotic drums, I was jolted by the voice in my ear telling me I was cleared for departure.
Shaking myself from my reverie, I radioed back to inform them I was departing, and smoothly slid the throttle lever forward until it stopped. The dull roar behind me grew quickly to a cacophony that engulfed me in its all-enveloping roar. A second later, an enormous, invisible hand was shoving me with all its might back into the padding of my seat, and I felt as though I would suffocate under the pressure. All at once, the lights of the port dropped away around me and I was completely surrounded by black except for the tiny little points of light that were beginning to come out in greater and greater numbers up above, growing brighter with every mile the beast around me pushed around and through itself.
Soon I could see the silvery-blue sliver that I knew was the horizon and the sun behind it. It sagged at its ends, and I began to be able to see the spherical shape of the rock that I was leaving behind me. Finally, with a gasp and a sigh, the hand that had been holding me released its grip, and I knew I had burst free of the planet's atmosphere.
I keyed in the coordinates of my destination – the small point of light ten degrees to galactic west and 5 degrees universal-up from my current heading – and sat back to lose myself once again in the sounds of a poor mississippi man who had played his guitar some hundred or so years before I would take to the stars.

The Sun, the Moon, and the World in Darkness

2008-11-06T12:33:00.004-06:00

I wonder does the moon
Attempt to make itself brighter
Or darker than the sun
Gives it luminance to be?

I wonder does it feel,
When it's waning, that it's failing
To live up to its purpose
Giving luminance to me?

And I wonder, is it true,
When I fail to trust the Spirit,
Am I simply doing best
With what He fashioned me to be?

Or can I, unlike the moon,
Make myself faithlessly dimmer
Than the One, in His abundance,
Wants to shine His Son in me?

Haiku

2008-10-22T19:15:00.003-05:00

Pale green shimmers
in the sun and breeze
the forest lives

Obsessive Compulsive

2008-08-18T01:01:00.003-05:00

"The sides are a little uneven," he thought, "just a little; not enough for it to be asymmetrical on purpose, just enough to be disturbing." He could feel the compulsiveness starting to swell in his chest. It felt like there wasn't enough oxygen in the air he was breathing, or maybe like he was intensely thirsty, or both. He tried to fight the feeling, to make his mind turn to something else, but it was too late, there was no ignoring it now. Finally, he could take it no longer. He calmly stood up - to an awkward hush that suddenly fell over the room - and walked determinedly around the long table to the man seated across from him. Without a word, he gently lifted the man's hat from his bewildered head, fiddled with the brim - the burning in his chest and arms and hands growing every second he couldn't make the brim exactly right - until finally like a cool refreshing breeze, the compulsive feeling in his chest subsided. He handed the man his hat, muttering some attempt at a quick explanation, and quickly walked back to his chair, calmly took a seat, and tried to act like nothing had happened.
"Are you quite done? Can we resume this meeting?"

Starting Off

2008-08-16T13:40:00.002-05:00

well, here we are, a brand new blog. i'm actually really surprised at how clean this whole setup is (though i shouldn't be, i mean, it's google, it's what they do).
i'll probably be using this mostly to post writings of mine (little stories, etc.), and stuff like that, so, if you happen to stumble across this, and you're interesting in reading my stuff, here you go.