Escaping Vanity

Requiring compassion, an open-minded flexibility. Would you Consider it? Are you set in your ways? So, you hear them out to be considerate? Folks make up their minds. Often after listening. But sometimes after hearing only themselves.   Before the rest of the interaction is ever shared. They call it an absentee ballot when you mail your votes in ahead of time. I call it absent-minded when you pre-decide. Sure, you can act classy and even showcase some dignity to listen after having decided.  Isn’t that disingenuous? A waste of another’s time? These remarkable ideas of democracy and freedom of speech. People offering solutions from their perspectives. Making strides to protect their freedoms is beyond considerate. But, do these sacrifices mean anything if we never consider it? Perhaps the ultimate mockery and ingratitude. Treating those great principles as meaningless vanity. Folks who value double thick Charmin more than the paper great ideas are wr...

Searching for the answer:  how do things become treasure? By dipping them in the Earth? Eradicating their abundance? Can you simply use a calendar? Things are heavily valued over the course of time. But, creating intangible experiences also develops treasure. It is after all an abstract idea. Something may be an artifact and still not thought of with value. They say such things are priceless. Displaying them, encasing them away from rust. The same as your mind encapsulating its valuables inside a shell. There are tastes, perspectives, and sounds - so unforgettable and never to be duplicated. Memories sealed; never to be compared or held under common light. They need an exhibit, a pedestal, to shine. Creativity carves out and etches details which distinguish each piece. Each of these throwback and help make up a collection. Certain things in your mind trigger and navigate the treasure map of your archives. Sometimes this is done therapeutically to give tender surroundin...

I believe that structure is important. That means dependability; load bearing. These are fundamentals of building and engineering. They’re true in our physical world and spiritually for a relationship of any kind. We adjust as things settle. Cracks form and things that were perfectly level at the beginning have a decline. Just as strict parents are softer grandparents, things we build have their prime and fade. Aged shells that are abandoned. Like a faulty mind cared for by assisted living. A protected property watched over by a historical society. Housing empty memories. Perhaps shelter for the homeless and unwanted. Refuge; inadvertent philanthropy. Ideas compose the framework of the structures we erect. Wearing hard hats as engineering ideas clash along the way. Hoping the finished collaboration stands the test of time. The tallest of these ideas. The biggest and broadest structures have lightening rods. Just as they are; targets for all sort of judgment and fanfare. The s...

Folks dig these ideas of freshness. No preservatives. From the farm to the table. Somehow these ideas exist even in a packaged world. Where we receive our goods via mail. Where safety and security are a must. These accessories are so prominent that we have special pickup. Recycling centers and protocols. A person is looked at as wasteful if they do not participate. Yet, the revolutionary mindset is to one-step eating directly from the field. Without the processing items would spoil quickly. Compost heaps and soil taking back our waste. However, with each step of preservation comes the wicked infinite of leaving carbon footprints. One that no rain will wash away. No matter the natural disaster, over every height of water from each strong superstorm the debris will survive. Unable to drown and without percolation, these altered experiments are irreversible. We’ve figured that with calculation these items will breakdown. No longer posing a threat. Each of these bein...

Living through a time sensitive crunch before an unknown judgement. Trying to live with comfort, looking for all of the love and quality time I could possibly squeeze in. Other folks have their own opinions and actions leaving my mind lonesome and empty of affection. Isolated; the old familiar feeling for so many years now. So cold and self-abused. Critiqued and coming to realizations of how no route, no direction, has travel without obstacles. Each one fatal to the journey through today. Wanting to be wanted. Doing so many things to stand out and for others to be forced to acknowledge the deeds. Yet, ... I am never surprised by the way silence and cold shoulders find their way into my life. Sleepless nights. Doesn't matter if the woman I love is next to me in the bed. She's off somewhere asleep with no idea how to find this island I am on. No matter how well the day went. Despite what good things I have said, done, or written... That unconditional love and string of ...

From fighting against sleep to fighting for sleep. In youth, yawns are a battle cry. Having the spirit to use a sobbing voice and resist going quietly into the night. Holding, grasping, clawing at rails built for safety. The cribs which seem like gentle cages. Gatekeepers with the best of intentions despite the restless and unpredictable waking.  Yet as we grow older... a wild spirit is possible. Strength, maturity, and might enable us to do anything; to actually go without sleep. Becoming our own gatekeepers without limits. Roaming free and slumbering wherever we may fall. In the beds of strangers or anywhere else away from home. That is unless conviction or old age imprisons a person. Systems built with curfew and lights out periods designed for structure. Cribs designed for elders. Supervised by mandate. While characters, previously innocent, fade away. Sleeping by someone else's schedule.  Former personalities which we try to rehabilitate toward socie...

Divided; When you fight sharing the feelings, when you're sparing the other person. For the forethought of saving heartache and emotional scar tissue about how you feel guilty, yet you just want to pretend things have been settled. Feeling as if you let yourself down. However, you don't feel wrong. In fact, they fight themselves. If you can both have second thoughts about being half-right, What is the place where those pieces of emotional truth fit together? Unwelcome may be too far, but unwanted is clearly how I feel. There's no hint of being missed or lusted after. The truth I seek is under the cover of foggy night. Resting in dark waters, uncertain danger flowing through the abyss. A lonesome spirit writhes like grapes shriveling under the sun. Baking away hope. The dry process of isolating and evolving loss. Aching joints as solitude removes the fluid. Those juices which had kept hope alive. Now hollow reservoirs of a once flexible system. ...