venturing forth

We rode clouds of fire, chariots of burning orange, in advancing ranks away from the horizon.  Armed with the sharpened wits and long finely honed experiences of our embattled lives we held firm in the belief and pride that success would surely follow.  The heavens had nothing left to counter our tactical march toward victory.

Clouds landscapes fire skyscapes the sky wallpaper
Image Credit: hqwide.com

We were naïve fools, the product of delusions and expectant entitlements pushed on us by those who wanted more for us than they wanted for themselves.

The night rose from the opposite horizon and met our advance swiftly.  We were overwhelmed and swallowed within the mighty maw of that darkness.  The hot coals of our rage were dowsed and the color drained away until nothing remained to distinguish our battalions from the foe we had hoped to vanquish.

Fireworks slowly winked against the backdrop of oblivion, but it was impossible to tell if they were there to celebrate the darkness or to give us hope that we would once again be able to gather our strength and forces and re-forge our sunset fired battle charge.  We looked for further clues of what the future held but chaos laughed away our attempts.  Resting.  Waiting.  We settled into the embrace of night and watched the show unfold.

Image Credit: hubble telescope

Time, carried forward by world scraping winds, slipped from our tenuous grasp to swirl in small eddies that led to the cold, deep, and swift currents.

We grew old waiting for a new spark to ignite our hearts.  We grew weak in the idleness of watching the world turn below us.  We grew tired, mind, body and spirit, and we closed our eyes against the harsh dancing lights.  Sleep stole upon us and secreted us away to the halls of vibrant dreams and desires where right and wrong always stood in stark contrast and love always conquered any who dared rise against her.  The lullabies of life calmed our stirrings and we drifted further into the darkness.

We woke gently to yawn and stretch as the hint of day caressed the edge of the world.  Our limbs and minds had been rejuvenated, reminded by the dreams of all possibilities that could be eventualities should only we have the courage and energy to fight for them.  We took up our broken and depleted chariots and quietly set about the task of readying them again for war.

The night had been good for us, allowing the opportunity to pause and reflect.  We hadn’t lost all of our naivety, but we understood that a certain amount of innocence was critical to our endeavor.  We could never lose sight of the hope that urged us forward day after day.  If we did, we would be lost in the darkness forever wandering between the empty battlefields of our past and the pristine visions of our dreams.

Air France: Place of Dreams, Disneyland, Air France: Airline, Ilde CS, Airfrance, Print, Outdoor, Ads
Image Credit: GettyImages

A perfect dream is still only a dream and means nothing without getting up every morning, dusting yourself off, and venturing forth in pursuit of the better world you want to see.

 

have of me

Should I write to sever all ties?
Swing my words to strike, rend and cleave?
Or should I age, wither, and fall,
Undaunting as an autumn leaf?

The real me would see your turned backs,
Disgusted by my selfish heart,
Walking intently out of sight,
Our friendship left fallen apart.

But every day the hidden truths,
My dark unspoken opinions,
Scratch and claw closer to the light,
To bursting into your vision.

Then what? Will you judge me harshly?
Condemn me for hiding myself,
To spare your feelings and beliefs,
Claim moral high ground for yourself?

And if I told you the truth now,
Laid bare my thoughts for all to see,
Would you respect me more or less?
A different outcome would there be?

What does that imply about us,
That I assume we would part paths?
You’ve never shied from skewering,
Those you felt deserved your full wrath.

I can’t stay hidden much longer,
My resolve cracks under the strain,
The beastly truth craves its freedom,
The split leaves me quaking in pain.

I do not want to fade away,
To simply vanish from your side.
I do not want to face your wrath,
To feel your tongue’s lash on my hide.

But I’m exhausted from this fight,
Should I stand brave or should I flee?
So passing time will have to tell,
What it is you would have of me…

……………….

I struggled with a title for this poem…  I struggled writing this poem.  I’ve felt distant from the blogosphere recently – partially because due to new circumstances at work I haven’t been on and interacting with all of you as much as I used to, and partially because I’ve been feeling like very few of us would end up being friends in the real world – our views, our beliefs, are too different.  We’d make a go of sure, but eventually one of us would say something that bothered the others too much to let it pass, and we would go our separate ways.  I’m not sure if that’s unfair of me to not give us the benefit of the doubt or if me thinking that is more a reflection on who I am right now than who you all are…

I’m rambling…

I miss you all.

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I’m That Kind of Girl

1jaded1:

Please read this story of someone who is taking back her confidence. So inspiring.

Originally posted on Stories that Must Not Die:

I’m the kind of girl who will give you a handshake when you go in for a hug and give you a hug when you reach out for a handshake.  

It doesn’t stop there.  

I’m the kind of girl who will somehow miss your hand when going for the handshake and accidentally stare at your groin, not because I’m penile obsessed but only because I’m not supposed to stare at your groin.  You’ll catch me.  

When I hug you, it’s a side-hug so that my boobs don’t touch you or so that I don’t accidentally kiss you when going in for a hug.  Why would I fear an accidental kiss?  Because don’t underestimate that it would happen to me.  Right on the lips.  Maybe I’d have an epileptic seizure and accidentally tongue kiss you, too.  I’ve never had one, but there’s always the possibility.

Bridget Jones was…

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Happy Birthday Little Dinosaur

1jaded1:

Please head on over to Stories That Must Not Die and wish Rara a Happy Birthday! We are sure she would appreciate your thoughts.

Originally posted on Stories that Must Not Die:

We are patiently waiting for you to come out of your cave. While we wait we’ve decided to celebrate your birthday with some Stories about you that will live on forever.


One day, a dinosaur appeared in my fishbowl. She was wildly drawn and breathing fire, but I wasn’t afraid. She dropped an insightful comment and left. I poked my head into her domain and found a wondrous world full of creative and awesome things. I followed her immediately.

A few months after we met, she asked me to guest post on her blog. It was my first guest post. I was nervous as hell, even though, at that point, I didn’t realize what a blogging celebrity she was. I posted what, in all honestly, is one of my most half-assed posts since I had the flu at the time, but her audience was kind, just like Rara.

For the…

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Whatever it will be…

You must write every single day of your life...

...You must lurk in libraries and climb the stacks like ladders to sniff books like perfumes and wear books like hats upon your crazy heads. I wish you a wrestling match with your Creative Muse that will last a lifetime. I wish craziness and foolishness and madness upon you. May you live with hysteria, and out of it make fine stories — science fiction or otherwise. Which finally means, may you be in love every day for the next 20,000 days. And out of that love, remake a world.

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