War’d weathered feet, come stomping sideways up the green cliffs. We didn’t think to find the solemn giggles here. The cave puffs’ it’s ignorance, so shallow in the cove. The flighted breath under canopy , from clouds to the throne. Sweet dragon roll momentum, the blue plate something to peer for. Royalist ground pepper fits underneath the sticks; so humble to be tuned. Dialed with crumb fingers and dry mouth, the worth beaming from concrete towers.
She wisked up a tornado when I let her have the clouds and the grey
She shook night so hard that it turned into day.
She then grabbed the sun and bit in the middle
and now everything’s bigger then when it was little.
The time told me I had little left
so I hopped on a bus and let it take me where I ended up.
I didn’t do much there, just painted my nails and such.
I feasted on freedom
and downed optimism so quick I hiccuped for an hour after.
I didn’t worry about anything and it was easy and calm and hopeful.
So when I arrived back, the planet in my heart had more land of bright
and it affected the rest of my imagination space
and as long as time is,
I’ll always have that.
Even when I can’t remember where I put it.
Restless and Patience propped up in a box that has those cardboard walls
that get drawn on in the night with magic markers and a new box of crayons that at the end of the session are half broke and laying in an ocean of crayon dust.
Keep on turning my Feelings into Being.
Realistic and Sensible and sometimes hold back my inappropriate.
For even though I know there is a time where inappropriate turns into appropriate , the time isn’t now. And I have to respect that. And I want to too.
Even if Patience and Restlessness battle on and off in their box.
That’s the way it is.
For right now.
I leaned over the counter to grab the bag full of Lays Lies and I knocked over the bowl of Cheetos Cheatos in the process and it rolled off the surface onto the floor and all I did was stand there and look at it. For a minute I was still and Golden Grahms and good. Then I
reached for the broom doom and in the same movement spilled the Coke joke and I was frightened not surprised and my cup heart cracked again and my foot ego bruised where all the jokes had landed were on me.
Maybe I just hoped the Tooth Truth fairy would come to help me pull out the words I needed to say. Or that a wash wish cloth would magically appear so I could wipe myself clean of this terrible distasteful habit.
Because it wasn’t the last first time.
Time ticked and I felt nothing but myself, pouring out cartons of milk meek onto the rest of what was there. I turned and stretched my spinal denial cords and found my voice and
with it yelled, ” I have made this mess and it is you me.”
Here’s to admittance, unavoidance and tackling beautiful messes. Over and over again.
It is not dull. It is not boring.
If you are folding in to that idea, then you are in fact, the one that is boring and dull.
You should be able to make moments a better place for yourself because simply, you have that power to.You should practice creativity with your mind space so that when you come to seemingly so less than interesting minutes, you can press activate and change the less to more.
I knew he liked me. I knew his eyes were on me as I sat, conversing with another. I knew the lines out of my mouth sputtered up his brain wave lengths. I could tell by the surprise gleam that coated his eyes the instant my line was out. I knew in his reactions, he was intrigued.
I kept my distance.
But it was a feeling I recognized. This is what I used to catapult for. I could live off of this feeling. I do not think I am complex. But I am creative.
At least in one category or another.
As I have got older, I meet more people that have more experience. Like me.Less surprises them. As children we go so much with the flow because we do not know what to believe, what to understand or trust and growing makes us more aware. We are not surprised at much. Then we reach that bubble of our personality that determines what we are surprised at. And it diminishes over time because we become accustomed to it.
I don’t live for that intrigue anymore. For those reactions.
I think that’s part of the reason why I’m shuffling around. I think I thought that was my purpose. At least something that I knew made me happy. But in the end it isn’t sustainable happiness. I can’t interest everybody at the rate I would like while dating someone. I think that was a difficult pill to swallow.
But it is good, very good, to have come to that conclusion.
The next time someone asks you how you’re doing in a text or email or facebook message. Try not just putting the generic, ‘ good, been better, I’m doing great!’ .
When I get asked that, I usually respond with a few specifics-personalized and most often,colourful- that allows the other person a peek inside my current life.
It is always welcome.
It is a simple and an easy enough question to ask. The ‘How are you doin?’ takes no mental capacity,a matter of a few seconds and little effort. It is more of a courtesy, a kindness, a form of ‘ yo,what’s up’ that comes naturally and without much thought.
I’m not trying to change the world with my in-depth replies…nor the motion of what is being asked. My replies don’t even give off a direct appreciation for it;for I do value the question. Not because it’s about my well-being, but because it is one of the hundreds of doors that open, allowing me to be creative. To put MY mind at work. To form giddy sentences, twist words and play with ideas.
And I will use any door in my life, for this purpose alone.
Being creative is something you shouldn’t have always have to strive for. It’s more about using opportunities. Opportunities that come in forms of natural, everyday questions like, ‘ Hey,How ya doing?’.
It's really quite note-worthy of how awake one can be one
morning and how
absolutly not, another.
I fine tuned a song on my guitar and cut branches that were
hiding the garbage can outside. I spent an hour perfecting
an email, did the sink of dishes, dusted things up high
and had the urge to swim in the pool.
All before 8:30 am.
My creative juices do flow.
I may as well don a cap of slothery and climb into a bed of lazy leaves.
Two upbeat days in a row?
Sheesh, who am I kidding but myself.
But I do kid myself because I am more of one then a sloth. At least for now.
And longterm I do thank my pops for that one.
And shorterm I just look at Life in the eyes and smile,
knowing that from it, I get everything I have.
I get the happiness that gives me the energy to do what I do in the morning.