Category Archives: Philoshic Revelries

When your pulse tugs, listen.

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If you could hold it in your hand

Like dust tied down in space
And time, paused for the occasion

Would you?
The heart of your whole life,
The culmination of what truly mattered in the end
In the right now

If you could, would you?
Stop striving, leaning into the noise, pressing into the rush in that non-thinking way
And hold dearly whatever it is you hold dear?

Can you pinpoint it if you try?
And in the finding, could you revel in it deeply enough to feel alive?

We don’t, that’s my conclusion
Open-ended yet certain

I see a consortium of forests
With no trees
A pavilion of hearts
With no beat
An ocean of eyes
That can’t see
And nobody anywhere is dancing

Me?

I want to hold you in my hand

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4 Minutes and 7 Seconds of Sacredness

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((Click on these words to find it.))

A holy grail, of sorts. Beauty and meaningfulness beyond words. If you know me, you’ll understand why. If you don’t, it’ll have its own reasons for you.

Be blessed, dear friends. I think of you.

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My dad: my homeostasis. Gratitude.

Hindsight happens.

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Hindsight happens.

It’s not what you look at that matters; it’s what you see. –Henry David Thoreau

I fully knew the probable outcome going into my situation. I forged ahead anyway.

I’m one of those people. I have to experience the truth for myself. If it isn’t firsthand knowledge it doesn’t feel like truth. It feels like secondary opinion.

Head knowledge is different than heart knowledge, and people like me will choose a broken-hearted wisdom over ignorant bliss every time. Without exception.

I’ve worked my way through the mine fields, planting a plant or two and singing my songs when I could. I came into things with a “can-do” attitude… I will leave humbled.

Willingness and ability are only divided by the variable of opportunity, of circumstance. I’ve at least learned that.

I wouldn’t do it again for any amount of money, or any promise of hope. Promises get broken. Money spends. There isn’t much worth gambling on or hoping for in this world anymore. I never really was the betting kind anyway. I simply took chances, and I took them not to succeed but to learn.

Succeeding in learning isn’t fun. For what it’s worth.

I’ve built a monument to tragedy in memory of innocence. I’m not sure which hurts worse: the memory or the tragedy.

Time measures our lives in units of sorrow, in incremental fractions of longing. In the moment, we only see what we can’t wait to have. Afterwards, we only see what we can’t get back. The “now” is a mistress of misery in this unseeing way, and the world –so madly– keeps spinning.

Stranded on the Shore

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Stranded on the Shore

Still and silent, the rage-laden whispers speak
Of possibilities in the form of forth-coming terrors
The horse’s mouth, bird beak, hushed words
Tale telling of a Go-See plot
And does it, so loudly unspoken
Against lost time, better judgement, all odds
Standing to remind of a broad daylight greed
A thief I never and always saw coming

The words that want so badly to never be said

Paint a picture, spin a web
Revealing what’s taken and can’t be returned: innocence, purpose, peace
Without words the secrets see them, rumor them around
The ugly truths, hidden horrors that bring my conscience to its knees and face to face with everything swept beneath the rug
For the sake and demise, equally, of my fragile mental well-being
What will my being become, if not well?
Will I live to hunt the answers down, the knot-tying fears for which my heart is broken and breaks?
The ceaseless prayers, the Nothing that’s changed
Am I the only one? The stand-alone widow, the petrified wood
Will the hand of God reach all the sense unmade?
Intervene, explain how I came to be in this place
Negate the reasons, the wild card
Played by the King of Spades
Savage; cripple
Keeper of my gate
I look into his eyes
And all I see
Is the exchange of his name for my entire life, my dreams of a future or anything worthwhile, my every breath and every move accounted for, my soul and my sense of belonging
In this world there are winners and losers
Sometimes it’s just luck of the draw
But this, this was something I chose
For myself, my children
I look into their eyes
And all I see
Is their entire life, their dreams of a future or anything worthwhile, their every breath and every move accounted for, their soul and sense of belonging
Teetering on the verge
Between manifest and unactual; my lifelong regret in the making
Who am I to tame the darkness, yet how am I to let it live?
Woman warrior, a mother I was always
First
I’ll be damned or dead if he gets the last word

The words that want so badly to never be said

She’s a Bad MammaJamma

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I’ll spare you the redundancy of excessively excited adjectives this time, and restrain my holy-woahness on behalf of the sheer caliber of this crazy smart and wildly gifted woman. Simply this:

If you’re interested in the discovery of powerful new blogs to follow, you’ll revel in this priceless jewel. Once I update my blogroll, she’ll own it. Love, squared. Infinitely.

click right here —> the girl in the hat