Open Mic at Art6 Gallery

Open Mic at Art6 Gallery

Thursday, October 27, 2011

A Poem Heading Nowhere

What's next?
Another dream about her sex?
Another lingering reminder of her that
makes me as blue as worn jeans?

I should know by now
these thoughts of her
no longer bring me joy,
these thoughts only lead me

endlessly migrating toward nothing.

Once again I find myself
hopelessly thinking that
this time I can reveal the sacred message
of what we could've shared.

And once again,
this dreamer becomes the fool
as areas of this dream's emphasis
keeps fading away

until it vanishes into thin air
and no matter how hard
I chase after them
my legs can't go fast enough,

running and running until
I'm left in the middle of
a vast field of emptiness
as my dream of her ends

and reality of my solitude resumes
with a page staring at me,
showing only the words of
a poem that is now heading


Tuesday, October 25, 2011

Single Life

I heard a guy say once that being single was not all that it was cracked up to be; that it was nothing more than Web surfing and TV watching.  I had to laugh at that because I thought it was not only funny, but untrue.  I'm still single and I had never experienced that kind of low feeling....

until last Friday night when I found myself with nothing to do but watch TV and surf the Web.  This scene was not a laughing matter anymore.  In fact, I was bored to tears.  Going through the same sites over and over again and with nothing on the tube, I was a rather dull (and single) person.

My friend called me later that night and before even saying hello asked, "Why aren't you on a hot date?"  That sounded like a good question, but I also know that "hot date" and living in the suburbs don't really go together.  Say "hot date" around here and you'll scare people.  People go on "first dates" or "casual dates" or "dinner dates", but not "hot dates".  I think those are only for "Sex And The City" episodes and I'm pretty sure none of those four women live anywhere near me.  Plus, as much as women LOVED watching that show, not many would have the guts to live their lives like that. 

The last "hot date" I had was with a fellow writer who loved to talk about what was happening in the city, loved cooking and wine, and loved to make love to me.  She was the type I enjoyed connecting with on all levels and I thought things would go much further....

until she broke things off, claiming it was a matter of "feelings".  The "feelings" for the altar that she just missed out on with her previous ex.  The "feelings" of being introduced in social circles as "his wife".  The "feelings" that she didn't feel with me.  I tried to let it not affect me and accept it as one of those things that happen.  But I realized that that was about as close to an organic feeling of connection that I had ever experienced and I hadn't seen anything like that since. 

Dating has now become like a child's puzzle game where only square pegs are allowed to fit into square holes.  People place down their likes and dislikes almost as if it were a personal credo and no one is allowed to get close unless they meet specific criteria.  No one meets for the sake of meeting anymore.

And so I'll be still here, trying not to get stuck in that rut anymore.  But it may be inevitable.  At least the Web and TV can temporarily help me forget I'm sitting at home all alone for another night.

Sunday, October 16, 2011

About A Girl I Liked

My dreams are all about her sex,
and these little happenings
no longer bring me joy.
I'm as blue as worn jeans
as I find my thoughts
endlessly migrate toward nothing.
I wish I could tell
the story of a sacred message
of what we could've shared
but it keeps fading away
and no matter how hard I chase,
my legs can't go fast enough.
Lover, lover, you treat me wrong.
You should've been here all along,
and now the words
I tried to write about you
have become nothing more than
a poem heading nowhere.

Friday, October 14, 2011

My First Non-Poem Entry

I actually thought about starting a second blog just for entries like this.  There was a part of me that wanted to separate the poet part of me from the writer part of me.  But after thinking about it, I realized I didn't need to do that.  Honestly, I just write.  I don't have any real plans of what I'm going to write or in what format it will be in.  Like the Nike ad campaign, I just do it.

But this past week made me realize just how hard at times it is to just do it.  This past weekend I attended a wonderful James River Writers Conference.  I learned a lot about writing and writers, met many wonderful people, and was really fired up to write like crazy.  However, the week has brought many reminders that the world outside of the writing community doesn't share my viewpoints.  My church has been clamoring even more so to be more involved in activities and committees.  My people at my job made sure to remind me just how much I was missed on Friday because to them, things just don't operate the same with me in my department.  It just makes me feel that some can only see me within a certain capacity or vision.  That's why I enjoy to write.  It is the antithesis of these things.  I can create and talk about whatever I want and however I want.

This will always be something that I will have to fight.  But it's a fight worth having and a fight worth winning.  Because in the end, something good will come out of my writing.

Stay tuned to find out.

Monday, October 10, 2011

Memo to Self

The conference ends
and real life begins
a letter waiting for me
in the mailbox.
I forgot I had
committed to being in
Advent services in December.
I thought I would
just be reading something.
Now they're showing me
as an "actor",
playing out a scene,
maybe even wearing a stupid costume.
Soon the leader will be saying
I'm one of them,
part of her Drama team.

Memo to self:
Nip this at the bud
right after you say your last line.
You need to write.

The conference ends
and real life begins
Monday morning.
Back to the grind.
Back to the office space
that I inhabit 40 hours a week.
No one says, "Welcome back."
They all say, "You were sorely missed."
Hard work is my Catch-22,
do a good job and
no one wants me to leave.
I still say they
cost me a promotion.

Memo to self:
Don't forget your vision
is bigger than theirs.
You need to write.

The conference ends
and real life begins.
The fires of creativity
are still burning bright,
but the everyday keeps
pulling for my attention,
wanting me to join their groups
and not just for the temporary
time period.  But they
haven't read the memos,
the memos I keep writing
to myself as a reminder
about what's possible,
the memos that tell me
the one thing that has
to stay paramount on my mind.

You need to write.