Tag Archives: writing

Standing With Caffeine In My Eco-friendly Cup… And Love— (Blank Sheet. Light On.)

 Feb 28th, 2013

Love is the wave we flow,
Love is the way we know.

Blank sheet.
Light on.
I cannot call myself a writer if I am not writing.
I cannot call myself a dreamer if I am not dreaming.

There are no words to this song,
Questioning hope for days to dawn.

Blank sheet.
Light on.
I cannot call myself a writer if I am not writing.
I cannot call myself a dreamer if I am not dreaming.

Betray my pen,
Stray my view.
Smoke my pipe,
And let the herb construe.

Brings the castle down from the sky.
I may not be tall, but sure as hell am high.

Blank sheet.
Light on.
I cannot call myself a writer if I am not writing.
I cannot call myself a dreamer if I am not dreaming.

Somewhere along the way the ink bleeds through and the words fall askew.

Is it my eyes that cannot recognize my reflection?
Or is it my reflection that cannot recognize my view?

Not I,
Not I,
Not the “me”,  I thought I knew.
Not I,
Not I,
Not tea,
Still, the thoughts steep.

Deep, deep, deep into the abyss…
I will not,
I cannot fall victim to this!
Deep, deep, deep-
I cannot,
I will not settle for anything but bliss…

Blank sheet.
Light on.
I cannot call myself a writer if I am not writing.
I cannot call myself a dreamer if I am not dreaming.

Look away, turn away—
Fall astray.
Look around, turn around,
Find the miles,
The distance that makes you stay.

Blank sheet.
Light on.
I cannot call myself a writer if I am not writing.
I cannot call myself a dreamer if I am not dreaming.

The thing is, I am not sleeping.
In fact, I am wide fucking awake.

Eyes open,
Past closed.
Uncovered from bed sheets,
Bathed in motivation,
Dressed with intention!

Standing with caffeine in my eco-friendly cup…
And love—

Love is the wave we flow,
Love is the way we know.

Blank sheet.
Light on.
I cannot call myself a writer if I am not writing.
I cannot call myself a dreamer if I am not dreaming.

Blank sheet.
Light on.
I cannot pretend I am something I can no longer be.
I cannot call myself a writer because I am here to speak.

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Inspiration, Not Inspired

Although inspiration has been flowing in and out of me these past couple weeks (in conversation, in the kitchen, in my day job, through music), I have not gotten around to do any writing.  See, my marriage with the written word often leads to periods of separation. Forever bound, but never tied to my pen.

Is this Writer’s Block?  I decided to start blogging to evade the daunting horror of writer’s block. I figured,

  “If I write, write with fervor, without inhibition, without formative direction, for a live/public audience, just maybe, just maybe—writing would once again become the natural process that it once was for me.”

‘Tis all about practice, right?

The thing is, I am a REBEL. I DO NOT like conforming! In fact, I avoid it as much as possible.

No, no. I DO NOT engage in car theft, graffiti writing on walls, or any other stereotypical illegal activity that fails to come to mind at the moment. I do, however, have a tendency of being headstrong and confrontational towards many situations. …And yes, my own writing is one.

So, expect the occasional long gaps between my posts. It may steer you away, but I urge you to wait. Learn patience with me. I am not sure who or what I am writing for really, but I do know I have something to say. Besides, I wouldn’t want to over-flood your feed with too much senselessness anyhow.

I leave you with this:

Just as the sun casts the shadows to sketch our silhouettes, so too does the night’s darkness set the stage for us to gaze upon the stars’ sacred light.

P.S.

Please comment below if you’d like to see some healthy food/beverage recipes. I have plenty to share!