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Blog Address – www.address2mythoughts.wordpress.com/blog
Every piece you come across,
every word and line formed,
taken right from the core part of their hearts,
drawn from the deepest emotions,
each sentence carved with brilliant artistry,
hours worth thinking, re-writing & editing,
reaching the zenith of their soul,
inked the paper with calligraphic blood & sweat,
like a personal diary meant to be read.
A diary not to keep to oneself, but
to transcend the people from natural to the supernatural
to fill the world with the magic lying in their hands
to just make the earth a beautiful place.
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Our souls and Spirits long for the justice that is due
So long we’ve wanted to believe that Injustice would not prevail
Why does looking at my skin cause YOU such distress; the urge to kill
Then it hit me like rocks from an avalanche
It’s not the color of my skin but what’s beneath that makes you unhinged
Brilliant minds shaped from a long line of kings and queens
Original creators of creating all of what you see, not all credited to our ancestors as it should be
We were beaten, whipped, hung, set on fire and drowned just to name a few of your injustices that tried to keep us down
With resilient spirits and determination we fought back through sit-ins, picket lines, water hoses and baton beatings
Your continued injustices we survived but like ashes we rise
Like pesticides used to kill weeds you use drugs and put them in our communities killing our men, women and children like a killing field
This enemy we have yet to beat but we will
You tried to convince us that OUR pride does not matter and our loyalties are misplaced
YOU ARE WRONG!
we will band together like links in a chain
Together we stand together we will be free
It’s true, we may not all stand, but the majority outweigh the few
Your new weapon of choice which truly isn’t new at all
executing us in broad daylight and many in the dark
we see you hiding behind the law
ENOUGH IS ENOUGH!!
We will not back down or shut up until Justice is satisfied by your law
Heaven forbid if justice is not done, because we will rise and this time you will fall!
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Big ButsI love you, but wipe your feet I love you, but you’re gaining weight I love you, but milk does not belong on the fridge door I love you, but even socks should be folded I love you, but that comb over isn’t fooling anyone I love you, but you sometimes smell of peppers I love you, but not ABBA at 7 a.m. on a Sunday I love you, but don’t feed raccoons I love you, but leave your damn wife already GENRES: Funny, Love Author David Creighton BIO: David Creighton is a Canadian author with Bipolar Disorder. By being open about it he fights the stigma of mental illness. |
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Attached artwork is called JupiterSaturn by yours truly @ringsroundthe on twitter 🐦
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Once upon a time
In a land called….
NOW
There’s a story
About the ox
and the plow
Where the ox just trots on top of the rocks
And doesn’t stop to watch the clock
Or to monitor the crop
And how the plow
Keeps digging down, underground
Wandering around, wondering how we allowed a bully and coward
To tweet from the top of a golden tower
And how a pow wow of cowboys can allow bomb showers to rain on the world’s most beautiful flowers by the hour
I will never scowl about a crowd that shouts aloud about the misuse of power
But I do frown down upon clowns only making sounds and not helping out
Think
Outside
The box
The ox
Is just an ox
And the plow…
Is the power
We all despise the crimes and lies that have defined our lives
But despite the plight
This is not the demise of our times
Open your eyes
Recognize the disguise that we’ve been hypnotized by
Don’t just cry and watch time fly
Let’s realize the signs that describe the size of the almighty prize
And let’s rise
Above the rest
We won’t be left just to protest like pests
Even as unwelcome guests
And amid the sting of our bruising flesh
We feel blessed to control our own lives and deaths
I know it’s hard to digest
But let it infect
Because the less we expect
The more we progress
So get up get dressed
And step up to the test
Help clean up this mess
We won’t just mingle
And speak the lingo
We’ll tie a string around our fingers
And let this single jingle’s ring linger…
Peace.
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Peace, Unity, Freedom, United States of America, USA, Our Country, World Peace, Equality, Acceptance, Growth, Non violent protest, Protest, RiseUp, We The People, This land is our land
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Genre: Hope, Faith, Trust, Love, Insight, Spiritual, Spirit, Spirituality, Soul, Soulful, Connected, Connection, Human, Humans, Peace, Peaceful, Inner peace.
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“……I will be an old lady one day and I will sit on that rock and when I see myself sitting there I see myself happy, with a smile on my face and I feel I have achieved something in this life. I did good and I look at you even if you are not there and say to you: You can be proud of me. This is how much I care for you. This is your effect on me….”
A conversation between a you and an old woman
Old woman !
Look at me: Young, Firm, Virile
My breasts are like pink tufted buds
on the spring azalea
My lips are like the flamingo’s breast –
pink, soft –
My mons – that secret place only we have
is warm, rich, enticing…….
My neck, long and supple
like Helen’s
My eyes are black, olive-round
My smile, would make Mona Lisa blush
with shame.
Old woman !
Were you ever so ?
Did you ever love ?
Did you know passion ?
Look at you……
Your skin droops
Your breasts sag
Your eyes are clouded
Your mons is dry.
Did you ever know love ?
Ah, my young beauty
Once I too was young and beautiful
Men looked at me with longing
I was the object of desire of many.
But two of these, I remember
even in my old age, I remember.
Tell me old woman,
Tell me of your love
Where are these men ?
Where is your love ?
Why do you sit here
on this rock
looking out to sea,
smiling but
alone
alone
My young beauty
I knew a man
who was my husband
I loved him
with my heart and my head
He was my all
I was complete with him
But then, I was destroyed
I found another man
I found I was not complete
I was missing a piece
This other man was my completion
my half.
Oh my young beauty
Oh my daughter
love is a splendid thing
but a dangerous one as well
Like a sword
you may use it to slay your enemies, or
you may handle it poorly
and injure yourself
Such is love
Of my husband I will tell you nothing
This is still too painful to me.
But of the other
Oh my daughter
may I sing to you
of him.
This was a man
older than I
intense as a bonfire
A man who was
unable to love
in half measures
A man who became my greatest love
my friend
my half
A man who once whispered to me
“Let me show you how I would love you”
And, my daughter, he did !
Do not blush
my child
when I tell you that I would see heaven several times in an evening
This was the intensity of the love we had
And more,
we spoke
we walked
we read
we worked
we laughed
we sang – although my daughter a donkey could sing better than he ! –
we read poetry
This man, my half, wrote me poems
from his heart
so much did he love me
But my dear grandmother !
You are alone
Where is this love of yours ?
Why is he not here ?
Is he dead ?
Did you lose him ?
How did you lose him ?
My daughter
Oh my child !
There are men who cannot love in half or quarter measures
he was one.
He frightened me so
He was always afraid I would push him away
even though I said
“I am not doing this”
He was
a strong man
But I watched as he dissolved
into mist
gone
I could no longer touch him
Did I leave him ?
Did he leave me ?
Oh my daughter
love is so fragile
so fragile
A bond that seems strong
can be shredded with a few words.
But my dear grandmother
Where is he ?
Tell me…..
My child,
look over your shoulder
He stands with me still
whispering into my ear
“I love you more than my life”
“I will never leave you”
But he is as a mist
Oh my daughter
My child
we are young but for a moment
We make decisions we think are good
Sometimes, they simply are
Sometimes, we make them without thinking
My child
you will blink and your youth will be gone.
You will be as am I,
here
on this rock
You will learn to love
And then will lose all
Have I made mistakes ?…
Old woman,
tell me your name….
My child
My great love called me many names
all I cannot repeat here
so much pain could it still cause
But Helen, Persephanie
Penelope
All these names he called me……
and others
Old woman !
These are my names !
The man I love calls me by these names
Who are you old woman ?
What are you ?
Neither the old nor the young woman knows:
Is this real ?
Is this a dream ?
Is there a chance ?
Is there ?
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the disc that spins
inside my chest
methodically collects
sensations
it colours my world magenta and black
if I let it
but
these colours
are yours my love
and I spin them back to you
a gift of freedom….
channelling you
through my sensational machine
makes no ripple in your world of mixed message
but I hear you
you beg for ripples
you scream for change
I can feel it
throwing orange like a manic painter
splattering my floor, making me
slip, slippery
on lust and pain
the moon is high
wash your disc in a clear stream
I will feel it
I will know
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