The ocean called out for me today
it’s salt carried to my lips by a piercing wind
a message kept from a childhood forgotten
What Does it Call For Tomorrow?
Category: memory
A Shade of Ash # 3 – (Altared Youth)
Hey everybody,
I hope you’re all doing well.
Next up… I delve into uncharted territory with the below prompt with special guest, God. So, without further adieu, let’s see what we got.
Do you still have the same religious beliefs that you had as a child? If so, why? If not, how and why did they change?
I could take that question in a couple directions, but I think I might just go with the general topic of ‘religion and faith and me’. Though, I may end up answering the questions above anyway, we’ll see. Let me stretch my fingers and see where it takes me. I’ve played with the idea of making a post with faith as the main topic before, looks as if my new prompt category will finally get it out me. Actually, there’s been a few situations in my life recently that have also made me think about religion more than I have ever have in years. Another reason I felt this prompt was interesting enough to explore.
Continue reading “A Shade of Ash # 3 – (Altared Youth)”Journal Entry # 156 – What Can I say? I’m a Fall Guy!
Leave the road, take the trails. – Pythagoras
A Heart to Live, Not to Love
Sometimes, I think my heart breaks without telling me
Like it’s trying to feel something it once did before
Though, if I allow myself to give in to it’s longing
I’ll go and break it even more
Bar Keep
When I turned that key, the night was finally over
It wasn’t easy, they threw a few fists
Mad that the ale had dried up
Now, in the calm of being left alone
I would start with the ashes
dumping out another one of those “greatest nights ever”
As morning slowly took her place
I sat for once on a spinning stool
listening to the buzz of electricity like it was a farewell song
Just me and the ends of unfinished cigarettes
some drowned in half empty glasses
recounting stories of bravery, betrayal, and most times regret
Nights were once my domain
I was like a wrangler of saucy drunks
and disloyal eyes all bidding for my complete attention
Back then my stories were therapy
Music, a tool of enticement
friendly faces better than a tip
Like I Wasn’t Even There
Sure, the memories
But, the smell, the taste, the touch,
All still left to make believe
I miss…
The very start
Opening characters, scene one
Greener grass, the bluest skies, salty ocean
That street light at night where I would measure my shadow to the tip of the moon
Those flaked fences, white
A particular damp night sky that I loved and haven’t smelt in a long, long time
Tipped-toed curbs, run past the shop
Yes, my eyes could go blind and I would still make it anyway
Follow the path by memory alone…to my home
Grab a bunch of those crazy flowers along the way
But now, I can only recount
because tomorrow had to come
and now strangers walk about
like I was never even there
My Heart’s An Open Book
Every day…I write you a love letter.
No pen, no paper, just what’s inside my heart.
I know they never reach you.
But, right now I’m OK with that.
Because, no matter how many words I’ve written, or how many more I’ll write.
My heart will never close what was, what is…what will forever be,
the best chapters of my life.
