I went to a coffee shop tonight and wrote. I do that from time to time. It was very productive, always is because of the atmosphere. Sometimes writer’s block is not about where you are in your head. It could very well be about where you are physically. Change your space, I bet you’ll change your pace. – Ash
Write in every emotion. Happy, sad, betrayed, excited, vulnerable…whatever. Whatever you feel at a particular moment. When you allow the heart to dictate, the story writes itself. – Ash
If you get an idea, take a second and record it. By whatever means necessary. Because I bet the last time you got inspired, you figured you’d remember your creative thought, you didn’t, and now you hate yourself for it. A jot can become a lot, just write. – Ash
In the hours where most sleep
I sit in a purple lit booth
something beautiful catches eyes as they adjust
neon lights flicker as it dances…I watch
soft music plays the soundtrack of inhibitions leaving
fake smoke to cloud judgement so what is seen is seen
what is felt is felt
the night, the morning, make love to born a single time
where mistakes are suppressed by the high of letting go
bartenders, over there gossip, whisper, and glare
still tolerant of these patron games
but only until the last tip
nothing good comes of the hours between night and day
it is where fantasies live in the moment
and shadows hide the truths of deception
for the thrill of finding places that the world forgets about
are games played by strangers in pass
with lost souls, bruised hearts,
and access to the wrong medicine
It’s the Fonts that bring me Happy Days! – Ash
There is nothing like keeping a deja vu in your back pocket. Easily triggered by the stimulus that surrounds you. Today, a walk to the edge of the harbour and my whole life flashed back. All it took was the smell of saltwater, the touch of a rains mist, and wonderful memories came flooding back as strong as the approaching tide. A picture is wharf a thousand words. – Ash
Farewell my uncle. I never knew you, but I will never forget you. Life has a strange way of displacing what could have been. Death has taught me this. – Ash
Just because you think you can’t write does not make it so. – Ash
I was with you for a while
every one of those moments I playback when I think of you
when my heart is calling out for yours to hear
your skin a shade of an angel
hair…I remember its smell tucked close under my chin
when you smiled the whole world became happy
and those eyes
they kept exploding my heart stretching it with love
you are the best thing that ever happened to me
a day that changed my life
so beautiful and full of hope…and my daughter
our bond and made up language only ours
will be forever
your laughter is what I hear the most, only it grows faint
those days I miss you so much it kills me a little bit more
reminds me how I am living with an empty heart
with a box full of memories
slowly losing what it feels like to have a pulse
as the pages of my mind bleed ink
disappearing the days of our lives together
all I have left are these words to keep going
Red sky evenings
I remember them
stretched highway at eight o’clock
over the overpass to watch
there is one last summer night coming out to play
my pace quickens to catch up
traffic flies by this one road boy
who is wandering far from what he can recognize
adventure must be the same no matter where you are
until I pass by an old train track that divided two kinds
no friends from either so I move on
you could hear blades of grass keep a cool breeze in check
slowing down seconds for teenagers of the land
to win toys, steal kisses, and lose ice cream
it is impossible to be this alone
with Carnival noises filling the air
but the lights threaten shadows
the stars show up, crowds filter, I am lost
walking forever on the eve of September
heading back to the red road toward home
Earth To Ash 