Every One has hope.

“There are two tragedies in life. One is to lose your heart’s desire. The other is to gain it.”
George Bernard Shaw, Man and Superman

All of us suffer.  No one escapes the ‘rusty knife’ that captures one and all.

By the same token, we all experience joy and rectitude.  Displaying our trophies, to our friends and forgiving others and then ourselves.   We spin our tapestries with silk and cotton.  We suffer pestilences with those we are in love with.   We also love obediently.   We share and accept gifts.  We pay others with intangibles and hope, even as we are beset by storms.

We shine our cars til rust, ever-after.    Our shuttered habitats. A shrine. A home, a sanctuary.   Shuttered by real tears and rent fabric.  Man-made and otherwise.

Like children at Christmas, we unwrap our presents, expectant hearts and joyful interludes.  We all suffer and laugh concurrently..

We are planning a couple of things. One is a PR campaign for Morissette Amon.  Not Alanis BTW.  Secondly,  purchasing a motel to house homeless Veterans,  giving them a safe and non-judgmental place to live.

Image result for make a wish foundation

GivePAANCLove you man!Business Card 2hoseheads02x.gifMAIN_GRAPHIC (1)sunshine-blogger.pngLacey1

 

Conundrums!

Nothing but ‘conundrums’,  tactile songs of life,  hurt and death.   Mutilated dreams.  A side ward leap (of all kinds).   Brushing our teeth,  falling hair,  and the snowfall that comes or not.    Happy with changes,  chains of our own devices and external visages.  Looking in the mirror is not a vision of validation, but a portrait of someone else.

No cat cries or the crows feet that becomes whatever we wish  them to be.   Hills and valleys with slow-leaking dreams,  that are shuttered, squared and soon forgotten.  Past lives and artist pallets smeared by the weight of philosophy and the cottony clouds of faith.  God as fast-food or a mooring point of transcendental being.  Like a train going faster downhill, and the clambering effort to find ourselves,  between tragedy and a still pond.  Heights and Success and a   Frisbee, thrown from a rooftop, like a drone with no purpose falling to the ground, eschewing the literal from autism s.

Finally the Borealis Rainbows, a taciturn goblin, shedding Peacock wings, like a cat’s meow.  I blow by stops, I raise above the ether into orbit, rising from antiquity, with a somber soliloquy and beds of finality,. with shocks and snares of frightful stares.  Epic in peace, painfulness no more.

“The opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference. The opposite of art is not ugliness, it’s indifference. The opposite of faith is not heresy, it’s indifference. And the opposite of life is not death, it’s indifference.”
Elie Wiesel

Mistakes, comas and period.  The end

Forever gone.

Larry Olson….

All rights reserved by WISH/107.5

Everyone keeps telling me that time heals all wounds, but no one can tell me what I’m supposed to do right now. Right now I can’t sleep. It’s right now that I can’t eat. Right now I still hear his voice and sense his presence even though I know he’s not here. Right now all I seem to do is cry. I know all about time and wounds healing, but even if I had all the time in the world, I still don’t know what to do with all this hurt right now.”
Nina Guilbeau, Too Many Sisters

Interludes and the deluded.

shipwrecksLiar's moon

The Sound of the clock rang one last time,  as the weary hearted shadow failed.   The sun was seeking to find an image lost, that ceased in the middle of a deep blue sky.  At every angle and throughout the day,  nothing changed but the chill and the chattering teeth.    One raindrop had fallen from a crescendo of tears,  evaporating just like time,  seasoning the still damp land.

Followers in sequence too busy to care,   hustled about the streets waiting for the next ball to drop.   Cheers and acrimony and a wave of the hand,  til bedding with strangers again and again.    When the moment came,  an idea sprang to life,   why not choose between the party-goers and the party?     Pretty soon flashes of white and the shutter’s eye,  passing a cake for two intended and then shared with more.  A part frozen never to be warmed but only discarded.

The wine skin burst but nothing more flowed only the dim retrospect of a choice that morphed into a bad dream.   Words were exchanged between the two and the two by many.    Now, a gavel and the sounds of finality.    Where did I come from and why should I care?   Surely there is more to this than that?

So now jaded, a victim of familiar circumstances,  those eggs all in one basket fell.     Now is the time to adjust the screen.    Take out the colors that are purple and green.   Wiser now with only a poem to tell.    Finding a warm spot in the winter’s interluded dreams.