LMG 11/08/2016

LMG 11/08/2016
by S. Raynard Haynes

Relax your grip,
You hold on too tightly.
You think you rise,
As I struggle to breathe.
However,
I’m fine, I’m alright,
I will never stay down.

Set me free.
Watch me fade from your eyes,
And you from mine,
Until we are distant memories,
Of where we used to be.
Where we dreamed of going,
Until we laughed ourselves Tired.
Set free the angry, petty stings of bitterness.

As they dart and revisit,
And you get high off
Vapor and foolish dreams.

Get it all out of your system,
Cleanse the dreams,
Hiding deep in your marrow.
Wash away with the dirt and pains,
That easily to cling to your body.

LMG: Let me go.
The truth is,
I have let you free,
A very long time ago.
You were the cautionary tale,
That was told and forgotten,
In my ages of caution,
Headed, and no longer needed.

Now,
Wherever I go in life,
I laugh, smile and move on,
With my life.

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This is Monday

Not feeling so much like I need to go back to bed. I’m awake, and trying to get stuff done. Don’t know what order that will take, but let’s get started. I have a latte to help improve my mood. Not really, they taste good, though.

Yesterday I wrote a poem, and I need to go back and edit it. I like it as is, but I want to read it aloud, and hear any changes I may make. I do that a lot with dialog. I typically read the exchanges back to myself, and that seems to get my mind on what sounds right, off, or simply wrong. Speaking of dialog, I need to write a scene where an antagonist appears, however, I haven’t figured out how to introduce them, or what conflict they have yet. Maybe if this character tries to turn a situation in their favor. I don’t know, but they can’t be in the scene if they don’t bring something to the table. I’ll figure it out.

My congestion went into overdrive today. I used a Netti pot to help clear my nasal path, and now I have drainage galore. The only thing that seems to help is drinking water to help thin this mess out. I can’t wait to take my allergy meds, which will help improve my situation.  Let me tell you, the drainage is gross, uncomfortable, and distracting. If I can get rid of this, I’d suffer this day, and keep things moving. I also need to clean my room, vacuum, and maybe crack the window to let some air in.

 

Morning Would…Be Like

Morning Would…Be Like

by S. Raynard Haynes

Morning Would…be like,
Tiring, as it can be.
Not enough sleep to feast on
Not enough miles traveled
Always near the damn finish line,
But never crossing that point.

Eyes heavy like the mind’s heavy
World is too damn crazy,
And my retreat has retreated from me
Launched me from surreal visions
Of having a bone-shaped skull,
To falling from the sky like Icarus
Cause I was too close to a freezing sun
And crashing into my Mom’s car
And getting chewed out by her friends

Morning would…be like
I’m confused, lost, tired, and what the hell.
My brain is drained, and fragments break off
And I can only go to the bathroom
To get my day started,
But the world and a universe
Passed me by in the night
And no one cares but I.

Stop Making Sense

Been off/on with the creativity again. It seems that things are still out of sorts more than they are in a stable pattern. Typically, I feel guilty about this, and as always, I try to get back up again, and get the deed done, or look like its done. Allergies are barely being kept at bay as I changed one of my allergy meds from a twenty-four hour does to twelve hour. We have to see how this plays out.  I feel like a hot mess.

Listened to my inner nonsensical muse. I wrote a nonsense poem that I left alone with hopes of seeing it with fresh eyes. May post it this weekend, if I can let the darn thing go. Also made nonsensical words for fun. They don’t have full definitions other than I was amused at trying to piece them together, but I also think it’d be a shame to waste them on not being incorporated into some kind of creative works. So there, I’ve applied logic to my nonsense, or it has its own internal logic. The future’s unwritten on this, or unbitten. Just flowing with the go.

Well at least the brain is working on things it likes.  For a Friday I am distracted by the weather, which looks like it wants to pour down and make us all miserable. If it’s a downpour, then that really hampers the mood, and I hope things will be relatively quiet, or soothing enough to get through the day. If not smooth, as long as the day passes, right? Gotta keep the eye on the prize, let the upsets fall to the side, no?

On another note, as I thought of this, I wondered about writing about who a main character was, or at least who I thought he was. It is writing I didn’t intend to share, or incorporate fully into a story, but I kinda want to know who I’m dealing with, and I have a feeling this process will cement a few characters for me. So let me get on top of that, and try to make that the smooth part of the day, and worry less about rain.

As always, happy creative endeavors.

My Words Linger in the Pale Sunlight

A friend once told me some of my poetry had a sensuous feel. In my mind, I was thinking “sensual,” and that lead me to think it had an erotic quality I was unaware of within the words.  She meant it invoked the sense as part of the imagery, which is a good thing, but was I wrong in my impression of the word.

I mixed up the terms for the words sensuous and sensual, and fortunately not to a faux pas of a big nature. Knowing the difference between the two words has really helped me put a little more focus on what I want and what I do in my writing.

Let’s get this out of the way, “sensual” is the term one uses to describe words of an erotic nature. It’s all about descriptions that are designed to arouse. Not hating on that in the least. It has a perfect time and place.

“Sensuous,” the word I really wanted to use a few times, pertains to the senses in general. The descriptions are to illicit sensations, that isn’t necessarily leading to sex, but could in some instances.

Sometimes, when I want to describe scenes or events I tried evoking the senses, which I do think help shape how we feel in a scene. I just put the wrong word to the actions. Sometimes I hear the sound of something in my imagination and simply want to depict ways that the reader can feel it.

So being lyrical and having fun with words is a good things. I’m glad I looked up the terms. I’m such a nerd for words.

Happy creative endeavors.

Throats

Throats
by S. R. Haynes

My throat flakes out,
And my mind melts like butter
That fries in the pan of the world.
I’m remade Cryptically,
In a peculiar shade of unharmonic blue.

This is me,
This is you,
This is the sun,
This is the song I sang last week,
Under a tree,
Where humidity slapped me,
Shook me, and tossed me down,
The flight of stairs of life.
Although I’m beaten and bruised,
All I can think of is,
“I want is pepperoni in my calzone.”

I’m just that weed.
Dainty, unsightly thing.
Growing, reaching, about to be mowed down.
Eviction isn’t pretty.
Don’t look,
Lest you see me cut down.
When my seed,
Flees on the wind,
And takes root once more,
We’ll play this vicious game once more.

Rejection Email

I got a rejection email,
Oh, how I’ve failed.
But I you can’t tell,
I’m disappointed and misera-bell.
I try, I try, I try, I try,
For my efforts, you say “bye-bye.”
You send me away,
As quick as I came
Yes I know, “that’s what she said.”
It hurts just the same.
I thought for sure,
I had my foot in the door,
But I don’t think that anymore.

I got a rejection email
I have failed
Yet I’m a try again
Please rejection email,
Don’t be my friend,
At the very least let’s pretend
That we’ve never met.