SIDEWAYS EIGHT PROJECTS

In the beginning, we were only fenced in by the fear we allowed to dwell in our hearts.

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In the end, we are only bound by our imagination.

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Reflection can cast a shadow over the truth, as the perception of memory can often linger in a fraudulent waiting room.

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We earn our scars across our lives, we gain wrinkles across time. The signs of worry, and the treading of joy reveal a map of the existence that we’ve had. We’ve had gain and we’ve had loss, dealt with the pain of bearing our cross, and we aren’t sure of the net, in regards to our summation of experience. All we see are the results, but our bodies keep track of the means. The evidence collects in dusty drawers, atop the coffee tables of our minds, and we hope our capacity for both love and forgiveness increases.

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When babies grow up and leave the nest, sometimes Mamas don’t know what to do. They’ve given everything they have to raising them best, now they’ve left, and life seems through. Each fiber of being, and each thread of Love went into making that nest, to help them be seeing, guidance from above, and the ways in which they are blessed. The babies will take flight and fly far from here, through varying climate and through varying zone. The Mamas have raised them right, they try not to fear, and hope they return with babies of their own.

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If I am to be partial, let me be partial to those who least often get it, but most often deserve it. If I am to be a hypocrite, let me break the rules I have given myself which were formed in toxicity and desperate worry. If I am to be blind, let me avoid seeing the faults in others that are ultimately irrelevant. If I am to go hungry, let me hunger for inspiration, thirst for justice, pine for mercy, and daydream about love. If I am to be short with people, let it be because I am speaking authentic love in a cogent and concise manner. If I am to lie, let me lie in the field at dusk waiting for the fireflies. If I am to interrupt, let it be the flow of negativity. If I am to abandon someone, let it be due to their own need of quiet alone time for introspection. If I am to miss something, let it be you, until we can be together again.

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When I pass, as we all will one day, I want to be cremated. I want the ashes from my body to be mixed with concrete and used to set a pole for a parking meter. I want the parking meter to be permanently flipped to “Time Expired” and set near the edge of a park somewhere. I want any coins that are placed in the meter to be periodically collected and distributed to worthwhile causes. I want beautiful sayings, quotes, and excerpts from literature to be engraved into the pole itself. I want for a metal chute to be welded to the side of the pole for anyone who wishes to leave flowers to have a place to put them. I want to have the names of significant individuals to be etched into the concrete at the base. More than anything though, I want for my life leading up to this to have not been in vain. That would be enough. The rest is just details.

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~ Summer Solstice ~

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The light climbs into night the furthest it has ever been, the hours of day sway to and fro like the level of tides in our seas. We stay up and outside longer with our personal kin, and shine until the moon ushers us in with ease. The darkness will creep ever so slowly, until half a year from now at its peak. But the level of warmth today keeps us anything but lowly, and the dark parts feel all the more weak. We have celebrations, special events, and chanting while music plays, in the hopes the abyss relents, and our shine always stays.

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#summer #summersolstice #solstice #daylight #warmth #shine #calendar #daytime #events #sky #sun #light

Tonight was so wonderful! Spoken Views Collective continued its Spotlight Series with touring poet Beau Williams. The Holland Project played host to the poet who is originally from Portland, Maine, and headed to Cork, Ireland. It was wonderful to meet a fellow poet and chat about life’s finer things. Safe passage to you Beau, it was awesome to meet you.

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As morning is breaking for the future of our land, let us not be broken ourselves by what we do not understand. Let us feel the warmth of the light that was hidden, let us give praise for the slice through the dark. Let us be honest about the twists in the ride as it’s ridden, and use our newfound sight to generate our own spark. Studies in elementary pointed to less interesting times that these, and the timeline of the future is far from known. We may miss something if we either blink or sneeze, but we will not in the end be alone.

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#photography #instapics #photographersofig #pictures #artistic #creative #creation #writersofig #writerswrite #writersofinstagram #writinglife #wordgasm #words #selfpublishing #sidewayseightprojects

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In the recesses of our minds, near the darker corners in which we do not like to dine, live the memories of beloved companions we have lost. Pets that were chosen family, favorite cousins we only saw once a year as we grew older, and the imaginary ones we had to leave behind. They are somehow always with us. They permeate our being like a January frost in northern Minnesota while shoveling the drive. We absorb them. The memories may not be far off. There are no official regulations for these glimpses at eternity and mortality. There are only toys whose batteries have run out, and balloons which have given up their loft. If we have the courage to visit those corners, to play with them in the recesses, we can evolve into truly magnificent and sentient beings. If we refuse to dwell in these areas, the memories become foggy or jaded. They change over time until they have become murky shadows that don’t even resemble their original forms across lineage and dreams.

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#photography #instapics #photographersofig #pictures #artistic #creative #creation #writersofig #writerswrite #writersofinstagram #writinglife #wordgasm #words #selfpublishing #sidewayseightprojects

#poet #poets #poem #poems #poetry #poetsofinstagram #poetsofig #poetrycommunity #poetryisnotdead #poemsofinstagram #dailypoems #micropoems #poetrydaily #poetry_addicts #poemsporn

Our paths crossed in the daytime, unlike the movies would have at night. Right then, I couldn’t be zen, say a rhyme, or choose to be anything quite bright. Because I was shook, to my core. I didn’t think I could ever feel that way again, and what’s more, I didn’t think I’d ever taken a drink of anything quite like that before. It gave me pause. The inside my mind applause. Jaw didn’t drop to the floors, but a little tear formed in each eye. How about yours? We could spend our whole lives flying by distant lands, but first we’ll sit and chat while holding hands. We can move on, long after years have gone, to sitting on our own lawn, going on and on, able to emotionally unpack. But first, first my dear, you gotta circle back.

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#photography #instapics #photographersofig #pictures #artistic #creative #creation #writersofig #writerswrite #writersofinstagram #writinglife #wordgasm #words #selfpublishing #sidewayseightprojects

#poet #poets #poem #poems #poetry #poetsofinstagram #poetsofig #poetrycommunity #poetryisnotdead #poemsofinstagram #dailypoems #micropoems #poetrydaily #poetry_addicts #poemsporn