a Writer’s Block

I’ve not felt like writing much lately.  Distracted by passing obsessions and fading vices.  The muse inside is asleep.  I fear it would fade entirely, then I remember my life long curse.  When an obsession takes hold through OCD, the hold is firm and unrelenting.  It threatens several aspects of myself, such as writing and poetry.  Words will fleeting dash across my mind, vanishing like a dream when I try and recall the ideas.  Only the current, hopefully temporary, obsession remains.  What will I do about this and that.  How will I handle each situation regarding anything other than the pressing need to do a thing.  I keep these “things” to myself, they are my burden to bear.  So while you might see a sneer or a glare, know that it’s only temporary.  Something has a hold on me again, and the battle is reinstated.  I often hope that I’m the only one with struggles like these, again I would never wish this on anther human being.  Consumed so fully by a task, habit, show, game, etc.  Thanks for listening, until next time.  Peace to you and yours.

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Commercials Vs. Advertisements

After studying the subject, I have come to realize that Commercials try to sell us a product that is more or less of good quality, where as Ads via phone and PC apps and web pages try and push low quality or altogether false products, services, or even ideas.  A lot of time, effort, and energy had been put into the campaign to stick us in our tiny glowing screens and PC monitors.  I would rather see commercials rather than having adds blasted at me on every web page and phone app.

Seems like ads have become an overwhelming burden on web pages.  For instance, The Weather Channel is an undesirable site now that it’s lagged up with adds, where as the actual Weather channel via television is better.

Then there is Amazon with it’s algorithm that is based on previous sales will show you several models of dehumidifier that you could have gotten.  These are well meaning, but not yet on point for directed commercial items.

That’s just my 2 cents, thanks for listening.  Until next time, peace to you and yours.

Obsession, part of the Disorder

One of the tougher parts of OCD to deal with is the obsessions.  They are unshakable desires to do something.  Whether it’s an addiction, such as cigarettes, or something so simple as a card game, Magic the Gathering, the obsession can be so overwhelming that it seemingly controls your actions.  That’s where the compulsive part of the disorder ruins everything.  Where normally a person can control an obsession, Obsessive Compulsive disorder can control themselves, when the compulsion kicks in it is no longer probable to resist the obsession.  You don’t feel complete or whole until it is fulfilled.  For me it’s basic vices, things that send life into disorder, but not unrecoverable.  I fear for some, the compulsions are too dark, such as displayed in the Showtime series Dexter.  How fine is the line between a simple drive to clean the same spot the same way forever and the dark abyss of horrific obsession?  I sure hope there is a cure in the works.

For myself, it’s a very real and very terrifying reality.  I fear that a simple rabbit hole might turn into a nightmare reality.

Trying to figure out the triggers has been very difficult.  Stress, positive or negative, seems to be the most prevalent.  This, I believe is why anti depressants had a negative effect.  The “high” of the dopamine fades, but the obsession with the consistent good moods did not, causing a downward spiral that was near fatal.

Scary

Why is it so scary to feel good,

What is it I misunderstood,

Wave of happy we never want to stop,

Gotta remember can’t live at the top,

The low and highs are all part and partial,

Feeling happy, we just can’t marshall,

Our internal light was growing neigh,

If we can’t be happy, we just want to die,

But it’s all in the balance, I hope you can see,

Relish the light of creativity,

Enduring the lows became the normal,

Feeling the highs is feeling formal,

Denying ourselves the basic desires,

Not letting it out, just stoking the fires,

Living in rage,

No more on stage,

Life in a cage,

Seeking a sage,

Seething in rage,

Not turning the page

Found only a maze,

Looking inwards a haze,

Past memories a blaze,

My mind in a craze,

But pardon my phrase,

I speak out of phase,

Overwhelming malaise,

Felt lost in that maze,

My minotaur would enrage,

Past memories were now pyres,

Creativity re-inspires,

Life changed from uniformal,

To nearly paranormal,

Nor more passivity,

More clearly now I can see,

There is so much more behind my eye,

I can now permit myself to cry,

No longer now shall I stall,

This life to give must get it all,

I must discard my prop,

One more habit I must drop,

It is no longer misunderstood,

We are allowed to feel good.

 

 

In Doubt

Dear lord please hear me out,

Many people are live in doubt,

I wanna scream and shout,

It’s not fair let them out,

We trusted, got dusted, some busted, maladjusted, still crusted, disgusted

Hooked on a chem, crooked rich men, free us from them, tired of waiting ’til then,

Why does humanity act like an experiment,

For rich or poor we’re all here, a testament,

Our souls are here to the show what we meant,

Sing, write, play, show, paint, vent.

Always about to boil,

Forgot why we toil,

Why must they foil,

Can’t we just live in peace,

Live our lives, love life, we’re here on lease,

Give us a break before we all cease.

 

 

 

 

 

Curses foiled again, or not

In the past week I have been personally reconciling my inner self.  Sounds weird, but I have been at odds with myself for some time.  After drudging up so many painful memories I cast myself into deep sadness, regret, and even anger.  It’s been very difficult for me cast aside the things in my life that don’t belong.  Things such as the feeling of not belonging where I am.  I have spent a lot of time just thinking and planning and not really acting.  So I have decided to take on a new hobby, candle making.  The funny part to me is that I have been a butcher, a baker, and now…you see the punchline.

Normally in my past I would have simply gone back to my routine, but I know I have to alter it just a little bit.  I first believed that I needed to shake up everything about myself and my life so that I was not so depressed all the time.  Along that path I have really started to put more effort into where I am.  Dedicating myself to my workplace, doing more activities with my family, and finding a healthier balance of my previous hobbies.  It’s been a real challenge changing internally while causing so much discord with those around me.  I hope they can all forgive me.  I am sorry for all the trouble.

No one ever said having a mid life crisis was easy.  The crisis is over, now I have to clean up my own mess.  Thanks for listening.  Until next time, peace to you and yours.

Say When

When will I be free of the chains that shackle me,

Invisible lines that keep holding me,

Back from the world I want to see,

When is it ok to be,

All the things I love in me,

When can I shake off the shroud of internal anonymity,

See myself able to be free,

The fragments of sanity in a sea of failed sobriety,

Is my world really that dreary,

Once I hear the word maybe,

Stuck in binds I can clearly see,

I put them there, you see,

These bonds I wear are part of me,

The wounds that cut so deeply,

Make me cry internally,

My battles scars are here eternally,

I have to learn it’s ok to be,

Damaged, not permanently,

Just marks with personality,

The game started prematurely,

I wasn’t ready, I tell myself sadly,

The person I was fades into obscurity,

Now it’s time, tomorrow might never be,

Can I, I ask, I guess time will see.

 

 

 

 

Dark Angel: Myndra’s Song

When I took my first college level creative writing class, there was on specific exercise we did was create a short story from just one sentence.  The sentence we were given was “Mary closed the door and placed the candle on the table”.  This is a revised version of that story.  I changed the name for personal reasons.

Myndra closed the door and placed the candle on the table.  Thunder shook her apartment building as lightning clashed across the sky.  With the power knocked out from an earlier strike, the night was darker than ever.  As she turned on her shower the droplets that rained were warm and welcoming.  After casting away her clothes, she stepped in and slid the door closed as the water embraced her.  The small candles flame cast dancing shadows around cozy bathroom walls.  She closed her eyes as she turned to face the gentle cascade of water.

 

To the young lady stumbling down the sidewalk blocks from her house, the night was cold, cruel, and unforgiving.  The rain felt like icy tendrils as they ran down her back through drenched shirt.  The thunder claps startled her, the lighting strikes blinded her, albeit temporarily.  Her arms were folded and pressed to her body to stop from shuddering, unsuccessfully.  No one could her sobs, she knew no one would care.  The moment she hit the concrete, struck by one last straw, her mind nearly gave up.  She had ignored a cracked heel on her shoe in her haste to leave a lost battle of a broken relationship.  This shattered soul let herself lay upon the cold stone and simply cry.

“Are you ok?” asked Myndra in a worried tone.  She had seen a young woman take a quick fall as she stood under the awning of her apartment building, while having a short smoke.  Strolling across the barren street she noticed the girl just laying on the cold hard sidewalk and wondered if something horrible had just happened.  Half away across she started to jog.  With a trembling hand she reach out and took a firm hold on the fallen girls shoulder.  “Hey”, was all she could get out as the seemingly dormant body shrieked and lashed at her.  Both had now been spooked past the point of reason and a short nearly harmonic set of screams cried out for a brief second.  The following moment seemed to pass as minutes when their eyes finally met.

Clouds had parted every so slightly, just enough to shine the moons rays through the storm.   Ebon hair was accented with stands made silver from moonbeams.  The eyes she was staring into had created a respite from this night’s grief filled torment.  She reach up and her hand was met by a soft, strong grip.  She allowed herself to be helped up. “You’re drenched and shivering, come up to my room and dry off” came a voice that was soothing.  A weak nod of her head was all she could muster.

The pair walked back across the empty road, the pouring rain had deterred most travelers on this soon to be auspicious night.  Myndra placed a comforting arm around the slender shoulders of her new found companion.  The notion of consolation seemed to be welcomed by this trepid soul.  She picked up her candle from just inside the doors of her building.  Lighting it had been a slight challenge, but her persistence and not completely soaked lighter finally ignited the already charred wick.  Myndra led the way up a single flight of stairs, easily navigated by candlelight.  She was grateful not to be one of the poor sods on the sixth floor.

“My names Kayla, by the way” her voice was nearly horse from the agitation of this evenings events.  “I appreciate your kindness”.

“I’m Myndra, nice to meet you” was her reply to the first words uttered by this beautiful dove who now stood in her dark home.

Kayla gazed around the small apartment seeing a pattern of black and white photos and posters, who’s contrast was only altered by a single pair of light pink ballet shoes hanging on a pillar between a tiny kitchen and humbly furnished living room.  Several candles cast dancing shadows.  She sighed, taking in breath and exhaling heavily, letting the new scenery placate her previously frantic thoughts.  All she could do was smile slightly.  She sat down on the futon, as requested.  Looking up, she was relieved to see Myndra’s gaze meet her own again, reassuring and consoling.  Her host was tall and lithe, long dark hair hung low and straight from the rain.  She was reminded of Morticia Addams, her smile widened just a bit more at the thought. (to be continued)

 

Back to School

Today was a bitter sweet day

The children return to school to play

Summer is our time to shine, wish it would stay

But life must move forward can’t remain that way

Some parents relish this time, for me is causes dismay

I give myself to the evenings, my mornings are gray

Why speak in poetry, I ask myself, to convey

The exercise is good, a different way to parlay

I change the tempo and scheme, even the delay

But keep moving forward, try and cast away

The troubled time my mind brings, so they can’t out weigh

I ask myself lately, what do I do, to keep in the fray

Fight the good fight, be a good person, a good father everyday

My soul has scars, my heart is heavy, I just want to lay

Sleep, no more sadness and pain, I know it’s cliche

But I will not falter, only stumble along, make way

I kinda like my scar now, all the miles on my highway

To we celebrated my wife’s birthday

She deserves much more than I can purvey

Happiness is my the gift I choose to spray

The next poem will I write I’ll have to sway

I hope my next round won’t be so passe

All the pieces

Not sure they’ll all fit

So many parts, so little space

Fragmented self, needed a hit

Wasn’t sure I could keep pace

A mental knock on the noggin, a little wit

Mix with music and family, she’s truly my ace

Do I leave out the parts that make me want to quit

Keep them I say, they keep me in my place

A place I belong, the place I commit

A state of mind so far from this race

The rats almost won, I felt so unfit

I hated so many memories, lost color in my face

Almost thought I was gone, a few steps from split

I write my story, place it in a showcase

So that other won’t feel counterfeit

Our stories only differ in the details, our human race

But we’re all the same, you have to admit

Your pain is my pain, I would embrace

Any person who felt the need to submit

We stand united, the wounded who feel disgrace

Pick your head up with mine, this is it

Don’t relent to the coup de grace

You’re not alone in all this shit

The moral of the story is not common place

We need to heal depression, lickety split