Unlimited

There’s a hero in there… somewhere.

I know this because I can’t sleep without dreaming of people I want to inspire and I can’t be awake without seeing maxed out potential all around me. Sometimes I feel like lost poetry in motion, emotionally charging for creative assault and battery. I feel the coursing rivers of a curious strength in me, but the clouds across my mind have me feeling like my undiscovered gifts are a hidden disease.

I’m not aiming to please, but it feels like I missed the mark. If I don’t stop it quickly the ghostly burden of failure before enduring will drive me to my knees. There’s a hero inside me somewhere, but I feel like my super powers are super used to stay super sane. The picture of mediocrity in a different frame. Measurable discord in the membrane…

But in the quiet moments of my thinking… that hallowed space between one thought and the next… a mighty force deep in my soul crackles with power and vision. The voice of God pours through and I’m reminded that the battle isn’t the fight- it’s the perseverance. What? Easy to say for You Almighty God! You don’t have to deal with the doubt in my thoughts… you don’t have the burden of being blessed with something so incredible that you don’t really have words for it…

I say there’s a hero somewhere inside me, but I’m not sure I’ve earned it… the right to use that word. But then again- how can you earn the right to something you were born with? I didn’t choose this- creativity, vision, hope- I woke up with it.

It’s me.

There’s not a hero somewhere deep inside afterall… because the hero is me already.

Advertisements

Countertop

The last tear drop on the counter belongs to me…

There is a breath- a heaving really- that takes place when the place taken by taken places plays favorites.  When the track record of spun emotional hits fails to record the streaming tracks sliding down your face and plunging off lips- when the only thing you’re left with is the counter that caught your scattered fragments.

OCD lovers, and made friends who became maid friends, frantically clean up my environment.  Glass is swept, but 20/20 tears remain invisible and quiet.  My clothes are straightened out- stains removed by re-staining with stain proof “new.”  The glue they used to fuse the crude accoutrements on this broken warrior into something suitable for a fashion lawyer is an oily substance.  Not designed for repair, but to reap the air and draw a harvest of hotly blown explanation to cover my unveiled illumination of how I really feel.

Thousands of paper towel rolls expire as they mop up the soaking wet counter- that’s because each and every splattered ocean drop is undeniably real.  They wipe faster and faster trying to dry the counter off with the rapidity of their movements.  Get a gusting wind to come gusting in gushing gusto to give strength back to my guts again… but they missed a spot.  There, dangling like pieces of my fractured insides, out of sight at the edge of the countertop… A swirling, prismatic, micro-cosmic globe of stained emotions, pierced heart pieces, and misunderstood intentions all wrapped up in the bosom of the sea…

That last tear drop on the counter belongs to me.

Keep Pushing

When you’re broken…
Keep pushing.

When your heart aches…
Keep pushing.

When nothing makes any kind of sense…
Keep pushing.

When depression tries to drag you down…
Keep pushing.

When angst lays claim to your soul…
Keep pushing.

When every move seems to be the wrong one…
Keep pushing.

When God seems silent…
Keep pushing.

When the fury overtakes your soul…
Keep pushing.

No matter what life throws at you, keep pushing because life will never stop throwing. The one who endures is who will come out on top.  So keep pushing… and don’t ever stop.

The Man

That man over there… he’s got an odd look about him… but it is one that is so very familiar…

He’s got the look of a man resigned to a pain he’s surrendered to. Pain not born of weakness, but of destiny embraced- the acceptance of incapability beyond endurance.

He’s got the look of a man whose sorrows number the grains of sand along the shoreline… a man who feels broken because he understands the true nature of his wholeness.  A man whose paint can only bleeds colors in a world that only receives black and white…

I see this man often.  I long to speak to him, but what words are there to share with one who bares his heart to bear the world?  So I patiently watch…

He’s got the look of a man who is afraid of love, not because of the uncertainty of its future, but because of the certainty of his past. Evolving from a heart breaker, but braking his heart from the dame his heart’s hard is breaking for because he doesn’t want to break her too… but he knows he loves her.

He’s got the look of a man whose only option left is to survive. Who cannot do right rightly, or do wrong well and so all that’s left for the weary warrior is to fight on…

Fight on warrior… fight on… these are the words I would say to him. Fight on… Faith is strength, and hope is sustenance… don’t believe the illusion that you can give up in this- there is too much in you… fight on warrior, fight on…

He has the look of a man who has encountered his personal demons… and dared sentence them to exile. A man who has stood in the mirror peeling back the social illusions of his identity… and been haunted by what he has seen.

He has the look of a man… who has finally learned what it truly means to be one.

PG-13

That husky voice gets me every time.

It’s something ’bout that mornin’ rasp that moves my hands from your thighs over to the clock hands to turn back time.  Trying to get back to that moment just before so I can relive the surprise.  So I can relive the roll over and let your sexy tones roll over me and re-invent delight.

Be mine. My daily valentine. The source of all my rhymes.

Whisper in my ear babygirl…

Croon to me with the musical influence of a tongue that knows me better than I do… With the lyrical caresses that possess me more than physical touch ever could.  I can ride the waves of the way you call my name from first light of day til the extra-terrestrial glow smashes into the ground.  I can’t help but not frown- I simply shiver when I hear the utterings of your throat slip into unworthy air…

That husky voice gets me every time.

At long last the last shadows have elongated this elaborate romance from the cell gates of this present moment to the outermost reaches of the infinite fringes of time.  I’ve been addicted to your sensual senses since this morning- you sang me pure sweetness through the sun’s journey across the sky and now I need you to be with me on the clouds tonight.  We’re gonna begin where the height of the earth ends.

Up comes easy for us because we were fashioned in Heaven in the first place… Ecstasy is the natural realm that emerges from us breathing in the same place… There is only one thing that distinguishes us… One powerful element that rouses cacophony of my soul and body into beautifully orchestrated, orchestral noise…

And that is the glorious, sexy, beautiful, endearing, strengthening, enchanting sound… of your husky voice.

I’m hooked on you baby.