Free Assoc Group - 12.15.2018 PLAY

It turns grey sometimes,
life around me
the walls close in
the sky, menacing
the urge to pull the covers up
over my head is overwhelming

People i talk with
I don't understand their language
they smile and nod
but the words are foreign
I lock the doors
and pull the shades

And then when i least expect it

The sun begins emerging
little rays through dark clouds
making a pathway from my door
out into the world

I follow pools of light
that pull me along
I don't question where
or why or how
I just deeply inhale and
go right then left then right then left

I find myself in the woods
going deeper in and away
from exhaust fumes and
unpleasant conversations

Away from the noise
I feel the crisp air on my cheeks
hear my footsteps crunch on gravel
hear my footsteps snap on twigs
hear my footsteps pad on fallen needles

as i move farther in
I feel my shoulders fall, my brow relaxes
I feel like a new version of myself
and it coaxes a smile

Squirrels and birds are curious
about me, the intruder
They chatter and sing
and I respond back in kind

Funny how it takes stepping away
from all that is my world
to understand that it is not all that bad
and remember that I have the ability
to untangle myself from
the tentacles and adhesions
of the mundane and every day

to simply be
to simply play


__________________________________
The word today is "PLAY"
and it is a hard one
I can't seem to wrap my head around
an angle to write from
a concept to expand upon
Shit!
Have I forgotten how to play?
There is no way this is possible
I am just not feeling it
I spen all my time in the last couple days
making notes for
Anterra
the Writer's Video Game idea
the Candy & Susan Saga
laid in bed until late last night
thinking twisted storylines
and dark endings
and unexpected occurances
And then I come today
and the word is "PLAY".
What are the chances?
This is just dumb (bad) luck.
I wrote a little something.
Not really happy with it.
I think it's weak
But it's all i could come up with
I'm glad i came today
but I'm not happy with my
results
I'm not happy with my
words
ideas
I'm not happy with the
quiet in my mind
I got nothing.

Free Assoc Group 12/8/18 - Rise

Prompt - RISE

On certain days, I sit in the dark
whether actual darkness
or darkness of soul

I sometimes relish those days
Gives me more to think about
than what I'm having for dinner
or if I'm going out for a walk
Or if I'm going to talk to anyone that day

I can cry about something sad
something from the past that hurt
and cut me, left me bleeding

Or I can think about the kind of darkness
that brings out that macabre side
I write little stories that ineveitably
end up with some sort of death
and I chuckle because I find dark humor
connects with me, with one of my hearts

I have two, you know
One that beats fiercely bright red
and strong
And emits light and love

Then there is the other
The black and twisted,
cracked and broken in places
That finds humor in the most
surprising of places.

Usually inappropriate, and quite often
making others squirm because they
don't want to be made aware that
pain and sadness can be funny and clever.

So I write from my darkness when I can
And since I know myself well enough
I at least make notes, fill pages with ideas
a one- or two-line rhyme
a quick little story that ends with a twist
the kind that makes my friends, my readers
go "ewwww".

I like that reaction
Using clever or unusual wordplay
It makes me feel like i've touched something
inside the reader....maybe just a nerve
and that's all right by me

In all this time though, i have found that i suffer
from the inability to be sincere and open
with my pain, I always have to mask it
in one way or another

I've gone to therapy for years
and find that I'm able to speak about
my shame and anger and fears
from my past from the comfort of a
psychological couch

And yet, I have not been able to bring down the wall
that i've built to keep even my closest people
away with my writing

It's a rarity to break through
When it happens, my surprise takes me over
until i can compose myself once again.

I can share these compositions but I cannot explain them
That would bring me out from behind the wall again BUT
I do feel myself getting better and stronger
more confident of my abilities

more willing to tear off a little piece
of my heart, either one

The strong, reactive, courageous one
that feeds off the truths of life or
The bleak, romantic, reflective one
that holds so much pain and hope
even though my history has shrivelled it

to tear off a little piece and offer it to
a passing stranger, an anonymous reader,
a friend or family member

And I'm no longer so concerned that they like it
I'm no longer so concerned that the understand it
I find myself in a stage of my life where I feel the strength
to give parts of myself away for free
Do with me what you wish
I'm no longer so concerned.

Spiral - Tree - Knight - Fairy - Fine Lady - Little Girl

The knight awoke as the sun cleared the high, rolling hills that made up the horizon. It took several minutes before he was able to shake off the odd feeling of having been somewhere else just as his eyelids began to flutter and the daylight brought him here to this resting place.

Fendrel had chanced upon this tree late last afternoon as he meandered along. It looked to be very, very old; branches reaching out in every direction and the canopy was higher than the knight thought even he could climb. It was a comfortable and well-situated place to rest for the night as it was near fresh water for himself and his steed, Alduin. And it provided some concealment as the boughs arched; heavy at their ends with plentiful foliage. The grass grew long and green. The knight's mount softly nickered and tossed his head before lowering it to eat his fill.

Fendrel removed the outermost of his traveling gear, so much lighter than his fighting armor, and took an oiled canvas bucket to the spot at the lake where the stream splashed lightly over worn and rounded rocks to mingle with the still lake waters, only slightly ruffled from time to time by a light breeze. He filled it once and, offering his horse the full pail, laughed and shook his head as the animal shoved his muzzle in so deeply that it had to blow water out its nostrils before drinking down to the bottom. Water dripping from his whiskered chin like a toothless old man, the horse shook off a fly or two and turned contentedly back to his grass. Fendrel chuckled again at his companion.

Now the knight stripped off the remainder of his mail and padding; protection from a light scuffle but no match for a sharp broadsword or mace. He had packed lightly for this journey though he knew not where he was going nor how long he might be gone. Or even if he might never choose to return. He had a small satchel full of silver, saved over time, that could be used to purchase anything he may need as he journeyed the countryside. These lands did not feel dangerous to the knight even though he was traveling through for the first time. No stories of marauding bandits or robbers out this way had reached castle or keep by the time he headed away from the protection of the garrison gates.

Down to naught more than a cloth at his loin, he waded in slowly from the shoreline. Ice-cold and bracing, Fendrel took his time as the water crept ever higher on his thighs and then, as his breath drew in sharply, he dove in headlong. As he surfaced far out in the lake, he let out a sharp whoop that caused Alduin to sidestep and look up abruptly. Satisfied that his rider was not in any peril, the horse returned to his grass and clover.

After quite some time, Fendrel came ashore and went about taking care of the necessities. His padded doublet and undergarments needed a good washing. As the days were quite warm, his linen chemise had been tended to yesterday evening as were woolen riding breeches. They had been drying in the night breeze and were now clean and crisp. He was looking forward to riding through the day with the breeze on his skin. Fendrel made sure his mail was dry, so as not to rust, as he rolled it into a cloth to stow behind the saddle's cantel. From there, he could don it quickly should danger present itself.

Dark and New

There is something about those hours
The first few hours of the day
Still nestled deep in the dark folds
of the velvet night sky

No matter the circumstance
whether just tumbling into
the painted canvas of a dream
Or having been awake far too long
Tingling electric from my skin inward
and unable to breathe out
and keep out the stress
keep my shoulders from my ears

Those first few hours
The air becomes so quieted
Billowed cotton batting
the blood rush in the ears
is the beating of my heart
I can hear only that
That and no more
and yet my breath
slowly and calmly
reaching deep into my
collection of words and
with thought and rhythm
scattering them across a page
sometimes slowly, methodically
sometimes so quickly I struggle
to stay caught up as I write

FRANTIC - 12/1/18 Free Assoc Group

O come all ye faithful
Ye shoppers of goods and services
Ye impatient and frantic folk

Is this really how you want to behave between your
feast of Thanks and your celebration of your Christ?

This is the season of everyone trying to think
of the perfect thing for Dad, who is impossible to buy for,
or for your sister, who buys what she wants for herself
when she wants it.

And Mom, Mom always says "I don't want you spending
your money on me. Don't get me anything, I mean it."
But you know she will send you a bundle of Mom love.

And so you feel compelled to spend
your time, your energy and anxiety, and your money
on things and stuff, trinkets and bric-a-brac,
technological do-dads and funny gag gifts
So you'll feel like you gave as much as you got
Competition, competition. There always needs to be a balance.

It is always a Catch 22. You smile and purchase that thing
then you go home and shove it in the closet.
Time to wrap, box up and send across the country, across the world
These little representations of what this person or that person means to you

So you sit on the floor and you start to wrap
what you got for your Dad
and it suddenly seems like an empty gesture.
You can see him unwrap it with that
pasted on smile and he says
"Oh, that's different!" and nods his thanks to you
and there is nothing behind his eyes
because there was really nothing behind the gift.
It is hard to buy for someone you have trouble loving.

But you shake it off, realizing that was last year....and the year before...
but you hope this year will be different.
You have that sinking feeling in your gut.

Your sister, you love each other dearly, but it's so hard
to get her something that she does not already have
If she needs it, she's already purchased it
That's where she is in her life. I don't blame her
I'm like that when I am able.

There's always a certain charm, a home-spun simplicity,
to making the gifts that you give.
But here's the catch.
You have to be decent at what you are attempting to create
or it looks like....well, we all know what it would look like.

So you work yourself up and start to feel panic
It's December already. Time is ticking away. As the days
pass, the ticking will become faster. You know it's true.

Are you really going to fall back into the ease of the Giftcard?
You tell yourself no. But it's getting closer and closer.
It's a week before. Your cards aren't out yet. All 5 or 6 of them.
Sitting on the table. It's the box from the past 2 years.
You hope they don't notice. You think they will though.

Just stick them in the box with the crap you bought and send it off.
The line at the PO is Disneyland long. You just want to get this over with.
Go back home or take a walk. Something solitary.

The crowds at the holidays. They are the worst.
That frantic energy is contagious.
Finally, it's Christmas morning.
You are alone in your house with your cat.
You don't set an alarm. You don't have any plans.
You sigh with relief that
this season of crazy is over....until next year.