Saturday, July 30, 2016

This, The Unforgotten

They say you should forget.
They say this is what's best.
Forget nothing.
Forget not, ill malicious intent.
Forget not, that which wove to break.
Forget not the scales, where one end lifts and watches the other,
where one meets against many,
stood against many,
in honor of heart, in honor of truth, in honor of life,
 the scales falter.
B7I6geQCYAEN2IcThe Forgotten
This, The Unforgotten,
will remain unforgotten,
and will carry that armor across a chest,
and it will be made of steel, and it will be made to feel only one thing
through smiles, through laughter, through masks,
through to eyes who look at the children that remain, without family,
without what they need and should have.
Without.
Stolen in weakness.
Stolen without heart against heart,
unforgotten.
Stand tall in pretense when you look in the mirror.
Stand tall when you look at the child, and then look at your own.
See into those eyes.
Look.
For I will look too, each and every day.
I will always look, the eyes over your shoulders,
 never to be forgotten.
The justification in scales.
The justification in truth.
The Forgotten. Unforgotten.

Friday, July 29, 2016

Totally love.

The walls are high.
The world a window you can almost see in and out from, and it would
seem you so very much want to see.
It must be soooooo hard, like weirdly so.
Like what a peculiar and odd way to exist, be and live, to never quite break through to real,
to never look and really speak.
Frustrating to the max, and I'll even go as far as saying an experience of off-kilter weird,
 but weird is as weird does.
I mean in the end, who's really to say? The scale is, and can be, all over the place until that one day.
HIGHLY ILLOGIAL BEHAVIOR.
<em>Highly Illogical Behavior</em> by John Corey Whaley
John Corey Whaley is tops, so give it a shot.
And to the cute, cute, 'YA cute,' and the serious that is and is not,
and all that floats your boat wrapped around a moat, and all that you wish and see,
get in and "give it a go."
Open to all possibility,
and if it's tipping your scales to weird, well then weird it on up, pull out another perspective.
Enjoy the spectrum of the wide and wondrous and weird as can possibly be.
Enjoy it all.
Salute,
which means to entirely make it a, "good day."
<em>Salt to the Sea</em> by Ruth Sepetys<em>The Dark Days Club</em> by Alison Goodman<em>Map of Fates</em> by Maggie Hall

Wonder.

A heart.
It can be the last to show itself, and the first to remind us.
He, Auggie, is disfigurement, an abomination to the world that sees and watches,
and yet his heart screams, "I am you. You are me. We are us. The same."
WONDER.
Wonder + The Julian Chapter
This is not new,
nor is our own "wonder" when we ponder and move our minds to rove and wander.
We do so with wonder, or do we?
We may look at things and only skim
 the surface, such a cursory glance it becomes insulting to the world itself,
to our worlds.
We do not actually see our day-to-day's can steal our awe-struck fascination, curiosity
and conjecture, our gape-gawking marveling,
if we allow it,
if we permit such a thing to happen.
It's complacency in life that sits and stirs our coffee and stops that wonder,
with wonder it stops our hearts.
After all, it is a luxury to allow ourselves to travel through all that we have done and not done,
all we have comprehend yet too not understood, as what turns, turns back.
In wonder. With wonder.
To the do and have done, the have and have left,
 to be,
like you, like me.
Like us.
The same.


Thursday, July 28, 2016

Testing, testing, one, two, three.

What words spoken are the right words chosen?
Can't see his ears, but he still hears in the hairy guy shrug it off waltz,
or take it to the elite group of candidates that must pass
THE TESTING.
Shrug'n cute, right?
Jack Link's Jerky idk shrug i dont know bigfoot
So, when we do our testing, testing, one, two and three's,
just to see, just to see,
what are we testing ... our own inabilities?
Or, someone else's?
The test at every turn against the world in seven stages of war.
Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.
Isn't that what they say?
Personally, I strongly dislike that saying, but in this ...
The Testing (The Testing, #1)
A testing candidate is eager to prove her worth,
with a father that warns, "trust no one."
To survive she must choose,
love without truth, or life without trust.
Not a great choice.
THE TESTING.
One, two, three. 

Wednesday, July 27, 2016

The Heart that Clocks.

Typically, this is not the sort of book that would catch my eye.
Relationship stories aren't my thing, even though of course, every book and every story is a relationship to some degree.
So, The Girl With A Clock For A Heart, why did it grab me?
 A couple of reasons.
Hearts are dangerous things.
They tell their stories like jolting currents that can either shock, lull, or remind,
if you listen, if you hear,
this our constant, perpetual background noise.
The Girl With A Clock For A Heart
Time passes. Life passes.
Love is lost,
vanished and dead for so many years,
until it walks back in through the door, bringing the secrets of the past with it.
When love, life and mystery never stops,
 as the clock ticks.

Tuesday, July 26, 2016

To see. All The Light We Cannot See.

It swept up,
dropped fluttering from the sky. 
 To see, to know, to understand,
to feel, to bring,
yes, to love,
eyes that saw nothing, nothing at all.
All the Light We Cannot See
The travel through to the heart of war,
to illumination,
to the ways 
people can be good to one another,
against all odds.
ALL THE LIGHT WE CANNOT SEE.
Ten years in the making.

Monday, July 25, 2016

By means.

By means of explanation, it is a fail.
Big. Small.
Aside and in.
By explanation.
By all calls.
The shame in it all.
A Judgement in StoneJudgment (Cassidy & Spenser #1)Death and Judgment (Commissario Brunetti, #4)
A Valentine's massacre
to the man in the maze,
and treacherous roads in the Dolomite mountains.
Joining forces before it's too late in ...
these the judgements
in crime.
There are many aspects of crime under law, and do not exclude crime against humanity.

Sunday, July 24, 2016

The Rest in Stone.

Isn't it odd,
 undoubtedly
one of the
 strangest things to do ...
to shrink your heart,
to make it grow small.
To make that effort,
to concentrate in squeezing it down 
 until it is almost nothing,
nothing at all.
Strange.
Very strange indeed,
to wear this new face out into the world,
to make that effort,
to be like the rest,
better than the best.
Like carrying stone,
like wearing stone,
and it feels like 
nothing,
nothing at all.
Dangerous. Liberating.
The rest in stone.
The ForeshadowingThe Impossible Knife of MemoryDaughter of Smoke and Bone
What Janie FoundMy Heart and Other Black Holes


Saturday, July 23, 2016

The YA Spirit.

What's in your spirit?
What's your spunk? Your drive?
 Life. Love. Gift. Go.
Fortitude. Power. Knowledge. Understanding.
That which stirs our motor drive.
We need it. Have to have it.
It takes us from here to there --
to everywhere.

Worlds in hands.
 The pages we turn, churn,
dark light, shadowed shades.
Yin Yang.
Light shade.
Round. Square. Flat. Full. Bold.
Past, present, future told.
Nit Nat Knack like a Kit Kat Snack.
These, our stories.
Our words.
Our worlds.
What's your spirit? Your spunk? Your drive?
Take it here, there ...
everywhere. 
Now go on. Get in and drive.

Friday, July 22, 2016

The Enchantments.

Be careful,
that which you become enchanted by.
Atlantia
Enchantments,
the sirens of song
stir your mind and stir your soul,
and plague your night to fitful sleeps.
You listen.
You strain to hear,
for the enchantment sings not to all,
but only one.
This, our enchantment,
our sirens of song.

Want of knowing.

We, the bizarre.
The weird and crazy,
that do weird, crazy,
and sometimes wondrous things,
who push boundaries and pursuits,
limits to limits up punishing hills --
and yet --
we can still be a little bizarre, don't you think?
Check it out.
guy footage bizarre remixes archival
It's a people thing. 
It's a here we are, there they are 
path of extremes.
Some will move steps, getting on with getting on,
 others will sitck-stuck under microscopes, binoculars,
whatever means they do so chose to be, see, view.
My view on that.
Why bother?
I don't get it.
I mean, it's odd, don't you think
the over analytical interest some can have on what 
isn't in their immediate sphere, or let's call it life.
So, like, where's the interest?
We all have lives,
and if you ain't living it then you need
to find out why that is.
People nose poke picking trying to find answers
behind someone else's door ain't going to find them there.
Ours lives, our own,
otherwise you're committing to 
extreme vacarious pursuits at the top end in our bizarre.
Think of the hair salon mags
thrust upon us as we walk through the door. 
I do believe they call them "trash."
We never get Newsweek or Time.
We get the vacuous in that they do not delve, question, ponder on
much of anything, be it philosophical or worldly.
These magazines simply show snippets of lives,
 usually not the pretty kind either.
Then why is there such a hunger for such explorations?
Why do people engage in that "want of knowing."
Why do we keep the cogs of that business going?
Something is missing.
In lives, there is something amiss.
Find what that something is,
and leave those stories to the getting on with getting on.
You don't even have to agree
with how that happens,
that's not for any of us to say.
We, all of us, are singular first,
the flies on our own walls.
We do not hold lives other than our own.
We are stronger than that, in our singularity,
and in our individuality.
Turn up that dial.
Push boundaries and limits to limits
up hills that are your own --
even if it might mean laying down the stick-stuck scopes,
and getting some sharp scissors out.
Collage anyone?

Tuesday, July 19, 2016

The inspiration of the inspired.

What is it that inspires?
We reach for things in our inspirations as
much as we reach for a glass of water to quench our thirst.
If it is words that touch,
then words we search.
We feel them easily enough.
They push us forth.
Yes?
Our inspiration.
A few pages.
A paragraph.
One or two, or more than just a few,
and there is something that nudges us,
touches something in the recesses of our being,
and we begin.
Again.
We begin.
Image of In Search of Lost Time Image of UlyssesImage of Don QuixoteImage of The IliadImage of Moby DickImage of The Great Gatsby
Image of The Adventures of Huckleberry FinnImage of Anna KareninaImage of Crime and Punishment Image of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland Image of Wuthering HeightsImage of The Sound and the Fury
Image of Pride and PrejudiceImage of The Catcher in the RyeImage of Nineteen Eighty FourImage of To the Lighthouse Image of Middlemarch