Away with Words
Worth the Time
You’ve seen my type before
But I implore you to be kind
For I am delicate of mind
And weaker than I show.
You think you know my style
But let us trial another way
So that the energy might stay
And feel our words were worth the time.
March 2011
9 posts
“Seek not to inspire. Rather, devote yourself determinedly to the pursuit of your dreams. Inspiration is a by-product of devotion.”
—
“Some years ago - never mind how long precisely - having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world. It is a way I have of driving off the spleen, and regulating the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people’s hats off - then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball. With a philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take to the ship. There is nothing surprising in this. If they but knew it, almost all men in their degree, some time or other, cherish very nearly the same feelings towards the ocean with me.”
—Herman Melville (via lunacy)
“Conformism is far more sinister than it appears.”
—
Seeds
Seeds of love
Scattered on fertile soil
Bound to flourish; weaving deep roots
As hearts converge as one
Relentlessly reaching for the sun.
Come the shade
When shadows cloud the soul
Only the strongest prevail and grow
Prospering without a sky of blue
Seeds of a love so true.
“There is arrogance in wanting to be needed. Be grateful if you are wanted in the first place.”
—
Catching Butterflies
I watch you flutter freely and I smile
Enchanted by your delicate design
The madness of your wings;
The peril that it brings
To drip your colours on the canvas of our eyes.
They watch your flight intently and advance
Impatient whispers willing you to rest
The catcher’s greedy stares
Grow narrow with their cares;
A net swoops down -
Your new protector claims the crown.
You watch your dreams descending and you weep
Cursing every colour on display
But none shall hear your voice
On condition of your choice
To fade inside a jar the catcher labels ‘mine’.
“Be natural my children. For the writer that is natural has fullfilled all the rules of art. ~ Charles Dickens’ last words”
—
Descendants of Fear
Dancing distances reveal a closer bond
Between the stars and truth
Fiery freedom rears its head and screams;
In silence we listen.
