Violence

I am sick of violence. All kinds.

Physical. Emotional. Spiritual.

Financial. Environmental. Bigoted.

Your capacity to inflict violence

is not a measure of your strength.

Rubbish. Violence and strength,

nothing synonymous

about them.

Write on

This the pathway to

Words touch tender touch

My page and my hand

Pen sends friendship

To your wordsmith self

Our camaraderie

Write on

People

Smile

On writing

If you want to write, you need to believe your words are valuable enough to put on paper. They are. I’m dead serious. Your words have a right to be written because they are your words. You are real. Your voice, spoken or written, has as much value as any other voice – on the planet.

And try not to fret or wrap yourself in guilt because you didn’t remember to write something down. My history is littered with now forgotten sentences, phrases and words I fell in love with and wanted to use one day, and never did. I don’t imagine mine is a unique experience, other than it is mine, and no one (that I know of) is living my life but me.

I know that none of what I said here will make writing perpetually comfortable.  I don’t think it is supposed to be. Writing forces you to be fully alone with yourself, and fully connected with yourself. Not easy. Sometimes I write because I want to, always I write because I have to.

And the tears roar

And the tears roar punches down

Wetlands drenching twists

A muscled foe

Into spirit

Form

Word Spun Fire

This may be not hard this word display

frankly you could say your word spun fire

into oblivion’s vanishing blast.

I owe no lines across borders

none there are but nature’s law’s

wounding humanity.