Gas-Capped Conversation

Everything admired long enough, resonates. All the sounds in the room meld into one’s soul, where nothing is definable.

Your sacred corner, where you sit upon a hand-hewn chair, is not large enough to hold our thoughts. So move outwards, toward the center. Take a seat at the prepared table. Remove your gas cap and let me pour you a drink.

So what is a nice girl like me hanging around a world full of ego? I am not criticizing you as much as I am myself. For thinking I can make it in a criminal world, ready to strip me of whatever modesty I own.

See, I don’t frequent cheap motels and I never get in a bed made-up with dirty sheets. Indeed, a humble heart can make room, to listen to others complain about their cloudy skies and lack of desert bloom.

The drink? Is it acceptable? My conversation reprehensible? Sit. Relax a while. I refuse to take prisoners but I like to entertain. Your thoughts are as good as mine. Most likely better. And I never complain.

I like to think my words rhyme with the time of day and I never quarrel over pennies. May I mention you take to the road before I bore you. I will say a prayer as you leave. I will watch as the sun sets and the moon grows high.

I soon remember the day as all the others. With reverence, I recall your name.

 

Art of Conversation (reblog)

Art of Conversation 3-2-1 Quote Challenge

Hey πŸ‘‹πŸ» Good Day 🌞 Rory! Happy to participate and thank you kindly!! ✌🏼🎡🎢

Conversation. What is it? A Mystery! It’s the art of never seeming bored, of touching everything with interest, of pleasing with trifles, of being fascinating with nothing at all.

Guy de Maupassant, France, short-story author

I’m always saying “Glad to’ve met you” to someone I’m not at all glad I met. If you want to stay alive, you have to say that stuff, though.

Holden Caufield, Catcher in the Rye

I should talk, but i’d rather not, for fear the chance i say something disagreeable and end dear friendships. Yes, i oft agree, conversations cannot be feared, as J.D Salinger trusted not his voice or modern translation amiss, Shakespeare becomes too rough for our time. Rather, conversations are art, when quaint and cheery, let us say… Bilbo Baggins, as he takes a puff on his pipe and embarks on a trek across lands. So, should you ask, inquire of me, i should like to talk… if given half a chance. Jeanne

You are cordially invited to participate. If you do, tag Aguycalledbloke. Thank you.

And Happy Independence Day to all Americans… let no monarchy thought, trap you into believing fairy-tale dreams come true. America is not Disney World as many are led to believe.

Songs on repeat…

Discovered The Avett Brothers with this song…

and now love sparkles through out
side streets not so lonely

which led to this song…

is your day starting
on a different note
with whiskey and rye
abandoned love
swirling ice

will senseless violence ensue?

a good day to listen to music
The Avett Brothers
instrumental to making this day grand! 🎢 πŸŽ΅πŸ’œπŸ•Š

A Guy Called Bloke…

via Secret Journal Musings

Learning to laugh (even if it is not hilarious because we were hurt) and not take ourselves too seriously, makes for a happy heart. Rory is taking our human fallibility and giving it to us as medicine. Thanks friend!!

Life is too short to become bitter.

peril

The deepest,
darkest
rises in the fog,
burned away -hidden desire.

Oh, why feel
so free
behind the screen?

And how our creator
tapped into the sensual,
leaves us mourning
the loss of soul.

The Power of Grace

I don’t think i am one to have a loss of words but i experienced something incredible this morning. How do I explain the strange that happened?

When i logged into my Facebook account, I felt power course through my body. My thoughts loosened, years of silence were broken and I spoke up about ill-treatment from my mother growing up. Relatives have not replied. No one liked my multiple posts that followed, either. But i am at peace.

So, now what? What happens next?

I know many of my blog followers do not believe in God. Not now and probably never will. But there has always been a flickering light deep inside of me, raring to light up my world. The light was starved and needed oxygen. I have gasped and let in what i was avoiding. Life!

I confess, “No more holding my breath.”

I wonder if my poetry and thoughts change from this day forward? Have i been released from generational bondage?

I suspect I might lose followers. You?

Time will tell how permanent this change remains. How strong I remain in this universe; A world of mystery shrouded in history.

Questions remain. Who was that man who gave away hope and preached truth? Who hungered in the wilderness for 40 days and hung on a crucifix for three moons.

As Mary has proclaimed Him risen! I proclaim His resurrection lives within me. πŸ’—J

Labor Day Utopia (brain toils)

Our brain toils
to educate
be apolitical
gain knowledge

one can hope
we can hunger for truth
make peace with ourselves,
as people being selfish.

I understand some see Gandhi or Mandela, even MLK as being selfless.Β  Mother Theresa.Β  Or were they?Β  They labored hard, demonstrated how selfish we are.

If time could stand still a bit, we all took a breath, ….

Great, it is Labor Day (in America) which means we can rest and recoup and take a breather…Β  Or maybe not.

I pray some day,
we all see the need,
a need for nothing more
than the air we breath,
on Labor Day.

einstein

β€œIn the year 2025, the best men don’t run for president, they run for their lives. . . .”
― Stephen King, The Running Man

Just some thoughts because a Utopian Society has never worked.Β  Jeanne