Playing with Pantoum

Can we go now?
Is it time?
Let's have an adventure,
Let's drink some wine.

Come on, it's time to flee,
Beyond Napa Valley, up the Oregon coast.
We'll drink lots of wine,
Do our best, make the most.

And beyond Napa Valley, along the Oregon coast,
We'll settle on the beach.
Do our best, and make the most of
Our time; don't you agree?

Word Cloud Poem

Is it fate?
To maim those others
Make them walk
What an awful gait.
Are we harrowed by
This beautiful thing called harmony?
Why do we exterminate?
The sparrow and the meadowlark cry
Ask forgiveness
Plea for better times.
This game is a farce
As I contemplate arsenic
Do sentient beings lie?
There must be something more.
Eliminate wars and famine
Take a moment
To examine
All the worlds' hate.

~HB

Solving the world's problems one post at a time.

  

Imagination

In the secret spaces, secret spaces of our mind.  The place where none can go; it's where I like to hide.  A mirage of existence before me, and an eternity inside.  Do we die?  What are these particles that make up my being and is this what makes us real?  I don't think so; there has to be magic.  Life would be so tragic without it.  Science is magic, but science can be so indifferent.  Science can be impersonal; then also sometimes wondrous.  Quantum physics resonates and moves me.  Little spaces in the brain that no one can touch.  That no one can really understand.  Such a minute existence on a quantum scale.  On a universal scale, infinitesimal is the vast space that we barely fill.  Imagine tiny universes inside each cell; imagine our whole bodies are really bits and pieces of galaxies or universes.

Imagine.

Death Fantasies

I often imagine my death.  Something tragic, like a movie playing out, or a great story. Sometimes it happens while I’m in the shower.  I leave the door open - as I often do - and a dark stranger, or maybe an angry ex-boyfriend creeps into my home, quietly.  They kill me with a knife; death by shower scene, classic Hitchcock.  Or perhaps I am shot?  Do they use my own machete that sits close by where I sleep, or perhaps the baseball bat in the corner?  That would be gruesome and mildly ironic. 

Other times it happens in the car.  I’m t-boned by a drunk driver, smashed into nothingness, into breathlessness.  It is never my own doing, exactly, that brings about my doom.  Though it would seem, as I sit at the same job, in the same uneventful life, afraid to move forward, that I am indeed the responsible party.  Could my morbid fascination with hypothetical death fantasies be nothing more than a subconscious fear?  A fear that has gone for so long unaddressed as I sit in wait for the future that is to come?  And while waiting, I miss out on what could be; I sit idly in my discontent.  Though I know I am not alone in this waiting game, it still sucks, and the loneliness of it gnaws away at my being.

People that are deemed as the ‘greats’ of the world, do you think they felt the same longing?  Do you think they wondered when life would ‘happen’ to them?  The intermittent transformations that slowly evolve us into something new and hopefully better.  I wonder if they noticed these, or were they always just ‘great’, happy and content with their life situation.  This could easily lead to a rambling about the meaning of humanity, so I'll just stop there.  Happy hump day.

~HB

Solving the world's problems one post at a time.

  

The Office

Where do I begin?  It's the most uneventful experience..wait, let me digress, the average day in the office is dull and cumbersome.  Now and again, you get your quacks, the real weirdos.  I once witnessed a woman have a split personality spasm - first she was a flowery artist, then a GI Jane, then a divorcee with multiple aliases, struggling with a new-found relationship and a new last name.  Her tone varied and her facial expressions morphed right before my eyes with each squeak and squawk of her voice.  Others have been drug users, too stoned to comprehend the basics of what they needed to do, twitching as they attempt composure, their physicality reeking of meth use.  Of course, on those rare occasions, people are very pleasant, very 'normal' and kind.  Witty or lighthearted banter abounds with these few and, it's on days like this I truly appreciate what I do; when I am truly working and helping or guiding, is when I feel best about this job.

Despite endless restraint and contradiction from the powers that be, I always attempt to put customers first.  Meeting their needs, after all, should be the ultimate goal in a customer service driven market.  And that is what we are in, I am told, after a thorough two hour training session, aka sensitivity training.  Customers are the top priority and customer service will be the key to our success.  I call bullshit. There are more important things than just customer service...like quality?  Of which, we have little to offer.  There is some hope on the horizon as old faces fade away and new minds come into positions of great power and decision making.  With these new people come positive ideas - better ideas - that might help us see true progress.

Until that time comes, however, bureaucracy reigns supreme.      

For M

With each brick I slowly added a wall; a difficult barrier to break down.  But yours is a love that is patient and kind.  You are forgiving.  And see beyond flaws; see something beautiful in me that I can't understand.  I've let myself embrace you, in a way that is so rare for someone like me.  Let my guard down, been so open and present; I thought it wasn't really possible to find in a partner that kind of connection.

But then I built up the walls and nearly broke us.  And am hopeful that together we can bring it back - the childish fervor of freedom.  That lack of concern for anything else in the world.  That ever-present sense of being.  Life does happen and can get in the way; but I don't want life to be all about the 'stuff', the 'responsibilities' and material, external world.  I want it to be about the secret conversations when we're alone, the dreams we share and bask in, the songs we sing together, the little details of ourselves that we share in common; you're tender kisses and warm hugs - so inviting, so nonjudgmental.  The way you look at me.

My promise to you will always be to make an effort; to do my best in recognizing my issues and working on them.  To not shut you out, and to give in return the most wonderful gift that you have given; friendship and true love.  You are my best friend, a dear friend; that once in a lifetime chance at something real.  I won't screw it up.


~HB

Solving the world's problems one post at a time.

First post of 2015

It's time to regurgitate. Something has happened. Over the last few months, maybe longer, I've become closed off. There was a brief period of time that I felt open and free; that I felt like I was beginning to understand life and appreciate it. There is so much that I've allowed to muddle my view; make it shades of black and gray, full of dread and discontent that leaves a person nearly hopeless. I see myself reverting back to that state of being, a state I never wish to be in again. It's easy to do in such a hate filled world.

I often wonder how people go on living, while some children sleep in the cold, people watch as their homes are destroyed by human and nature, atrocious acts are carried out by humans against other humans, like torture, or while the earth continues to spin, bits of the universe continually discovered and we are no more closer to understanding our true purpose here.

But I guess the thing to remember is that we all create our own universe.  I know that if I put positivity into the world around me, sharing it with others, well...this is all one can do right?  For I am one mere human among so many others.

So I hope and pray with you all tonight - for those that also do and for any that care - for a better tomorrow. May we rejoice in the good moments in our lives and someday learn to (co) exist peacefully together as humans, all of us. I love you all.

~HB

Solving the world's problems one post at a time.