Transferring entries from a blog I'm deleting 4/8/05
At times it feels like I've seen too much of life, too much of sorrow. It's those times that I most regret the things I should have done but was afraid to do. The things that others pronounced their judgment upon me for and in my ignorance I accepted their opinion over my own. Age old questions parade through the mind. Wrong or right? Good or evil? What's it all about Alfie? If you find out let me know.
We live one day at a time, one second at a time that's all we have and each one could be our last in this lifetime. I don't believe anyone ever looks back at life and thinks, I wish I had spent more time at the office, I should have devoted my time to making more money, to leave for others to spend. I should never had taken those vacations or pursued any of those dreams. I really should have refused the loving friendship offered to me. I'm so sorry I followed my heart and that I tried to know myself and to my own self be true.
Sometimes I wax philisophical and hindsight is always sharper than foresight. Too late to change any of it, so you learn to live in the moment and be who you are, if not always on the page, forever in your own heart.
4/11/05
I heard from the most charming English Poet today and he sent me some of his poetry. I have to admit it was breathtaking and it touched my heart so deeply that tears fell. I am always amazed at the beauty of poetry from all over the world and the hearts from which it springs. It is one of my greatest pleasures in life to encourage poets of true giftedness and promise to reach their full potential and bless the world with only that which they can give. At times like this I wish I could be wealthy and could promote the work of those I feel are worthy poets. All I can give them is my encouragement and admiration and I hope that is worth something in their lives and art
4/12/05
Writing poetry is like swimming in the nude, you are carried along on the strong poetic currents but you are absolutely naked, the whole world can see the bare secrets of your soul. The moment you reach out to grab a towel or a robe, and cover up... the poetry dies. It's about raw emotion, honest expression of a bare heart. Writing poetry with emotional clothes on is like going through the motions, dog paddling, weighed down and sinking fast.
4/13/05
It's raining hard today, gray skies and even the lake is dull and uninspiring to look at. The mallards sit on the dock and hide their heads under their wings. I thought about how rain affects the human spirit, usually not in a positive way. Like the tears of sorrow we cry, they feel so gray so devastating at the time we cry them but our spirits will never bloom without the tears. All of life's experiences are needful and if we learn to appreciate that fact it helps us to become a whole person. Would I trade the pain I have known, simply wish the clouds away and walk in sunshine all the time? It's a tempting thought but inwardly I know I would not be who I am without the rain and I am beginning to really like me, so maybe I would just leave life as it has been, the bitter and sweet, the sunshine and the rain.
4/14/05
It's a really strange thing, I'm so happy now. I'm not in love and I didn't win the lottery, there are lots of reasons why I might not be too happy, but I think I have come to a turning point in my life, an internal adjustment and an external change. I still see all the negative things but for some reason they aren't tearing me apart any more. I am coping so much better and there is this sense of expectancy all the time that surrounds me and makes me glad to be alive. Has Karma finally kicked in with some joy for all the crap I have had to take? Whatever it is, it's a nice change and I hope it continues and grows. I want to be free to release all the things inside me to the page. There is an autobiography in there somewhere, I started it once, changed it around so it wouldn't be so personal and then, even with the changes I couldn't write the damn thing, just too painful. Maybe someday soon, I can write that memoir
4/14/05
It's still raining and I mean pouring and has been for days. It's chilly and gray and depressing and the words to that song "Rainy Day In Georgia" come to mind especailly that line "It must be raining all over the world." When it's been raining so long in someone's world it does no good to tell them how sunny and warm it is in another place, another state. It's not their state, their world that is being blessed with sunlight and just hearing about it won't take the rain and grayness away. It's equally foolish to tell them that in Siberia the snow is eight feet deep and falling and it's cold enough to freeze off a polar bear's ass. It won't make their rain go away. Yes they can clearly see that there are others in more pain and difficulty than they are...but knowing that won't ease their distress, it is personal to them and it's like telling a man with his arm cut off that in the next room is a man with two arms off. Stupid thing to do and it won't make them say "Oh well in that case I have no right to hurt, so I'll stop right now." What does help is a caring heart, a listening ear and a mouth that knows how to stifle the platitudes and the useless advice. I don't know why I wrote this but it just seemed right somehow.
4/14/05
Should we tell, when we love someone? Is honesty the best policy in matters of the heart? There are so many nuances of love, that the word, the emotion can mean many different things to different people. I think we should never be ashamed of love and not afraid to express it. I believe we can love many people, even be attracted emotionally, intellectually and sexually to many people in all those ways, one of those ways or any combination of them. but the experience of actually "Being in love" that is something beyond simply loving. This probably makes little sense to anyone but me, but to me it makes perfect sense. I have loved people before who did not return my love, I'm not ashamed of that for love is precious, returned or not. I have not begged for love to be requited... except once in my youth before I realized that love cannot be forced or captured, it must grow like a flower and bloom of its own maturity and volition. Being in love can be a desperate thing that can cause a person to feel hopeless if not requited, or to do some very foolish things. I think the more level headed type of love that grows from deep friendship must be the preferable kind of love, it is not desperate, though sexual attraction will be part of it, it is mellow and warm surrounding the heart with beauty and security, not tortured unrest.
4/18/05
"If wishes were horses, all beggars would ride." So proclaims the old proverb. If we could have what we think we want, life would be very different for most of us, but who's to say it would be better? Occasionally I do run into a situation I would like to change with my wishes. They are never really outrageous wishes, just simple things that my heart can only wish for, and my imagination can only wonder about how it might be if they came true. Take away dreams and wishes and poetry dies a swift death for poetry is built of the mystic, the wishes and dreams.
4/19/05
Nothing is more ignorant than a person who knows they have done something wrong, especially something hurtful and distressing to another person and they think they are noble and innocent and that the fault lies in the person they demeaned and disrespected, I think it must be the most ignorant behavior I've ever witnessed and there always seems to be a enterage of sympathisers to tell them how wonderful and misunderstood they really are. They will die in their ignorance and face it in the next life. Stupid, stupid, stupid is a person who is that self-deluded and insensitive. Unlike their blind and uninformed symphathisers, karma will not be fooled by their pretentions.
4/18/05
Sometimes we are...just plain shocked and awed at the turns life takes... at the bombs that come bursting out of our own heart and explode right in our face. The things we push back so long and refuse to give credence to, the things we dare not even acknowledge as being there. Hidden bombs always go off, it's just a matter of time and it can get really messy to explode those things anywhere but out in the open! I know this is cryptic but it's about as plain as I'm willing to make it.
4/19/05
I try to be kind personally to people, to never discourage art or love. But I will be damned before I will start tip toeing through the tulips or walking on eggshells when it comes to what I write. It seems sometimes all I have to do is show up at a poetry board or writers site and trouble follows me in the form of those who think I'm someone or thing I'm not, men who love me, women who hate me when I don't deserve either. Long ago I had to give in to the influence of a tough hide that was growing to protect my emotions. I hold admiration with a VERY loose hand and shed hate and jealousy like rain off a duck's back, I have to, just to survive as a poet and person. I used to be a very open person to those online but I learned the hard way and now I am a closed book you can only read through my poetry. Only a chosen few people are now allowed any access at all to my heart and soul. The last time someone I cared about hurt me, it did something inside of me, it was like something died and now I trust only a small handful of friends who have proven themselves over the years through many situations. May not be the ideal way to live and feel but it's necessary for survival in the cyber jungle, where wild creatures you are petting can turn on you in a split second and tear you to pieces.
