probably a weird thing to say, but i am merely passing through this space. acknowledged it is, to a large extent, my little slice of the world, but while the need to reach out is there, i am passing through. the last few weeks have been interesting. having spent the last year with steady income, i have done what most people do in that situation - acquired expenses beyond my means. and now that steady income has dried up, albeit temporarily. existed as a freelancer for about two years and was able to survive; now i am having to re-learn the hustle. not easy, but i believe the universe shall provide .....
there was a time when difficulty inspired the WORD. now difficulty inspires FOCUS, leaving no space for literary banter. strange! first i learnt how to write without any mind-altering substances. then i learnt how to write when i am happy. now i struggle to put pen to paper when i am down. don't know whether that is good or bad ... guess i will have to live with it for now.
thoughts .......
money is not the root of all evil
man is the evil that gives it that energy
the soul corrupted by the blind desire
the heart pumps tainted blood
the spirit sees no hope but
the pursuit of man-made triviality
the value of life is relative
and relativity governs human perception
and money grinds away at morality
and for money
immortality becomes a distant dream
am i making sense? sometimes the words just come without thought, without meaning. sometimes it helps to just write. strangest thing that ever happened to me was sitting down to write a poem about how miserable life was and how much i wanted to unwrap the tentacles of depression and just run free. instead the poem ended up being about love and how the love for another does not imply the magical ability to fix everything .... it ended up being about how, sometimes, we have to let those we love live their own lives - our job is merely to love them. don't you just love words?
the pen said:
just write
the words shall come
clothed in bravado
knowing that all you dream of
is their arrival
their comfort
just write
randomly select words of no relevance
until they click into place
and start speaking lifetimes
just write
until the right words come
pretend that without them
you are nothing more
than a vessel
soulless
spiritless
just write
and pray
and hope
that one day
sooner, rather than later
the words shall come
and speak your truth
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5 comments:
I am beginning to suspect that you are my missing link?
How come we think alike?
Even the mouse
Has a muse.
Even though your hand holds it
But your heart comforts it
And your spirit moves it.
But pray we shall not end up like Van Gogh or Franz Kafka.
we suckle on hope
thirst quenched with words
and love
and laughter
thank you for your words, they give meaning.
rather let us be like Achebe and Baraka and Kgositsile, and many other africans who continue to carry the flame
My days without money were my richest and my random words, most poetic.
Peace................
So true Helen. I find that before the rat race, there was so much more joy and before I became a 'poet', the word so much more fulfilling. Blogging has reminded me of why I so love the Word and how the desire to build a career can chip away at the soul.
Easy
Thank you for your inspiring words, they make want to hold on, when I feel like giving up in soo many ways.
Being reborn from brokeness, you feel as if healing is impossible, and your dreams unobtainable. But your words say otherwise. I see the truth in them, and the truth is all the matters. Is it possible to go from Heroin to Heroine, I wonder ? And can one really put one's past behind them ? I'm not so sure, because on the majority of nights when I close my eyes, the past is all I see. I wonder if it's all I'll ever be. Your words give me hope that the opposite is true.
Heartfelt thanks.
Deirdre
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