Sunday, July 8, 2018

is opinion fact if we want it to be?

This blog didn't turn out anything like I had originally imagined or intended, if indeed even if such events as intention or imagination actually took place in my brain, or as some might call it, the mind.

There were illusions that my so-called verbal articulacy would somehow magically translate in to the written word was misguided, to say the least. The only thing I know for sure is that I will look back on this post and all the others and most likely cringe, and wonder: "Who was this so-called author of this so-called blog?"

Justification of previous paragraph.
I have been called 'negative' on occasions.
Say something often enough to a person and they will become it.
The truth. I am actually positive.


In defense of myself.
I made no promises, I did not ask to be born, even if I am glad, in the most part, of the experience of life, I continue to insult, by merely being different, thinking differently, communicating differently. Here's the thing. So does everyone. I am not different, I am the same, and not the same, all in one fell swoop. That last sentence was the self-defence part.

Which leads me to why.
Why do I feel the need to constantly defend myself? The question is rhetoric. Logical.

I am a shit communicator. You see that fourth word there. That proves that sentence.

Why do I bother.
Nothing to lose. I lie, there is always something to be lost.

Really, why do I bother.




Saturday, January 9, 2016

Thursday, January 7, 2016

Saturday, December 5, 2015

tired of being judged

Invisibility suited her. It was all she ever really felt she was. Invisible. 

Sunday, September 27, 2015

super moon eclipse

If rare can be measured. 
You come around more than once in a lifetime. 
The last time you were here it was 1982. 
The next time it will be 2033. 
But I'm glad you did. 
You roused my night, heightened my emotions, made me realise that most people are selfish. 
Most. 
I look at my blue butterfly and the irony makes me smile. 
It represents freedom of the spirit, yet will never use my wrist as a launching pad. 
Trapped forever, thanking it's lucky stars that it's not real. 
If it could thank, or think.
So, Super Moon, so bright and so large. 
Will your power awake me from my slumber, and draw me to you by your invisible silken threads? 
Will I stand by my window and... excuse the pun... moon over you... till the sunlight slowly vanishes your pearl-like image from the waking sky? 
If waking can be measured in day and night. 
I may or may not see you again, the odds are even. 
But one thing's for sure. 
It will be a still and peaceful night, lit by your single environmentally friendly bulb. 
And for that we should all be very grateful. 

F x