The cushioning helps!

Communication, through writing, is that one art I have secretly craved to someday put a personal insignia on; that craft I could someday hold tangible and use as an instrument to impact a large audience toward the positive.  These days it would seem as though the dream eludes me; as though the desire and passion are fast faded. But Jeez! I am a procrastinator, and I must admit.

Have I been too afraid to be open? Have I been too cautious of my vulnerabilities that I became careful to thread on broken glass? If I would lay my thoughts bare on tabloid streets, would the shame be too much for a soldier to bear? Or would the fame carry along with it the coins needed to jingle my pockets? Lord I want to be bold- er. Tell it like it really is.

What’s been going on these days? Work, work, work, and a lot more work. And it kinda gets hard to focus on most other stuff other than work. The pretty thing about it is most days I have great colleagues working with. And on shitty days, just know I got stuck with the REALLY ugly ones. But I get through the days knowing that I would return to an ever accepting and non-judgmental bed. That cushioning helps, mostly at nights.

But I’m learning. Life stuff, academia stuff. Between those walls that hide the long work hours on our medicine floor; between the Critical Care Unit and the Step Down ward 7, there are vast droplets of knowledge floating the air. And some days, they could get toxic.

And yes, I wish I could still make so much time for basketball or movies or that much talked about 1 hour sitcom. Can't recall the last time I went bodybuilding at the gym. or maybe even the time to hang and catch up with friends over beer and escovitch fish. But these days I feel like I’m building something, and I can only ask the Lord for constant help - willing to go one day at a time, little by little.

Out here, its 12:31a.m and I would no more like to be a procrastinator. At least not for tonight’s sleep. The cushioning helps!

Agony

There is an agony of an African Child that still persists.

A writhing pain masked on the surface by fissured bravery

Fissured bravery wrapped in hope.

Set on a journey of a thousand miles,

 barely making a furlong

From a rising billow of earthly dust
A last breath is taken

There’s a shudder to the ground

 A connection is lost,

The chasm is deep.

She

And this is how she loves... 
me.
like wrapped packs of gifts
preordered and delivered 
way before each occasion.
I couldn't fathom how
every season should be special.
She's a time traveler
And I do love her.
But way before I did,
she first loved me.

Now, I hold the sun
for a cloudy day.

Hello Girl (cavity between your thigh).

Hello girl

Can I talk to you

Come closer, a whisper in your ears

There’s a way that I feel about you

It makes me feel so brand new

‘Cause every time

 when I look in your eyes

You hold my gaze
and they send me butterflies

And the cavity between your thighs

Sometimes blows my mind out

Hello girl

I’m calling out to you

Lately you’ve been crossing my mind

The foot prints you leave in the sand

Send me trailing for your touch.

And there were days
when the sun wouldn’t shine

Sitting here wishing
you were mine

And the cavity between your thighs

Sometimes blows my mind out

Over time

We’ve had little moments.

 precious little moments

that could span

the space of a year’s memory

But at first it didn’t feel

anywhere near awesome

Until it blossomed

Like petals of a blooming plant

 Over time

The best gifts that would cost

Much less than a dime

Like water and a giggle

The laughter and the twinkle

They happened
Over time

Been thinking.

“We do not think our way into the right actions but rather, we act our way into the right thinking.”

It’s the day before the last day of February and, I have decided today to write. It would seem funny though that the motivation for this script would be the quote above, which I earlier stumbled upon while reading through Quora.com.

Lately, I have been struggling with myself to get into the right frame of mind for a good composition- among many other things - struggling, albeit woefully.

And I suppose, perhaps, that if I found the appropriate stimuli to adequately prod my imagination just enough to pour out a barrage of deftly crafted phrases and sentences, I could provide nourishment for a reading soul. But like the weather outside that has since fluctuated from cold to warm; between a rainy morning and a hot sunny afternoon, I am caught at a blank impasse between the ideas on my mind and the necessary actions needed to bring them alive. But I've been thinking.

I believe that our thoughts are the wings upon which our imaginations are hinged, and our actions are the forces that propel us to fly. But I've been thinking, a little too long now.  Pretty ornate wings may be prideful, and I suppose they become even more dignified when they start to serve their intended purpose.  

Now is time for some action; some baby steps into getting things done.

The king's kid

I wish

that you had shown me

that I was royalty

I wish

you had adorned me with

that glorious robe of many colors

I wish

that you had told me

that someday the king’s throne

would be my own

I wish

that frequently

you didn’t have to leave

and I go the journey all alone

I wish

That I could say

within me  that

here is a fine man

that you have grown.