Our Children

The intolerable tyrant will meet a mighty end.
The worst of fates Beset
those who dismiss and abuse
children.

Boys who want to be Gods
pretending to be men.
will be cast in stone
and tossed below
for their sins.

Artemis is hunting.
Caireen is crying out.
Stylianos has abandoned refuge
and Jizo is awake.
Nicholas of Myra is a
Patron on the take.

There is work to be done
for the cause of the soul.
A child kept
in a cage
destroys
us
all.

Ask Bes to keep you.
The storm is quick to rise.
Time is watching now
and it’s ready for a fight.

 

 

Notes:
Beset- Female counterpart to Bes
Artemis- Diana Nemorensis
Stylianos- Hermit/Saint
Nicholas of Myra- Saint Nicholas
Caireen- Cailleach’s Irish Counterpart (although I believe they are two different imaginings)

Jizo- Jizo Bodhisattva 

 

 

Leadink

When it comes to writing,
all I really need
is a pair of earmuffs,
and a hot cup.
Sometimes I’ll drink wine
when it’s dark and if it’s raining.
Wine makes use of these things.
In the quiet
I can hear my hands.
The truth comes out.
when mistakes bleed.
I learn from these things.
I call them poetry.
When it comes to writing,
I always begin
again and again.
It’s all I really need.

Meet your new Master

We have no one to blame but ourselves. Well myself actually, it was my idea. My plan to avert the jungle outside for a walk indoors. My plan to work out every day without the excuse of weather to fall back on. My grand plan to fight resistance and get serious about fitness. It was expensive, but it would be worth it. We work hard, we deserve it. So we combined our research efforts, split the costs, and ordered it.

what the whatIt arrived on a Saturday and came to life on a Monday via the rigorous toil and dedication of my faithful man mate, David. In its containment it did look large, once built however, it became huge. This beast of a machine is a mammoth in our tiny home. It is a giant commanding our attention. Large with life and a console that looks like a replica of something from Star Trek, this machine is dominant.

All I wanted was a defense mechanism against common resistance. A simple way to make progress and sustain it, instead I got a war machine. Why would you simply ignore resistance when you can destroy it? In the shadow of this mighty dinosaur, there are no excuses, you have to walk, you have to run, and you have to obey it.

Throughout my speckled and turbulent history with body confidence and self improvement, I’ve tried various methods to stay on course and motivated. There have been diets, twisted ankles, and gurus along the path but time and truth changed my approach. A little internal deep dive and I realized that progress masked as punishment is an effective illusion and the size of it counts. The enormity of this new Overlord in our little life is as humorous as it is intimidating and for the first time ever I have no doubt that it will all work out.

Every single day.

 

 

 

Plot Walls: The Bedroom

PSWALL (2)

I am terrible at Chess, Risk, and long division. I recoil at the mere suggestion of strategy and I have a heaping disdain for predictive and presumptive analytics. I understand the irony given my faith in the religion of baseball, but it’s not a game of numbers to me, it’s something else entirely. The work of learning, plotting, and planning is a visual sport for me.

It begins with Characters like all good things. They come into mind and I ink them down to post them up, one by one. Pieces of the voices from inside need to be drawn out and named to come alive. Each piece with a desire to become a story is tacked to the stucco in a ritual of remembering.

PSWALL (6)

Eventually, the pieces come together and a plot takes shape, and it replicates.

PSWALL (7)

Soon it will be something taken down in print. My bedroom wall will be white, ready to begin again.

Thinking is writing, writing is thinking, bedrooms are for dreaming.