“A Man Of Intellect Is Like An Artist Who Gives A Concert Without Any Help From Anyone Else, Playing

Wisdom is not bought, wisdom is earned.

They looked over from the cliff, hand in hand, into the void. The presence of each other, the burning warmth of their hands and the intensity of their love was enough to null the feeling of loss, of loneliness and above all, the crushing hopelessness and suffocating fear. Here they were safe, they were determined and most importantly they were ready. And they were ready together. They did not possess the knowledge if their friendship would last more than one lifetime, but for now they would make it last forever, as long their flame burns and they draw their breaths, as long as their eyes glitter with determination. They will last. All was not alright, but it will be, and they'll be there together. They were enough.

"Watch a man flow with the river of love, watch him emerge and then watch him flourish."

"Totemism", Dime-Store Alchemy: The Art of Joseph Cornell by Charles Simic.

Our own little worlds

Creativity

You know, I’ve either had a family, a job,

something has always been in the way

but now

I’ve sold my house, I’ve found this

place, a large studio, you should see the space and the light.

for the first time in my life I’m going to have a place and the time to create.”

no baby, if you’re going to create

you’re going to create whether you work

16 hours a day in a coal mine

or

you’re going to create in a small room with 3 children

while you’re on welfare,

you’re going to create with part of your mind and your body blown away,

you’re going to create blind,

crippled

demented,

you’re going to create with a cat crawling up your back while the whole city trembles in earthquake, bombardment, flood and fire.

baby, air and light and time and space

have nothing to do with it

and don’t create anything

except maybe a longer life to find

new excuses for.

~Charles Bukowski

Back-To-School Essentials 

I don’t give two shits if it makes you uncomfortable. That’s what it’s supposed to do.

Your river by the oak tree

has turned molten gold again,

as the glowing orb of light and life surrenders to the sapphire sky.

The cotton clouds float in shy, pink circles

While the rush of the river awakens a memory I had long forgotten,

When this same tree once bore luscious flowers,

Their scent wafting lazily into the cool breeze,

While we sat and reminisced about the possibility of other lives in the universe,

Under the silver moon.

A lot has changed since then.

Since the night we met.

~Me

Short Stories #2

2. Waiting

Heels clicked against the polished, stone floor as nurses in white and teal, carrying paperwork and various instruments hurried by. Hands typed on keyboards in a flurry while also picking up calls for appointments and guiding a long line of patients. The smell of disinfectant and sanitizer never failed to assault the senses but you get used to it after a while. Soft murmurs and chatters lazily floated in the room creating a lull in the air which would be shattered by the sudden, alarming announcement for the next patient. Irritation simmered underneath my skin as unruly children ran around untamed, threw magazines at each other and spilled water on the floor while the parents chit chatted or scrolled on their screens. Somewhere in the back a child started wailing. I heaved a deep sigh and felt the beginnings of a pounding headache. I was already here longer than I should have been, absolutely annoyed that they delayed my appointment to twenty minutes later. A man to my right kept distractingly tapping his water bottle, his fingers moving in a synchronized rhythm. The little boy to my left kept shifting in his seat and would get up every two minutes to explore the restroom despite being reprimanded by his mother repeatedly. A woman across me crossed her legs and shook her foot while another tapped her obnoxiously high heeled shoes. Restless and bored, that's what they all were. The wailing of the baby had now reached a high intensity, ear piercing shriek which left the father no choice but to take his child outside. A few people sighed in relief. I, too, heaved another deep sigh but not of relief, as my headache reached its potential and banged against my skull. I wondered, not for the first time, how long it would take for my turn. Till then, I'll be waiting.

Happy new year to the handful of people who follow me. I hope this year we'll be less depressed.