Money? Like the Baby Bear's Porridge...

     I don't want to be a millionaire. I know that puts me squarely in the minority of everyone, and I'm okay with that. I don't want to take an oath of poverty, it's only that having a bunch of money is nice, but it has its own stressors that would be too immense for me- family concerns and maintaining your wealth and being in the public eye. Besides, as cliche as it may be, there is a certain wonder that comes with striving toward a goal. When you can have anything you want, many things start to become passé that were once year long goals. How large must the gift back to satisfy the desires of a millionaire. It would be simple to say that I won't fall prey to the whims of the emerald obtainer. However, the reality is far more succumb than are capable of making a million dollars still seem like an insane amount of money. For so many of us, it still is, and I want to keep that innocent wonder and be thrilled for my MCDonald's sundae - not mildly amused eating food with gold in it.

Ascent

Keep in mind that we create relationships

Not only to drive solitude from our lives,

Not simply for the act of procreating,

But in order to evolve to a higher level.

Evolution requires transformation

That can come only through experience.

When we stop learning from others,

We deny ourselves the ability

To attain greater enlightenment

For the historically soothing comforts

Of remaining the same.

A simple truth is that while

We need others in order to live;

We require other people to

Reach our full potential:

As friends, as lovers,

And as individuals.

A mirror to reflect actions;

An institution to provide learning;

A harbor to give safe haven

When life's undercurrent

Threatens to cast us off

Into the oblivion of despair.

Stay true to your covictions-

That core that rests at 

The base of who we are,

But stay malleable in deed,

As there is always another 

Way to be learned from

Those who have done it before.

Gleaming

You never imagined me

Yet here I am at your door

Hands resting upon the floor.

I'm not asking for your obedience

Or looking for novel way to kill time;

I want to start a tale with you

That ends only when I do.

Void of life's venomous creek

Let us find happiness together

Let us seek solace 

Within our home

Let us discover comfort

In a night's subtle embrace.

It's not that I need someone -

It's simply that I need you.

Many people have driven

Sadness from the core

Of my eternal being,

But the majesty of your

Hair gleaming in sunlight

Is one of my great wonders.

The gentle pattern of your sleeping

Is more soothing than any

Beast has fallen to before.

Thus she spoke:

"What of my faults? What if I hurt you?

What if I cannot give you enough

To stay?"

I will grab your hand in my own

And run forth into life's expanse,

To leave our every moment

Exhausted and exceptional.

We will have trials in its time

From the external and internal,

But I could never be better off

Without you occupying my space.

I could never truly smile

Without having you to look forward to.

I could never truly live my life

Without you as my darling wife.

Legislative

Warmth cascades over me

Cleansing of the spirit

Stoking desire.

To exist is to want,

And in this truth

I have been cursed

By the consistency -

Coated in salvation

With each success.

What do you want?

I can't do enough

To satiate you;

I can't be enough

For you to take pride in;

I can't accomplish enough

To find needed validation;

I can't feel enough

To find a foothold

Amongst clay soil.

I count on you

To shine my name

When the shroud creeps.

Solitary and subdued

Finding a voice from within:

Me, myself......

And I.

Give Me One....

      There are a limitless supply of memories that are gone and long forgotten. Moments that seemed the ultimate in the moment, but filed to the archives to rest in the harrowed, darkening halls. Then, on occasion, something in our now causes an echo from the long silent reminisce. All at once, you are left with a smile from the past tucked into your anticipation in the present. In the next moment it fades, once again tucked in a box in the warehouse.

Right.

     It has been said that, in order to be a writer, only must only write. With this in mind, I am not a writer. I don't write much. Perhaps I am merely an anachronistic philosopher? The internet being grounds for my pontification. Or maybe I am a creator, taking moments and forming them into the everlasting memory that is story. 

     There are many words within me that swirl around for ideas and stories and haikus. The words are there, but where is ambition? Ah, yes - the hope to leave a permanent legacy while surviving by going what I love. What I lack is attention. Engaging in one continuous story for days, weeks, years - the thought stresses me. Where will I find the time?

Equality is a Myth, Sense has Died

      Is it any wonder people are more miserable and unhappy in modern America? The truth has died a cruel death under the guise of political correctness and a sense of shame for things we had nothing to do with. It's a damn shame when "equality" removes the first amendment right and common decency. From a word an entire race has held hostage, to a group of people who demand special treatment and won't allow the basis of "he" and "she" to become perverse and (somehow) illegal, to the latest charge of people who override the decisions of God and comfort of man to tear at the very fabric of our society. America is dying. Truth is more non existent than ever. Nietzsche proclaimed God was dead decades ago; I can't imagine the horror of thoughts he would have held for the mayhem the world offers us today.