Just spillin' the villain inside my head
unblacking blues that make me dead
and resting weary what I fear
writing rhymes into your ear
* * *
Around four years ago I had two near death experiences in succession. Since then I have this run-on fountain of creative ideas run through my head almost constantly as images, music, and words. I was not terribly prolific before this experience and rather hated writing, but now it won't shut off. This place is where I get rid of my words in an effort to empty my head for just a moment. If you read, I hope you enjoy it, but I'm really here for catharsis. I won't be hurt if you don't comment, I'm just happy to share this crazy affliction in hopes that it does more than simply drive me nuts.
* * *
I don't write poetry. I write rhymes, dammit.
* * *
Alternate pen names I have had just for shits and giggles?
SoleCarryOn
Others may follow depending on how well Sole is received.
unblacking blues that make me dead
and resting weary what I fear
writing rhymes into your ear
* * *
Around four years ago I had two near death experiences in succession. Since then I have this run-on fountain of creative ideas run through my head almost constantly as images, music, and words. I was not terribly prolific before this experience and rather hated writing, but now it won't shut off. This place is where I get rid of my words in an effort to empty my head for just a moment. If you read, I hope you enjoy it, but I'm really here for catharsis. I won't be hurt if you don't comment, I'm just happy to share this crazy affliction in hopes that it does more than simply drive me nuts.
* * *
I don't write poetry. I write rhymes, dammit.
* * *
Alternate pen names I have had just for shits and giggles?
SoleCarryOn
Others may follow depending on how well Sole is received.
- Last seen right now. Member since February 17, 2006.
- When I'm not writing, I'm an Husband, Father and Commercial Construction Plumber.
- I support the site as a silver member
- I have 1,733 comments
Poems I'm focused on
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Knavian avian wavering high / haughty, held wings filled the sky. / When wind would wend, lift others by / heart would wax wrong'd, eyes wo77 words, 9 comments, December 8, 2008. In Society
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Life is like a fight. / Drag out, knock down. / Bones ache / and muscles groan. / Knuckles bleed and lips split; / taste of salty red in yo86 words, 23 comments, July 22, 2006. In Personal, Inspirational
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Sometimes I wonder / As I take a gander / About this literary posting place; / That we be a mutual stroking society / Posting and pleasing
My Poetry
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How so keen glean gleams / array assorted seams as seem / and see? / Circles sorrow black as borrowed / mind -morrow mellows vision fellow76 words, January 2
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Sadly share I syllables shamed to silence / air eats words and I am full / of shit and snares wile my wares whited writes / and know that I30 words, 10 comments, December 29, 2008. In personal
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Parallels posted merits mosted / wrought, rent, wrapped mind malice hosted / rallied regaled vision impaled besought begot in blue as saile207 words, 2 comments, December 24, 2008
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I saw the grey and ran to say / the image that I saw that day / but there was none to hear my words / as ears were shorn and looks absurd /149 words, December 22, 2008. In Spiritual
My other items
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- Data Pro rata at storywrite
Packages to profile1 - Common Ground at storywrite
I was jes' thinkin'...
Communication is balm for fear. Fear comes from prejudice and ignorance. Communication bests both these impediments by educating with truth and allowing each party to see and feel the true intent of the - Euthanize Me Slowly at storywrite
Normal is the warm, fuzzy feeling of comfort quietly lulling one to fade away into the safe-sleep flocking oblivion of sameness that guarantees none will be singled out for anything above and beyond what is expected, either g
Guest Book
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Dun : Hey thanks, LJ on April 14, 2008I'm excited for you and am sure you'll do great. And...if you don't right away, keep pluggin' until you do. I really enjoy your writing and have every faith that you'll succeed.
your pal,
al -
ladyjanew : Hey AL! on March 23, 2008Just a quick note to let you know that I finally submitted some of my poetry for publication. I submitted to The Pedestal online magazine. I submitted Unrequited, Ode to Housework, Old People Rant, and Ode to 7th grade crush. I never had the balls to submit before, but I thought, what the hell? It can't hurt. Do you submit your poems for publication, AL? Yours are way better than mine. They should be published!
Anyway, have a great Easter, and I'm reading more of your work. Keep up your great writing! -
Dun : Guess what, gG? on March 8, 2008your comments put me over the edge so that the "show all" button appeared. When I clicked this button I found that I now have an option shown to delete. But you know what? I'm not gonna. I believe in showing things as they truly are and dealing with it. So it stays. So I'm a giant-ass-engendererer-of-teen-angst. So what?
Thanks, gG.
al -
Dun : Hey gG on March 8, 2008Ohhh, thanks man. (sigh of relief)
It's nice to see I'll not have an everlasting epitaph of assholery as my remembrance. Thanks, gG. I think the whole slash at the guestbook is an Allpoetry teen angst revenge thing, because I really don't understand why they didn't just respond to my comment on their poem page rather than bagging on me here in set-in-stone vitriol. Ahhh, so be it. I've often wondered why dave didn't remove the dumbass that slashed his guestbook. And now I understand. Although I wish I didn't. Ah, well...
al
Comments
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on Fragments (Revised) by celestialpie, 5 hours ago
Fabulous.
Packing up one's stuff and moving is an emotional time that brings to bear that dichotomy so achingly yet necessarily drawn between trash and treasure. When moving, or rifling through heaps of stored stuff I often feel like burning it all and going to live in a tent in the woods. At such times I remember the advice of Jesus to the rich man: "if thou wouldst be perfect, sell all that thou hast, distribute it to the poor, and come follow me."
I reflect on this passage at such times because I believe we all-too-often become slaves to our stuff, categorizing and shuffling and storing and holding on tightly to things that we think define us, things that we think make us who we are because the world says that we are quantified by what we have; that prestige is measured in money and recognition and possessions. And it's true, such is the treasure of this world; but it won't last forever. Who we are and how we have lived our lives will. The only lasting impression left in this life is written on the "fleshy tables of the heart"s of those we love and serve, or don't. And I think this becomes crystal clear when we pack up our stuff and move. What will remain of us? As you so aptly put: skin, bone, filllings,(of the deceased body) stone(the headstone above). Such is the only material thing that remains of us, proper, on this earth. This post-mortem matter is of little worth but to remind all of the life lived that it represents, for good or bad. If we're lucky, we leave behind other "matter", versions of ourselves to carry on with what we've striven so hard to become, (hopefully a positive aspiration).
This was fantastic, pie. I think I got that this, in short, is about the reflective state that befalls each of us as we pack our lives into boxes to move. We see who we have been, who we are, and are reminded of who we should strive to be. I felt like I was inside your head as you cleared out your stuff and packed up.
al
. Rewarded 6
Very clever, Simon.
and a belated Merry Christmas to you, too.Sounds like Santa's holiday was a real pain in the ass. Fortunately, Santa's a resilient sort and always faithful to his duty. I'm sure he'll recover despite the lofty hi-jinks that such curiously-crafted anal probers often cause him to endure.
Cheers,
al