I walked in the in between. ( Week Four )

01/22 

I should have gotten up at three am and wrote what I wanted to write then. The words that I had eloquently written in my head. They are gone like yesterday and will not be back tomorrow. If only I had cast out a life preserver called memory. I could have saved them from drowning in the sea of my thoughts. I am sure that what I would have written would have been wise and philosophical. I am stuck with writing about what could have been what should have been my defining moment in my 100 words of literary art.

01/23 

I’m tired of the name calling on both sides. We “teach” our children that name calling and labeling is wrong. Yet it seems that it is everywhere, adults are acting like children. Children name call and label because they do not have the maturity and self-control. It's disheartening to see adults behaving this way. How can anyone possibly think that they are not causing harm to children when they are constantly saying hateful things to and about one another. Name calling hate, mongering anything that is harmful to another human being is OFF LIMITS. Verbal abuse is ABUSE

01/24 

There are many days that I feel as though I am parked diagonally in a parallel universe. Wondering what it is that I am running from or running toward. And Why? Perhaps I am only sleeping and dreaming of all the thoughts I could not think of during the day. I am a lunatic trapped in a sane mind with boundaries of what is right and what is wrong. Speaking blindness. Hearing sight. Touching smell. Music playing words that only my soul can keep. Sleeping. Dreaming. Thinking random thoughts. Talking to the lunatic that is diagonally parked inside my head.

01/25  

I walked in the in between. Discovering where the lost things are. I found the ship who sang, buried in Babylon’s ashes. A memory of shifting reality of a dark stranger standing at an abandoned gate. The air is Bitterwood and whispers of autumn. There are fractured worlds here. An immortal that was and is no more. A way station to time that was wasted but not forgotten. The in between wants you to believe that it is the end of all things. How wrong it is. Once you have found what is lost you can take it back again.

01/26 

Hello, my name is ɥɐǝl I wear my name upside down so that I can remember who I am in a world that is upside down but believes its right side up. Shadows of their inner selves projected in darkness. Right and wrong supercilious ideas that are judge, jury and executioner. People are things and things are people. Values, honesty and trust no longer have a place. I wear my name upside down to remind me I can aspire to the right side up. I will not get lost in the shadows as I continue to walk toward the light.

01/27 

We the people sleepwalking gathering together, standing on the shore, waking to a cybernetic dream. Controlled by the governing systems we set up to be controlled by us. Time passes. Becoming more automation then human. The tide flows a little high, ebbs a little low. The system of control. Who is human and who is the machine? Time passes, loops again upon itself. Nothing left but artificial selves. Slaves to the cybernetic dream. Anchored to the shore, drowning in the sands. Watching, waiting for the tidal wave to wash away the dream into reality. Time to wake up and swim.

01/28 

Sometimes I feel as though I am an Outsider to myself. Drifting in a sea of shadows to the melody of an infinite concerto. My life is indifferent to the stars above. In the unquiet of my mind restless shadows reign. Holding me hostage to yesterday’s pain. A requiem for freedom for dreaming. They dance ever closer and then retreat from my reaching hand . I hear the shadows whispers “Come join us.” The song becomes a scream and the dance abruptly ends. I have reached the shadows edge. It calls” Come join us. There is no pain in here.”

Week three of 100 words a day

01/15 

The unknown is waiting for someone or something to enlighten it, so that it will know what or who it is. It is not completely ignorant. It has some vague idea of what or who it is. There are stories it hears about itself that are told and retold. As it listens, some resound and feel true. While others it knows are untrue. The longer it waits the more of an enigma it becomes. Perhaps, maybe it is not all bad to remain nameless. No, it is not bad at all. The enigma that it now is will become wonder.

01/16 

We all have secrets. It is a part of our lives. Some are the keepers of the secret while others the secrets are kept from. We are the players and the played. We are only as guilty as the secrets that we keep. And only as innocent as what we are kept from. Secrets are nothing more than sugar coated lies. Secrets and lies darken the soul until all that is good, all that could have been good are gone. When it is all over and the end has come all that is left are the secrets and the lies.

01/17 

In the house beyond the field there are answers waiting for the questions. In the house beyond the field it holds a memory of light. In the memory, it gives the power to ask. The first shot is free. As you approach the house beyond the field it feels dark, as though it should be something to fear. Perhaps you are right. For when you ask questions you are never fully prepared for the answers that wait. Keep in mind you only get as good as you give. In the house beyond the field there are questions waiting for answers.

01/18 

Seeing through the throwing stones, to the beautiful strangers. Can you see us as you throw your stones? Can you not relate to the pain we feel inside? Do you see the questions in our eyes? See us through your throwing stones to the beauty that is inside. We are more than what you see on the outside, a diamond in the rough. Can you hear His voice calling you to reach beyond your vision? Calling you to see the beautiful stranger through the throwing stones, you are casting our way. There is beauty in us waiting to be discovered.

01/19 

In the beginning A was for Apple. This was long before B had the Blues. B’s blues made C Crazy. Once D was Deranged and clung to E that hung on the Edge of F. F Fell from G that Grew in H that was Hope. I Interceded on their behalf. J shouted with Joy. In turn K found Kindness to give to L. L gave Love to M. M was no longer trapped in Misery. N no longer felt like Nobody cared. O was Optimistic that P would not be Pessimistic. Q was ready to call it Quits.

01/20 

After Q came R which was no longer Recondite to all. S found freedom in its Soul and is no longer Sanctimonious about T being a Terpsichorean. U saw that the dance was Utopian for all. V went from clothed as a Vagabond to the cloth of Vestment. W, whom many thought was M playing upside down, was no longer trapped in Woebegone. X played the xylophone and the dance went on. Y felt a deeper Yearning for something more. Z stood on the Zenith of knowing the truth, that in the beginning A was the Alpha and the Omega.

01/21 

We all have our stories of a thousand tears we have shed and the countless nights that we have wept until our eyes all but bled. We all hear the voices that whisper in our heads. The ones that scream in silence begging to be fed. We have covered ourselves with words that kill us nightly as we lay awake in bed. They are the words that have caused a blindness that consumes us as we struggle to see the light. These are the words that bind us one to another and keep us trapped and lost in the night.

January 2017 100 word photo prompt ILLUSION

                                          Photo credit: greenzowie

ILLUSION

“It is an illusion I think.”

“What is an illusion?”

“The horizon. The ice. The snow. The gathering mist. It is all an illusion.”

“No, you are wrong this is not an illusion.”

“No, you say.”

“Yes. I can feel the pain of the cold in my bones.”

“Yes, of course you do it is all part of the illusion. Just smoke and mirrors that is all this is.”

“Smoke and mirrors you say. Just an illusion. I say it is more.”

“Do you know? Tell me what it is that you see what more do you think it is?”

Week 2 of 100 words a day challenge

1/08

It is safe to say that my husband is a little obsessed with sports. I do not think a day goes by that he is not making “bets” or talking about sports. Well it would appear that it is time for the NFL playoffs. I am aware of this information because this afternoon he was yammering on about the NFL playoffs to his dad. My father-in-law looks at me and says, “What an excellent use of grey matter.” I was surprised. I have never heard him be sarcastic, until today. I haven't laughed like that in a while.

01/09 

Trust can only be what we allow it to be. Some keep trust chained up like a dog to a tree. Every time it thinks it has been set free, it is yanked back by its neck and knocked off its feet. While others hold trust, captive waiting for it to sing like a canary in a gilded cage. There are those that put trust away in the dark where no one can hear it scream. There are few that still treasure trust with its dust and broken hues, but when held out. there is still light that shines through.

01/10 

I find myself deep in thought, as if this were my choosing. The sun has set and left me with my musing. As is my want my thoughts are random becoming tangent, with this I cast them upon the shore to be washed away once more. I sat and waited for whatever it is that I am waiting for. I struggled to catch my thoughts once more. I remember that I walk where the fairies lead and wade into the waves once more. To some I lost my sanity but truth will tell that it was never mine to keep.

01/11 

Love is a bird that has forgotten how to fly. Perched upon the soul longing for a place to go. It sings a song. It weeps. Waiting for someone to keep. In silence, it hears a whispering of wishes, a fluttering of feathers. Love gazing into the dark forever, blind. Love hoping against hope, believing in hope, stepping out on the tightrope of trust. Trusting that hope will not fail. The wind of lies blows, rustling of feathers. Losing balance, looking down into the abyss. Balance lost. Love stretches it wings, takes flight and slowly dies for you and me.

01/12 

There are two that travel, slaves to the south wind driven forward by its lashing at their backs. A Seer and a Tale Weaver, they seek forgotten places seen by the Seer. They travel on the tale that the Weaver weaves. These travelers two had once been three. The Seer seeks yet cannot hear. The Weaver weaves and cannot speak. The third of the two could not see, but heard what the seer sought, spoke words into the weavers’ thoughts. The third, the watcher, unseeing but all knowing knew that nothing but misfortune and despair waited for these travelers three.

01/13 

Sometimes I hate words. Silence, sometimes I hate that too. Most of all I hate when the voices in my head, the ones that I had silenced start, whispering to a scream. The thoughts I think, mental chatter makes me crazier than the Mad Hatter. There never seems to be a White Rabbit to chase down a hole when I need one. There are days that I wish I had just grinned like the Cheshire Cat and taken the blue pill. This rabbit hole is deep and seemingly never ending. Don’t believe me. Ask the voices in my head.

01/14 

It is very discouraging when my brain stops working. I forget what it is that I am doing, and I can not remember what it is that I have done. I remember that I had thought of what I was going to write for my hundred words today. I forgot them, all of them. I guess they were not worthy of being captured and put into written form. Or perhaps, just maybe, they are words that have hidden themselves away to be captured again another day. They are the secret words that hide in the quite places of the heart.

Week one 100 word challenge

My first seven days of doing the 100 word a day challenge. This is going to be harder than I thought it would be. Some might be off by a word or two. I have to go by the counter that the website uses and it is not always accurate. It is my hope that perhaps this will help me start writing again.

1/1/2017
 A few months back my husband did one hundred words a day for a month. I have been thinking that perhaps I should try it. Therefore, I shall start 2017 with one hundred words and do away with any new year resolutions. I will take 2017 one day at a time I will greet each day with a grateful spirit and a prayer in my heart. I will not regret my yesterday or wish my today away into tomorrow. I will live and love in this day not as though there is no tomorrow but for the life of today.

1/2/2017
 The dying art of thinking the ultimate death of the truth: The cause of death of the TRUTH is from the dying art of thinking. Why think for ourselves when others seem to be more apt at telling us what and how we are to think? Who would have thought that “I think therefore I am” would become I am because another has done the thinking for me? Even when the thought I am to think is nothing more than a lie, and therefore I have let the Truth die. We are a starving emaciated generation blinded by the LIE.

1/3/2017
I am sick I have been for a few years or more. In September I got fed up with endless doctors, test and medications. I felt that it would be best to stop it al. I started vitamins and supplements and above all prayer and believing in healing. For two and a half months’ things went very well. The past few weeks my body is starting to reject me. I try not to feel sorry for myself. Some days it is hard. Today I do not feel sorry for myself today I just feel like giving up. I HATE THIS.

1/4/2017
 I went fishing today in an attempt to string together a hundred words. I didn’t care if the words were big or small. All I needed was a hundred. They didn't need to be profound. Perspicuous words would work. Alas, it appears I lack the ability to be perspicacious when it comes to fishing for words. Like the adage:” Give a man a fish, feed him for a day. Teach him to fish, feed him for a lifetime.” Give them 100 words they can read for a day. Teach them to read and they can write for a lifetime.

1/5/2017
The tree was chopped, taken from its only home. Sorrow filled it. Hope came with the family. It wouldn't spend its last days alone. They dressed it up as royalty. They sang, laughed and cried. Tree rejoiced to be a part of their celebration. Now it’s done, the finery removed. It still stands, not as lush or tall as before. It doesn’t feel sad or ugly. It rejoices it fulfilled its purpose. It gazes out the window reflecting on its life. it weathered the seasons, brought happiness in its last days. In its final hours, there’s joy.

1/6/2017
Stop the world I want to get off!! This crazy roller coaster ride is more than my heart can stand. Souls lost wondering in the dark thinking they are in the light. I am overwhelmed. I want to save them all. I understand why they are lost and angry. For too long they have tried to fill the emptiness that their soul longs for with worldly things. They cannot fill a God shaped hole with the things of the world it will fail them every time. That failure leads to bitterness and anger which begets hate and hate kills the soul.

1/7/2017
 Yesterday, I thought about writing my one hundred words in my head. It started just as I have written. Then, I thought perhaps I am cheating to write ahead in my head. Then, I thought there is no way I will remember what I wanted to write about. As I was pondering, I wondered how does the 100 words know if I came up with my words today or yesterday or what if I grabbed them from my former self or my future self? How can this thing even know if the words typed into it are even mine? Integrity?

When Silence Becomes Our Only Honesty

When silence becomes our only honesty.

Words wrapped up like cocoons.

Waiting for the dusk to become dawn.

Like a seed, it grows let it go.

Listen as it falls down in between.

Leave it behind unbroken but not whole.

Weaving its way along patchwork souls.

Wishes dropped washed away.

Wounded and wondering.

When silence becomes our only honesty.

Like a castaway tossed from one wave of words to another

Lies that anchor our souls to words that are not who we are or what we are.

Life has drowned in the deep of words, silence becomes our only honesty.