Rose-Petal Embers

Her fingers thread through the thistle’s mist

as her eyes graze his jawline, pulling up into a grimace.

The thistle whispers as she flutters her fingertips across the spiky blooms.

For Rose, petals have retired; all that is left is the dead center of a

passionate popping fire; fizzling like a broken firecracker.

Her embers are strewn amongst the aching stems along their path; crackling heat.

His impatient numb toes leave prints of her death to repeat, repeat, repeat.

She strides beside him now, a specter in an earthly memory

while birds titter one last breathless tweet.

Crows kick off from branches high above as the cornflower sky

opens its maw and swallows the retreating black beings.

The thistle pierces through her permeable skin as his body melts away softly, falling

into ash at her side.

*Photo by "bogdanici" on DeviantArt*

A crippling band of pain creeps beneath the doorjamb and seeps into my torso, infiltrating my every receptor. I crumple forward, attempting to alleviate the pain, only to feel folded in on myself. A bit of jostling running steps on a fuzzy storage cube's lid gets my mind off the pain for a short while, but then quickly the excruciating devil is back, and both its horns have stabbed into my gut, wrenching the thorny exacerbation to my back. The day after, I am completely back to normal. But, sure enough, with a minuscule amount of food, the monster has crept into my bed again and is gorging on my sanity. This is the attack of gallstones, and an inflamed gallbladder.
Just recently, I had emergency gallbladder surgery. It was quite the experience, having never been through surgery and being quite shell-shocked the entire time. Blurred was that day after the initial statement that I would have to have the organ removed. But, just as a hint to other victims, eating with only a liver can be painful; in a different way, but still painful. I've learned to eat a little healthier, watching my fat intake and keeping up protein and fiber so as to keep my health in check. I can't say I saw the light or really remember any revelation of any sort, but I do know that losing an organ to bad habits killed those old habits quicker than a sharpshooter in a Wild Western movie.
I suppose, in Americans's busy lives, with easily accessible healthcare, surviving every day isn't hard for the average middle to upper class citizen. But with a wake up call such as I had, sometimes, it seems, one must stop and smell the roses we ingest; else we may just be swallowing thorns.

Thunder in the Valley

Thought I'd switch it up again and write a little differently; so here it is: a sonnet, about nature!

*Picture by stoven2005 on DeviantArt* "There is little in the way of success when a driving force comes tunneling through." I'm not actually sure whether this is my own quote or another's, but I believe it says a lot about the successful person. Some people say talent, nepotism, monetary wellness, and pure luck are factors in one's own success. However, I believe there is a tangible touch of ignorance to these statements. One can not call success into an individual with no drive in them. Their tin-can airways have been closed off, because they refuse to believe that they have any chance of making it anywhere on their own. I believe in a strong sense of community, but what it all boils down to is this: only you are in control of your destiny, your successes. I wish there were some other way to state it, but an apple that jumps from the tree instead of waiting till it is ripe will fall much further down the path of progress. I suppose I may seem a bit static anymore, talking about success having not quite achieved it myself. However, the clouds that my head are stuck in hold no rain; only lightning. And as soon as a storm begins to brew in them, I strike. There is also the concern of making it on one's own. Self-sufficiency. Well, folks, there's a "self" in there for a reason. Unfortunately, in the U.S.A., we have a lacking sense of community. An individual is expected to pull themselves up by their bootstraps and walk across water to get a career, social community, family, and even education. We judge. I'm not talking court-room Judy, I'm talking about everyday occurrences. If an individual hasn't gone out and made connections, reached out for opportunities, then they are a stinking vegetable in a patch of freshly ripe ones. My question of the day is this: do you believe you have success? If not, what are you doing to change it? P.S. I believe that no matter what anyone says, if you are truly happy, do not change. The only one who's going to care what happens to you every minute of the day is you, and God.

The Scorch of First World Problems

*Photo by -thesilverfox- on DeviantArt* The rush of hot water through the pipes in this old house violates my eardrums with a smooth thrill of reverberating fascination at the fact that I have so much. A warm bed, good food, family that loves me, a safe house, and clean water to drink. My typical morning consists of a simple twist of the tap to flow me a river; I cannot even imagine what it would be like to trudge twelve miles through crackling heat, dipping a rotting wood bucket into a deep well, hoping to get enough water for the only meal me and my family must share. Doesn't it seem sometimes, that one takes things for granted? It's quite easy to not worry about hunger when food is so accessible: grocery stores; pantries in one's home; blankets slung over a sofa that poor workers in China slaved over. Fascination mixes with a slight disgust at the way society works when I look through the telescope of a third-party observer. Were I not sunk into the soft cushion I've bought for myself, I may be begging on the streets (or actually, what would be more like me would be scrawling every last observation into a battered, pulpy notebook, scrounging for inspiration). Situations in the first world dynamic may seem harsh, inconvenient, and disconcerting at times. But one must always remember: the grass is browner on the other side of the fence. One in our society lives a cushy life, even if one does have to work to gain the money to access this: some jobs require very little physical effort, however. I am not one to say I am any better; simply observant of the fact. Now, my question of the day is this: gaze upon your life and smile at all the wonderful things you've been given, because someday, if they were all pulled out from under you like a rug from a sultan, wouldn't you miss them so?

The Weight of the World on Your Shoulders

Several tears have been shed today, in the wake of many words having thrown themselves at souls in sharp slices. Problems, pain, and anger are easy to be pitted on others. Of course the blame should be put on others! But, when is it really someone else's fault? In a sword fight, the one with the sharpest sword and quickest tongue is usually the one rogue hiding away from all others, insecure at being handed the one metal weapon shorn closest to the hilt. But if one never cuts away the fat to get to the good meat, there will always be that soggy mass on the side of the tender goodness that waits just inside. In my own novel that I wrote in a month (and am currently in progress with revision), I found quite the interesting moral: all the characters in it are very corrupt people with issues in their lives that, for most people, would be a knife wound to the side every day. And for these characters, it is just that. But what I hope to convey through my story, at the very end, one must look past all the dirty world they're a part of; the characters occupy themselves with mere distractions for their real problems. They're all just people looking for redemption from their mistakes and all that they've been through. But the ultimate action all these characters (and people in the real world) must take is that of taking charge of their own lives. Everything that's happened to a person wraps them in their own sorrow, but what one does with their sorrow to turn it into good is the ultimate sacrifice for happiness. The only person that can make your life "better" is you. So many people occupy themselves with distractions; mere prohibitions of difficult situations to try and suffocate their troubles. But asphyxiation never quite occurs; the problems always resurface somehow the next day, pulling themselves out of oxygen deprivation. My question of the day would be: what issue do you need to reflect upon and solve, as it is up to you, ultimately, to solve it?

The titter of a bird just outside my sunken basement window; the creak of floorboards above my restless head as the light creeps in sullenly; the quiet music of a breathing human so close I can practically hear their eyelids flutter in REM sleep; these are all things that are so very inspiring to me. It may be difficult to impress upon the less observant eye that a few notes from a blue-breasted creature with wings could be inspiring, but the fact that there is life inside such a tiny living being is absolutely fascinating to me. Even the looping cries of a child crying out for attention inspires me: possibly only to grab a pair of earplugs, but it is nevertheless inspiring. I suppose there are some very obvious reasons I am a writer; I hole myself up in my house all day, getting inspired by the littlest of things. A downy flake pressing on the toe of my boot as I trudge up the wooden stairs can inspire me to write about individuality and the concerns of a society so conforming, we've forgotten our snowflake-selves. The golden orb of soft light hanging illuminating my glassy eyes darting to and fro from every corner of the room can inspire me to write about human existence, and our impending doom for independence from this planet, which has a mere few billion years of life left. From science fiction to romance and all the spaces in between, I find inspiration at the very edge of every cliff, at the very tip of my tongue with every word, at every junction in my life. I believe that anyone can be inspired, inspiring, and that we all should tap into our inner inspiration. I am not recruiting a band of loyal writers to go marching through the streets pointing out every single feather floating down from the great blue quilt in the sky, exclaiming, "Wow! Amazing! The sun's out, just like it was yesterday!" I am simply stating that my question of the day would be: what inspires you, and what actions will you take to inspire others? Pay it forward; you'll reap an even more glorious harvest. *Picture by fruityfruitfly on DeviantArt*