so I lay down my pen
let others weave the threads
that make fingers bleed
with excruciating self-truths
cut like a knife against artery
bleed into the warp and woof
they weave, I merely bleed
diluted by salt and sweat
of knowing the unworthiness
so I lay my pen down
let those who weave words
tell the tales; mine are inconsequential
in the word marketplace
mine by smudged fingerprints,
their whole handprints of exposition
so I lay down my pen
December 30, 2016 at 5:05 pm
well as long as you do know that your words are of consequence ….. then it’s all good ….. hold on to that …. and just because ((((Lorraine))))
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December 30, 2016 at 8:12 pm
Some times it feels like I need to listen to those pesky voices, the ones that laugh, and say — your being a writer is a farce. Just read around you. Just read how you used to write. It’s like every hair I shed (lost 3/4s of what I had) took a word, a way of expressing myself. That the atrophy is spreading, shutting out ideas and mans of speech. That I should lay down my pen and let those who can really write, the real wordsmiths speak.
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December 30, 2016 at 9:16 pm
Sorry I dumped on your response. I’m not feeling very confident about much of anything, so I apologize if it seems I dismissed your words, your voice, your opinion.
I would never knowingly do that — I tend to just vomit on the page when I’m like this.
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December 30, 2016 at 9:17 pm
And thanks for the (((((hugs))))) — here’s some in case you need them tonight (((((Pat)))))
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December 31, 2016 at 3:04 am
well it would be easy to give in ….. because, well, I can’t say I know why, other than when I have given up, it still bites and haunts me, and eventually I literally start going mad – until either I break, explode or am just literally nuts ….. and maybe part of the problem for me, is that now, there isn’t much left open to me, other than the words ….. so as I sit here writing this at just before 3 a.m. I think and realize: well, maybe it’s really about trying to keep the inner critic silenced ….. sure, we all normally have to face that, but I’m guessing that, as you know and from what I remember you mentioning about using words to help you get through the worst of times, and well, some of the really good ones too, that if you aren’t doing it, then it just adds more fuel to your fires. And I think you just need to hang on to the really good stuff – you’re not any “less than” you were before ….. different, yes – different understandings, experiences etc. so the words now will be different. And that’s not a bad thing at all. I mean, if you want stability – write “formulaic” choose a genre that’s “easy” enough, read all the “gloop” out there, and write away. I can bet you’d even make a decent income at it. But right now, all I can think about is how you shine and smile when you write from your heart – when you play with words and stretch and flex ideas, and how you share that gift with your father. And that’s creativity unbounded. And maybe, just maybe, what we both need to learn and understand, is that whatever gift and talent we have with words is more than enough – just as it is – that it serves us, and well – if we let it – without adding to the weight of “performance anxiety” to the mix; that’s the hard part I think.
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December 31, 2016 at 1:37 pm
performance anxiety is right. I just feel so much less than other writers — such as you — who can write such amazing stuff, while I write dribble. I thought I once could write something substantial — but like my academic writing, it will be abandoned — I lack the something to put the spark in it. Or so it feels.
Maybe some day I’ll pick my stories up again — they can sit and ferment I guess, but right now I don’t think I have the stamina to think creativity unbounded — like you do.
I’m not feeling sorry for myself — just stating how it feels inside — the gutkick of reality when dreams crumble into dust and the wind gusts and swirls them away.
May be some day . . . .
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December 31, 2016 at 5:13 pm
“just stating how it feels inside”
yup, I totally get it …. and you are allowed to feel this way …. you don’t need any one’s permission …. and I’ll sit here and listen …. for as long as it takes …..no judgments ….. just patience and lots of love and good thoughts …… because you know, it’s all in the perception …..
you feel what you do
I feel what I do
you perceive or think “X” of my work
I feel differently than what you think
I perceive and think “X” of your work
you feel differently than what I think
and yet, we all feel the same thing, when it comes down to it …. at least, I think we’re both probably sitting on the same side of the table …. so yeah, I get it ….and really, I AM NOT that creativity …. honestly, I never have been ….. I just have tons of enthusiasm and offer that to people, because I see potential and get excited when people spark off each other …..
so whatever works in keeping you “doing something” …. then do it ….. have you ever read …. oh what’s her name …. Writing Down the Bones by Natalie Goldberg? I’m guessing you probably have …. anyhow, you know, when she wrote it way back in the day, she mentions just showing up and giving yourself permission to write the worst junk | crap | garbage in the world ….. and you know, it’s okay – not everything will be “stellar” …. and if you just need to let it rip and let it be, then …. it’s okay too.
((((Lorraine))))
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December 31, 2016 at 9:52 pm
Thanks for listening. It doesn’t help that I hate don’t a half-assed job at anything. So, if the writing isn’t as good as I think it should be or doesn’t measure up to what others write, it just seems to prove I lack talent and skill.
I haven’t read the book — I’ll add it to my list of should reads.
I’m not good at giving myself permission to just be — comes from years of struggling to be someone other than me. So it will take some effort and time. . .
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January 1, 2017 at 12:12 pm
just be gentle with yourself ….. you know, none of the “greats” – pick ANY writer, artist, musician hits a home run right off …. ever …. ideas are born, some die before the seeds even leave the packet, some get sown, some rot, some sprout, some grow …. it’s all a process …..
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January 2, 2017 at 10:13 am
I guess because I’ve written some of these stories for so long in my head, it’s like my language dyslexia where things sound correct in my head, but come out all mangled — like foreign languages and English, tool.
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January 2, 2017 at 5:43 pm
I can understand …. either way, I happen to think your particular vernacular and vocabulary is very interesting …. so it’s all good my friend. Don’t mind my nit picky spade up my butt when *I* happen to be the one tripping over something.
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December 29, 2016 at 1:01 pm
A very good poem. Thanks for sharing!
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December 30, 2016 at 12:57 pm
Thank you and thank you for reblogging.
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December 31, 2016 at 10:15 am
You are welcome!
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