Venting

I’ve silenced my voices. The very curious one. the confident one- the stern one and the one that knows who she is and what exactly it is that she wants. Why have I silenced these voices? Why do I hold her back ? The free child within me, she is begging me to let her free. She has been begging as far as I can remember but lately all that there has been is silence. Is she still there?

Who am I? I do not have the slightest clue. I used to be so sure, so full of confidence in the spirit that roams within me but lately I cannot feel her. I have not even picked up my guitar and I can barely bring myself to write tonight.

A part of me is trying not to convince myself that I am ill, I fear I am.  Why do I hide? Why am I so ashamed? Whenever I feel this way I want to escape again, leave and start again, fool myself into thinking that my answers are elsewhere. And truthfully everyone and my own sanity included, keep on telling me that I should stop running away that I need to grow up and I need to learn responsibility but why do I object to it so harshly and why am I waking up every morning and force myself into wearing that coat and those black pumps… why do I force myself to be part of that corporate world? Why did I succumb to this mold that I do not fit a part of ? I’ve once said I would never be a part of and here I am succumbing for comfort for security-foolish! foolish!  I’d rather live for a penny. I could care for less for this body. Let it burn, I am tired of it keeping me down. I am sick. That is the truth, this body is ill and I could roar and scream to it and I want to beat it. Pardon me- I am only venting.

Life is hard so very hard sometimes and I feel so very much alone, I do not have my  comrade nearby, a confidant, not a true friend- perhaps I am being a bit dramatic but I do push them all away.  I push all those I love away.

And so here I lie alone, in bed in my own company filled with the traffic sounds of the restless and sleepless city of Los Angeles where the light reflects off of windows and the sirens moan in the distance. I never imagined myself being so lonely. Am I unloveable?  I wonder what it is I am doing wrong? I do not expect you to have any answers. I do not expect you to be even reading this- but well, what of it now. I may as well not post this. I just need to I don’t know- vent.

Where is she? The girl so full of love and hope. So full of adventure and mystery. Where she saw every rose like a miracle? and where she too felt like a miracle ? I suppose I am tired. I am tired of waiting. I am tired of longing. I am tired of watching all those films in front of me and people passing by with all that I desire. “They are so happy,”  I think to myself. What is that I am missing?

Can I just time travel to those old records of time where all was well and skies were blue and the roses grew? Take me there tonight. Please take me there tonight, in my sleep.

Let me dream tonight. Let me forget tonight and let me feel free.

I am tired.

good night, to this restless heart.

 

yours truly,

 

bluebird

 

 

 

 

 

“What happens to a dream deferred?”

What happens then to that dream deferred? Was it truly your dream all along? Were you denying yourself of something? Avoiding a realization? Or naming your dream in the wrong category?

 

 

Does a dream have a different face? Or do you fail to call it by name? Do you need to dig deeper to find its name? or do you dare just say it? What if your dream is like that of all the rest-of vanity and appearance? Doesn’t it seem too unreal?-too discouraging?

Is that the dream you are chasing? Can some dreams be harmful? If so, dare I go chase it? Is there even a questioning them? Don’t all dreams come from that same stem, of life, truth and beauty?  If So, my dream has to be true. Anything sprouting from that stem has to be beautiful-even if the rose has thorns.  Dare I- or better off, what makes me think I am anybody not too?

Inspired by Langston Hughes, “Harlem”

To speak of Importance…

 

 

 

Those who speak of importance speak of necessity

we must have air to breathe,

 food to eat,

a shelter to sleep

a coat- some warmth- at least!

Speak no more of necessities!

It dissatisfies me

 it is but a life with no meaning, no feeling

I need love to breathe, affection to eat!

why breath

why eat

 why live

without love

love feeds the hungry soul

laughter warms it

affection shelters it

I live for I breathe for beyond the cravings of the flesh

I live for I breathe for a spiritual sense!

Singing @ the L.A. Art Walk

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Photo Taken by Avelardo Ortega @mad_se7en

There are times when I feel so bottled up that no matter my reserved nature, of being shy, quiet, and distant,  I somehow break free from my own chains and allow myself the freedom to be me. With the guitar in my arms or the pen gripped within my fingertips, I embody the soul that swims within me- the courageous one, the fearless one, the God-fearing one.

Most days, I am imperfect, lost, short-tempered, and directionless, but last Thursday, I felt that the gold sitting heavy in my heart was aching to melt out of my mouth like fluid honey. And despite not having a stage to sing, nothing could stop this eruption within me that even the demons in my head were silenced by this necessary pull to sing.

I sang, I sang and did not feel the hours pass me by, and sang until my voice gave out. I do not need a stage, nor do I need an audience, and much like when I write here, I do not need a publisher and a book to be voicing. I do it for my own peace of mind and sanity and I will continue this way even if I don’t see a dime or a penny to my name.

All labors of love should be this way and this is all but a labor of love, for love, in the name of love.

yours truly,

bluebird