Bye Week

This past week, I involuntarily took a break from writing because of necessary distractions such as work and personal responsibilities as well as fun-filled activities with old and new friends. I took a well-needed vacation out of the city that never sleeps to embark on a new excursion with a much slower and relaxed atmosphere. I attempted to do some inscribing over the weekend, but that didn’t workout. Instead, I focused my energies on swimming in the warm lake of the Poconos, driving a boat, water tubing, drinking in the woods under a burning fire pit, and other miscellaneous avocations. It was a short trip that should have lasted longer, but despite the lack of creative writing, I have accumulated material that will last me forever soon to be transcribed vicariously through my memories.

So I leave you with a poem:

“Sailing Souls, Set Sail”

Nature soothes the air with cool breeze

Sifting through worldly things

Minimal clouds in sight

Dissipating underneath the blazing sun

Smiling with delight to share its vitality with us

Photosynthetic in nature

Giving breath to the stagnant

The lake settles in warmth with no roars of dissatisfaction

As calm as silence

Whistling to the echoes of nothingness

Yet undulant in resemblance of life

Go forth into vast horizons

Take us anywhere to explore like Gilligan

New parts unseen by the nakedness of our eyes

Free from tyranny under ordinary rules

Stripped from head to toes

Translucent like Casper

The friendly ghost

That’s what we are

Enjoying the moment that God has to offer

The gift of two thousand eleven years in the making

Our creation

Soaring to possibilities unknown

More to come

Set sail, sailing souls.

Until Next Time,

Jeff L.

Smock Salute!

Write->Revise->Satisfied

Writing is a difficult craft based simply on the two sequential inquiries, “What to Write?” and “How to Write?” Answer these two questions and you have art! But the latter identifies the value of your portrait and deciphers whether we have a painting by a low level underling or a professional like Jean-Michel Basquiat.

Realistically, anybody can write by picking up a writing utensil. The trick to being a good, if not better writer is the process of REVISION!

Recently I came to this epiphany, on two occasions, meeting an acquaintance that sullenly voiced it and my first handwritten poem, “Full With Emptiness” (refer to Writer’s Smock post dated 07-13-11). As a poet, I am used to free styling my poetic lyrics through electronic keys; rarely did I aggressively edit to satisfaction, except for minor tweaks. I knew revision was a handy tool to make all writing better, but after last weeks’ experience, it dawned on me like the sunrise and shed light on my nightly sky or mind. Personally, I’m going to delete my former writing procedure at least for the time being and hand write before I type and edit more to my satisfaction.

With that in handy, maybe I can be like Basquiat when I paint. I’m sure he had a few mishaps while doing so. Check out the mess I made in the above picture in order to give a clean read.

To all aspiring writers, remember “Write Then Revise Until Satisfied!”

Until Next Revise,

Jeff L.

Smock Salute

Poetry In Motion: Until Death Do Us Part

Like Mr. Shawn Carter has stated in one of his rap lyrics, “death don’t discriminate, it eliminates all”! This statement couldn’t be any truer. Death visits us even in our most untimely hour and it has recently knocked on the door of one of my friend’s closest family member (My Sympathies…). Of course, there is nothing that can physically nor scientifically be done to escape its grasp, but we can all cope with the situation and make two choices: live within the agony of sorrows of a lost loved one or move on with cherished memories that live beyond our physiological existence.

I was on the phone with my friend to convey my comfort towards his loss yet be somewhat of a conduit to his time of need. I will be attending the wake of his fallen family member today not to only mourn the death but to also celebrate his living memory.

So, after getting off the phone with him, it inspired me to write/type this poem dedicated to this subject matter from his emotional perspective. This was the first time I ever wrote the piece on paper prior to typing and aggressively editing it to my satisfaction:

In Loving Memory:

"Full With Emptiness"

Yet another passing

Time has flown away like two white doves prepared to meet their maker

Fluttered wings flap with aspirations towards new beginnings

A new day rests at the far end

Though the plight of my heavy loss has left an estranged emptiness from within

Burning with flames of rage untamed

Flooded rainstorms can't quench my un-healing temperament

Only fuel for the void that expands with vastness

Deeper sorrows clawing my chest cavity like a clamp forcing its will upon my rib cage

Seemingly never to find ease from the spiritual birds that flew away from my aching palms

Leaving behind the melody of memoirs once cherished with flights of delight

Also melodies of screeching harmonies that broke through the sound barrier of my universe

Screaming freedom with deliverance from the worldly sins and his loving kinship

A trade from existentialism toward the ascension of transcendentalism

Physiology holds no bounds

Leaving once again a bigger empty hole

Gravitating like a vortex

Unexplained by science

Growing in hunger

Nourishment is needed for the malnourished

Unfulfilled with fulfillment

Estranged with the mediocrity of nature's thievery

To take back what once belonged to me

Now returning to the ground that I stand in

To be buried beneath my cold feet

Warmed by your decaying skin and bone

Dust will remain to blow in the wind to travel distances beyond worldly fathoms

Night travels for so long until day breaks

The end of the tunnel is at the end of this long heart race

The hole soon grows shallow like the depths of a stream

To shine under nature's light

My skin-deep circumference is recycled with inner peace

I breathe a new air left with celebratory memories of thee

Symbolic to your blank color

Majestic to your angelic figure

Parted between the wings of your nature

Forevermore to fill the gap that was once created by you only to be sewn back together by a simple white smile

Beyond the twilight of the naked eye

Only felt from within

Closure is left at the end of your white cloak.

Until we meet again

Goodbye

See you at the end of deep blue sky

Until Next Time,

Jeff L.

Smock Salute!