The Man Made a Lot of Sense

There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness.
Friedrich Nietzsche

What is done out of love always takes place beyond good and evil.
Friedrich Nietzsche

Ah, women. They make the highs higher and the lows more frequent.
Friedrich Nietzsche

...I hope I make sense sometimes...

Sweetest of the forbidden fruits are lust and love united.

(That even if one may be more important to you than the other, when sex and care are together there...then there is nothing more you could ask for.)

Poem
excerpt from my book Passion before Perfection

Paper bulbs blossom into words
Each leaf, a splintered thought that broke away
from the mind
that had the strength to plant it
From idea to invention
Alphabet letters are scattered in the wind and left
to their own development
having to contend with the jargon , slang and gibberish
that entangle
and try to force the life
from meaningful text
Nurtured, and allowed to grow freely
pollinated poetry will seed and spread
embedding inspiration
into the fertile beds of brain
that are open enough to allow
the winds of change to pass through

Published Last Month in OP-Driftwood

Driftwood

Firm, streamlined features
caught up in a swirling storm
Branches fall
Chemically induced nature systematically destroys nature
and the broken nails
in the middle of it all
continue to catch on everything
that they can
Perhaps, they too are just attempting to ground themselves
The hail begins to pelt bodies
that would soon welt
All will not be calm this night
Windows shivering
with the fussing gusts
of an angry wind that will not relent
Rain gliding cars outside
reminiscent
of the ocean’s waves
that rolled across my ears
as I drifted off
amongst driftwood
in a tent on the beach
The storms had been subtle then
Now, at full bore
invading sleep
that they had welcomed
before

Photos...

Textual Praise and Cursive Curses

Writing signifies the beginning (a birth certificate), and the end (a death certificate) of a human life. Between those two important documents, a person creates and comes into contact with volumes upon volumes of written words, words that have shaped the Earth enough for one to state, in truth, that he who possesses the power of prose is the closest comparison that we have to a physical god. The written word has been created and mastered by humans alone, and in turn humans have gone on to collectively conquer the world.
Text is the main factor that separates humans from other animals, and it has allowed humans to communicate with others in ways no illiterate creature ever could. Conveying its message to one person or millions, to those in the room or across the world, written and typed script has the ability to aid in great decisions, choices that some would say were only meant for the gods.
Writing has allowed us to document history, to create permanent records of lives and stories that were before at the mercy of verbal storytelling and memory. This provides someone with a basis for his or her culture and behaviours, and instils in them a sense of pride of family and country, helping to unite those under common ancestries. Words that withstand the test of time are important to those who must learn from the past to ensure earlier mistakes are not repeated. Just as the lasting quality of pen is preferred to pencil; mistakes cannot be erased, but learned from if they can be read and reviewed for hundreds of years.
Those that can provide people with written accounts of their work that endure over time can ensure themselves a sort of immortality. We remember Shakespeare for his many plays, but we will never know of the woman who served him lunch, or the man who lived beside him. Chopin is known for his beautiful compositions, but countless others died without recognition because they never utilized the power of permanence and paper. We hold our scribes and composers in high regard, up with our kings and conquerors, because a great writer does not die, but lives on in his words.
Every human has one last written document; one that once signed signifies the end of that person’s life. One day the Earth may share that same fate, and the stroke of a pen may bring about the execution of human civilization by way of nuclear or biological warfare. But even on that dark day we will not be questioning writing’s worth, because writing is the tool that has aided us in encompassing the ultimate power of creating or destroying anything that we can, even ourselves; and that is as close to godliness as you can get.

My second poem in The Other Press:


Titanic Thinking and a Body of Water

Squinting against one thousand suns
that are glinting from one,
reflecting in water murky enough to stand in.

It’s a wonder any light escapes its surface at all…

The wind arrives and begins its stylist ways,
transforming a perfect hair-do back to its primal state.
Walking through fine sand, in the midst of expelled plumage
and vacant crustaceanic condos,
conversation always seems to ebb away with the tide
and thoughts are drawn into the water,
like the debris that thought it was finally beached
but was caught up in the waves once more.
Doomed, or blessed
to continue drifting,
occasionally reaching a temporary shore
until it becomes so smoothed and refined
by a relentless surf
that it is nothing more than a grain of sand.
No different than the millions of others surrounding it,
just younger,
and they have neither time nor patience for their fellow captive.

Although this may have been the most brilliantly beautiful of stones,
now, as a speck amongst specks, it loses the distinctiveness it may have once had.
It awaits the time when the water will have its way with it once more
and it will be pounded into oblivion…

…looking out as the seagulls
coast along the coast…

The present shakes its way back into consciousness,
and it is pondered
that these are just fruitless thoughts
when one is standing next to a body
that goes a thousand times deeper than any human could.

Procrasti-Nation

For many, the internet, or television shows are a pit of quicksand, trapping them on a daily path to accomplishment. For others, the welcoming call of sleep is too inviting to ignore, and exhaustion overwhelms them as they try to finish pressing duties. I suffer from another form of ‘procrastinism’, one that is destined to rob me of the satisfaction that is only felt after successfully completing a task.
‘Multi-tasking’ is a term that everyone is familiar with. It refers to the act of working on numerous things at one time, and moving towards a positive outcome with each of them. But what if you were working on various projects, and spreading yourself so thin that nothing was getting accomplished? That is where the term ‘multi-slacking’ comes in; the act of taking on so many projects at once that the first is only ever initiated before moving on to the next, with completion never being achieved. Sadly, this is my affliction. (Please note: This is not to be confused with ‘multi-basking’, concerning the lounging around of the home in various positions, or ‘multi-flasking’, which involves drinking.)
I have the best intentions of seeing each project that I begin through, but so many other things come up that it is hard to focus on just one. Why do dishes, when you can cook? Why cook when you can read? Why read, when you can write? As a result, my home is full of unwashed dishes, half-cooked food, discarded books and partially started stories that have only managed to establish setting.

Chapters

I was attempting to solicit Chapters with my book today, well, that is until I saw this warning:
*** There are three types of materials we would absolutely not carry in our stores no matter the consequence: child pornography; written material with explicit instructions on how to create weapons that could be used for mass destruction; and written material which has as its sole intent inciting people toward the annihilation of a particular group in society.

But...will they take a book of Laura philosophy?
Hopefully, after two appointments I will have a chance to make it there.

...I'm already starting to dig this bloggy thing...

Words

The most human thing about being human is the utilization of words in communication, effectively linking sound and language to aid in the verbalization of thought. Language, and the way it is used by individuals, is acquired from those around them, and the environment that they are exposed to. As people are immersed in it everyday, language is something that is picked up quickly, and becomes a complex action that is simplified over a short period of time.
As humans grow and evolve over years, so does the language that they speak. New words and expressions are constantly being created. For example, with over 40, 000 words in the English language, statements are expressed at every moment that have never been uttered before. With that many words, there is no limit to the amount of combinations that one person can articulate. Essentially, the more words you know, the better arsenal you possess to produce original statements. With this in mind, there are many phrases that could be used to portray what a word is, but really trying to explain what a word is in words is like a definition defining itself.
As fine-tuned as this method of communication is, there are still grey areas, and structure that requires abiding by limitations. If a picture were worth a thousand words, then most people would prefer to just display a photo rather than describe an image, which may span numerous pages of text. That is where verbal and written language loses their productivity. Finer thought may also be difficult to express through words, and all the while the mind may become distracted or preoccupied with adhering to specific guidelines regarding grammar.
Although other animals may have their own ‘languages’ of squeals and barks, humans are the only ones that have developed a system of syntax, and the only ones to have recorded their thoughts in written form. Being able to communicate this way has given us an edge over other creatures. To express abstract thought and to plan beyond the season are not concepts that other living things have the chance to indulge upon, and to truly live and move past mere existence is a luxury that we owe mostly to the deep thought that only a human’s complicated mind can generate; these thoughts are then reiterated through language.

Blogs....?

You are witnessing the pop of my blog cherry...I recently came into close contact with a blog and its contents, so I decided to try one for myself...we'll see how it goes...or how long it lasts...
I've actually found the idea of blogs to be somewhat disturbing, as they always seem much too personal, and there are many things that should be kept to oneself, not shared with the world...a blog allows you to download the contents of someone's life, their feelings, thoughts, secrets...things that are meant to stay inside, not to be accessible by the click of a mouse...is it the extroverts that enjoy showing off their inner everythings, or is the secret need of an introvert to share with the least amount of abrasion possible...closing their eyes and just sticking it out there, "Here, here I am, take it, quick!"

So what am I trying to accomplish? ...am I showing off or sharing?

Will anyone even read this?