Archive for November, 2010

Where Am I in Tolstoy?

I visited with one of my favorite people on earth yesterday, and she explained to me what causes so much of my suffering – A certain type of idealism and an inability to escape singularity of focus.

She could perceive that I was having difficulty deciphering what this means and what I can do about it. She knows I love great books and she said that I was carrying on a bit like Anna Karenina.  I trust she meant the part before suicide becomes the good option, and she wasn’t suggesting that I was acting like a female.  She also assured me that one of my over favorite women in the world, a target of the strongest of my affections, may not be as negative as the male protagonist (or is it antagonist?).

Off I went to Amazon and discovered that the masterpiece is free for Kindle folks so I quickly downloaded it.  I’ve started to read it again.  I had forgotten how long it is and the style is clumsy at times, but I am going to discover who I am, discover my most significant faults in one of the greatest masterpieces in fiction.  This is so very exciting to me, but you may not identify.

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Shelter from the Light

The burning structures crawl anxiously

Through the lids and the eyelashes.

I resist what the day brings.

Breath is short, chest tight, and my mind

Wants to reject all that flows in the circle.

One who loves me seems to dismiss

All that I am. I think of all of the lovers

She has and I know I am but a trinket.

I don’t know her lovers, but I think

They must be better.  She claims she loves me

Unconditionally. I don’t think she lies,

But I cannot be good enough.

I’m unsuitable for all that burns,

And change won’t fix me,

But I clearly need change.

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Starting A New Adventure

Here I am.  I’m excited.  I’m searching for the purpose that has been sorely lacking in my life.  Part of that search has landed me here.  My Facebook friends and my wife will be pleased to know that I will not be posting more crazed, abstract poetry using “Notes” on that site.  My wife says people won’t know what to think of me (“what if one of your co-workers reads that poem?!”) , and while this doesn’t bother me, it would be good of me to accommodate her concerns.

I’ve been writing in a journal, have been writing on, and I’ve been sending micro-bursts of insanity on Twitter, but I wanted to do something a bit more rich in thought and something that might get read by an odd person out there.  Facebook folks might not like it, but there might be someone who crashes into it  and enjoys it.  I love feedback, good stuff and for change and improvement, so please comment.  My wish is that in part, this will help me find out what kind of man I want to be, preferably before I expire.

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