Categories
WRITTEN IMAGES

A Mystery Title

Cancel my plane.

I’ve been murdered.

I’m not here.

I’ll be happy to come home with you.

Take over.

Look at you.

Do it.




Categories
WRITTEN IMAGES

Surface To Air

She quit.

You got me.

The irony.

It’s beautiful.




Categories
MUSCULAR VIEWS

STAY SEPARATE OR JOIN IN

Do you sometimes feel like a shadow of yourself?

Well, all other species on the planet and beyond feel the same exact way.

Do you want to join hands by joining minds?

Or do you want to stay separate, because nobody accepted you before?

Were you not accepted because of your individuality, or because you defended an ideology, rather than your right as an individual to be free, whereby others were not prejudiced against you and you were not prejudiced against others?

The choice is always yours, enslaved or not.






Categories
WRITTEN IMAGES

CHINA TWIG

You break like a brittle twig

because you lack life

because you take life

instead of give life.

Chinese broken.

Chinese break easy.

Chinese selfish – must control every detail from destruction to death.

Chinese have no God, so devil enters easy.

Fry a dog. Chew a leg, break the panda’s back. Jump up and down. Eat your baby’s foot. All for no luck.

Disgust rages black and yellow sting bees behind the back of the mirror locked to roses falling like frozen rain jackets smeared with molten blood to throw the devil baby soldiers so I can see the moving targets.

Wrapping them in blankets won’t keep them still – so you must do the kill – all for evil, while evil laughs at your arrogance and pities your rich black and yellow slaves wanting more.

I killed my first soldier tonight sent to kill me.

I feel free, not liberated – not yet – there will be others.

At least now I know I can do it – without hesitation – with ease actually.

One move over the line – and any hope for negotiation was gone.

I moved swiftly with only one person, with only one purpose – to kill my assassin.

Three came – 2 walked away. Three leather jackets – black hair, the gold shining on their M.E. skins shined dull as they were neutralized.

Two pandas to go. Extra sauce please.

No. I want them alive in cages.






Categories
WW CORE

THE ROSE

The rose still blooms.

Even when it’s fallen,

It blooms from there.

~ Sharon Lee Davies-Tight


 






 

Categories
WW CORE

A STAR

Once upon a time many stages ago a woman wrote this poem to herself to cope with cruelty.

In order for her to move past the rage, she neutralized it with the power of her own kind words toward herself.

Read it when you need a boost or send it to someone you care about.


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The day you were born, this earth became a brighter, happier, more peaceful place to be.

Your kindness spreads joy to all who cross your path, or hear of you.

You are an intelligent, good-humored, worthy person with extraordinary talents. Your confidence and relaxed nature make all who meet you want to be near you and get to know you further.

Your happiness stems from your ability to find peace within your own heart; to love without prejudice; to give without reservation; and to forgive those who offend and abandon you.

You are a courageous independent thinker with enormous power to negotiate, influence and organize. You know what you want in life and you go after it with integrity.

You walk with grace, talk with purpose and laugh with ease. There is no problem you cannot solve and no happiness you cannot achieve. You meet each day with enthusiasm; you work rigorously with vigor; and play with carefree delight. You challenge adversity and chuckle at your failures.

You eat and drink that which is good for you. You breathe slowly and sleep each night peacefully, with happy dreams of the past, present and future. You appreciate all that has been given you – your blessings and your afflictions.

You are an insightful, eager to learn star of the universe, becoming all that you are capable of becoming – at your own pace – listening to the beat of your own heart.

And I love you!

~ Sharon Lee Davies-Tight






Categories
WRITTEN IMAGES

Be There

Walk out of your own dark.

Don’t let your shoulder hunch give the light away to someone else.

Be there when it comes for you.

~ Sharon Lee Davies-Tight






 

Categories
WRITTEN IMAGES

ANTICIPATION

Eyelids drop in anticipation of sleep, knowing tomorrow will make the rest of our lives different but okay. Dissatisfied with today, hopeful for tomorrow and the promises we’ve made to make the future better, as if waking magically creates the possibility, thus the certainty that it will happen.

A new day really is a new start. It doesn’t matter that we awaken to the same condition, the same situation, in the same place. The perception of it changes–always.

Always–as if night time and the dreams in space between sleeping and waking alters forever who we are. One night, every night, brings with it the undeniable knowledge of that pleasure. 

~ Sharon Lee Davies-Tight

from wutp

Categories
WW ESSAYS

Sweet Dreams And Happy Tomorrows

  • sweet dreams and happy tomorrows. Not a good day. Not good at all. Rosie was here though. Steve here. The material world no longer matters. So it was good after all. When days get as bad as this, all I can count on for joy–is that which makes a family. Tired nights lead to more tired mornings, when I stay up waiting for bad to turn to good, while wrapping those I love around the universe of all that really matters in my life. And then out of necessity, I separate them from that which drives me to pain for all the tortured beings, who cry out through their souls in the night, whom I work feverishly to save, blocking my family from that which would over-burden them.
  • Each way I turned, in this very bad day, I was blocked by the powers that be, they call themselves, and there was not a thing I could do about it. How powerless a feeling, yet still I feel motivated–driven by a force greater than all of them put together. Failing is no longer an option. But how can one succeed when so many others block that which drives this old, weary body, mind and spirit of mine? But wait, body yes, mind yes, but spirit? Can the spirit ever get as tired as I’m feeling right now? Not a chance. It can’t be.
  • Logically, if the spirit never dies, then it never tires either. So, there is a chance. I just need to play out the night–into the morning–until my spirit and the spirits of those who envelop me with their love and instruction to keep fighting, tell me to go to bed, Sharon. Happy dreams and sweet dreams, as I see Rose living hers while her legs run in her sleep without her on them; and Steve snoring through his ‘better days are coming’ dreams. I can almost hear the words. Isn’t that what happy dreams and sweet dreams are all about? Making right what went wrong in the day? Yes, but still I stay up while they rest and I wait for something, maybe nothing–to happen.
  • Tomorrow’s a new day, they say for a reason. The sun will rise and we’ll all wake together in the same bed. Probably Steve first, then Rose, then me–but still together, as I am now with them, while I’m awake and they sleep. We’ll make better tomorrow what we couldn’t make right today–as the formidable team we are. We will rise discouraged–as always, but slowly come to the realization of how lucky we are–to be a family. We’ll go for a walk in the park that Rose claims as her own, and as we witness her joy in being free as she romps through the tall grass beckoning us to join her, we’ll know why we’re here–for her–and for us. We’ll laugh and talk and let her herd us as she weaves around the trees of pine that we stop to smell, picking up the pine cones they dropped seemingly for the taking, and acorns and anything else we can make live again through art. We’ll wind down to the waterfront to commune with the sea gulls, the lake, the big sky–that can’t be seen from where we live, and put her back on the leash as we walk on the flat rocks, past the fisher people who are there for the same reason we are, more for nature than food.
  • Only Rose can make us feel alive, like a kid again, back to nature and all the joys of walking on this great earth. With all our burdens, only she can bring us back to our true essence–being the animals we are–to love again the privilege. This was a good day after all. The memory of our routine makes it so, giving me something special to look forward to tomorrow. When we make it through the night in a world filled with terror it is a happy day–happy dreams and happy tomorrows fulfilled.
Categories
CORE STORIES

I’m Dead

I’m dead. I’ve been dead for a very long time.

No amount of life can infuse itself into my heart, soul or brain to change the death of me.

Still…I walk, I talk, work, write, love.

How can that be – a dead person still standing and talking about it all?





Categories
WRITTEN IMAGES WW ESSAYS

FOG

Lake Erie disappears when the fog rolls in.

Downtown Cleveland High Rise Skyline disappears too.

All the high rises succumb to the rolling fog.

Then it settles, waiting for its next instruction,

making you feel the comfort of a smaller world.

When it decides to recede, like the waves in the Great Lake it blankets,

leaving a clear and startling new view,

I am always uplifted by the process.

Categories
WW ESSAYS

THE EYE OF THE STORM

  • The eye of the storm. The mind is most powerful when it’s stubborn. The resistance of the mind is like super glue–one drop holds a yacht, keeps a mountain from moving, stops the sea from separating, and creates a frustration so intense in a person witnessing it in another, that it can cause heart attacks, strokes, cancer and who knows what else. Stubbornness isn’t even like cancer; it’s worse. Cancer you can deal with; a stubborn person you can’t. There is no amount of reason one can use, no amount of persuasion, no sum of money or pile of gold, to move a stubborn person who says no to change their mind to say yes.
  • And stubbornness abounds–with more than enough to go around–in all sectors of life, within all groups, cultures and nations. Can anything good be said of stubbornness? No. The ominous cloud of stubbornness has no silver lining. It’s a formidable tool, a weapon as cold and hard-hitting as the atomic bomb. It destroys lives, families, businesses, cultures, countries. It can turn an entire planet upside down. But it rarely destroys the person whom it houses. It is therefore a great protector. The stubborn person lives in the eye of the storm. No matter where they go, they take their storms with them–mowing down everything and everybody in their paths, while they stay secure.

  • Stubbornness is an addiction, like any other, but unlike any other, in that it has yet to be recognized as one. Once a person uses it to get what they want, the thrill of success, perverse as it is, makes it nearly impossible to stop. Stubbornness requires no skill. It’s as easy as eating pie. That’s the allure. It’s easy–too easy–for those who don’t give an owl’s hoot for anything or anyone but themselves. It feels good and it works. It gives control where there otherwise would be none, because the stubborn person has yet to develop the skills necessary to make changes. In fact, they don’t like change.

  • Can a stubborn person become not stubborn? Sure they can, but they won’t. Fear keeps them from it–fear of the unknown, fear of losing their power, fear of losing control, fear of life, fear of living that life, fear of themselves. There are no mirrors where they live, no reflections. They can’t reflect, because they can’t interact. They live in isolation, fearing the world–a painful, hollow, meaningless existence.

  • Is there hope for the stubborn among us? Sure there is. All it takes is a little courage to step out beyond the safety of the eye of the storm in which they live, and feel the havoc they’ve created, accept responsibility for the ruin they’ve inflicted, and then say yes–to life, to living, to giving, to sharing, to learning.

  • It’s not unlike the courage needed by the people pleaser who fears rebuke to say no.

Categories
WW ESSAYS

THE POWER OF THE PLANT

The power of a plant. Winding around the brick wall the ivy fastens itself to the mortar as if for dear life, puncturing wounds into the walls it calls on for it’s survival. The concept of patience and waiting appears not to surface in the ivy’s mission to simultaneously destroy that which it clings to in order to live. But both do survive.

The strength of a plant perplexes the most rigid of minds, as a tree digs deeply its roots to support a mammoth structure that one must cut down in order to tip the hand that sowed it–vulnerable only to the elements and those whose passion it is to own it.

Even plants war for space, vying for their own species sake, the right to a survival one instinctually knows their mere presence proves. Strangling its neighbor, the weaker of the two succumbs–or so one might think. But alas, in nature there emerges a built in blueprint for peaceful coexistence as the strangler wraps its arms around the one it chooses to thrive by, checking its growth to make room for its own, while remaining codependent now, living side by side entangled in each others existence.

To the outsider matters look bleak, but to the plants: the strangler and the strangled; they see it differently. They both survive stronger than before. Even with plants, thought the weakest, next to a stone, we witness the struggle and the solution at once.

So, why don’t we humans pattern our solutions for cohabitation after the plant? Too frivolous a thought, one presumes. A mindless plant gives the solution? Nah. But yes, at the same time.