Purple Globulous Green

Purple globulous green
Goo
Fighting astride
The dragon
Of death
She laughs
And sings
Songs of delirium
As she struggles
On
Rich language
Poor facts
Timeless, ageless
Synonymous
With death
Fractal geometry
Numeric metaphore
Tilting
Spinning
No sense insense
Wisdom and magic
Accompany her
As she rages
Against the machine
Aloft
Incantations
Thrown out
Defeating
The sun
And herself
Situation and approximations
Of help
And condolences
The purple unicorn
Sneers

Insomnia

A couple of years ago
I saw a doctor
Or so he purported
About my insomnia
Or how I yawned in the dark
Fitfully tossing and turning
Then bleary-eyed in the day
Forced myself to stay awake
He suggested activities
That might quiet
The freight train
chugging in my skull
Things like reading
And knitting were mentioned
Lovely, peaceful, quiet activities
Unless, like me, you just so happen
To do both of those things
An odd mix, to be sure
As your jobs (not your day job)
But job, nonetheless.
When I pointed this out to him
He was at a loss for suggestions
Of ways to turn off my brain
so, insomnia, it is.

Finally I Sleep

Spiralling down low
To that place that I go to
When I'm exhausted
When every muscle aches
And the darkness overwhelms
Time is meaningless
There is a stillness
Clawing at me, sharp fingered
But my thoughts escape
They hummingbird wing
Swirling around in the dark
Eddies of my thoughts
The rest of me drained
Bloodless, empty carcass, mine
Harvested. Empty.
I feel you with me
Coming to me in the dark
My lover, my friend
Frenzied, beating wings
Calm and still, safe in your nest
Head tucked under wing
Safe in the darkness
Sheltered in your loving arms
Finally, I sleep

Max Bell

My dear friend, Max Bell, suffered terribly from COPD. He lived somewhere on the Northern Left Coast and we never met face-to-face. He could be a cantankerous bastard but I understood why. He made me think. He made me laugh. He made me smile. And, I loved him dearly.

He had a pet hedgehog. That alone made him remarkably special to me. But beyond the simple things, he believed in fairness, equality, common decency, all of those things that would make the world a much better place.

This morning I received an email from him with the subject line, "Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened."--Dr. Seuss. It was a simple message signed by his mom:

Max is no more. He left this planet last Saturday quietly without pain or fear.
In place of a memorial please hug someone or vote democratic. Either would please him.

He contributed an essay to The Creativity Blog Project that will run on August 1st. Even his bio made me laugh when I read it and I still smile every time I see it.

Max Bell is just a guy with a hedgehog, a computer, and an internet connection.

Thank you, Max, for making my life just a little bit brighter just by knowing you. I am so very happy that you are finally free from the pain you endured with such grace and so very, very sad that I can't talk to you anymore.

Love Trumps All

I see the world in colors
Rhythms, cadence, music
Light
Nothing is just black and white
And love trumps all.

Suddenly Intense

Suddenly intense
A thunderstorm crashes through
I miss you, dammit.

This space for rent:

THIS

SPACE

FOR

RENT

Not really, but I might as well since I'm not keeping my creative content here. My draft count for this site is currently at 95. I wonder if I can get the drafts to outnumber the posts before I put everything back up again on some as yet undetermined date in the too far future.

Twisting and Twirling

Twisting and twirling
My hair free from its clip
Unwinding my wetness
Finger combing and fluffing
Tresses restrained far too long
Finding a painful snag

Admitting I won't sleep
My brain has spun itself on
Rising from my temporary grave
To dance again in the light
Tits tumbling from weak restraint
Pocketful of change on the quilt

Fumbling to find any instrument
With which to scribble
What won't make sense later
Words, like my mane,
Twisting and twirling
When all I wanted was a nap.

On Freedom and copyrights

If you are a creative and a customer of Dropbox hopefully you are aware of the current brewhaha going on now. Dropbox changed their TOS (terms of service) and a stampede for the exit door ensued.

A safe, inexpensive, reliable way to back up our data in all its various forms is something just about every computer user needs. Dropbox came along and offered a wonderful solution. They are a cloud based (somewhere in the etherwebs...off site...on their virtual servers) service where you can easily upload your files to their secure servers and then access them from any location that has internet access and even more importantly, share folders with other users. Every time you save a file dropbox keeps the older versions too. So, if something happens to your file, you can always retrieve the last save or any prior versions.

As an editor, and voice actor I have found dropbox to be invaluable. Before I started using dropbox, my battery died on my laptop while open office was open. I was 3 weeks into editing a novel and the entire file was corrupted. After drying my tears, I moved the original manuscript to dropbox and started over with a new open office version that I made my notes and changes to. Every time I hit save (or the program auto saved) I knew it was safe. When collaborating across 1500 miles on an audio project, a reliable way to transfer files in raw format is critical. If I have to use email then I have to compress the file and in doing so the audio engineer or editor on the other end has a lot less information to work with. With dropbox I could share files with all the people I work with easily.

The problem with the new TOS is that the language implies that dropbox is laying claim to the copyright of everything stored in their service and can not be held responsible if they use anything in any way without the true copyright holder's permission or compensation. They are saying that by agreeing to their TOS a customer is giving them permission to use their copyrighted material and also that the person putting it on their service owns the rights to whatever they are storing there.

In my personal case, I do not own the copyrights to a lot of the materials I was storing there. I am simply working on someone else's work. For that reason, when I was made aware of this change, I had to remove all works that are not mine. I can't risk someone else's copyrights. If something should happen to someone else's intellectual property while in my care I can't imagine what that would do to me not just as an editor but as a friend.

Now, I'm sure this all started when an attorney for Dropbox thought they were making their TOS better for Dropbox. It sounds like legalise designed for the CYA approach to business. Unfortunately for Dropbox I don't want you covering your corporate ass at the expense of my, and my clients and friends, rights as a creator. Since this started, they have been updating and improving the language of their TOS multiple times. I understand they need to take care of business and safeguard their company. But as a consumer, I have rights too. Corporate America seems to think their rights supersede mine. So, while the attorneys and CEO's have the right to create whatever TOS they want, I have the right to chose to not use your product.

So, all the files my creative friends and clients have entrusted to my care are now safely down out of the clouds and I'm back to the old fashioned backup of using an additional hard drive while I wait for Dropbox to decide what their TOS is or will be. And now, I'm also tasked with looking for secure alternatives for file sharing.

Seems that celebrating freedom this year has taken on a slightly different meaning in terms of freedom to own copywritten material...

Happy 4th of July.

For additional thoughts (and more in-depth analysis of the legalese) on this issue, please visit my friend Dan Sawyer's site http://jdsawyer.net.

My Friends

My friends
Have done
Such amazing things
And been so many things
For me
They have held me
In their arms
In their thoughts
In their hearts
And in their words
My friends
Make me think
Make me smile
Make me laugh
And make me sigh
I am not an easy person
To love
I am moody
I am conflicted
I am me
To be held
In their embraces
Is to know
That no matter what
Everything will be okay
I thank God
Every day
For these special people
Who have entered my life
And call me friend
They give me security
And hope, and advice
But most of all
They give me love
Unconditionally
I'm afraid
That all I have to give in return
Is my gratitude
And my undying love
I hope that's enough

If Only In My Dreams

Are you or perhaps I should speak of him instead of you
Does he or whoever take everything
Literally?
When I sing of dancing
Naked (gasp!)
Do they or we
Think my clothes are in a heap
Down in my (our) (your) kitchen?
Perhaps I don't have time
For celebrations
While I am stalking
For little girls
And boys (our/yours/mine)
I'm sure
As I am not creative
Enough
To envision fantasy
For I live in reality
And wear my heart
And my imagination
On the sleeves of my dress
The dress of my dancing
Flung off in my haste
As I write my sorrows
And weaknesses
Pains (no joys?)
For all to see
Voyeurs to my thoughts
My lovers embrace
All too real
If only in my dreams

Reality and Fiction

Reality and fiction
Words of fancy
Words of me
Somewhere in the middle
Lies the truth
Of what I see
The truth is not for you
Not from my words
Not today
You lack a certain something
To understand
What I say
If I could lock you out forever
From my words
And my heart
It would be the greatest gift
To myself
And my art

Setting Myself Free

What is this?
It occupies my soul
Creeps in a little at a time
Until there isn't room for me
Is it fear?
Is it pain?
Is it heartbreak, or loneliness, or shame?
All of the above.
It doesn't matter
I need not name it
It is anything that steals my smile
Or makes me feel less than me
It is him.
It is them.
It is you and me and us
Sometimes.
Right now I am down
As low as I can go
I am fragile
And so much less than me
But I have the power
And the will
And the strength and the courage
To change things
I have choices
And decisions to make
That affect not just me
But those I love too
I will open my heart
Open my soul
And chase these things out of me
And set myself free

Go read...

There is a wonderful (and creative--go figure) post by my good friend Keith Dugger on listening to that voice within that urges us as artists to get off our butts and go do, HERE... My wish for this post is simple...go read it. 

One Day by Keith Dugger

I had a terrible, horrible, day today. Doubting myself. Frustrated. Angry. Sad. All those rotten emotions kept coming at me even as I tried to find my center, my balance. I had let someone upset and anger me well beyond what I should have. Basically, it was just one of those days. 

When I tried to vent some of this I became even more frustrated and angry because I was censoring myself. It's hard to vent and hold your thoughts back at the same time. Then I received an email from one of my best friends, Keith Dugger.  At the first two words the tears started to flow and by the end I was bawling like a baby. I guess I needed that.

Thank you, Keith for the gift of your words, your friendship, and for always knowing what I need from you even when I don't know myself. I love this.

One Day

by Keith Dugger

One day you'll look up and it'll be there. You may have stopped looking for it, hoping and praying for it by then. You may have stopped believing that you deserve it. At the time, you won't recognize it. Even if you catch a glimpse of something you remember, you'll tell yourself that it isn't possible. You'll see what the world around you had taught you to see, but it'll be there. 

One day you'll look up and you'll realize that it's been there all along. Even when others might have said different or pulled you down with them. It's the little things that bring it, it's the little things that tear it down. But it's there. Waiting. It's patient and it'll wait for you in the silvery shadows for as long as it takes for you to remember that you deserve its friendship, its companionship.

One day you'll look up and it'll be there staring back at you with a smile that seems humanly impossible. And that will be the day happiness reminded you that it was there.

Interrogation by Dave Sobkowiak

When a friend of mine, Dave Sobkowiak, saw the combination of posts from a few days ago he was inspired to create a little piece of writing for me.

The first post talked about my frustration at having to second guess which of my posts, which words, could or would be taken out of context or possibly used against me in some way by my soon-to-be-ex. And my decision to censor myself creatively and just not post any more poems for the time being. I then went on to take down about a third of my posts.

The second post was a call for submissions on Creativity, Art, and/or Inspiration. I hadn't thought about the two posts together. They were completely separate events for me. I have always had a fascination for finding out what makes people tick...in this case other artists.

Dave saw the irony (and felt my anger) of the two combined. First, I was saying that because of the actions of another I was taking my own content down. Then, I was asking for new content from others.

Thank you, Dave, for this. I love it.

Because of recent events I feel compelled to list the following disclaimers:
1. The following is a work of FICTION
2. I am not the author

That said, I hope this makes you smile...

Interrogation

by Dave Sobkowiak

Anger, fueled by rage.

That's what they said when they hauled me in, and deposited me unceremoniously on to the chair.

I expected a bright light in my eyes. I expected a stone-cold interrogator.

I half expected to be beaten with a hose, but to my surprise none of this occurred.

My cuffs removed, coffee offered and received, I remained untethered to the chair, watching as they played good cop and better cop.

I smiled politely, and I nodded occasionally when they offered their insights.

I feigned ignorance in a manner a child could recognize as transparent.

Their patience with me was admirable, but they knew the truth.

They will never find your body.

A Little Excitement

Two weeks ago the tree at the back of our property was hit by lightning and took out the power line. They say lightning never strikes twice but for me, 10 feet is close enough to be the same place. This afternoon we had a nasty but very brief thunderstorm whip through again. Lightning hit our neighbor's tree. I heard the telltale chuffing sound of a deisel firetruck coming from the back of the house. Jake and I went to investigate and here are some of the resulting pics.

Thank you to the Harrisburg Fire Department once again; not just for doing what they do best, but for being good sports for the crazy barefoot chick taking so many pics.

Guest Posts Wanted

Creativity
Art

 Inspiration

When you see those words what comes to mind? Are you a "creative"? Do you write, draw, compose, paint, dye, design, or create things that are unique to you?


I want to know your thoughts on any or all of those three words. In whatever context you chose to write about. What do you create? How do you do it? What inspires you? What are your thoughts on art in general? Anything. It can be insightful, poignant, funny--whatever--I want to know what YOU think.


I will be contacting people directly but don't wait for me...if you are interested you can send me a DM on Twitter (@BrightEyedDyer) or send an email to DyedBrightHere (at) gmail (dot) com. If I'm not already following you on Twitter, just give a yell and I'll correct that.


Thank you all in advance...I can't wait to find out what you think, what inspires your creativity.

**You can email your posts to me at the above address. I'm not looking to intrude too much on anyone's busy schedule so the deadline is when you can get it done (preferably in the next few weeks). I am hoping to start running them in a couple of weeks. One every day or other day depending on how many of you are brave enough...

Thank you again!


~~Added on 2/18/12:  This post and the response it generated were the catalyst to a little site called Chocolate Scotch. I am still seeking guest posts and would love to include you and your thoughts in this project.   Sue~~

Lists of must do
should do
have to do

Don't wanna do
not gonna do
you can't make me do

The child in me screams
and cries
throwing a bloody fit

The adult in me sighs
shrugs off another round of depression
and gets to work

For Now

I wrote a simple little poem a moment ago. I was about to post it when I stopped to wonder what he would think of it and how would his reaction affect me.

Would there be even more animosity (as if that's possible some days)? Would it cause him to send yet another email to his lawyer (which in turn means one from her to my lawyer and then one from him to me in a viscous, expensive cycle)? Would I feel better in some minuscule way for having posted it? Is it even possible to feel better? And, now that I've spent all this time and emotional energy pondering his reaction and the value of the post in relation to his reaction, do I even give a damn?

I go through this internal debate every time I consider posting something now. To say I am pissed off about this doesn't begin to describe my anger. I write for me. That a few people might enjoy reading my poems or thoughts is just a bonus. Writing is a release of sorts but more than that, it's a way for me to look back and remember moments, emotions, things that would otherwise be lost in the stream of fleeting thoughts that flows out from me.

I love having other people read my words. For now, it's just not worth it. So, I might still post the occasional thought here--most likely in essay or journal entry format--but I think I'm done with putting my poetry out for public view. Too often they are too close to what I really think and feel. And in those rare moments when I try to push myself to stretch and do fiction or other forms, they are taken out of context and used against me.

To put it simply; for now, I'm done.

For now.

PS: This doesn't mean I will stop writing. On the contrary, I will probably write more. I just won't be posting them here publicly. For now. There WILL be a later. I guarandamntee that.