Feedback is a great thing to seek out. Sometimes people offer strong and honest feedback. I have received decent feedback thus far, until today. I just found a lovely message in my email let me share with you:
“U are just a fucking maniac do not tweet me ever again”
I was taken aback, because it has been YEARS since anyone has used the word to describe me. Three aspect here to remember:
1-A message is only as good as the messenger: Is you message sucks then I will never take you seriously.
2-If you do not like what I write or tweet them dont fucking follow me! It is that simple.
3-Opinions are like assholes! Everyone has one!
Have good evening all!
As of late, I have lost motivation and been so very tired. Thanks to medicine I am sleeping 12 to 14 hours a day! Sleeping to noon it not fun during winter. I am trying meet the goals I have set for my blog. This is today edition. As always your feedback is welcome.
Sleep Till Noon
Waking after the morning is gone,
most of the light already burned away.
Running to the night,
I cannot seem to ever catch up.
Every step taken to that light,
falling back even more into the dark.
The night reigns long,
only on the winter solstice.
The days are short and few;
using the night to escape them.
This game or battle they play,
Light and dark of the day.
We use what we can to hide,
as we attempt to snuff the day.
We believe that darkness will save,
the true terror lay in the dark.
Seize all of that you can,
day or night before it is gone…
For the past for days and maybe weeks, I haven’t felt like writing for some reason. I am not sure of the reason but none the less I have been dry, in manner of speaking. I have been able write but I have wondered if it worth sharing. However, I will share this one, and please provide feedback if you wish.
If you wish you may share what thoughts have sprouted in your mind from reading it.
I stand in the place no one sees
Viewing all that passes by
None seem to notice me
I see their intent in the light
None caring for the other
They would rather step on you
Tear you apart in a instant
Moving by me in a blur
Over and Over again
A seemingly endless parade
The faceless souls just pass by
As if they did not know of life
Even screaming has no effect
A flood of the souls pushes past
None will stop and look
No one can fight the current
The flood rises and rises
Their minds have been wiped
and their soul no longer theirs
They just go with the flow….
The date is Nov 7th 2014 and Someone has a birthday! Since I am a November birthday as well I tend to remember other people born in this month. So for your birthday I find it only proper it be share with some words from my mind! Please share this all you wish! And if you must partake in party for b-day Have a shot for me since I can no longer partake in the drink!
She hits them with her words
From her beginning
The dirty secrets
From all that
To forge her weapons
All saved her
Shared her tribe
Many sought her
Many follow her
Building upon the tribe
Giving unto them
the keys of FREEDOM!
Showing and sharing the way
A new day arose for many
Finding new talents
Using her lyrics and riffs
Some found a new peace
Thanks come by the bushel
She never forgots
what her is….
who she is….
For she is Otep
Join MoveOn.org to help out more! I will let the video speak for itself
November is a good month overall. Set aside I was born in November under the sign of Scorpio we have the fun holiday of Thanksgiving! They year is some what different thus far. Not all the leaves have fallen and we had mild temperatures so far. We also have Al Saints Day, Day of the Dead (today), Mid Term Elections Nov 4th , Great American Smokeout Nov 20th. But we also have Black Friday. November is FULL of special days! November seems to be the month when we really transfer from summer to fall. The Winds and leaves falling. I have always enjoyed this month. I have been writing a couple new poems but need some polish on them. For today I will hare this poem with you Helen Hunt Jackson
Helen Hunt Jackson
This is the treacherous month when autumn days
With summer’s voice come bearing summer’s gifts.
Beguiled, the pale down-trodden aster lifts
Her head and blooms again. The soft, warm haze
Makes moist once more the sere and dusty ways,
And, creeping through where dead leaves lie in drifts,
The violet returns. Snow noiseless sifts
Ere night, an icy shroud, which morning’s rays
Will idly shine upon and slowly melt,
Too late to bid the violet live again.
The treachery, at last, too late, is plain;
Bare are the places where the sweet flowers dwelt.
What joy sufficient hath November felt?
What profit from the violet’s day of pain?
Poem is now Public Domain