I wake from nightmare half remembered, forcing myself out of bed as I do each day I walk into the next room and there it is; Writer's Corner. A smile plays upon my lips as my nightmare transforms from object of terror to fascinating phenomenon, begging to be immortalized on paper. Shutting the door and the rest of the world behind me the smile only grows. Here is where my life has purpose. Here is where my advice and opinions are applauded and begged for. Here is where I am no longer disabled, rather more albe than any other I know.
Here is where I belong.
I sit in my chair, which is adjusted to my comfort, that rests in front of my desk. Turning on my computer with absolutly no intention toward immediate use my eyes glaze over with joy as the buzzing and the beeping of this magnificent machine ignites my soul. The child inside me squeals with delight as the laser printer kicks in, for as is common knowledge in Writer's Corner, to own anything with a laster....is just cool. I light a cigarette, an inspiring gesture in itself, and survey my kingdom to ensure nothing has been disturbed. No...the stapler remains empty and the ashtry full; the pen from yesterday forgotten in the kitchen while the coffee mug remains on the desk; my impregnable file cabinet remains open, with all folders filed alphabetically under "f". I re-enter society to retrieve my notebook and pen, fresh with the sweeet smell of ink not yet dry from a late night session. Anticipation builds as I make the final check in the most important peice to Writer's Corner. I look down and yes, there lay Mercury the wonder dog curled up in peaceful slumber, but I know as her eyes half open and she sighs that in truth she waits anxiously for Daddy to read her his next work. The cat sits outside the walls, knowing agents of satan are not welcome in my mystical kingdom. Now with all preparations made I click my pen to the on position. What am I writing about you ask? It doesn't matter, for there are a million words and a billlion phrases itching to escape through the ink, each a masterpiece, a work for the ages, for happiness is eternal and life is at a standstill. . .
In Writer's Corner.
The storm mounts the Mare of Night and rides against us.
As I we are nothing, as we, I am strong.
But I vanish in pieces, as another part of us has fallen;
my friend has died a victim of the tempest that strives for our extinction.
They believe us a race apart from them. . . Perhaps so.
Logic can no longer be sought,
the storm can no longer be fought.
Lightning strikes us again and again without warning as the thunder resounds.
Struggle no more against the current of the rising tide, let it carry us to our destination; not back to the crossroads, the driving rain has erased even the strongest of their cliches.
Look beyond the storm, we must survey our own path now.
A warning; the terrain is unforgiving, the natives harsh and cruel..Alas no choice.
There is a place for us in this chaos, so we will build our own, under skies of blue.
waiting for their storm to pass, as all storms do.
Patience.
Unity.
As I we are nothing, as we, I am strong.
A man can walk
A man can babble
so few can talk
So a man can learn
A man can teach
A man knows nothing
So a man can preach
So a man can twist
A man can weave
A man can justify
So a man can leave
So I am that man
I still believe
I can change
So I can recieve
I want my love
I want my wife
when my search is over
I'll have my life.
within his heart
muttering to himself
of love and art.
She always wants:
There must be more.
But she knows so little,
of what's in store.
Her words of passion
Her flaxen hair
How it excites him so
her standing there
She shows her form
"I'm in the right."
Our loving relationship
The passion's height.
She wants a Man
But what's so funny
She'll have her love,
She'll have her money.
Walking.
Striding purposefully through crowding living dreams, weaving past, even trampling those that time forgot.
I am.
she is not...
Draped in unnecessities she bars my path.
I know this girl well.
A simple nod removes all finery and need for words for I am!
she is not...
Standing alone in patient wait with her the crowds spin, faster, faster, as she falls to now bare knees.
whirling replaced by starless sea of pitch ; the planets - the universe surrounding me...Nay! Revolving around me!
Creation at my fingertips in form of shining silver circlet:
Life is mine to mould! I am a God among men; A man among Gods!
Flame is gripped by bare hand alone as my chest heaves in silent wonder.
A thrusting hand sparkling sterling closed on graceful throat!
Universe recedes yet no longer to my position of purpose. Now WE are the crowded living dream for others to aspire and envy.
My soul has found its missing piece!
The ambrosia has been taken and swallowed!
NOW I am
and she is...whatever I allow.
she is...Mine.
