(Un)edited

Posted on August 24 2013 by J.W. Richmond

I finish the workday of editing
          exhausted,
               but
          creatively energized,
               and needing an outlet
                    for all the ideas
                                  thoughts
                                      and
                                  inspiration.

So I start to free write
     until actual content
          materializes
                    from the mess,
               and with some pieces
                    pulled in
                         from the day before,
                    it begins to turn into
                              some thing
                    that could actually end up being
                              something.

Then it gets too late
          to finish,
     bedtime demands my attention,
     morning arrives too soon
          with new projects
               for a new day,
                    and all the pieces remain
                              unedited.

This

Posted on August 17 2013 by J.W. Richmond

It’s a coward’s way
   of rejection, like
       the boy who breaks up with you
           by ignoring you and never telling you
                    he already moved on
                           or
       the company that can’t bother
               to hit send on a template email that says
                         sorry, better luck next time
                                   or
                         you have no future
                               in whatever your this is.

Truth is hard.
Silence is worse.

I wish I could
        not care.
But I can’t
        not.

Jackhammer

Posted on August 10 2013 by J.W. Richmond

Fi-nal-ly.

The jackhammer
          stopped.

After 7 1/2 hours
   of it P
         O
         U
         N
         D
         I
         N
         G
   the asphalt
     outside our window,
               I can hear
                  the quiet.

It sounds like still,
                  calm breathing.

The throbbing inside my head
   is starting to dull.
The reverberation
   is lessening.

The loud quiet
                 pushed through –
          once it was actually allowed to, of course –
     until it permeated everything
        and became
           the only thing here.

I tend to fill the small silences
   I do have
         with music
            or words
                conversations
            or movies
               out of enjoyment
                       preference
                       routine
                       familiarity
                          or
                       [insert DSM* diagnosis here].

Now
   I am thankful
          grateful
      to just listen
              to the high decibel
                   stillness
         because it won’t be long
            until the tick-tocking clock
                          finds its way in
                   the dog across the street
                          barks over it
                   the high school marching band
                          drums its way
                             into every brain cell
          and I again forget
               what the quiet sounds like.

 

*Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders

Herring

Posted on August 3 2013 by J.W. Richmond

I am beginning
   to really like this character,
                     this person
                         she’s becoming,
                              with her quirks
                                    and oddities
                                    and flaws
                                    and mannerisms
                                    and thought bubbles
                                       intermingling with
                                          conversations.

I just wish
   she could            go somewhere
      instead of tagging along
         on a contrived journey.

Once-in-a-while I think
   I might be able to do it.
      The story is fun
                and intriguing (I think)
                and there is movement,
         but I can’t get the pieces
                      to fit
            and there are too    many    spaces
                      between plot points,
                                  interactions
                                  and other characters,
                so I can’t get anything
                      to actually work.

It makes me wonder
      if nothing is even there.
   Maybe I'm overthinking it
      and she's only
               a red herring.

Opposition

Posted on July 31 2013 by J.W. Richmond

Prepare
     for opposition.

Expect
      antagonizing remarks
      adamant disapproval
      severe hostility
         at something you may or
                                  may never
                                     have meant,
                                         or even said.

Big or small,
  harsh or constructive,
              criticism will come.

No one
   is liked
          by everyone.

It will be difficult.
You won’t like it.

You may not agree
   with how your words are taken
                  or
   with the replies you receive.

You might feel defensive
                  or angry.
   But you will need
                     to
                     slow
                     down,
                     get used to it,
                     even accept it – for now.

Take the time to
             rest
             pause
                  first
                     before responding –
                              if at all.

Your part
   is important,
      but realize
              there is something much larger at work
                          than just you.
You are not
   insignificant.
      But it is not
               all
            up to you.

Trust
   that you are here
                  for a reason
      even if you are uncomfortable
           or don’t feel equipped
                  to do this.

It is never easy
      to speak
      or accept
               truth,
                  even when it is spoken
                             in love.

But truth and love
   in their original form
           were never meant to be separate.
                             They are one.

And the truth
            needs
            to be told.
                    By you.

Prosaic

Posted on July 26 2013 by J.W. Richmond

Lately I have been
   running on fumes
   grasping at straws
   on an emotional rollercoaster
   in survival mode
      and
   not firing on all cylinders.

Maybe I’m just wiped.
Maybe I bit off
   more than I could chew.

As luck would have it,
   I find myself
      in a world where everything is a cliche
                        and anything goes
                            as far as the eye can see
           because I have no brainpower left
              to think of anything interesting
                                          original or
                                          non-prosaic.

I’m all bent out of shape
   at the end of my rope and
      I need to abandon ship
                  change my tune
                       and
                  just call it a day
            before history
                     repeats
                     itself.

What it boils down to
   is it’s back to square one
                 to the drawing board.
It’s time to cross out all the lines
        and start from scratch.

But I still refuse
   to do it all by the book.

Antonyms

Posted on July 20 2013 by J.W. Richmond

We are
        opposite
        flipped
        upside-
             down
        backward.
We are
        antonyms.

We interact
   frequently,
      but it’s often hard
                to identify with each other
                    or even have
                       a basic conversation.

Could we figure out a way
   to relate
      and find
           the magnet part
               of our r
                      e
                    v
                  e
                r
              s
            e selves
      that actually connect
         so we can
            fully appreciate each other?

Ribbit

Posted on July 13 2013 by J.W. Richmond

On a night
   like tonight
      I would be
            lying back on the roof
                 in the cool breeze
            staring at the stars
                      or
            hiking up the hill alone
                 in the mostly dark
            hearing the frogs ribbit by the water and
                       the owls hoot in the rustling trees,
            listening closely
                 for other calming night sounds,
            doing everything I could
               not to think about snakes –
                     which I can’t not
                        think about
                             now.

I wouldn’t be
   sitting inside
      behind closed windows
   hiding
      from the dense
                  suffocating heat,
   trying to
             think
                  beyond the thick haze.

I would already be
   thinking lucidly
               crisply
               smoothly
      without having
               to try.

Miss

Posted on July 12 2013 by J.W. Richmond

I’ve been described as
   self-aware,
      which to some extent
                is accurate
                (I think).
Yet I catch myself
    off-guard
         a lot.

I see things.
I see     through    things.
But I also
           miss things.

I think
   I just try
      to be aware
              because
   I have to –
              because I notice
                        that so much
                                        sneaks by.

Rigged

Posted on July 6 2013 by J.W. Richmond

Gravity
   likes to tease me
             poke at me
             play games
                  with me.

I pick objects  up
       then
       solidly
   set them     down.

Without provocation
     from my general lack of
            coordination,
        gravity ignores the laws
                        of inertia,
                  shoves me       aside
                  inserts itself
                       into my space and
                  knocks
                           everything
                                          over.

Can a law of nature
          laugh?
     Because I think I can hear it.