majic's journal

The following poem took about 4 days to finalize.

Driven

Driven by an invisible force,
I take each step with ease,
for fear if left to run it's course,
I'll fall to my knees.

And hence we know this careless thrown,
can never be for one,
and yet I run into the wind,
as if it were for fun.

I'm going to do something a little different here and add some commentary for each stanza. I'll label them 1, 2 and 3 respectively.

1. Driven by a force that I cannot see I continue to write and be creative. I can feel this force and I am producing works from this force. I take each step with ease because I don't know where it's leading and I don't want to fall back to the bottom where I was before. This force is leading me somewhere and if cautious in my persuit, I'll be more apt to not fall from grace so to speak.

2. I'm apprehensive in my following of this invisible force because I'm scared that it will cease to be. I want so much to remain creative and have my feelings and desires transposed to writing for others to share. This feeling is very much akin to love. In a certain respect it may be likened to having other people understand the processess at work in your life. Maybe like a emotional bonding of some kind. I'm blinded by the black of night in respect that I'm not knowing what will happen in the future. I'm tempted to show my feelings but still quite apprehensive as to how those feelings will be interpreted by others.

3. And hence we know this careless thrown can never be for one. This is likening a thrown to being on top. My 15 minutes of fame so to speak. What it's saying is that this "Top Of the World" feeling can never be for just one person. However I'm running into the wind as if I believe deep down in my heart that it will only be for me in the end. I'm doing all this as if it's some kind of game and fun. All knowing that I'm just a normal guy, with fairly normal feelings that just wants to persue a creative outlet and share the products of that outlet with the people here at NAO (and ultimately the World).

WOW I feel really happy and content with this latest journal entry. =)

Trust, a bond and infinite,
as feelings shared by two,
a tie which holds it in it's hands,
caressing through and through.

Love, a feeling and warm within,
as honor is it's namesake,
an emotion shared by happy hearts,
a biproduct of its wake.

The mind itself,
a special place,
yet maps are rare to find.

Adorn them with your servitude,
and tell them of your light,
they'll be greatful for your gratitude,
and come another night.

What compels us to create? As if I was slapped in the face with an invisible hand I've come to realize that I have this desire, this burning need to create. The products of this creation need not be limited in scope. They vary from music to writing to photography. And in no other time of my life has this urge been so strong and compelling. As if my body was being attracted like a magnet to an invisible force. I am being pulled in a direction that I cannot see. I know it's happening because I can feel it. And the fruits of this desire are being deposited on my door step.

So the question that I have for myself is where is this hunger coming from. How do I feed, norture and keep it happy? I absolutely love it, I cherish it and I need it! I'm a bit scared by it as well. I just wanna understand myself more, what my purpose is in this life? If I could send a probe to the most remote reaches of my brain, what kinds of pictures would it send back? Would they be wonderful and fascinating? What color are my thoughts, what shape are my memories. Would the hues be as amazing as a rainbow? I have no idea but wonder is next to love and something that I need in my life.

My creation need not be compensated with money. Infact I am not at all enthralled by that in the very least. Money is not the object of my life. Money does not even live on the same planet as I. I mostly wish I was living in another time where art and creativity seemed to be a way of life. I spend literally all my free time in pursuit of art. Whether this art is writing some mundane computer code or playing the piano or electric guitar... It need not matter. Maybe this is from a lack of love. Maybe, I think deep down that people will appreciate me more. Maybe this is an outlet to gain attention. I'd tend to agree to some extent. I'm pretty lonely at this point in my life. And quite frankly maybe this new desire is to compensate for my lack of physical love.

But with that said. How can we measure the talent of an individual. When society places a need for a degree and a certain level of eduction how can we know when we are smart and good enough? Does a degree determine the worth of an individual? We all have a brain. We all have ability that far outweighs the force of society. I just wanna know where I fit in. Surely I'm worth just as much as the next guy. I don't have a degree or hold a doctorate. I'm a normal guy with an ample amount of determination. And quite frankly, I think determination and sweat go along way to proving self worth. However, self doubt plays a large role in my life. Ability is trumped by numerous obstacles that range from doubt, to feeling I'm not smart enough or wondering if I was somebody else. It's evil doubting ones self. And how in the world can we really know we are talented enough to perform a task? Are the works of an individual a proof of talent? What if we desire more than life to be good at something. What if we fall short but still make an attempt. Are we smart? Are we worth something? Damnit I don't feel I need a degree or a doctorate to be an artist. I have hands, I have a heart and I have love. I have ideas and I have tools to produce a work of my creativity. Desire is the only degree I need.

I just wanna reach out my hands and grab the answers. I want to hold them in my hands and feel their textures. I want to take them apart and see what they are made of. Somebody tell me where they're at, because quite frankly I don't know. I'm just a guy that wants to be loved and show his love...

Today has been a very productive day. While gathering inspiration from reading many Emily Dickinson poems I decided to try my hand at a few tangents and this is one of them. My goal is to reverse engineer her style, learn and master it and explore it with creative writing...

Devotion By Itself

Devotion by itself,
is a touch of the hand,
a swiftness in the breath,
so hard to understand.

When taken full and in sum,
these elements will congeal,
and build upon themselves,
with strength of that in steel.

This post was edited by majic on Jan 10, 2004.

The following two poems are by Emily Dickinson.

CXXVI

THE BRAIN is wider than the sky,
For, put them side by side,
The one the other will include
With ease, and you beside.

The brain is deeper than the sea,
For, hold them, blue to blue,
The one the other will absorb,
As sponges, buckets do.

The brain is just the weight of God,
For, lift them, pound for pound,
And they will differ, if they do,
As syllable from sound.

I've read and reread this and I'm still amazed at the comparisons, depth and quality of her writing. This poem is the exact blueprint for the stuff I endevour to write. And this is noticed in every poem that she writes. I am still amazed at her ability to manipulate the english language into works of art. I suppose a love affair like this gets better with age.

LXXXIX

A WORD is dead
When it is said,
Some say.
I say it just
Begins to live
That day.

Very simple and short but too the point. This is but another example that she clearly was confident in her writing style. I'm sure that this poem could be written by just about anybody but it goes to show you how simple a poem can be and still be reguarded as great. This little poem serves as a cornerstone in my writing.

And in that short style (before I even read her's) I wrote one very similar back around 1994 or 1995. I've held onto it because I wasn't sure what to do with it.

One man asked me why do I write,
I said to explore my mind,
like a bird in flight.

Below is a poem that resembles the name of this thread. Written today.

Quality Greater Than That Of Gold

QUALITY greater than that of gold,
cannot be purchased, ner sold,
nor made in haste or with one try,
like that of a bumbling butterfly,

HONESTY is taken and put beside,
a clover, a rain drop and put outside,
for all the world to view in part,
the trueness of your beating heart.

This post was edited by majic on Jan 10, 2004.