Poem: Free Verse – “All of Eternity Lit” #amwritingpoetry


Credit: David Becker via Unsplash

All of the lights, those vast ships distant.

All of the lights, those mesmerizing jewels.

Shining orbs, dazzling stars,

Dust as gold left in a meteor shower.

All of the lights with infinite yearnings pulse;

With possibility, potential in a thousand galaxies.

Lying in grass sharp, sweet, succulent;

A cushion topped with flannel plush.

We lay entwined, watch the lights, the airplane’s beams;

The choppers blades swooping, pulsing red.

And a hawk’s eyes knife-like, caustic —

While cotton-mice speed ‘cross the field;

Scurrying — not to become a carnivore’s meal.

The sway of the grass lilting hums in evening breeze,

A tune of jabberwockies murmuring hushed.

Birds to long kept, so out of skyways they burst, rapid in flight.

So much light, so vast, yet around us —

The night swallows the bright.

Pitch-black skims past day with purple-charcoaled tar.

And ribbons of white dots, glistening glitter burst;

The serenity of celestial maps; the cosmology of stars, distant worlds.

Astrological divination; but yet here we are — and we stare in awe.

All of the lights, they gleam in your worn denim eyes,

Barely visible in shadows.

All of the lights, the fireworks live-wired in my chest;

They explode on my lips as we taste sparks together.

Our lips ignite — tornado-fires speed; they can’t be stopped.

But, eternal eulogies to the dim, it cannot conquer,

For true darkness never will defeat.

The light came first,

The light will outlast,

The light was and is,

Never can be not.

All of the lights, Heaven’s perennials,

Speeding cars on highways glisten.

The sheen of sweat, and the gleam of skin;

Eternity in moments forever lit.


©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Notable Quotes: September 2018 Part Two #notableqoutes #pinterest #quotes


Welcome to September 2018 Quotes Parts Two. May you find inspiration and strength, and sometimes, a laugh or two.


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©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Three Line Tales: Nonfiction – Of Encyclopedias and Great Poets #amwritingnonfiction #3LineTales


Thanks to Sonya of Only 100 Words for hosting #3LineTales.


Credit: David Cantelli via Unsplash


In university, most professors agree that encyclopedias are not proper scholarly sources, but they work well as background information; to discover facts that require further support. Old books waft certain aromas, a headiness, but also a mustiness, an acrid reminder of the past and all the knowledge these encyclopedias contain; knowledge judged inaccurate and unreliable alone.

I was studying the poet Samual Taylor Coleridge, and I paused, thinking if in the academic ‘encyclopedia’ of my Literary Criticism textbook, Coleridge’s writing was valid and acclaimed by modern peers, or if he too spouted words too many scholars scoff at and ignore; does his literary criticism require more validation — the answer is simple, nothing can be read at face value, not even the musings of great poets.


©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

#dVerse Poetics Pub: Poem – Bop – “Praying Sick” #amwritingpoetry


Thanks to Gospel Isosceles from #dVerse Poetics Pub, for hosting Poetics on a Loop. Today’s sad theme:


“This day, September 11, will always be a dizzying one for how it comes around on the calendar and slings us, willingly or not, back to that fateful day in world history. What better place to convene than at the concentric point of the dVerse Poets Pub and share our own histories?”


Credit: Julia Laiymani via Unsplash


“Praying” – Kesha


I was but fourteen, sick at home that day,

Awoke 9:00 a.m., as the news displayed —

Twin towers crumpling as tissue aflame;

Planes smashing, last calls to loved ones made.

I was fourteen, I didn’t understand,

Rage, hate, of Fundamental Jihadists.

Where were you that day? I was praying sick.

Rocks thumped in my chest, a call to my mom,

Such shock, abhorrence for those who cared for none.

As twin-towers burned and smouldered ash,

Desperate lives hurling, choosing their death path.

I’ve nightmares, still; they split as sweet melons,

Their persistent echo lives; to death they fell.

Airplanes twisting towers; last phone calls Home,

Death from above, bitter mournful moans.

Where were you that day? I was praying sick.

Seventeen-years, some wounds they’ll never heal,

But hero’s arise from each fight revealed.

None foresaw — but the firemen kept working,

Aiding everyone escaping the berserk.

And high on the planes people overpowered,

Redirected flights, died to give others hours.

Where were you that day? I was praying sick.


©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Notable Quotes: August Part Two #amwriting #pinterest #quotes #notablequotes


Almost the end of August. I’m sad, but excited! I think if Autumn as the beginning of the year in many ways. Unfortunately, our rather hot weather has turned cool quickly, and it’s not a good sign. But, either way, I think new beginnings are a good thing. Any plans for Fall?


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©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Photo Challenge/Saturday Mix: Poem – Wrapped Refrain (2) – “The Fighter” #amwritingpoetry #photochallenge #SaturdayMix


Thanks to Nekneeraj of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s photo challenge. Also, thanks to Sarah of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Saturday Mix opposing forces. This week’s opposing pairs are: whisper and shout, and humid and dry.


Credit: CityVarcity


“And Though She Be But Little, She Was Fierce” – William Shakespeare, A MidSummers Night Dream (Act 3: Scene 2).


The Champion” by Carrie Underwood Ft. Ludacris


I’m no faceless void, I’ve been granted reprieve to barriers break,

Discovering my mind, my body healing slow now awakes.

I’m trying to live in short moments,

Dreams won’t fade, no shouts or groans;

No weeping or fearing fierce blows.

Nor shivering in a cold few know,

A champion, I can fight my foes,

They but perceive whispers of woes;

Woes experienced by those who know not how a mind shatters;

Of lost clarity, aching sickness that still batters.

*****

It’s a shock when you notice healing; when your hurts lessen,

When you’re not forever jaded, aching or questioning.

You forgot life’s joyful details.

Skills, hopes, your ability maimed;

Daily routines to avoid what hurts,

Became your normal to subvert —

But now, your reborn hopes anew;

Seeing the lost isn’t askew.

Whirling in hope’s return, less chocking humid shame and pain,

Released from your cocoon, joy-de-vivre once more regained.

*****

All you who are broken, whether trapped or quivering afraid,

Gaze to the Heavens, your family, your friends, unashamed.

They’re your rocks, they carried you;

Don’t forget them, their aiding through.

Remember it’s okay to need —

People’s help, when your hurt, demeaned.

To need is to serve when unseen,

Brittle and dry or slow healing.

You’ve a purpose; nothing’s impossible, suffering’s a strength,

Keep pushing, keep living, keep yearning, keep praying; hope waits.

*****

Life’s never stagnant, we’ve all ‘ups’ and ‘downs;’ no one’s quite safe,

From changes, illness, or heartbreak; but keep achieving great.

Accomplishments can be little or —

Leaping giant steps towards doors;

Those that open — those we must pry,

That we knock, break down as we cry.

Be thankful for what you have, but strive —

To live your life joyous and alive.

Keep knocking down doors, but help others survive their drought too;

You’re no faceless void — I think you’re fierce; vibrant fighter through.

*****


©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Three Line Tales: Poem – Lunes – “Once Impossible” #amwriting #poetry #3LineTales


Thanks to Sonya of Only 100 Words for hosting #3LineTales.


Credit: Prince Akachi via Unsplash


Reaching, holding to unimaginable paths,

Burning past bridges,

Dawning pearls, celebrating life’s melodies.

*****

I’ll conquer once intangible steps —

With precise movements;

Bending, gliding into graceful poses.

*****

Tempo and rhythm crescendoing bold;

I’m blessed as —

Impossible dreams form opportunities lived.

*****


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Three Line Tales/ #TaleWeavers / #MusicChallenge: Poem – Bop – “Doorway to Home” #amwriting #poetry #3LineTales


Thanks to Sonya of Only 100 Words for hosting #3LineTales. Also, thanks to Michael of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie and his Tale Weaver Prompt of “time’s up,” literally or figuratively in a piece 500 to 600 words at most. A triple combo for this one with MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie Music Challenge and the song “Hope in the Air (I Speak Because I Can)” by Laura Marling.


Credit: Sonya


Hope in the Air (I Speak Because I Can” by Laura Marling


Time’s a limited but precious present,

So, never squander it so hesitant.

Don’t be an old man with words lost to the sea,

Say what you truly mean, set your soul free.

Don’t let the end come your wasp’s tongue too numb,

Don’t fear my next visit, your mind and ears dumb.

Learn — never forget to hope against hope;

Spend not life somber, your last line’s aren’t wrote.

Hope’s Air and Water; your doorway to Home.

Men may fall graceless when easily provoked,

They’ll stumble, choke as life’s gift is revoked.

Death’s the end for all, one day the reaper;

Face me not with fear, I’m your soul’s keeper.

I come not with curses for those who’ve kept faith,

I’m no doom-ridden creeper nor dark wraith.

So, fear me not, live your life full and whole;

Shrink not — fear your evil deeds, those woeful.

Hope’s Air and Water; your doorway to Home.

So, don’t give in; pull your boots up, hold —

Onto your candle, its flame’s spreading bold.

I can’t save a soul, with good deeds or gold,

I can share His light; it burns but He’ll mold —

You up-right when your wax melts, and you wane.

Before it’s done believe, gleam bright with God’s hope.

Hope’s Air and Water; your doorway to Home.

******


©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Friday Fictioneers: Poem – Lunes: “Nightmare Monster”#amwriting #poetry #fridayfictioneer


Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff for hosting FF.


Credit: Yvette Prior


Another forlorn excuse; layers of —

Soot, ash chocking,

Unfiltered; crack sniffed, false bliss.

*****

Crown Royal drowned, smokey blaze;

Bottle’s downed, emptied;

Vanilla incense can’t mask decay.

*****

Beneath nicotine’s veil of tears,

She cries crystals,

Scared; you’re her nightmare monster.

*****


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Guest Post: Guidance in Times of Turmoil by Patrick Bailey #guestpost #addiction #mentalhealth


Matt Collamar - Kindness_Homelessness_Unsplash
Credit: Matt Collamer via Unsplash

It’s been a long and winding road for me in the city where I was raised. The city has pulled me back after each venture away. This road has gone many places and resulted in something of an archeological dig into myself and humanity at large.

Overall, I’ve noticed a consistent thread for those in severe and notable distress in the community. It has continued for decades, having taken on various symptoms over the years.


When the Street People Were Dispatched.


I was in my early teens when the de-institutionalization of psychiatric hospitals first impacted my area of the city. The ‘street people,’ as we called them, appeared suddenly. They had been dispatched by the state mental hospital. Some had not been in the world outside for decades. I can’t imagine what that release into society was like for them. From their outward appearances, it seemed terrifying, upsetting, and disorganized.

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Credit: Provided by Author

The laws had changed. It wasn’t easy to put someone ‘away’ anymore. The world would have to deal with people more directly even if there was something seriously ‘off’ in a person’s thought, emotions, and (or) behavior. Even ‘mental patients’ had rights, and the state mental hospital had to open its doors. More inner-city areas also offered cheaper rent as ‘the dispatched’ arrived in large numbers to find their way in the world. I was an inner-city kid, so I was there to receive these ‘street people’ and many mental patients too.


A Kid Wonders How to Fix The System.


In youthful curiosity, I found the city streets enlivened by these folks. I was curious about them: how they lived, what they did, and why they suffered. I was fascinated by illness, and what caused it; how illness needed to be healed.

I’d seen more than a kid’s share of severe problems by the time the hospital discharged all its wards. Of course, I wanted to heal the suffering; I loved my family. My father’s alcoholism, and then his unnamed PTSD which needed remedying. We all needed a remedy. Undiagnosed depression and mania peppered my mother’s family, taking her off into highs and lows.

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Credit: Ben Hershey via Unsplash

Life wasn’t easy in my house, and it wasn’t easy for the people I saw in the streets. I read the paranoid scrawls on the bus stop bench. I listened to the lady who’d recite the wrongs of the world to everyone and to no one in particular. I worried about the ‘bike man’ who wore a woolen coat as he peddled through the summer heat.

Surely all this madness inside my house and outside of it could be fixed.


Talking Out the Turmoil and Walking Alongside It.


All of these things brought me towards obtaining several degrees and a career. I wanted to know more about how people living on the streets and dealing with mental illness worked and how these conditions could be fixed. I worked in the state hospital that at that time, kept patients for thirty days not thirty years. I specialized in addiction and PTSD. My father was long gone by then, but I found peace with him through my work.

I talked with hundreds of people who lived in turmoil, waking to it every day. I formed relationships with them and walked with them through the most intimate details of their struggles. They came to me for help and guidance; I did my best. Although I had personal turmoil and needed a great deal of help myself, somehow my patients and I did well more times than not.


My Take on the Addiction Epidemic:


My career wandered but no matter where it went, I’ve always come back to working in addiction and trauma. I’ve found these are conditions far more common than most people would ever imagine, and they are almost always constant companions. I believe that if we could heal trauma faster, we’d not have an addiction epidemic.

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Credit: Provided by Author

As many people, I’ve followed news on the addiction epidemic in the U.S. for years now. In particular, numerous persons have a deep concern about opioid use. America and my city have meandered these streets, as heroin addiction has caused a devastation of lives. In my city, we’ve never seen such a crisis, not in all my time in this world.

Heroin addiction is a costly tragedy among those who are addicted, their loved ones, and communities. The economic costs alone are staggering—an estimated 50 billion dollars a year, but the human costs are immeasurable and immense.


“How did we get here? How did my city get here? How does a person end up here?”


As time passes, I’ve watched subsequent addiction and a mental health epidemic arise for the entire city where I live. It has a direct trail back to prescription painkillers and their medical use. Pain management clinics sprung up in and around my city as the painkiller epidemic occurred. Many of those were ‘pill mills’, caused people an addiction to painkillers.

Changing laws closed these clinics, and also resulted in the placement of monitoring systems. The prescribers of powerful pain-management drugs were closely watched. The consequences of this system? These prescriptions were harder to come by, despite countless people addicted to them. Pain pills available on the illegal market were terribly expensive and people suffered.


The Solution? Heroin.


Needles_Hush Naindo
Credit: Hush Naidoo via Unsplash

Heroin became, and still is, the affordable solution to painkiller scarcity.  For every dollar spent to obtain illegal painkillers, heroin packs the same punch at one-tenth the cost. Drug cartels met a need in the population when the prescription painkiller epidemic gained the attention of legislators and the medical boards. Their marketing strategies cut a path straight towards my area of expertise, and into my home city.

There’s more to a ‘painkilling’ addiction than chronic and debilitating physical pain needing to be managed. There is also psychological pain which people are seeking respite from. So, the drug and mental health epidemic is a pervasive one in people’s lives and the lives of their loved ones.

It’s traumatic to watch someone suffer from drug addiction. It’s more traumatic when medical ‘permission’ is taken out of the equation. The pure force of addiction became tangible when those addicted had no choice but to trade prescription painkillers for heroin. Heroin was the only reasonable alternative to prescriptions — if it can be seen as reasonable.


Heroin Addiction.


Moreover, Heroin addiction is a powerful and destructive force that most people can’t fathom unless they’ve experienced it in their daily life. I see it in the streets every day. The street people have changed. They seem to be dying faster, and I say prayers for them as I drive past them on the roads.

If you or a loved one is struggling with heroin or other drug addiction reach out. People can recover, but the right kind of help is crucial. Heroin is more powerful than anyones strongest willpower. Also, people can’t help others experiencing addiction when they can’t help themselves. Nonetheless, friends and family can aid those who can’t help the addicted people they love.

Don’t wait to act; the support of friends and family is crucial to stop the use of heroin and other lethal street drugs.


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.