Air guitar, mellow, loose breezy shadows on the rock
outside my window, where life,
barely modified by my
the old learning in each living thing,
seen through my window?
While idly listening to the audiobook The Attention Merchants,
actively attending the attention economy makes all things common, there fore short attention spans are evolved to meet words where they hurt, and kiss it, make it better. --- or as that feels in the typical virtualviral conscience.
The clattering of summer birds,
Against the frame of that small window,
The soft honks that disturbs their dawn,
And the giggles escaping our lips,
The wheezes from clearly tired bodies,
From the small games we used to play,
And the shouts of the old lady,
Sounds so distant yet near,
Remember the ordinary days?
Do you miss it too?
“Aren’t we just like curtains?” I say
“How?” you ask
We never really appreciate them
Until they’re gone
Not until we feel the bustling heat
Penetrate our skins during summer
Or when we can no longer hide ourselves
From the light and the world around us
When we’re already too tired to deal
With anyone, really
Because we took off
Those **** curtains
We speak of lines that spell diamonds
Majestic cars and palaces
But we fail to realize how this ordinary object
Can make a whole difference whenever
We wake up in morning
Sitting in bed, tiredly remembering what
We were going to do today
A small choice, packed with a lot of meaning
Whether we want to stay inside
Or go out and meet the world
Serving as a doorway
To the possibilities each day brings
These curtains show us the days worth living (and hiding from, if that's what you want)
And if you don’t find that ordinariness beautiful
If you don't find those moments where we stand up and try to survive the long day ahead of us
Often just waiting to see those familiar curtains again amazing
Nor can you see how curtain-like we all actually are
Then try having no curtains for a day
And see what I mean
3 AM thoughts I have while looking at my curtains.
Seeping through the window,
A beautiful yellow light
Revealing a small room,
With shades, dark and bright.
Amongst the pretty sight,
Stood a white canvas,
In the middle of it all,
All shapes and colors.
It waited to be touched,
Get splashed with paint,
To feel new and colorful
Not ordinary and plain.
But the artist denied,
“I won’t” he said.
It’s too beautiful to be touched,
“Too pure!” he exclaimed.
Beauty lies in the ordinary
Have the eye for it,
Extraordinary it shall become
However pale or bright.
So stood the white canvas
With pride, this time
Complaining no more,
Feeling adorned and white.
It tells the story of a blank canvas waiting to get splashed with paint.
I won't forget the day you told me you'd never leave this town.
Stuck in a bubble so small that you forget to look around and see the possibilities.
You left yourself behind while you were chasing so something better.
Never get in line to take another chance together.
Just stick with what you knew and another safe endeavor.
And I let you down....
Because I was meant for bigger things
More than just a diamond ring
And waking up beside you for another day of ordinary.
I was meant for something else
At least I had to save myself
From waking up beside you for another day of ordinary life...
A verse and the chorus of an in-progress song I'm working on.
Once you fall in love with
An artist, an empath,
A writer, a musician,
A feeler, a healer,
A giver, a lover,
There is no going back
To an ordinary life.
Society tells us to pluck beautiful flowers
From their lush homes and give
Them to “special” someones
And we feel great about that
Yet, I don’t think that’s love.
We write poems with flowery words (and that’s okay)
Magically making a fleeting feeling seem as beautiful
As the galaxies
Yet, I don’t think that’s love.
We see ordinary humans as the alphas
And omegas in our lives
The air we breathe, the food we eat
And yet, I still don’t think that’s love.
That’s merely falling in love with the idea
Before Anyone Else
The one I’ll choose everyday
Forever and always
We give very unrealistic expectations
And expect a person to die for us
And love us all the same
Without realizing it doesn’t have to be that way
One does not need to be the morning star
The light of your life
Romeo or Juliet
To love you
You don’t have to be Samson nor Delilah
Helen of Troy
Mark Antony and Cleopatra
To be loved
Because it’s in the little things
The most ordinary things we find love -
Love is only possible
when you make it possible.
What is love? It’s up for you to decide.
You never know
When you will be
Special and Ordinary.