Format-Contests, word use, count OR time-constraint challenges... time limits - mind limits ~ people and self-imposed reach-for-a-brass-ring-through-the-cell-bars - to prove what?  Inadequacy-ability-mentality or the lack of just... humanity.  I guess when all-is-said-and-undone -Today I am 'something' that apparently yesterday or before the inquisition - I wasn't.

I would guess you can see how I really feel about doing 'challenges' - just for the sake of another's aggrandizement... notice I didn't say I wouldn't - just how I FEEL about doing them.  Chuckling here.  OK, 90 minutes began with the first word on a blank page - go...

"An Hour And 20 Minutes..."

An hour and twenty minutes… sigh.  I’ve an hour and twenty minutes til what?  What will it all mean - then.  The sun might shine or it could be rain, snow, sheet ice.  The heat might kick on all by itself.  A light bulb may actually glow.  I’m listening to the ticks…

Tick…tick…tick - an hour and ten minutes now… Where does the time GO when you’re having such ‘fun’… even pins drop as if encased in molasses pools - soooooooo slowly, barely turning end-over-end-over-end.  It gives an entirely new meaning to a drip-brew coffee maker, and the mind!  The mind races - RACES, in circles yet spirals too… in and in and round and around… but the thoughts - fragments and incoherencies, lost and found then lost and found again and again… threads, so many, many threads - interweaving…weaving…fading into the next construct… tick… tick…

An hour.  Just an hour, another lifetime passed and past and yet to come… a whole **** hour…hour…6o more minutes… then 59… now 58…eventually 57?  57 more minutes… each a little eternity.  Light a cigarette… the flame doesn’t flicker; strange how flames don’t really flicker after all… it’s all in the eye’s sight, what we THINK we see.  Watching the smoke move, inhale and exhale… how does smoke dissipate - expanding and expanding into a universe, a growing ball - ever fading, fading, fading… do we expand and fade-and-fade as well?…

Is it 50 yet?  50, 50, 50… come on 50…will someone give me 50, 50, 50 50…SOLD! - to the young-ole man sitting there in the back row… yay me… 50 minutes… and counting, counting… down and up, and down, and up…

Electricity doesn’t hum you know… it’s the wires vibrating to the electrons racing within.  Some would say it’s the ‘holes’ that flow and electrons just keep falling and falling within… like watching the hubcaps on a moving car - seemingly turning in the opposite direction of the tires motion… like living on the edge of our own universe… like living at all… life at all… flowing, racing, following all the holes, falling within and falling over-and-over and all to get - where?  What was the actual direction of motion?  Where did we go?  Did we go at all?  Threads and threads and threads " weaving, coalescing, expanding, fading… fading…

Its so not easy to lose oneself and yet we try… and find… ourselves looking back from all the mirrors that never were… cascading from all the non-surfaces back and forth and back and forth til we realize the fractals we are… such a pretty design that captures imagination and goes on and on and on til… 35… 35 minutes… 35… then 34.

Strange how coffee too hot to drink is so ****** cold the next instant of awareness… time isn’t linear to awareness ya know?  It has no set place to be or follow.  Awareness is NOW every moment you ARE aware, but not the one - the moments you weren’t.  I’m aware of being me - except when I’m not… threads and threads interweaving.  I CAN feel my fingertips… each ONE… and all of them at once… but not my toes… I can’t feel the smoke I exhale moving through my fingers… I can see it passing through but not feel it… but I AM aware of my fingertips and can still feel each one all at once… and I am aware of the smoke - moving… expanding… I’m thinking, am aware that I’m thinking I’m thinking…but what is it, what am I, in between moments of aware? Of unfeeling?

Tick…tick… 22 minutes… 22… Roses are red, Violets are blue, eternities last just moments - who knew?  22… 21…White noise, echoes without awareness… what really counts? And why?  And to whom?  So many ‘whys’ we have… whys for everything and anything - some our own and some are other’s.  Wise whys, shy whys, lost whys, because whys… ‘it-doesn’t-matter’ whys that ‘mattered-after-all’ whys… and cold coffee… 18…17…

I wonder
at the emptiness
with each breath

because -
its what we do
its who we are
its all there is

its all I have -
just each breath...

to wonder with.

Chris

my thoughts stray to him
the smile on my lips comes unbidden
his confidence sends me on a loop
hes a man and won't let me forget it

usually all it takes is a look, a smile, a wink
to ****** most men. but here he comes in
ruffling my feathers and now i'm
daydreaming, night fiending, hes got me convinced
that his touch is air and i want to take deep breaths

his demeanor, his attitude, his style
has got me foolish, giggling to myself
attraction set to high, tension set to explode
he promised i'd lose feeling in my toes

i am proud and competitive
but this is a different kind of game
so i enjoy being putty to his demands
the way he pins down my hands

gentle caresses have their place
butterfly kisses and sweet embrace
but theres a fire starting in me
that has forceful needs
hands that move with confidence
teeth leaving small indents

and with my consent he will have me
at that moment ravish me

not like a flower, that would wilt
a doll that could break, or a peach that might bruise
he knows i am not made of porcelain
i do not have glass skin.

so with rough hands and harder hips
until incoherencies leave my lips
his masculine control lets me be free
to love the joining of us

i was physically created to receive
and he is not afraid to give
me all and more than i can take
he ignites the flames and all that i know
all that i feel
all that i breathe
all i can think is fire

Incorrect views, lies and fault
all fueling further incoherencies,
Sometimes I feel as if all of thought
has become terribly misplaced, removed
from its immediate context, it loses any sense

The earth is
Dying of old age
But if it’s me,
That dies first,
Hopefully I get
To enjoy what I’ve
Enjoyed in its
Presence.

The warm and tenderness
Of unconditional love,
Or the passion behind
Nerudas words,
swim in the transparency
Of the freezing rivers
That embark their journey
On the vertebrae of that
Shackled Island
That I used to call home.

If it’s me that dies first,
Don’t let those who
Speak my name see
What I have become,
Let them remember me
For who I was,
Hollowed eyes,
From restless nights,
The incoherencies
That I speak,
The laughs that
Surround me,
Echoing until
Eternity ain’t eternal
Anymore.

When it’s me that dies first,
Take me back
to where I was born
Bury me under the sapling
Of a flamboyán tree,
Love and care as much
Maybe more than you have,
Watch me reborn, grow,
Become magnificent
Dressed in orange reds
And greens.

Finally, carve unto me
The words that I’ve written,
watch me grow old
like I did life’s ago
And forget about me.