Recreate... Re-create.

She told me that distraction is an art from vile thoughts, the ones that circle 'round, drag me down into the ***.

Recreate... Re-create.

Not distraction from the sort of thing that truly needs attention, but getting back to who I am, a spiritual ascension.

Place those wings upon my back, we all are holy creatures; show me what's inside your soul, the finest of all features.

If your demons drag you down, chain you up, and circle 'round,
Pull yourself up out the cauldron, fight and stand your ground.

'Cause in addition to holy talks is something that has power,
Re-create by recreating, and bloom your long lost inner flower.

Mine words have no power
They come out and wander
Around the corners of the world

Who'll accept your mighty works
And stay with keeping their words
Just to say you've saved the world

No rich strength protects the poor ones
But to establish their power and stunts
To release the fear to the helpless world

So come out young poor ugly men
Let us show them what we meant
To conquer and recreate a peaceful world

“20 ways to repurpose a light bulb”

It tells me I need to start with a good grip around the bulb,
give the solder point a twist and free the brass contact
from the wires leading to the filament. If I make it that far,
I have to break the insulator and pull the filament out
from there. Grabbing the fill tube, I need to empty out the bulb
and wipe it out to get it ready.

I guess I could channel my childhood and turn the bulb
into an aquarium—dropping a little bloodfin tetra in with
a sprig of sea-grass or even make one of three small hanging vases
to put on my wall in the kitchen. If I want to get crafty,
I have directions for a glass sculpture, a holiday ornament,
and seven different size centerpieces.
The real surprises on the list are the light bulb necklace
and the concrete molds for light bulb handles.

Here I am, 4 A.M. on a Saturday morning planted on the couch
peering at the screen through my Jim Bean bottle eyes
and all I see are ways to repurpose this broken bulb
for something new—something it should have never been—
and I wonder why I can’t just grab the oil and a wick and
turn it into what it always wanted to be.

Revolution in a bottle,
realization in rebellion.
Unexplained, a recreation.
Never a conformist,
radical mind,
the best kind.
Stand up, stand out,
stand tall, stand strong.
Show the world,
the right in wrong.
Be the change you want to see,
state of mind,
free.

Pain goes through me intensely
as I think
of all the times that I cherish
Suffering for joy
a gamble to be made
In order to shut off from the world
and dream of past better days
Perhaps it is the memories themselves
worn out
from keeping me happy
day after day
driving me to recreate
what cannot be done
once more
Perhaps it is time
to let go