Dysfunctional

Sometimes things just get so complicated, frustrating, wrong, sick, chaotic... yeah you get the picture. You know those times when everything just seems to pile up at once and you just don't know what to do with yourself? What the heck are you supposed to do in the middle of that?

When my close friends ask how I'm doing I just tell them straight up what's going on with me.... but then I follow up with "But all you can do is keep dancing I guess." ...Right? I mean, there's PLENTY of reasons why my life is "dysfunctional" right now.... which I won't go into detail about all that.... no thanks to spilling my guts on the internet. But are you really supposed to keep dancing? Do you try to fix the dysfunction? CAN you fix the dysfunction? Or is the life of an authentic person always dysfunctional? The people that I know, who try to "fix" their dysfunction just seem, perfect. But perfection is unattractive to me. It seems... fake? It seems.. just like a whole lot of life is missed out on for the sake of having a perfect family, perfectly sheltered children, perfect friends, perfect parties, perfect hair...etc. And yes, I do know that everyone who seems "perfect" does have their issues... but are they correct in trying to run away from the natural, but unfortunate cycle of chaos, hardship and dysfunction?

I just feel like without the incredible sorrow and frustration that I go through, and can't seem to escape, my life would be dull. Because of those moments that last any where from a couple of minutes to months, the sparse wonderful and beautiful moments are all the more enjoyable.

I don't know where I"m going with this quite yet. I'm done for now.

Innocence and Experience.

The Little Girl Lost
By: William Blake

In futurity
I prophesy
That the earth from sleep
(Grave the sentence deep)

Shall arise, and seek
For her Maker meek;
And the desert wild
Become a garden mild.

In the southern clime,
Where the summer's prime
Never fades away,
Lovely Lyca lay.

Seven summers old
Lovely Lyca told.
She had wandered long,
Hearing wild birds' song.

'Sweet sleep, come to me,
Underneath this tree;
Do father, mother, weep?
Where can Lyca sleep?

'Lost in desert wild
Is your little child.
How can Lyca sleep
If her mother weep?

'If her heart does ache,
Then let Lyca wake;
If my mother sleep,
Lyca shall not weep.

'Frowning, frowning night,
O'er this desert bright
Let thy moon arise,
While I close my eyes.'

Sleeping Lyca lay,
While the beasts of prey,
Come from caverns deep,
Viewed the maid asleep.



The kingly lion stood,
And the virgin viewed:
Then he gambolled round
O'er the hallowed ground.

Leopards, tigers, play
Round her as she lay;
While the lion old
Bowed his mane of gold,

And her bosom lick,
And upon her neck,
From his eyes of flame,
Ruby tears there came;

While the lioness
Loosed her slender dress,
And naked they conveyed
To caves the sleeping maid.


Tempus Vernum-Enya

Sailing Off

Wings spread ocean Wide.
Sailing smooth luxurious glide.
Sometimes you chance upon a day,
a dream that'll make your heart leap away.
Never to return. Never to shatter.

Tunnel of time flying on,
the big black rose unfolds and is gone.
The monster beneath fears my inhalation
and runs and drops a drip section
of sunlight and effloresce.

Look behind, look ahead,
see the wine and see the bread.
Life as you know it, remains the same
but the heart so adamantine shall be set aflame.
Just set sail when you chance upon that day.



My darling, we’re both on the wing, look down and keep on singing!- On the Wing (Owl City)

Decisions

Decision-making becomes a necessary part of a young adult's life eventually. For some, it comes sooner than later. One must decide which occupations and activities must take dominance in life.... one must decide which stands on moral ideals one wishes to take.... one must wish which people to associate oneself with.... one must decide whether being a true and authentic soul is really worth the hard work and ridicule.... one must decide if a lover is to be truly trusted. Decisions.

I sometimes wonder where the femininity in today's woman has gone. Where are the skirts? Where are the flowers? The china tea sets? Where are the porcelain dolls and the flowy dresses and the picnic baskets? Can we recover ladies? If only little girls were allowed to walk around in princess dresses and tiaras all the time. If only our breasts were thought of as works of art, not objects of lust. If only chapel veils were common in Sunday mass.

Gardens are lovely things. I do believe that each woman's heart consists of a unique garden. Mine is only being formed, and cleaned out. I do believe the flowers within the soil there will soon bloom. In the book "The Secret Garden" by Frances Burnnet, the child Mary is just a confused, spoiled, selfish, unruly little child. I'm sure that the majority of our generation has some aspect of Mary buried deep within their heart. It's not until Mary unlocks the secret garden that the healing in her heart begins. If only we would find the key, and open the gate. Let the Gardener tell us which tools to use, and which flowers to plant. What a lovely garden it would be.

The spell was broken. My uncle learned to laugh, and I learned to cry. The secret garden is always open now. Open, and awake, and alive. If you look the right way, you can see that the whole world is a garden.

=



Now my darling, go fix yourself a cup of hot tea, pick up a nice novel, go outside, and let your imagination soar with the story line.

"And I will pay you solid gold, my friend, yeah
Would you take me back to London town
When it felt good to be around
And I will pay you solid gold my friend, my friend"So So-Gary Go