Inked Chaos ~ OpenLinkNight

For the past few days, in the holiday bustle filled with food and friends, it's easy to pretend it's all okay. With bellies full, body rested, and mind finally in order, it's way too easy to see it isn't.  As we round the corner to another new year, I realize, that somewhere inside me, I remain broken, distrustful, cynical to the point I'm getting on my own nerves. Imagine how I must be getting on the nerves of those around me!

Usually, this is the time I bust out a new notebook and start listing all the wonderful accomplishments I'm going to pull off, all the bad habits I'm going to rid myself of, and all the money I will bank as a result of my efforts. Well...you know what, I'm skipping that this year.  My only goal, my primary focus, will be to write.  That's it. Be it poetry, short stories or journal entries...I will write.

So dear Coach Joe...as you tend to the poets who will visit us at OpenLinkNight this evening, I am sneaking to my dark corner, pulling a pen from my handbag and writing it on the wall for all to see.  And if I start to slip...I expect to be called on it! What are you writing on the wall this year? Will you let your heart lead you, or are you battling real word commitments that keep you from hearing what it is your heart wants?

I extend this invitation to all! Let's write it on the wall, sharpen our focus, and bring our word weaving to the world. My mission is not just for my own personal benefit. I want the world to hear your words! We have wonderful publications available to us by many of the fantastic poets and writers who share their work here with us. Spread the words, spread the love, and lets make 2012 the year the poets take back the world.  Perhaps that's why the Mayans stopped tracking the days...when your world is filled with poetry, time has the potential to stand still.

Inked Chaos

Inked Chaos ~ Natasha Head Image

Many years ago I desired the ability to create.

I would write voluminous tombs of these wishes

Penning agendas, affirmations, seeing it come to pass

within my mind, but over time, I find

it to be difficult to think of such things

especially in permanent fashion

I wrote it down

Scraping ink below skin, the burn, the sting

as blood and ink collide, a potion of emotion

displayed for the world to see, you kidding me?

The sound, always the sound

so much worse than the scar

that turns to art, turns to trophy

I wrote it down.

Many years ago I desired the ability to earn

turn and burn baby, the art of the deal

signed and then sealed, take it to the bank

and mountains of green, a desire obscene

thinking it would always remain, but

the world had a different lesson in mind

I wrote it down.

Many years ago, I desired the fairy tale

undeserving white gown attire

down the aisle, prince charming awaits

Not recognizing the trap for what it was

I stumble through, somehow making it all work

and, the times that it doesn't

I write it down.

Out of chaos, comes the most vibrant of inks

Reds like life force, blues like spirit

black like the pain of the soul

Out of chaos, always out of chaos

comes the words, and before sense can be made

communication requirements insist

I write it down.