Do you believe in luck?
As morning began to shuffle the deck and cast the day’s first lot, my son, perchance, arrived at my bedside. Upon giving his good morning hug, he noticed a penny on the table next to the bed.
“Oh look, a penny!” he declared. Hope and ambition radiated from his countenance.
“Wait, it’s tails up. I don’t want bad luck for the day.” This caused me to chuckle.
Before I could respond, he responded. “I know how to fix this.”
Determined to begin the day with good luck, he brushed the penny to the floor. He stood over the penny in observation, beaming with a sense of pride.
“Look it’s heads up now!” He exclaimed and promptly reached down and retrieved it. Without another word and with extra pep-in-his-step, he left the room.
I chuckled again but took a moment to see the learning experience.
Our destiny lies ahead of us. We embark with eyes of ambition. While on our journey, we’re met with moments of uncertainty and tasks that seem insurmountable. We can either accept the perceived inevitability or make the most of our circumstances. Flip, kick, or simply turn that coin over. Create your own good fortune and luck. Face the insurmountable and make it achievable.
Good luck, bad luck, a stroke of luck or down on your luck. It matters not.
Be the author of your own luck.
Raucous and Rapid Thoughts
Accelerated and Cluttered
High speed and speaking with the CAPS-LOCK on.
Head set to explode
Unable to slow thoughts down
It’s like giving a chipmunk a double shot of espresso and handing it a megaphone
Make the yelling stop!
Wishing to find peace
Must… need… focus
The highways of words, thoughts and emotions speed faster
In their wake, ghostly trails of what could be
Images and illusions burned into the surface
A reminder of unfinished business
The burn intensifies with every new thought
The cluster gathers momentum
Like an intense ball of fire ready to explode
Like a sun spot creating a black hole of thought
Imploding from within
Sucking the creative life into nothingness
A stupor of thought
Drugs – they leave numbness
Hiding the vacuum of expanding emptiness
Worthless thoughts and lost stories
Grasping at empty space cluttered with illusions of grandeur
Letters on the page fail to fall in place
Words trail into a blank wash
Pleadings fall into a dark abyss
Nothing makes sense
No rhyme or reason
A disorder of chaos
A mind lost in disarray
All illustrations by Alan Zaugg
As I focus more on my creativity and look for inspiration, I’ve gone back over sketches and photos. Each has a story. For example, the top middle profile sketch began as an idea for what my fictional character, Johnny , could look like. The one in the lower middle is a different idea and profile angle from another time.
Each time I pick up the pencil, it is an attempt to uncover the demons, clear the cobwebs, and open the door to more creativity.
Thus, I’ve decided to add this new category. I post here, occasionally the thoughts and images floating around in the depths of my mind.
This is my first attempt at poetry. At least my first attempt in over thirty years:
This burden I will carry…
Pain will be my guide…
Broken, bruised, I tarry…
Nothing left to hide.
Pain inflicted on your heart…
A painful, gaping wound…
Administered through my disregard…
Like a song without a tune…
A prayer of healing…
A hopeful thought…
A heart in need of healing…
With love and light adorned…
Warmth and peace be with you…
Forever be restored…
Dark, depressed, feeling the weight of the world on a fragile soul. The sorrows and sadness of broken lives consuming thoughts…
No where to turn. Emotions running deep. Unable to contain. Meltdown after proverbial meltdown…
With each passing hour, the day darkens…
Reaching deeply into a broken soul…
Channeling the sadness, focusing the pain…
A worn out welcome. Beaten like a pair of jeans that have been torn to shreds by years of consistent abuse. Dignity, shattered like the shards of a mirror and scattered over a cold lifeless floor.
No where to run. No where to hide. Laid bare for all to see.
Wounds run deep. Flesh ground to a pulp by words of degradation. Stabbing words, not heard, but felt. Words spoken behind closed doors, behind curtains of deceit.
Tears of pain filling soft, caring eyes. Bitten by the snake-like tongues of others. Tongues of brothers… sisters…
There is no rage. There is no anger. Only… anguish, heartache… betrayal.
One is left to contemplate… Why? What is? What was? What is to come?
The mirror of reflection, broken, scattered… left to turn inward. Self-loathing. Deprecation.
What remains? A soul in need of repair. A soul needing reprieve… needing a newness of life. A rebirth.
Is this an ode to pain? A cry for help?
Never. Merely an acknowledgment of defeat. A moment of serious personal reflection…
A dose… of humility.
Drifting westward, towards the rounded edges of the distant mountain peaks, the sun trails the rich blue sky with blazing burnt orange. The haze-filled atmosphere smolders like that of hot coals in a campfire.
The sky begins to change and mesh colors as if it were a mood ring. Burnt orange bleeds into fiery reds and hot yellows.
As the setting ball of bursting flame slides below the horizon, the sky turns to drab purples and murky blues to complete the dusty rainbow.
To the east, midnight blues and pulsating stars begin filling the void.
With Mother Nature’s canvas complete, another masterpiece finished, the earth drifts into a deep sleep.