I know there is beauty in this world. Sometimes beauty is hidden. Sometimes we might have to look for it and sometimes, I think the most beautiful things are hidden in plain sight but we tend to overlook them.
Continue readingAuthor Archives: bennyk1972
The Farm: I Gave It A Name
I had a dream about the farm last night. I had a dream that I was standing in a gazebo with white posts on a birch wood flooring, elevated, and slightly high enough so that I could overlook the grounds and see my surroundings.
I was overlooking the fields and the barn and the houses on the hill, which is where I stay and where the kids stay and more accurately, this is where anyone could stay, should they need a place to stay.
There is a kitchen big enough for all with a dining room that is serviced by us and fed by us from a meal that was created by us.
There is a place for you here. I’m sure of it.
This is a safe haven. This is a place where all can heal, we can be, we can overcome and learn to live, love, and laugh without fear, worry, guilt, or shame.
Poem: My Love Is My Love
Keep in mind, love does not come without anger.
Love does not come without troubled times.
Love hurts.
We go through trials. We argue.
We fight and we complain.
This Is Why I Do What I do
I go over my journals read through my past ideas. Sometimes I recall the tasks of the time. Sometimes I read and remember what I was thinking and feeling at the time. Like you or anyone else in this world, I am someone trying to find my place in the circle. I have goals. I have dreams and ideas. Not all things fall into place. Life changes and so will situations. Circumstances are not always within my control (and I get that) but I am, however, responsible for me.
Continue readingThe Thing About Temptation
We were waiting for someone to come so we could straighten out. Mike had an idea to find a place to hide, which was fine for me because I wanted to get away too.
It was raining; cold, late at night, and the residual grinding teeth from the cocaine high had become desperate as usual.
We were in our hometown, which meant we knew where to go but the paranoia was always too intense for me. I always had a fear of some jackass coming out from the shadows. I was afraid the cops would find me. I heard things. Every nerve in my body was frayed like the end of a frazzled rope and all I wanted to do was to be right again. I just wanted to soften the edges and placate the fears with some kind of offering to exchange me for them or them for me.
To Keep Things In Perspective
I had a chat with a friend whose sister survived the unthinkable. She talked about the power of words and what they mean. Somehow, my struggles are very small in comparison to others.
I have been trying to figure out what it means to be tough for as long as I can remember. Sometimes life happens and causes me to redefine my terms.
I found a prose I wrote for a young girl. Her name is Olivia. She was 13 when we met. She was diagnosed with stage 4 Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.
Everyone told Olivia how strong she was.
“You’re doing so well,” they told her.
“You’re so strong,” they said.
Pretty sure Olivia would have rather been less strong and healthier than sick and enduring. She went through chemo. She endured the treatments.
To Be Free
I can’t say where this began. Somehow, politics have become the new religion.
I see people that were once friends or even family are now on polar opposites of the world to each other.
They’re enemies now.
We’ve become a “Who did you vote for,” community and a “What God do you pray to,” society.
We treat symptoms but not the roots. We argue. We debate. We claim our flag in whichever condition it’s in and then we argue some more but to what avail?
Who benefits?
Or more importantly, who suffers?
Love Prose: Note To Self
Just breathe—
It’s okay to be you, to feel, to think,
to laugh, or cry, or neither;
it’s okay to be confused
or unsure—
it’s okay to be scared or feel frightened or worry;
it’s also okay to give yourself a break.
They Say It Takes A Village
I heard a speech a long time ago. I heard, “It takes a village to raise a child,” but I sometimes wonder where the village is or do they even care.
I see them like this.
They’re just kids or more like babies. They’re just guppies in a little pond that will grow bigger in deeper and more dangerous too.
But while they’re young, the kids hide behind their protection. They’re safe because they’re at least somewhat protected by laws and parents or the revelation that the world is an unkind place and becomes more unkindly if we feed the wrong systems.
Dammed kids.
They’re too young to be taken in by the cops. They’re too small to do what they do, but yet, the people they play with are too big to play childish games. It’s a powder keg for sure. But that’s the game. That’s the thrill; and the fact that the entire world could detonate at anytime is the rush makes sense of our crazy, young, teenage angst.
Empowerment
What does it mean to live? Think about this. It’s really a simple question. The answer should be equally simple too. What does the word “Live” mean? What else could it mean other than to have a life, to be alive, or adversely, to not be dead.
But what does it mean to die? It has been argued by me on several occasions that we die in many ways. We experience death while living alive—and some people live lifelessly, always following, always wishing they were someone, somewhere, or someplace else. What kind of life is that?
