Blocked

I have stories that will never be a book.

I have rhymes that will not become a poem.

I have lyrics that will not be sung aloud.

I have melodies that will never be transcribed.

I have a voice that won’t be understood.

I have visions that will not become art.

I have emotions that can’t be put in words.

I have a silence that echoes in my mind.

I have passions that will never be fulfilled.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 27 March 2018

Some Small Irritations bring forth Pearls … (or so they say)

I’ve gone through life so far with my hat in my hand,
my heart both in my mouth and worn on my sleeve;
my head in the clouds, and foul weather ahead.

I’ve had the wind in my hair, the clouds full of rain,
“ the sun in the morning and the moon at night.”

I’ve had my back to the wall and stars in my eyes.

Friends, I’ve had a few, but in most cases warm acquaintances;
people come and go, and go, and go some with kindly waves
and some like thieves in the night.

I’ve seen rainbows, but the pots of gold were full of fools.

I’ve seen danger ahead and over my shoulder too many regrets;
I’m pretty sure that nothing’s changed except the world around me.

I’ll continue on the same worn path since I don’t know any other.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 22 March 2018

Talking to Myself

"I've been huntin' for a kindly ear but couldn't find one near and wound up talking to myself."

(Thanks to George Watsky)

Are we the emptiness within or the human shell-surround?
Is living just the means of filling that bottomless hole?
Sometimes my voice echoes in the ambient roar inside my head; the reverberating buzz of a million answerless questions.
Sometimes I can’t recognise my reflection; seeing the shadowy outline instead of the person looking back.
Am I real, am I invisible?
Worse, am I and my value unacknowledged even to myself?

Ronda R. Scott-Marak
© 14 March 2018

State of Despair

"Don't you understand what I'm trying to say"

(with thanks to Barry McGuire)

I ache for the world.

I feel each wrong, fear and loss;

My heart is breaking.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 8 March 2018

No(t)stalgia

Was it really easier when we were young?

Were people kinder, or just less blatant about their malice?

Did people really communicate with each other;
neighbours have friendly conversations, families not battle over line-drawn viewpoints?

Were religious beliefs, or the lack thereof less vitriolic, intolerant, or demanding of others?

Did children have time for play, unscheduled by parental desires or extramural activities?

Was it really safer then, allowing us to run, bike, participate in games outside of the house
and away from parents’ constant gaze on weekends, holidays, and after school?

Was living without fear of being shot, having one’s environment vandalised,
being able to go to work or school without anything more alarming than an occasional fire drill
just a whitewashed memory?

Did children really not expect to be handed every toy, device, or pricy item of clothing on demand?

Did we actually not walk around in clothing more suitable for burlesque than school or work?

Did we really wear actual hats, not ballcaps, for something other than warmth?

Were sparkly jewellery and clothing only allowed after five in the evening?

Did we ever anticipate that people would think wearing torn clothing was fashionable,
or that t-shirts and jeans were suitable attire for formal religious services, weddings, or funerals?

Did we really work only forty hour weeks, and take two-week vacations at the shore;
did families live on one parent’s income that paid for a decent life, college, and retirement savings?

Did doctors really make house calls, did customer service mean businesses serving their customers,
and no one had to self-serve themselves everywhere?

Did people once write in complete sentences and speak without swearing and slang?

Was there always this much hate, division, oversight, and undervaluing?

Was this our definition of freedom and greatness?

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 7 March 2018

Yih’yu L’ratzon

May there be the Other within the emptiness.
Let there be all life within this secure space outside of time.
May there always be room for my thoughts within the silence of the Void.
Let there be morning birds.
Let there be evening calm.
Let there be mid-night quiet and mid-day song.
Let there be peaceful dreams and grateful hearts.
Let there always be Light to break the Darkness.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak
© 4 March 2018