Breaking down the wall

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Slowly, meticulously, each letter I forge is a stab at the wall that blockades my mind. And with it, each thrust of my summoned sharp words sends seemingly insignficant shards of debris ricocheting off the empty floor.
The way is shut. No light shines through this wall of oppression.
Another shockwave ripples through the obstruction followed by the sounds of falling ballast echoing somewhere in the distance.
A white funnel pierces through the darkness like a righteous sword in the belly of evil. The dark begins to scurry away from this cyclonic vortex of light.
My eyes and fingers do not flinch, yet yearn to find the source of it.
Suddenly I feel buoyed by the possibilities that my words can really bring this fucker down.
I let my heart and soul pour out into the chamber, filling it quickly with passion and conviction. The pressure quickly builds up to the point of fracture. Words and letters, nouns and verbs all squirm and struggle to move against each other as the wall resists.
I take a deep breath. Finally, I put pen to paper and let my ‘real world’ head detatch. Nothing exists anymore…only what I can create will become written law.
A distant fizzing sounds away somewhere in the back of my head. It sounds like a steaming kettle.  The first word jumps into life and spills across the page as the damn bursts open catching a hold of my hand and my imagination.
Now it is real.
Now I am alive.
I look beyond the wall…


Present

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Heavy it lies. Dormant yet ever intrusive upon your failing thoughts. Like imaginary cauldrons of bubbling liquid slumber it gently, yet firm and consistently, pushes down behind the eyes causing momentary episodes of double vision.
Slipping and gliding over the edge of the abyss without fear of a depth which is truly bottomless. Down here awaits the blackest of fears.
Down here awaits the limitless creativity of all things possible. Like a baby secure in the arms of the Father,  we surrender to it. Everyday we surrender and soar. Sometimes we sink, but always we hope for more. We believe that when we return, it is to see the dawning of a fresh start on a new day.
This day is mine, yours. Take it.


Me and the rest of the world.

Originally posted on Henry's Games:

I live in a world of strangers. Not exactly strangers, but in a way they are.
Nobody really knows me. I mean they know me, but not the real me. I cannot speak to people about whats going on in my obtusely analytical mind. I wish I could. But then again, thats why I have this blog! To speak freely without a face or any preconceptions the reader might have if things were different.
The worst part of this is, I am still alone. I still have to bite my tongue. Maybe thats why I get so many mouth ulcers?
Whilst daily I am forced to talk about ‘normal’ things that, more often than not, don’t even need talking about. As strange as all this sounds, I hope you understand.
Until the next time.
Game out.

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Hero, protector or just plain arrogant?

I do hope it isn’t the latter. If anybody is going to have a fall out or disagreement with some figure of authority, its me.
I cannot stand by whilst some sanctimonious prick abuses his power. I will not. Whether the miss treatment is directed at myself (hopefully) or at others,  I tend to find myself being told that I have an attitude problem. So, do I?
Well, I certainly don’t think so! However, it is usually me and me alone that stands in the way of power crazy bullies, or bullies to be should they be allowed to go forth unchecked.
Am I doing the right thing?
Or am I just causing a scene?
I try to way up the situation before I act, however, my temper has been known to get the better of me.
Maybe next time I should be like everyone else and keep my fucking mouth shut!
Rant/winge/letting off steam over.
Love you guys
Until next time…


Me and the rest of the world.

I live in a world of strangers. Not exactly strangers, but in a way they are.
Nobody really knows me. I mean they know me, but not the real me. I cannot speak to people about whats going on in my obtusely analytical mind. I wish I could. But then again, thats why I have this blog! To speak freely without a face or any preconceptions the reader might have if things were different.
The worst part of this is,  I am still alone. I still have to bite my tongue.  Maybe thats why I get so many mouth ulcers?
Whilst daily I am forced to talk about ‘normal’ things that, more often than not, don’t even need talking about. As strange as all this sounds, I hope you understand.
Until the next time.
Game out.


The write way to escapism

It all begins with the instinctual urge to express myself, my thoughts in particular, into the written form.
I don’t know why, but writing for me has always been a sort of tranquiliser for the mind. It helps me decipher the rambling tornado of my…ahhh, mind. I hate repetition,  it is really bad practice.
For me, converting thought into speach (verbally) does not go through the same filtering process that the written form of communication recieves.
The best thing about the written form is that it will stand alone and live forever.
Each and everytime a person reads my writing a piece of my imagination comes to life. And hopefully this will continue to do so, even in the event of my abduction by the extraterrestrials that are currently, with much hostility, permanatly camped in subterranean bases somewhere near central America.
A quote that I wrote for a novel goes like this:

Scripta immortalis fieri

.
(The written word becomes immortal.)

So with this in mind, I try to be selective and precise with my writing.
However, and more to the point, the real reason I write and generally just love literature in all of its forms, is its ability to transport me into the fictional worlds of wonder.
I need to escape the monotonous ‘norm’ of ‘living to work’. And this provides me with, the critically needed, vacation of the mind.
Escapism is both the baterry charger and the imagination mover that is pivotal to my everyday, healthy living.
Otherwise I might just go bat-shit crazy!

Good evening
HG


Daily trail. Day 3. Power!

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It almost begs for an echo doesn’t it?
Pyrotechnics and planes falling from the sky. Power is probably the most powerful word in the English dictionary. Probably.
Although, to actually think about this word, which Jason has once again tasked me with, it has a whole ‘iceburg’ metaphor going on, don’t you think?
We have the small part which is seen by all above the surface of the water, the visible part. Power in its visible form is raw and unchallenged.  It is what it is. It can defined by the feat in which it has been used to accomplish, or demolish, or whatever. However, beneath the water we have the bigger part of the iceburg.  I dont know exactly what the percentages are but put it this way, its a hell of a lot bigger beneath the surface. So in order for that formidable mass of power to appear above the surface there must be an awful lot of shit going on underneath.
Body builders must build there bodies carefully in order to reach their maximum potential. It isn’t just working on the big muscles like biceps and chest no, its working on the lesser and seemingly insignficant muscles to achieve optimum performance from there finely tuned bodies. So must every other form of power take shape. Like the seed of the forbidden tree, it must start from nothing.
My personal belief is that power, ultimately,  is the ability to process and  covert KNOWLEDGE towards achieving an end goal.
Knowledge defeats all. It comes up trumps everytime. Knowing is almost everything. Knowing is living in the light. The dark is for the ignorant.
With the world and its wealth of information so easily and locally accessible,  no-one has an excuse anymore. Unless, of course, they just dont care because it just doesn’t matter.


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