Archive for literature

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , on May 15, 2019 by dustus

Love is most nearly itself
When here and now cease to matter.

T.S Eliot (from Four Quartets) 1941

What the Dickens? (Bookstains Poetry Challenge)

Posted in Image Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on November 22, 2010 by dustus

Lynda has issued a new poetry challenge prompt via Bookstains!
Click on the image to learn more about the challenge…

What the Dickens?

You’ve made me dream of London
Industrial age, revolution
Insider’s eye to factory life
Catherine and 10 children

Iconic characters, Twist and Scrooge
Pickwick, Drood, a tale of two
Bleak house, Hard Times, Our Mutual Friend
Great Expectations the masters reread

Mary died held in your arms
Blaming self for sisters’ charms
Breaking hearts, too much your own
No price is worth a bitter throne

To students of novels you wrote our book
Your body of work, which screen and stage took
Each night before Christmas your genius I see
Tiny Tim’s blessing broadcast on TV


Would you like to hear this poem read?


Click here for Bookstains Challenge Rules.


Morning Fades (The Morning of August 7, 2009)

Posted in Blog, education, Poetry, writing with tags , , , , , , on August 11, 2009 by dustus
East Lansing

Humanity guided by omen
With powers declaring war
Better to inspire future poets
To sing like never before

Think old eyes
Saw this at see
Long for the gaze
Await Penelope
Visions of Ulysses
Barnacle, nautical
Ten years of spring
Homeric surge audible

Sky full of dreams
Multicolored threads
All time interwoven
In art and in moments…
Colors wilt and morning fades
By degrees of the sun’s warming rays

I Only Want Peace—within myself and between other people and nations (an “innocent ramble”)

Posted in education, writing with tags , , , , , , on February 25, 2009 by dustus

One of the things I’m going to try to do in my blogs, which is essentially the way I journal write anyway, is to just get everything out of my head. At times it seems like I’m screaming inside, but outpourings of words have saved me (literally and physically). “Outpouring” is a suitable description here; “coursing” may be more apt. Who fucking cares? Yet that’s precisely why I defend those who love words and chose them carefully, as well as those who let go. Personally, I care about words because they bring me closer to new thoughts and feelings. God Bless you all, human beings. Long live our thoughts. Ut-oh, wait a second…I’ll try not to sound like Jesus. I’m rather macho and want to be considered a “real man.” Honestly, I don’t know what that even means or who I am even want to be. Fair enough. We all have limitations. Ramble on, Dusty!dustus print

I think that I think—gibberish really—feel certain to agree
Or is it now?
Hmm… meaning is changed by emphasis and punctuation, yet perhaps it’s reasonable to assume inspiration to be external (something outside ourselves, or just a yearning inside). Holiness through perfect punctuation—there’s a novel idea (pun intended though unplanned like my birth, just kidding mom and dad☺) Where was I? Well, might as well get to the big issue…

Many believe in a God above us, sitting in judgment, “you’re all wrong” is what they’re told—from others and repeatedly through the medium of their own worship. So what? We are all guilty assholes when just to question is a sin fundamentally? Consider the message, one implication… Take it a step forward: sins are made of words and sentences, the very essence of our thoughts. Still we “know” through cognition and perception, as well as memory from mental, physical, tactile experience, etc….all part of the tapestry of our being, our selves. So you mean to tell me that just because we have thoughts, our being sentient as seems natural, that words themselves are to blame and that thinking is really un-human when we question our very existence and nature. Sadly, it’s because people have associated asking questions about reality with notions of blasphemy—in fact that truly is the “greatest” story ever told. No lie there. Yeah, when you look at it a certain way—as an allegorical fallacy of humanity. After all, I don’t know if fear is natural, but I recognize that I can feel afraid.

I only want peace—within myself and between other people and nations.