The seconds, each night, pass. Digits
of the gas pump mark our debt, fossil
fuel emissions cloud our value.

Cost of living; nothing is something and
everything can be changed. Inflation,
a repetitious claim, again and again.

Life goes on. Each night we save a little
time, a few seconds here, to reflect on
the art that gives us something to see.

 

© 2022 j.g. lewis

unforeseen shard of fuchsia,
fibril against the monotony
of the day.
fleeting
before the ashen dome
shuts
for the night.
just enough to satisfy, a
need for brighter landscapes.
traces of optimism,
or hope,
just enough.

interior lights pressed into action,
exhaust spews into the damp chill
of the city.
swiftly
as night falls, so too the
mercury.
last gasp of winter.
seasons end, another begins, a
need for warmth.
we seek optimism.
or just
enough hope.

cold dark thoughts relegated to
the intricate concealed wrinkles
of the mind.
painfully
we accept the totality of our loses
hopefully
forging new perceptions.
new thoughts, and language, a
stronger need.
brittle optimism
may be
enough now.

time changes, we too, in increments.
the night inevitably lost to dreams
of serious moonlight.
quietly.
did we not notice, do we not
care?
one less hour. one step
closer, the prelude, a
knowing unknown.
perhaps warmth,
optimism, or
just enough hope.

©2015 j.g. lewis

 

You would not wish to become this involved
in a world that will swallow you whole.

It is the bigger picture.

How should we speak of the atrocities or
comprehend what we witness? Or fear?

Instant exposure to the elements;
the greed, the power or violence.

It is all in the details.

Why do you mask your shame, ask
forgiveness, yet accept no blame?

You won’t speak.
You can’t breathe.

Underserved emotions with ancillary needs.

The capacity is no longer there.
The effort, at best, is trial and error.

Watching an abject failure of humanity.

What will you do with your anger when
sentiment becomes a part of the process?

© 2022 j.g. lewis

                                       Awaken the night
                                                                        feeling a fire,
                      new moon of fortune, new moon desire.
     Headlights randomly spray
                                              stray light           in the wake
     of a few restless souls, little left
                                                                             to forsake.

   Window cracked slightly, aware of the noise,
 discounting discomfort, confronting a choice.
          A season of change and mysterious ways
          growing weary of colour,
and
         tired of the days.

A breath wholly taken in the good name of fear,
               exhale in silence,
                         the silence found here.
Winter is going, but never soon enough,
it’s the waiting for the waiting that
                                        makes it so tough.

     Test pattern sheds light on the night’s darkest hour
     before pre-dawn confusion from a much higher power.
     Sanctimonious lessons in a stiff designer suit
                                  no lack of words, she knows what to do.

                       Obey,
                                  fall in line
                      or
                                           fall out of grace,
     Heaven, in her good judgment,
                                                               is a judgmental place.
New moon wonder,
new moon is now,
                       unconscious thought enlightens somehow.

To be mindful of a future only makes sense
      stop reviewing past actions in solely past tense.
Breathe it all in,
                             as you listen and learn,
      question your morals and for what you may yearn.

     No dreams for the restless, wandering their way,
     few thoughts for the weary with so much to say.
New moon,
new cycle,      falls into sight
                    dilemmas become clearer when the days become bright.

©2016 j.g. lewis

 

 

I’ve been hacked.
   There is no other way to say it, other than the soultalk page I have been running on Facebook for about 5 years is no longer under my control..
   soultalk regularly offered journaling programs and had developed into a trustworthy community.
   Now, I don’t have access to the subscribers, followers, or the private pages we used for our journaling sessions.
   Yeah, I’m pissed off, and there is nothing I can do about it. I’m not entirely sure how it happened, but Facebook can’t (or won’t) help.
   So, for now, if you get messages or invitations from soultalk, or see content or advertising this seems strange, know that the page it is not what it used to be, and not what it should be.

j.g. lewis