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

“A man without words is a man without thoughts.”
                                                           -John Steinbeck

No matter how deep or superficial, words always send a message.

Whether spoken or written, language is used to express a certain emotion, event or situation. Many times they will cause joy, or pain, or spell indifference. We react to words.

Sometimes you have a lot to say, other times there are words you can’t seem to let out; the ones that get stuck in your throat, or are washed away by tears. Where do they go?

Lately I’ve flipped through old notebooks and journals of the past to find scraps of information, half-finished sentences and paragraphs of words intended for someone else. Often they appear as incoherent thought, or accurate accounts of a moment. True, and purposeful, but never released. Now just a remembrance, or a reminder.

The further back I’ve gone, the harder it is to remember who the words were written for, when, or why I bothered scribbling them down.

Words express our worth. Language is used to soothe the soul or sort out details. This is why, mainly, we keep a journal as a map of where we’ve been. These are the skid marks on the road we travel.

Communication the root of all language, but it goes deeper. So much of the time we are trying to keep in touch with our self. There is liberation in letting words out. When you are no longer held hostage by thought, or limited by perspective, you can find calm or comfort.

I am exploring words I have passed over or let sit on the rough pages. There are so many things I’ve got to say, but perhaps these phrases, passages, or poems, have to be said before I can move further.

I have a letter, a couple of essays, and two poems I struggle with off and on. I know what should happen, am often encouraged with the progress, and still I cannot take them where I want to.

Reading over the pieces, I see too many sentences deleted, or altered. I’m not quite sure when the revisions happened, but they are real. Corrections. Still, through the eraser’s smudge, you can still see the meaning, the feelings, and the intention.

Not everything comes out like you want. Not everything will be received as expected. You slowly learn, and maybe that is what holds you back from saying what still needs to be said.

Oftentimes words need to wait for another day.

© 2018 j.g. lewis

 

   Year three settles in, months and weeks of
pandemic pain, what little
    has been gained.    Still unknown how much
    we have lost.
Social distancing affected all of us, isolation increases
   the uneasy relationship between
    propaganda and fact peddled by social media and
supported by those unwilling to accept the truth.
   Them who claim it to be freedom
     show no empathy
   to those who have lost
    partners, parents and possibilities.

© 2022 j.g. lewis

   So much more than flesh and tissue,
the human heart, of intricate design, responsible naturally
for each second time allows. A complicated array of vessels
and ventricles of immodest proportion,
its importance need not be reinforced. A vital organ.
A muscle; strong, steady. Purposeful. With the lungs
it functions, beneath ribs woven
to shield us from life’s catastrophes. If we should say
the heart is more important than the brain, we would
then again, have to think of how it functions,
or when it faults.
   Humans are complicated, from the start.
   Do we lead with our head, or follow the heart?
Secure in its biological habitat.    Protected.    And we,
as we grow, endeavor to understand emotions, and feelings,
and complications, as blood rushes through our veins,
as we learn to live, or love, in pain.
      Heartbeat.      Heart break.      Heart ache.
Trusting less in the function, less of the body,
we build walls, a facade, to hide behind.
Having lost before, or even since then,
   we protect our self.
    So much more than function or folly,
a human’s heart; the complicated array of flesh and veins,
of sordid pasts and rumpled pain. Strength we can find,
a purpose of which to remind.
If the heart is more important than the brain,
we shall learn to try, and will love again.

©2018 j.g. lewis