Soulsville . . .

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where a wheel of emotions come into play...awe, love, hate, compassion, passion, ranting, raging, raving, analyzing, finalizing, learning, teaching, wisdom, outlook, alpha/omega, laughing, crying, dying, hoping, change, faith, courage, self-identification, assessment, criticism, success, failure and joy...was all yesterday's news.

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Soulsville . . .

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Soulsville . . .

thought-provoking, intelligent and stimulating conversations.

 

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Soulsville . . . the future is now.

 

 

 

 

 

Copyright © 2011

[Patrick Haltiwanger]

[Sonya Alydia DuPont]

@Pat..my muse I use when creativity has been blocked out by distractions...

 

this ol' house

 

This ol' house has seen it all

the outside seems sturdy,

but the inside is about to crumble and fall

 

This ol' house built early70's

has harbored broken dreams it seems

for many  more centuries

 

This ol' house creaks and leaks depression

It squeaks with wood-rats and lacks

a welcome mat

the power is on,

but there is no light

its dark outside,day is night

 

This ol' house is a "singles"family home

with a wide-open policy

there are NO doors

my siblings are resentful and always at war

 

The plumbing is non-existent,

so don't ask to use the commode

the dishes piled high,

drainage pipes corrode

 

The ceiling has NO seal in tact

the floor is concrete..."how the hell you like that..?"

in fact,it's made us all who WE are:

stronger than most...courageous by far

 

This house has minimally sheltered

two generations  memories of Helter Skelter

and new birth frustrations

 

It's not all bad when you have no choice

I feel our legacy will have no voice,no continuance,no rejoice

And still..it's where we stay

"in our heads"

 

Now as we lay us down to weep,

I pray to Allah,the composer we keep

And forget about all those bugs,you see..

You'd mean-mug and shoulder shrug if you grew up

like me

 

Awe,on a harp-string,you'd tug for me little ol' me?

I'm just a poor girl,I need no sympathy

As a child I wandered to look up and wonder:

Why am I happy when the sky was always gray? Is my childhood really crappy? And why we gotta live this way?

 

I hardly knew the contrary of my dismay ,it changed the way I see my life so valuable,so blessed and so different today...

THIS OL' HOUSE IS THE REASON WHY:

Mamma and Daddy said "Goodbye."

And that was the only time we saw her cry.

And she never brought home another guy.

And she bought us only what HER cash could buy...or

At least she gave it one hell of a try.

She worked hard while we slept in her 87 Chevy impala,and wore dark shades in the day to hide the pain deep inside.

with no tears for the mashed potatoes,she made potatoes fried.

And we never had McDonald's french fries.

She circled beautiful items in catalogs and never could buy.

We learned to vacation inside Encyclopedia's pages,and never did fly.

This ol' house has hindered so much

but some nights like an adolescent girl,

I CRY.

 

 

 

 

 

Patrick Haltiwanger said:

"ooo, you told me you had a thing for soul food, so I put tears in the mashed potatoes..."

painstakingly reserved
reclusively guarded
pain internalized
rarely disregard it
ridiculed by family
my parents namely
hate their transparency
and social conformity
better value my privacy
and God-given individuality
livin' lies
strangers to self internally
fillin' voids
superficially and externally
born into their lie and misery
want freedom and self-expression for me
my emancipation is my mission
focused on my spiritual expedition
family reunions expect my absence
sick of mediocrity, time we bring
some authority to our presence
mom so bitter and jaded
'cause he stole her honey
that pain has never faded
sadly it only spread to me
afraid to love
convinced they'll eventually hurt me
subliminally taught everyone is out
to harm, use, and get me
bred and fueled by my insecurities
he's a pessimist and cynic
presence like ants to ruin the picnic
never wanna be anything like 'im
pray for optimism and equilibrium
mom never let her guard down
assertive like there's a new sheriff in town
barely showed any sign of weakness
I'm just like her, blues and numbness
get hurt, don't forgive, we're just done
won't show anything about me
that'll put bullets in someone's gun
afraid they'll shoot me down
ugh! more like him than I care to be
turnin' out like him
scares the hell out of me
so I lie dormant
and harvest self torment
love my parents but I realize
I don't have to be anything like them
not only because I never will be
but because I don't want to be
this struggle isn't just personal
it's also biblical
find solace and refuge
in the fact it's also universal
no one really has a clue
this is just MY shade of blue...

[Tyler]

[Tyler]

[Tyler]

[Tyler]

[Patrick Haltiwanger]

We spin our pain into gold. It comes with the gift. Thank you for sharing your beautiful spirit with us! :)
 
Sonya Alydia DuPont said:

@Pat..my muse I use when creativity has been blocked out by distractions...

 

this ol' house

 

This ol' house has seen it all

the outside seems sturdy,

but the inside is about to crumble and fall

 

This ol' house built early70's

has harbored broken dreams it seems

for many  more centuries

 

This ol' house creaks and leaks depression

It squeaks with wood-rats and lacks

a welcome mat

the power is on,

but there is no light

its dark outside,day is night

 

This ol' house is a "singles"family home

with a wide-open policy

there are NO doors

my siblings are resentful and always at war

 

The plumbing is non-existent,

so don't ask to use the commode

the dishes piled high,

drainage pipes corrode

 

The ceiling has NO seal in tact

the floor is concrete..."how the hell you like that..?"

in fact,it's made us all who WE are:

stronger than most...courageous by far

 

This house has minimally sheltered

two generations  memories of Helter Skelter

and new birth frustrations

 

It's not all bad when you have no choice

I feel our legacy will have no voice,no continuance,no rejoice

And still..it's where we stay

"in our heads"

 

Now as we lay us down to weep,

I pray to Allah,the composer we keep

And forget about all those bugs,you see..

You'd mean-mug and shoulder shrug if you grew up

like me

 

Awe,on a harp-string,you'd tug for me little ol' me?

I'm just a poor girl,I need no sympathy

As a child I wandered to look up and wonder:

Why am I happy when the sky was always gray? Is my childhood really crappy? And why we gotta live this way?

 

I hardly knew the contrary of my dismay ,it changed the way I see my life so valuable,so blessed and so different today...

THIS OL' HOUSE IS THE REASON WHY:

Mamma and Daddy said "Goodbye."

And that was the only time we saw her cry.

And she never brought home another guy.

And she bought us only what HER cash could buy...or

At least she gave it one hell of a try.

She worked hard while we slept in her 87 Chevy impala,and wore dark shades in the day to hide the pain deep inside.

with no tears for the mashed potatoes,she made potatoes fried.

And we never had McDonald's french fries.

She circled beautiful items in catalogs and never could buy.

We learned to vacation inside Encyclopedia's pages,and never did fly.

This ol' house has hindered so much

but some nights like an adolescent girl,

I CRY.

 

 

 

 

 

Patrick Haltiwanger said:

"ooo, you told me you had a thing for soul food, so I put tears in the mashed potatoes..."

painstakingly reserved
reclusively guarded
pain internalized
rarely disregard it
ridiculed by family
my parents namely
hate their transparency
and social conformity
better value my privacy
and God-given individuality
livin' lies
strangers to self internally
fillin' voids
superficially and externally
born into their lie and misery
want freedom and self-expression for me
my emancipation is my mission
focused on my spiritual expedition
family reunions expect my absence
sick of mediocrity, time we bring
some authority to our presence
mom so bitter and jaded
'cause he stole her honey
that pain has never faded
sadly it only spread to me
afraid to love
convinced they'll eventually hurt me
subliminally taught everyone is out
to harm, use, and get me
bred and fueled by my insecurities
he's a pessimist and cynic
presence like ants to ruin the picnic
never wanna be anything like 'im
pray for optimism and equilibrium
mom never let her guard down
assertive like there's a new sheriff in town
barely showed any sign of weakness
I'm just like her, blues and numbness
get hurt, don't forgive, we're just done
won't show anything about me
that'll put bullets in someone's gun
afraid they'll shoot me down
ugh! more like him than I care to be
turnin' out like him
scares the hell out of me
so I lie dormant
and harvest self torment
love my parents but I realize
I don't have to be anything like them
not only because I never will be
but because I don't want to be
this struggle isn't just personal
it's also biblical
find solace and refuge
in the fact it's also universal
no one really has a clue
this is just MY shade of blue...

[Bri'on]

[Bri'on]

OFF MY HEAD LAST  NIGHT...I NEED HELP WITH A TITLE...ANYONE GOT AN IDEA?

What is it about pain that drives me so...

Burns my heart to a burning glow

Red, orange, then red again

Dear GOD forgive me for my sin

Barriers between those that flow together

Because of life past and present weather

If I had an hour, I would take a minute

To bring it all back & step right up in it

And let the juices flow until we explode

Where we can release the motherload

Of all behind us & whats to come

Until that day I guess we play dumb

To all the noise that blows around

That keeps the chains of touch from reaching ground

As the clock ticks & the pen leaks ink

Longing your taste and smell of pink

Each second ticking away

As if there's no tomorrow & no today

Enjoy your life as it comes along

Drown all your sorrows in a sad song

Goodbye to love and all it brings

Dear MOST HIGH to you I sing...

"I AM BUT A FOOL IN THE MIDST OF LIFE

ENJOYING MY PLEASURES & ENDURING MY STRIFE"

As the world turns and we live together

Drink to life and all it's pleasures

For tomorrow we may die and never know

The body temperature of one you wanted so

If you need me call me maybe I'll answer

Until then avoid me like a cancer

The string of pearls run way too long

Tomorrows past way too strong

Up the street and around the corner

Never unchain her from your grip...if so she's a goner

As a full moon rises and the wolves howl

Turn your back and the jackal plays foul

Not to worry INDINGO seeks pleasure

With the spirit there is much MORE treasure

Despite the look and what they say

Truth is...who really knows how to play

The traps and toils of what's to give

My soul so deep it's hard to live

With those who don't care to understand

THE MASTER & THE PLAN

Of how we are drawn by fate

To live the psychics words to date

Show me your hand and I'll read your life

I forgot to tell you it cuts sharp...like a knife

But not to worry it's time to release

And live the rest of your life in peace

No more secrets, no more pretend

Let your light shine & life bend

Closer too me...Closer too you

We are destined...always too be...

What is it about pain that drives me so...

Burns my heart to a burning glow

Red, orange, then red again

Dear GOD forgive me for my sin

[Tyler]

like flames etched from the trivial bliss of snow,

 

       I shudder back and forth                                                                                                                              as my soul reverberates in and out like a rapidly churning un lit- light bulb trying to meander a grasp of it's own failing fiction.                                                                                                                                                                                      A Ferris wheel bent for no reason.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             I’ve been slamming                                        my head                                                                                 against the fractals                                                                                                     of your door to create: mine’d hysteria.                                                                                 While you’ve s’kept skipping in the streerts,                                                                          skidding  back on your knees                                                                                                  knees back on your skidding                                                                                                    in the heavy sleep                                                                                                                 of meth drained children.                                                                                                             You’ve were happy, kidding                                                                                                                as I was blithering,                                                                                                      sunken over the dew of the nonchalant blades.                                                                    My knee caps curling like a straight spiral stair case,                                                                                    unto the soil, I drew breath,                                                                                                             maliciously beneath the earth,                                                                                              as you experienced an exit-direct                                                                                   UPS mail-reality, I’s dilated                                                             a ferial fatality of                                                                                            banal solipsism.  No, I felt my head, and every toe or whimsical unblown blimp                                                                                                    frequently flipping in                                                                                     over my personal spaces,                                                                                                                              kicking me over and over: over, over.                                                                                                                                               Was I on the sidewalk?                                               Running? No                                ,           I was                                                    chopped,                                                                                            like a damp sock,                                                                    a withered blue                                                                                                                                    light, fainting in a beaten gust                                                                                                    not a simple brisk,                                                                                                                  no. NO curly, wind  from France,                                                                                                       but a brutal methodical grotesque                                                                                                     sneeze                                                             from a corrupt copulation of fleas.                                                                                                           I’m a thin delicate frozen dead beaten paper                                                                                                  I’ll divulge unto YOU                                                               I bleed like a shade of twisted velvet cosmopolitan spoiled banana,                                                My little friendly vial of desperate emotions                                                            can’t be compressed into a lime light,                                                                                               even if it’s flashing anti-warmth dis-ease from the in sewn [ah!] sides of my face.                           Printed as a neo-manufactured rapture slit into the depths of my skin.

[Patrick Haltiwanger]

Poetic snaps unto you! Thank you for sharing with us.

My initial reaction to this piece: angst.
 
Bri'on said:

OFF MY HEAD LAST  NIGHT...I NEED HELP WITH A TITLE...ANYONE GOT AN IDEA?

What is it about pain that drives me so...

Burns my heart to a burning glow

Red, orange, then red again

Dear GOD forgive me for my sin

Barriers between those that flow together

Because of life past and present weather

If I had an hour, I would take a minute

To bring it all back & step right up in it

And let the juices flow until we explode

Where we can release the motherload

Of all behind us & whats to come

Until that day I guess we play dumb

To all the noise that blows around

That keeps the chains of touch from reaching ground

As the clock ticks & the pen leaks ink

Longing your taste and smell of pink

Each second ticking away

As if there's no tomorrow & no today

Enjoy your life as it comes along

Drown all your sorrows in a sad song

Goodbye to love and all it brings

Dear MOST HIGH to you I sing...

"I AM BUT A FOOL IN THE MIDST OF LIFE

ENJOYING MY PLEASURES & ENDURING MY STRIFE"

As the world turns and we live together

Drink to life and all it's pleasures

For tomorrow we may die and never know

The body temperature of one you wanted so

If you need me call me maybe I'll answer

Until then avoid me like a cancer

The string of pearls run way too long

Tomorrows past way too strong

Up the street and around the corner

Never unchain her from your grip...if so she's a goner

As a full moon rises and the wolves howl

Turn your back and the jackal plays foul

Not to worry INDINGO seeks pleasure

With the spirit there is much MORE treasure

Despite the look and what they say

Truth is...who really knows how to play

The traps and toils of what's to give

My soul so deep it's hard to live

With those who don't care to understand

THE MASTER & THE PLAN

Of how we are drawn by fate

To live the psychics words to date

Show me your hand and I'll read your life

I forgot to tell you it cuts sharp...like a knife

But not to worry it's time to release

And live the rest of your life in peace

No more secrets, no more pretend

Let your light shine & life bend

Closer too me...Closer too you

We are destined...always too be...

What is it about pain that drives me so...

Burns my heart to a burning glow

Red, orange, then red again

Dear GOD forgive me for my sin

[Bri'on]

@Patrick...Thank You Brutha...here is an interesting definition for Angst:

World English Dictionary

angst  (æŋst, German  aŋst)  -n

1. an acute but nonspecific sense of anxiety or remorse

2. (in Existentialist philosophy) the dread caused by man's awareness that his future is not determined but must be freely chosen