What

What am I 

without you

an insignificant

Thing

What Am I 

With you not by my side

Another darkened day

Where love has gone to hide

Don't pray to your god

not just yet

Don't make any accusations

Don't even jest

Because when the daylight breaks

And the surf is calm

It's on like you wouldn't believe

Like Donkey Kong

Let's get in the drink

Inspired by, Part V: The world

I'm inspired by the world's...

• differences
• similarities
• varying cultures
• unbelievable foods
• unbelievable beliefs (unbelievable to me, anyway)
• politics (from a distance)
• music
• clothing
• lands
• histories
• monetary units
• social systems
• cars
• oceans
• art
• and of course, the people

I suppose everyone is influenced by others in world, no matter how small the influence. It could be something as simple as appreciating one's freedom versus others that are oppressed. It could be a taste for a type of cultural food and cooking processes. How many people are inspired by great makers of music, international as well as on the home front, past and present?

The world, with all it's beauty and ugliness, inspires me in a billion ways that the reader will probably never know.

But I do....

Inspired by, Part IV: you

I overheard a comment, maybe a remark.
It could have been in line at the store, at the bank, when you were on your cell phone. It caught my attention, so I remembered it. And jotted it down.

You had the most unusual, or pained, or joyous expression. You smiled and laughed, a true moment of pleasure. Or maybe you cried, or bit back the tears of pain, frustration, denial. I took note.

Your eyes left an imprint on my brain, or maybe your smile. Your neck, your walk, your legs.

You showed strength, weakness, honesty, courage, apathy, anger - all those traits that separate us from chimps.

You talked with your child, and listened intently.

You ignored the elderly lady that needed help, practically pushing her down in your rush.

You held your head at an odd angle.

You drive a school bus.

You rushed out the door at 5 pm.

I watched you pick out videos for another sad Friday night; you kept eyeing that couple, you know the ones, holding hands and kissing, with digust. And envy.

I saw you on trial.

I saw you after you were born, and when you died.

You probably never saw me, and you probably never will.

Still, you are all here, living in my words, slowly released from my mind.

I will set you all free.

In due time.

Inspired by, Part III: My peers

I read other blogs, as my links show. Often, I'm blown away by the stunning work I encounter. I don't think I'm a hack, but I feel other writers put me to shame with their beautiful works. And it makes me try harder. When I see the way the author can weave such a marvelous tale or evoke such strong emotion, it makes me think my work pales in comparison. Yet, I'm pulled forward, by a big imaginary hand, dragging me to my computer so I may create output as stirring as the others. I know I'll never have some writers sense of space, or other's humor. I know I may have to stretch to paint similar images that I see others create, but their works drive me to do so. I'm moved into action, spurred on by a tug at my heart or mind, pushed by a desire to match their creations. I am not trying to imitate or copy; I am trying to instill in my work the ingredients that will give the reader the same level of satisfaction and joy I feel when I read their work. At the very least, I need to feel that in my work. If anyone else does, that's a bonus.

To all the writers, painters, and musicians...all artists in all forms, I salute you and I thank you.

Inspired by, Part II: Stephen King

Okay, this may seem a little odd. Stephen King writes horror, right? He doesn't right poetry (or at least doesn't publish it.) That's true, but he was a huge inspiration to me when I began writing. His stories grabbed my attention and wouldn't let go. I'm talking early King, the days of Pet Sematary, The Shining, The Dead Zone, and Firestarter. After the Tommyknockers, I lost interest in King's writing. It didn't keep my attention as much as other writers. But those early books blew me away. I would read any King book I could get my hands on. It freaked me out with the clowns and drains; the coming back from the dead in Pet Sematary - I had trouble sleeping because I wanted to finish the book. And all his books were better than the movies (and the movies were awesome!)
I'm adding him here because I learned about writing with, and about, emotion from him. He uses fear, one of life's most powerful emotions, and takes it to a new level. I tried to emulate that with my early writing. I would dream up scenarios and storylines and write what I think he would write. Most of the stories were never any good - too predictable, too copied, too tired - but I learned the technique of using my emotions and getting them in poetry. I don't have King's patience for pounding out page after page; I like to get it done in simple verses and let the reader fill in the rest. It works for me right now; it's not that I'm lazy, my work is better in those short bursts (at least I think so.) Like Neil Peart, King showed me that I was only bound by my imagination and my willingness to try. I'm sure both writers are very critical of their work; show me a good writer that isn't. But they learned that even though you are critical, you have to let that baby out into the world and see what happens. Sometimes the results are less than satisfactory, sometimes they are stunning. And again, like Peart, King inspired me to pick up a pen (or typewriter, then computer keyboard) and get something out there. Try to entertain someone, even if only for a moment. Since those first few, feeble attempts at writing, I've learned so much. I learned to write for myself, but never settle for the first draft. I 've learned to dig deeper and translate the feelings I have into words. I've learned that not everyone will like it or even care, and that's okay. I've learned, with the indirect guidance of two masters, that I do what I do because I love it, because I can and because I want to. And as long as I do that, I can achieve anything.

Inspired by, Part I: Neil Peart

I heard the song a few times, and it struck a chord. I was always a Rush fan, but this song grabbed me and it wouldn't let go. It was "Subdivisions", a song about peer pressure and life in the burbs. I was blown away and moved, moved so much that I picked up a pen and started to express myself in song lyrics. Over the years I thought of publishing those lyrics, but I know they really aren't that good (hey, I was 17, a walking hormone and in love for the first time. What did you write about at that age?) Maybe I'll publish them on the blog under the title "Songs Unsung" because they never actually blossomed into a real tune. Either way, those first few lines sent me down a path that I am grateful to have walked.

Like I said, the song inspired me and I started reading all of the lyrics written by Rush's drummer, Neil Peart. The man is truly gifted with drumsticks and with words. I had never heard a drummer of his caliber when I started listening to Rush, and there are very few I have heard since (the legendary Buddy Rich and Mike Portnoy of Dream Theater are exceptions.) But it's his perspective, rhyme and structure that rival the greatest of poets. He's clever, sharp and concise; he pulls you in and you relate. He paints such a vivid picture that one cannot help to see. Here's a few lines from Subdivisions:

"Subdivisions
In the highschool halls
In the shopping malls
Conform or be cast out
Subdivisions
In the basement bars
In the backs of cars
Be cool or be cast out"

When I heard those words, I had chills. He was writing about my life! And about life in general, of course. I figured I could do the same, and I do. Not half as well as him, if I must say so myself. But that's okay. His words gave me the courage to pen my thoughts, spill the emotions out in ink and own up to what I felt and feel. I grew significantly from that, at least internally. I was still shy and somewhat awkward (hell, I still am sort of awkward) but I have more confidence in my abilities. I felt like I got to know him through his words, and it's a friendship I value today (even though he has never heard of me.)
I recently purchased two books that Peart wrote. He has had a lion's share of tragedy in his life and he coped by writing and traveling. I'm looking forward to his story.

Here are a few more of my favorite lyrics from Neil Peart and Rush.

From The Pass :

"...it's not as if this baricade
blocks the only road
it's not as if your all alone
in wanting to explode

someone set a bad example
made surrender seem alright
the act of a noble warrior
who lost the will to fight..."

From Resist:

You can surrender
surrender without a prayer
buy never really pray
pray without surrender

you can fight
fight without ever winning
but never ever win
win without a fight"

From Freewill:

"If you choose not to decide
you still have made a choice"

Anyway, I could go on all night.

To Neil Peart I say thank you, thank you so much.