39144 Blog Feed: lydiaworkman 2008-06-17 07:06:05 lydiaworkman Your e-mail address 73622 2008-03-10 11:38:37
Her mood was not exceedingly sorrowful, though she cried and cried. She cried in sorrow and happiness. She felt resolution approaching. An end to pain was coming. The tears had come. The pain was being released. She did not cease to ask questions.

She questioned the devil. The devil engulfed her soul in pain. The devil was pain and anguish. As she shed her tears she felt the devil moving out of her.

She wondered about God.

She wondered about evil.

There was something evil staring at her. There was something evil about the mirror. There was something evil about scrutinizing her own face. Her eyes caught the light that frightened her. There was evil, but it was only a point in time.

Her actions ceased. She was tired of questions. She fell into a restless sleep. While slumbering the questions circled through her mind. Through her sleep the questions gradually died down. She fell into a deep sleep.

She wakes in the morning. The questions are the first thing to enter her mind. More and more questions infiltrate. Questions bubble up from some deep and endless source. Some endless supply of contemplation. The questions muddy the well of her soul. Her soul was in agony. Her consciousness mas muddled.

Daylight has come. Sleep has ended. She steps out into the exterior world. The questions are put to rest as her body moves into action. Her body carries her soul and consciousness across the pavement. The sunlight hits her forehead. The sunlight rests on her hair.

The questions had settled at the top of her consciousness. The questions had been foremost on her mind. Happiness bubbled up. Bubbles of happiness caused the well to overflow. The questions fell out of the well of her consciousness. The useless questions were gone. Somehow the questions had been answered by her own happiness.

The source of happiness came from the same source as the questions. Love had been the question. Happiness comes from love everlasting and love eternal. Not love in question.

A time passed. A prayer had been answered. Love was the answer to the prayer. The prayer is everlasting. The prayer comes from the heart. The prayer has been around forever.

The moment continues. The prayer was answered. The past has been forgotten. The past slipped down to the bottom of her consciousness. A moment is left in question. That moment need not be answered. Not just yet.

The question was a solution, though not an answer. Her thoughts are organized. They are ready to take over. A moment shall continue to be an everlasting moment.

The old tricky thought has ended. The useless thought has been put to rest. Her thoughts have moved to other thoughts. Love can be a threat. Love everlasting a source of worry. Mortal love. Love ending. Half hearted love. Loss of love. Love has ended.

Anticipated anxiety fed the questions. Now the questions have been put to rest. Anticipated pain felt through patience. The soul is answerable. The soul has patience. The soul is in touch with eternity. Love need not end. It is best to just end the questions. An end to all questions.

An end to all pain.
Relief. Release.
All anxieties pass
She has lived on.
A moment is over.

Lydia Workman
]]> 73616 2008-03-10 11:21:52 and changing.
But, the old day
lingers in my mind.
Feeling like tomorrow
might never come.
Some work not done.
Undone by not doing.
I remember the old days.
Stone cold days.
Death of an idea
due to self-consciousness.
I am glad to now refrain
from worry.
I plunge in.
Take over.
Submerge and emerge, triumphant.

The battle of art and ideas
plays out in my mind.
I plan my moves
by thinking about past tasks.
My belief in myself becomes my armour.
I fight my ideas
and I fight my foes.
I come out a gory mess on ocassion.
My coffee consumption is sustenance.
The battle goes well
and I play again.

I must make a leap and believe in it.
I must trust.
I feel the ancient inside myself
and believe.

Lydia Workman
]]> 73615 2008-03-10 11:17:04 Car sounds greet me.
I am laughing about last night.
Flight home.
More drunk than I should have been.
A ruckus at the bar.
I wasn't allowed in.
Friend enter
and I leave.
Departed crowd.
I am left with nothing,
but to return home
with a laugh on my lips.

Lydia Workman
]]> 73614 2008-03-10 11:14:33 and the teller of tales
both think of love.
They are both met together.
They are both the same person.
Secrets are kept
as to appear unfoolish in love.

The keeper of secrets
tries to play her cards correctly.
She never reveals
her hand to the other players.
She wants to save her aces
for the end of the game.

The teller of tales
would no longer wait behind closed doors.
She acknowledged her anger,
but, loved him despite the fact.

The keeper of secrets and teller of tales
both have the same motivations.
Though love is falling apart all around them.
They would rather hide the fact.

Lydia Workman
]]> 73611 2008-03-10 11:11:01 I float along.
The water is rapid
and the wind is strong.
I move along.
Daytime was sun.
This night is a storm.
Daytime is a memory
of my skin feeling warmed.
Nightime find me
drenched to the bone.
The water is choppy.
I still move along.
Shook to and fro
the boat moves along.

The river a deep shade.

Beneath the surface
dwells thousands of mysteries
my imagination knows well.
Bits of seaweed
are caught on my oars.
I make choppy strides forward
hoping calm water
makes my boat soar.
Set it a sail.

The beach is a blaze.
Lights the water against sky
making it  a maze 
of dark shadows and light.

Lydia Workman
]]> 73609 2008-03-10 11:04:18 But, the world goes in circles.
Back, back to another repetition.
And, grow, grow, I shall.
That isn't tragic.
I was so pleased with a moment
and I was so happy.
So, I laughed.
And, the world went in another circle
as it did yesterday.
And, grow, grow, I might.
So, I take my patience
and laugh a little further.
Last year it all seemed complete.
Here I am now.
Changed, for better and worse.
The circle seems to waver
and I think, perhaps, the world is more a map.
Nothing straight and narrow.
There is recognition
but, things are never exactly the same.
So, I laugh and learn further.
The world moves forward
and, so do I.

One day there is time for one thing.
The next another.
Today is much like yesterday...
except, I am alone
and willing to have what I own.

I welcome the sun
and cheer the sky, the clock and the building.
I love each sight like a family member.
When dawn comes I beat my insomnia out.

Tuesdays almost completed.
The sun dissappeared long ago,
but, I loved it.
And, now it is the silence of dawn.
Waking noises.
Still trying.

A glimmer of light.
All this in spite of tired, weary glances.
Taking my chances
with allowing my mind to drift. Allowing it to sift through mental imagery.
These things comprise my memory
and sigh with days gone by.

I will no longer allow things to bother me.
No smothering troubles to upset
the order of the circular travel of each day.
I shall think of the sun.
I shall dabble in my dreams
on Thursday and Friday.
I take my choosen path with a smile and laugh.

I am my healthful self.
The sunlight blesses me.
I go like a golden haired reverie
through the circle of the days.
I smile and laugh.
And, grow on my path.

]]> 73605 2008-03-10 10:52:29 lived a little woman
named Jane Buckanew.
She always had ideas
of what she wanted to do.
Never was there a problem
too perplexing for Jane.

If Jane had no bucket,
she would simply use her shoe.
She'd stick paper together with chewing gum
if she ran out of glue.
She'd scare away the boogie man
by shouting 'Oh, Boo to you!'

I wish I were like Jane.
Don't all of you?

Lydia Workman
]]> 73602 2008-03-10 10:49:07 You have been absent
all this time.
My time eats away at itself.
Coffee and cigarettes
punctuate the tasks.
Each task
a sentence I would have told you.
If you would listem.

He left.
The air emptied itself.
I sat.
The silence of his last remark
rings and rings in my ears.

Why do I pass my time
worrying about dentures and lung cancer?
My utopia has vanished.
I put my finger to the surface.
I only block the view
of some ideal I cannot achieve.
It is all like a picture.
I can see the depth.

I am moist
with tears and longing.
My mind is elsewhere.
I cannot retrace
the last hour.
I cannot remember why.
The paper beneath my elbow
reminds me.
My arms cause the paper to bleed.
My purpose evades me.
I am thinking of
pen and paper.
The lines transform themselves.
They will not stay the same.
Just as you and I
have changed.

As we looked at each other
under the magnifying glass
we found the flaws.
We had nothing left to barter.
We could only exchange
bargaining words.
Nothing to put
the other at an advantage.

We castled ourselves.
We pawned our best pieces.
I am left feeling
that I have ruined my entire kingdom
for the sake of my queen.

For the greater part
of the relationship
the greater chunk
of time was spent
in waiting.
You were nothing more
than a scent,
a whisper,
a photograph,
a cry.

This is why I still wait.
The greater part
must add up to more.

Lydia Workman
]]> 73597 2008-03-10 10:40:06 being poisoned is usually the reaction.
We worked against each other.
Is this a form of inherited judgement?
Words spoken out of reaction.
My tongue is generally not so sharp,
but, it can find it's way around when it has to.
I can spit out fire like a dragon.
Things develop better without the poison.

Lydia Workman
]]> 73596 2008-03-10 10:37:43 The speed has been warped.
A construction zone re-routes the bus.
I gaze out the window
and fill in the blanks.
I mentally jot down notes
as I travel from
one world to another.

I am warm in my coat.
Spring approaches.
Summer approaches.
Summer comes so soon.
Spring and summer become one
and are indistinct.

I am feeling late again.
I am already waiting
until I am home free.
Where I can sit safe and solid.
Sit with a magazine.
Sit on a chair.
Sit with an object on my lap.
Sit with an object on the table.
Sit with objects swallowing the table.
Objects I worked hard to purchase.

Purchasing freedom is
a more costly venture.
When I am home free
peace has been earned.

Lydia Workman

]]> 73356 2008-03-09 16:18:57 Aries...

Self, self...
act now in kindness.
Impulsive decision maker.
Plodding ahead without doubt.
Kicking the sun
and brutalizing the pavement
with your foot falls.
Tearing ahead with a soul on fire.
Dreams and ideals
burning a hole right through you.
Your fingers got burnt
in your quest for fire.

Taurus...

Bull-headed and stubborn
appreciator of beauty.
The beauty is outside yourself.
Winning praise
and holding onto sacred treasures.
You refuse to abandon ship
for the pleasure of the raft.
The pleasure escapes you.

Gemini...

Starry eyed, star gazer...
Duality is your nature.
Your eyes are settled
and you read me well enough.

Cancer...

Murky companion full of mood swings.
You are charm, laughter, and warmth.
A contradiciton between natures.
Water damage to my soul.
Mold grows.
I react. I change. I grow.

Leo...

Brave heart full of lion's pride.
Heart full of boast.
You are fair, fat and plodding.

Libra...

Balance and poise...
With the scales in your hands
weighing you down with indecision.
Pick up the pearl of wisdom.
It lies beneath your feet.

Virgo...

Calculate and plan
your life of obsession
with a calm demeanor.
Underneath it all
you are unsettled.
You bury the changes
in your own earth
settling for what
you already have.

Scorpio...

Frenzied beast of chaos.
Your jealous tension
tears the world apart.
Your possessiveness
makes your possessions run for cover.
You melt down passion
with watery words.

Sagittarius...

An archer shooting arrows
you mis-aim, but continue to shoot.
You dart away.
Your nature runs out the door.

Capricorn...

A heated goat with ambition.
Your material concerns
outweigh your burdens.
The status you desire
pushes you forward
at the speed of light.
Your cynical comments
plant me in the earth.

Aquarius...

Inventive one
with strong likes and dislikes.
Your Platonic ways
distintegrat your passions.
Life is libery and freedom.

Pisces...

Watery fish of mysticism.
Swims the oceans
drowning in the waters
and finding the mysterious.
You have gotten lost in your own realm.

Lydia Workman
]]> 73349 2008-03-09 16:06:48 Your question barges in.
Disturbs my silent world.

Your technicalities destroy my insight.
You cut my notions apart.

Poisoned my well of creativity.

The whistles blow false emergencies.

Those buildings are records of history.
Relics.
Continuity lies in their existence.
The modern world grows.
The buildings crumble down.
Tumble down like London bridge.
Their majestic qualities claim the surroundings.

If you grab the cat by it's tail
and shake it around
someone is apt to get scratched up.
The pain stings.
It is always this hard.

The first stab on paper.
Inspiration drifts.
My murderous pen kills you.
My mind is filled with notions.
I cannot harness my thoughts.

Your pouting complaints
are met with scepticism.
Lack creates complaints.
A gift of flowers
you willingly accept.
Weeks of malice pass.
A day of contempt.
I attempt to smooth things over.
Pondering tragedy
in some pleasant household.

Lydia Workman
]]> 73348 2008-03-09 16:00:17 Frozen. Broken silence. Tap, tap, tap.
Can't you see that I'm nervous?
Heart beat. Blink. 2 birds killed with 1 stone.

Truthfully, it was freedom in the first place.

Stop and blink.
I can already see it.
Things begin. Confusion from the start.
This is just the beginning.
I am lossening up. Loosening the blocks.
Loosen and lift away.

I want to dig beneath the surface.
Uncover every stone. Searching.
What have I found?
One shape after another.

My shoes fit.
I can walk the mile.
Arms reaching out for me.
Embraced at every turn.
Arms feeling likes cages.

Year end review.

Pulled around by the tides...

Gravity is not centered.
Things are not balancing.
One side is too heavy.
I feel what is underfoot.

Prosper. Grow. Change.

Take note of what is over-head.
Chased out. Pitched out. Pulled out.

Lydia Workman
]]> 73347 2008-03-09 15:54:19 drowning out lines with beer.
My work day is completed
and my energy depleted.
I am here sipping beer.
Music near.

The cimbals tap loosely on the stage
as I fill up this page with words.
I wait for a companion to turn up.
I am cheered up
and my mind has cleared up.

Lydia Workman
]]> 73344 2008-03-09 15:52:06 knocking against my insides.
It wants out.
Out I exhale it.

Holding breath.
Bait.
Debate.
Point of action.

Reaching inside myself
I find what was hidden.
I speak and remember.
Out comes my soul.

Inside my home.
Outside.

Words spoken.
Words thought.

Please be able to track and trace me.
Do not leave me alone.
I don't want to be forgot.

My soul sits inside myself.
Waiting in want.

Lydia Workman
]]> 73341 2008-03-09 15:49:12 but it was not in service.
There was no higher goal or aspiration.
The wet blanket of authority
had dampened my dreams.
My effectiveness was cut off.
Cast aside.

I was working hard,
but it was not in service.
Like a broken down streetcar
empty of passengers.
I traveled with little purpose.
Traveling only to find repair.

I worked with futility.
I worked with despair.
I worked until the pain had deepened.

My mind was left sweeling with resentments.
Not even my good attitude would please you.
The motions continued on.

Lydia Workman
]]> 73340 2008-03-09 15:45:54 of loving kindness.
Hatred was a mystery.
That time has passed.
Experience has changed me.
Your words were cruel.
I have hatred.
Take as much as you need.

Lydia Workman.
]]> 73339 2008-03-09 15:44:20 It could be yes.
It could be no.
It could be more long drawn than that...

Out goes the question.
It lands on the ear.
The ears hear the question
and inputs the information.

The answer comes out.
It falls from the tongue
and hangs on the air.
It has been spoken.
Actualized.
Real.

The answer is not an insight.
It is simply yes.
Answer received.
Message clear.

Lydia Workman
]]> 73337 2008-03-09 15:41:41 Frustrated energy tears me up inside.
I want to be loosened from mylife.
The burdens rest too heavy.
I don't know how to escape.

Stuck. Stuck. Always stuck...
I don't know what to do with myself anymore.

Pain. Pain. The great lamenter....
The past fades away.
I anticipate the future.
Glad to have the past gone.
Eager to tear into something new.

Lydia Workman
]]> 73336 2008-03-09 15:39:16 I chased it into a dark corner.
There love stood,
but didn't permit me any further.
I allowed love to pass.

Later I waited for love.
I stood for love
and exercised great patience.
I waited until the sun went down
and my eyes were blinded by darkness.

I gave up on love.
I stayed in my room
sorry to be in such a sad state.

Chasing love does nothing
but leaves questions unanswered.
Love is made shy.

Love wanders when waited for
and is made silent.

Lydia Workman
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