Broadwayinesta

Broadwayinesta is the idea of this writer for a performing arts company in my hometown of Estacada Oregon USA.

Aastrid Falls

She woke with a gnawing notion in her spirit. In the pit, of the pit, of the pit of her stomach. Her core was silent and she didn't care much for the sour note that was resonating there. Her dreams had been crushed and her spirit was broken, yet, she was still determined to forge a path, even though it felt so uneasy. How do I get there from here she thought? She was deflated and tired, withered and worn, deserted and degraded, but once again, she willed herself to the table, and sitting down... she began.

"Just do it!" popped in her head. Cliche? Oh! Most definitely!

She wanted to be a writer and she wanted to be successful at it. If only she could find the words? Every minute signaled a silent plea. Oh! To go back to the days before her social awakening. The memories came flooding back to her in stunning arrays. It was the ease with which everything used to come to her that she missed most. Maybe it would have been better to describe the beginning as a social deadening, or maybe, the time that changed her happiness for good. Her life up to the point where the change occurred was a lie, but everything had felt better then—at least, better from her perspective.

Things had been going along smoothly, that is, until recently. The challenges used to be fun. Life always seemed a challenge, but that is what she lived for and she had always been up for it. However, the wearing on her year after year had all but killed her drive. Her spirit was like Swiss cheese, full of holes and lacking substance. What  an innocent pleasure! To be on top of the world and have no idea that you weren't. That was the beauty of her life before the change...

It was only the second day she had passed by the warm glowing porthole to her future, being that her mother had walked her to school that the first day. Never would she have ever thought that the perfect circle window glowing its' inviting warmth possessed such great meaning to her in her life. It was the second day of first grade and the window calling to her signaled the halfway point between home and school.

It Hangs on My Heart

A sheepish persona traversing slender actions unseen

The spirit of something Divine

Gifts treasured in a blanket of internal sanctuary

Blossoming features of duplicity

Graves marked only by the people who visit them

Time carries on in limited disclosure

Regrets come from a placid place of inner knowledge

Trying to break from complacent postures of indifference

Kissing the honey lips of silence

Troublesome dreams...

Or maybe a prophetic symbol of the time at hand

Which power divinely empowers you?

Speak of secrets unheard

Travel with the lightness of spring in gypsies poses

Every step a deeply seeded secret—a gift

What to pass on and what to keep personal and private

Neil Diamond sings “Stones” in a meter of lyrical precision unparalleled

Creeping into the places not yet protected

Keeping close to the heart of your soul—today—always

Will you play me like a record?

With all the scratches and skips as in days of past times long ago

The flesh and the spirit collide—responsive to the true nature of life

This is what hangs on my heart

Prisoner's Dilemma

Prisoners of our own misunderstandings

Littered in turbulent unwritten tragedies

Grace is just a name in the bible

A space between rivals

North vs. South

And East across to the Atlantic

But  tell me Professor…

Where’s the greatest loving bond?

Nations speak colorful regurgitations

And glorify their earnest subjugations

Why do you put on this crooked smile?

I’m suffering at the joy you see in it!

Circumstances of the unhealthy kind

Leaving corpses well behind
Chitter Chatter...what will they say?