Locky J Writes

 Flowers bloom, slowly opening. Their characters slowly showing. Just like people, they wait to sing. Needing to feel safe,before their colours they bring. But when they do they dance and sway. The breeze and bees, a lovers caress. Shining bright, a light to show the way. Stop,smell and enjoy.Gain their trust and they bless. And just like us, they are so different,none the same. Some bright and bold, some subtle but just as amazing. Just like each flower tho, we shouldn't have shame. Be ourselves, hold ourselves high and our strengths, sing. And in this way, thru ceaseless love can we see, How amazing, each of us is, how we can shine. Id love to have a lack of judgement, like a straight tree, If you fit the model, the world opens arms and says that's mine.

 Fly high oh pretty one, Wings beat strong and deep. Close as possible to the sun The dream,alive, to keep. Yet somehow, always clouds, Wrapping around and smothering. The dream it always shrouds, Always just out of reach, fighting. As tho, no matter how strong the wings, Tomorrow is just as dark and broken. Look around, no joy the dawn brings, Yet this seems to remain, hushed, unspoken. Still we fight on, as tho the tides we can turn, Who do we think we are, gods, such fools! Dreams,in our wake, as ashes, burn, As slowly our desire for life, it cools. Death, whispers, and entices, Of such release, could we just land. And still we judge, falling to its vices, Slowly we clutch death, it's warm hand. For when all is black and grey, A painless tomorrow looks bright. Death, closes in, and hear it say, Come with me, it will be alright.

 The call goes out," roll up the tents, close down the watchtowers". Summer in all its glory, like a vanquished army, heads north. Summer days, warm shimmery hazes all packed and plants unfurl their last flowers. Warmth and beach days, side by side, solemnly march forth.  In the rear, the last battalions of the sun bravely dance through the valleys.  No match are they though for the grinding trudge of the winter warriors.  With crinkled eye the summer sun assesses the losses,summer victories he tallies. As winter, with frost shields and icy morning spears, erects its barriers. The summer and winter generals stare across the battlefield. Both seeing victory and defeat. Both knowing there is a time to win and a time to yield. Both knowing it will be soon and again they will meet.  For theirs is the eternal battle, as nature does demand.  Of which both are just pawns and both must play their hand.  In salute they tip their caps, knowing that in fact they ...

Nature, the wonders we can never summit. Dancing water in the river of life never slows. Is it because we fight against it, Instead of going with the flow? I stumble and bumble, my way, Don't we all fight hard to persevere? Instead, if we just felt it, with it sway. No need to fight it, flow here to there. The earth has this way of dancing, Slow, steady but oh so intoxicating. Swing and sway, she is entrancing, The wind slides in, inebriating. Subtle, sexy, change of seasons, Like a funky slide guitar. She has her reasons, I'll fold to what they are.

How hard is it to put ourselves out there and continually move forward as entrepreneurs and creators?!  In this world of cold faced businesses, deadlines and unyielding educational frameworks, we do not seem to fit and that impacts our self-esteem massively. These are just a couple of the thoughts I had as I worked on an article for a customer, thoughts which have given birth to this blog post. I realized that the best response that the creators can mount is that they continue to CREATE!! Hell, it is vital that you do not stop! Can be just a little, doesn't have to be a lot, just don't stop!  I realized that I have been guilty of stopping my creative outlets, ceasing to listen to the whispers of my creative soul; preferring to listen to the grating shouts of the business world. How could that be so?  How could I, an online blogger, content creator and one who espouses the location independent lifestyle no less, fall so in love with the cold, g...

                                       Morning, The River. Awaken! Tendrils of mist, silent ghostly worshipers, rise across the river. Ghost’s departing their watery graves. Softly, softly, feathered singers serenade. Subtle, sensual, this dance with the mists. Sun sneaks above the horizon, a timid child approaching the new day. Wind gently caresses the willows, sweeping down the river path. Pillows trek across the sky, to and fro, merchants of the blue. Warmth, slithers across the landscape, embracing all. Old friends reunited, gentle murmurs raise across the land. Awake now, this river of life. Locky J