oh well it’s just betrayal

folks will get it wrong
they’ll read bad aspects into it
depending what they believe about you

for those prepared to believe the worst
should we really edit around perspectives
of gossip?

i will never forget finding a doctor holding
one of my writings
could only believe some family member gave it to him
and he proceeded to ask me why i was suicidal
and of course i asked him what the heck was he talking about?
so did he interpret incorrectly?
or did i incorrectly gauge what someone would come away with
from my writing?
mostly i try to write so that others can see themselves
in the words or the feelings
so was that doctor suicidal? maybe.

of course at the time i was mostly upset
that my words could be twisted and skewed
so terribly
simply because family assumed they knew me
when the time they spent actually
TALKING to me was less than i spend
talking to the local grocery clerk

so are we obligated
to take assumptions about character
into consideration?

i was never a saint
ever since that doctor held my writing in his hand
only looking at it as a set of symptoms or some kind of
summation with the rest and bulk of my work ignored …

well……….. i’m no saint
i simply then let singularities mess with heads
that don’t know any better than to look for the
worst in ME

because you get tired
you are not stupid and know
that CONCERN about another involves
talking to them, getting to actually know them

so i walk away?
maybe i get frustrated
within the first part of every family relationship
having to be about first reversing
and pulverizing every solidified assumption

and i could write about beauty
how the raindrops glisten on the ripe strawberry
and how the sunset gives me a sigh every night
as i watch the geese fly south once again …

then hope that somehow words turn me into something
in others eyes …. in family eyes

yet instead i remain in the abstract
the settings which involve very few names
images of this thing and that thing

i’m not sure why
except that i remember that writing, MY writing
in that filthy, grubby hand
and how names shift and flow into
wild conceptions ……… and i don’t
know how to treat with that

except to run every possible interpretation
across “make sure it doesn’t seem crazy” filter

and you know it gets just a little bit much
at what point
does the responsibility to maybe NOT see me
as some sort of idiot
that doesn’t know the control of emotions
at what point
is the responsibility on the person
who would rather see the worst
in those they intend to keep down?

at what point do i get to say


want to know the reality?
the reality is i went for drives
through the fields of Oxnard screaming
my frustrations in a sealed car so no one
could hear ….
the reality is that i also went on drives
singing at the top of my lungs
and smiling at absolutely nothing
the reality is that it is not the car
that gave me my freedom

i have never done a single thing in my life
in a thoughtless manner

i was grown up at 7
what time were you handed your parent’s death certificate?
not to say i don’t understand
because i DO play the fool

the fool is a safe place to be
where expectations run low
and there is little risks of thoughts
going too far or too fast

that doesn’t make me deception itself
that makes me cautious because i would
rather understand slowly

fear is the larger part
of any mental imbalance
(i fear creating change that cannot be undone)
everyone needs a place
if you can’t be secure in a place
have to be secure in who you are

in the person inside
that some
some very few and precious people
will take the time to get to know

take the time to understand and see
that beauty is not a person who sees
beauty or demonstrates they are not bitter

but beauty is function
that which creates design
which settles on uplifting consequence
people are machines
and only as good as their maker

… so you decide what is true and what is not true
am i different?
but I’ve had a heck of a lot to deal with…
just because you know that
does not mean that you know me

Reflected  (c) 2012 eebrinker www.fit2c.com all rights reserved

Reflected (c) 2012 eebrinker http://www.fit2c.com all rights reserved

Eclipse 2014

what’s a little retinal burn among friends? this is actually a picture of the eclipse and best could get out of the little Nokia camera. was at the time where moon was slightly past middle, and with the eye could see it over the sun about a third of the way down. on the picture the amount of sunlight makes it look like a full sun still, just toned down. taken 10-23-2014 at 4:57 pm


I shouldn’t worry now

song i wrote quite a ways back … one of my favorites. like something you would go ‘play this one at my funeral’ — it sort of is just more ME than almost anything else i’ve written. don’t know why

The world won’t close its eyes
Sings a song instead
Brings me to my knees
But I won’t give up

In my own weak song
Lights the days ahead
Foundation of the dreams
They’re all around me

I know I shouldn’t worry now
The worst is behind me
But why do I scrape and bow
To all that comes along?

The thrill and the might
Of God and the heavens above
Give me the strength to fight
I shouldn’t worry now

Where has the darkness gone
It was a comfort
But now the light in my eyes
I don’t know how to be

The road is open ahead
For what I can’t afford
The pennies float to the ground
And I don’t pick them up

I know I shouldn’t worry now
The worst is behind me
But why do I scrape and bow
To all that comes along?

Shadows breathe out of sight
Might be a saving grace
Holding love to the light
I shouldn’t worry now

And all my choices
All my sins
Weigh against me
In the end

But I don’t worry
I want more
Gates of heaven
By the door

Open gently
Look inside
It’s not empty
Why you cry?

When it’s all said and done
And all done and said
I think there’s no regrets
‘Cause I didn’t give up

Though Im not yet finished
There’s work to be done
Dreams dance in my head
Leave me wide awake

I know I shouldn’t worry now
The worst is behind me
Why do I scrape and bow
To all that comes along?

The angels take flight
Feathers drift to the ground
Wings of the storm kiss the night
I shouldn’t worry now

copy cat copy cat find your home

i don’t know what makes a person good!
interesting thing
those who steal others’ words
i read them through a few times
go yea that was mine
way back in the old days
on myspace –at least
i know now to not trust
the “writer” who does not write
could play a game
try to guess whose words
are being stolen the next time
and the next

the sun is still dark
at the edges of a silent curtain
as my back twists i feel the bones grind
and i yawn
roll over
find the tablet in my hand
little world wrapped inside
magical world
constantly swirling and changing
you dive into it with your eyes
dive out of it
to the next time and the last time
eternity laughed

there is nothing like the first smell and
sniff of coffee
before a quiet sip
knowing you must come alive
decide the day is day and the night was night

all in the doing
satisfaction in creation
the poor thing misses out
on the only part of writing that matters

muse? no more like the fountain
the river of emotion
that boils and bubbles
and then the will to turn and
shape the desire
to know similarities
and to treasure

so i want to say,
“silly! you missed out on the best part!”
it’s in the doing….
but i closed the page
walked out of my tablet
and smiled up at the ceiling

if we could see the air

if you could see
the air that you breathe
would you care that it’s changed
to a less optimal range?

if its parts were different colors
other than clear and confused
would you see the black of poisons
and be much less amused?

if we could really see
the tender gifts of life we breathe
would there be a consolation of divine?
would a life then
freely know
how a next life then would go
and then forever has no relevance to time

see, there’s more to earth and sky
more to movement and to tries
within the changing of our ways
create a different type of day

yet while limits bloom and set
the hands are bound
while needs are met
but then our questions that arise
are served with blanks and empty eyes
how is good the only best that life can get….

if we could SEE the air
see truly passion bind with flair
then mark the distance with a different kind of thumb

well then the next step would find a smile
for every foot that walked a mile
and every breath
that tells our hearts that we are young

if we could see the air
see the poison’s wild nightmare
and cry out in one voice and one heartache born to decide
then maybe Earth
would be our home
and maybe none could walk alone
for maybe life itself
would find us on its side