A poetic journey through my mind

Posts tagged “photo

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How to send your name to Mars!

How to send your name to Mars!

This is my certificate commemorating my submitting my name to the Maven Space Program for a DvD that they are sending to Mars! I love this idea! Anyone may submit a name, and -all- will go. I thought I should put this here, as this goes to my twitter acct. as well as my fb acct., so the most people will see it…I hope. 😉

http://lasp.colorado.edu/maven/goingtomars/send-your-name/


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St. Augustine Light House

St. Augustine Light House

I used to live right down the road from here, could walk to the park/boat dock at it’s feet…just thought I’d share some Spring-in-Florida goodness. 😉


Hard Times (for Friday Fictioneers photo prompt)

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Being an empath is hard. Harder still, standing here. Those strings have played more feeling than the world is still capable of, and all I want to do is crawl into those memories, those times, good times and bad, and curl up forever, try to live in them, and not here.  Not here, in the cold, waiting for the auction to start.  Waiting for my heart to break.

Yeah, being an empath is hard…

(With all due credit to Spider Robinson, who taught me more about music and empathy in his books than anyone ever has in life.  Also life, hope, joy, sadness, laughter, friends, family…thank you, Spider and Jeanne.  Written for the Friday Fictioneers, like it says above, but it won’t let me link in a title, so here’s the link.  ;p)


Civilization (for Friday Fictioneers photo prompt)

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Huddled together under the dubious safety of the Bridge, the Less watched the poisonous beauty rain down from the sky. They called them “Civs”, those who sent the terror, the flowers of sickness and death. Civs, short for civilized, for those who thought themselves risen past all ugliness and filth, all hunger, pain, and anger.

In the City, all was beauty and grace, peace and love. In the buildings so tall and willowy; grown, not created. Grown of the plague that was destroying humanity. The living seed of evil, machines smaller than the very air itself…machines that “fixed” everything, everywhere.

Gone was individuality, a cause for strife; property, breeder of jealousy; anger, pain, trauma…imagination, creativity, life.

Barely clinging to existence, those who called themselves The Less…careless, feckless, reckless…faceless…fought, carrying out a losing war against the Seed.

Soon, all would be at peace…beauty and grace rule the world. And as they watched the beautiful death that came for them, its light illuminating the shadows and dirt in which they existed…most of them could not regret its coming.

 

(whoops…forgot the linkie thing. Lots of neat little stories here. Go check’em out!)


Bones of Ash, Heart of Glass (aka A -real- book update!)

Alright, I am now officially hopping off my arse and getting to serious work on our book.  To recap, here’s the story so far…

On Kyotzeta’s one month birthday, I wrote that I had an as yet vague idea to publish some sort of collection or book to raise awareness of all kinds of abuse and try to give a voice to the silent ones as I’ve tried to do with my words for so long. I asked for contributions (non-monetary) to the book, in any form preferred…prose, poetry, photo, picture, etc.  However, at the time, I had no idea what it would take to publish such a book, or even whether it should be free or have a minimal cost with all money donated to a charity…

Over the weeks since then, I’ve (slowly) researched and thought about it, and so far  these are my conclusions.  Since this is to be -our- book, if anyone has any comments, complaints, suggestions or just plain ideas, please please please feel free to comment below!

So what we have so far:

The book will be (tentatively) titled Bones of Ash, Heart of Glass, and will take the form of a free e-book that anyone can download.  (Not sure about format, going to try to go for the publishing software/site that has the most choices and yet still allows free books)   I’m -considering- setting up some sort of donation site as well, but that will be separate from the book if possible. (*sighs*  Why is it so -complicated- to do something good??)

Of course, all submissions will be properly attributed, and submitters will have the option of writing a short descriptional blurb for an “Authors” page.  On the other hand, all submissions -must- be your own intellectual property, or something you have permission to use in this fashion.  I know this hardly needs said… 🙂

Submissions should be sent to my email, kyotzeta@gmail.com, with “book submission’ in the title.  I want to try to have this done by fall, if possible, hopefully coinciding with the new school year…so the sooner you get me your submissions the better…on the other hand, don’t rush.  Hopefully once I start collecting and organizing my stuff I’ll have a better idea of what kind of timeline we’re looking at…

Hrrmm…I think that’s all I have for now, except to say Thank You for considering this project, I think we’re going to do wonderful things toward the ultimate goal…raising awareness of every facet of abuse, giving a voice to all the silent ones and hope to the hopeless.  *hugs*

Yours always,

KC & Co.


Nia’s Eyes

For my Christmas Girl…a present. ;)

Trees and flowers seem to shake themselves in the rain, like birds in a puddle, drops flying every which way with the wind.

From her heart the images pour,
color and light and clarity,
through her eyes the pictures soar,
gifted to us in her charity.

Rainwashed brick winds through the town, an ancient ribbon tying the years together, beauty to be found even in the thought-to-be mundane.

Her talent is seemingly boundless,
the camera her all-seeing eye,
her pictures, though technically soundless,
sing a paen to earth and to sky.

Rust streaks paint hymns on ancient stones, revealing the soul within. Centuries of rainfall wash away the inconsequential, until only the eternal survives.

Starkly real or painted lies,
each one a true creation,
they let us see behind her eyes,
witness imagination.

Visions smeared through tear-stained glass, all nature in mourning for the sun.

Thank you for your loving heart,
your talent and dedication,
for sharing with us all, your art,
a gift to all the nations.

Silvered drops hop, in puddles, like a child in new rain gear. Hear the tinkling laughter?