You are white catalyzing resonance... fire personified.
I am pungent fertile soil..molded to footsteps. Earthbound.
The burn of fire cleanses earth and allows for new growth.
Earth gives fire land to clear...a path to scorch...and rage upon.
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
The Bubble
They are
fused at the heart
in their pure selves
energetic and magnetized
they radiate
Those who bear witness
to
their magic
are amused and mystified
Like wild mad children
they laugh and play and paw
at each other
oblivious to circumstances
lost in the ecstasy
their combined
lunacy...revelry...chemistry
fused at the heart
in their pure selves
energetic and magnetized
they radiate
Those who bear witness
to
their magic
are amused and mystified
Like wild mad children
they laugh and play and paw
at each other
oblivious to circumstances
lost in the ecstasy
their combined
lunacy...revelry...chemistry
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Distraction
Driven by adrenaline
I have avoided this
realization
the sun coming in
through the slats
in the window
the cats on the couch
curled up in the
warmth
standing in this tomb
understanding comes
like a punch in the stomach
knocking the wind from me
I cry out
but no one can hear me
the helplessness grows
and then
I am numb
the time has flown
running from this truth
I have escaped the knot
now I am tied.
AL 9/29/2011
I have avoided this
realization
the sun coming in
through the slats
in the window
the cats on the couch
curled up in the
warmth
standing in this tomb
understanding comes
like a punch in the stomach
knocking the wind from me
I cry out
but no one can hear me
the helplessness grows
and then
I am numb
the time has flown
running from this truth
I have escaped the knot
now I am tied.
AL 9/29/2011
Monday, September 26, 2011
Him
What is this strange
confusion we are in
where your hand upon
my heart
is my heart beating
in your chest
but we are two
boomerangs
passing in flight
bruised by the fall
and toss
but bound to
our mission
a pair
AL 9/10/2011
confusion we are in
where your hand upon
my heart
is my heart beating
in your chest
but we are two
boomerangs
passing in flight
bruised by the fall
and toss
but bound to
our mission
a pair
AL 9/10/2011
Spasm
Shut out the fear of looking
to feel entirely the heat
of the stare
burning the cheek in
blush
The shaking began again
never to have returned
I believed.
What fate is this
to open that door is
perilous but enticing
pulled by the stomach
to soothe the flutter
by the nearness and touch
there is no resolve to
resist
Replaced addictions
inertia...
AL
to feel entirely the heat
of the stare
burning the cheek in
blush
The shaking began again
never to have returned
I believed.
What fate is this
to open that door is
perilous but enticing
pulled by the stomach
to soothe the flutter
by the nearness and touch
there is no resolve to
resist
Replaced addictions
inertia...
AL
Thursday, July 28, 2011
All in a days work
When did I forsake myself
was it in the promise of forever
or in a single moment
yesterday
When did I stop listening
to the pounding beat
in my chest
and
the coursing in my veins
Why can't I make peace
with all my tomorrows
The dance is perfunctory
breathing has become routine
tunnel vision makes all things
gray
How does resolve become
resolution
To drown in mundane and
colorless melancholy
is settling
A. Lamb 4/29/2011
was it in the promise of forever
or in a single moment
yesterday
When did I stop listening
to the pounding beat
in my chest
and
the coursing in my veins
Why can't I make peace
with all my tomorrows
The dance is perfunctory
breathing has become routine
tunnel vision makes all things
gray
How does resolve become
resolution
To drown in mundane and
colorless melancholy
is settling
A. Lamb 4/29/2011
Sideways Spinning
Sideways Spinning
through dark alleys in pale pink polyester
white lined nostril wrangler performing stage left
green mountains spilling over vanilla root beer hills
coffee stained napkins composed with jazz digits
and you light my cigarette; and all stops
click shhhcccckkkkk ahhhhhhhhhh
Tumbling upwards downwards warm mouth outside
green grey morning of peak awareness and discovered love
Angry hateful putrid gold and avocado finger pointing
not bologna for breakfast again you big bear
dream walk into graceful holding waking deciding with actualization
Is he yours? Was he mine? Does he know? Will he care?
I cried
Windy whipping wild red hair, short black up down
little girl tutu big girl heels...look at me, do you see what I can do?
dress over head down to your knees; free
reflections in glass too fleeting to be
white teeth peek through condemned quarters in crooked corners
eyes sparkling dying crying seeing brown and big
A.L.
through dark alleys in pale pink polyester
white lined nostril wrangler performing stage left
green mountains spilling over vanilla root beer hills
coffee stained napkins composed with jazz digits
and you light my cigarette; and all stops
click shhhcccckkkkk ahhhhhhhhhh
Tumbling upwards downwards warm mouth outside
green grey morning of peak awareness and discovered love
Angry hateful putrid gold and avocado finger pointing
not bologna for breakfast again you big bear
dream walk into graceful holding waking deciding with actualization
Is he yours? Was he mine? Does he know? Will he care?
I cried
Windy whipping wild red hair, short black up down
little girl tutu big girl heels...look at me, do you see what I can do?
dress over head down to your knees; free
reflections in glass too fleeting to be
white teeth peek through condemned quarters in crooked corners
eyes sparkling dying crying seeing brown and big
A.L.
Rage
I
RISING ABRUPTLY FROM MY PRAYER GARDEN
ENCUMBERED BY YOUR WREATH OF HALF BLAME
WHITE OR WHEAT
YOU SAY
STAY
LOWERING MYSELF DOWN INTO DIRT
BENDING TO MEET THE EARTH TO FIND MY BEGINNING
I AM MET WITH SOLID IMMOVABLE FORCE
I WILL STAY
LAYING STILL IN THE MULCH OF MY MAKING
TRYING NOT TO BE SEEN
CAMOUFLAGED
YOU WALK AROUND AND OVER ME CALLING TO ME
TRIPPING
I HAVE MADE YOU SPILL THE WINE
THE EARTH AROUND ME BECOMES MUD
PUNGENT AND RED WITH THE REMAINS OF BLUDGEONED GRAPES
I
RISING TO MEET YOU IN YOUR FURY
GROWING EVER TOWARDS THE SUN
REACHING TOWARDS YOUR THRUSTING FISTS
I GRASP YOUR SORROW
WE WILL BURY IT IN THE GARDEN
I STAY
A.L.
RISING ABRUPTLY FROM MY PRAYER GARDEN
ENCUMBERED BY YOUR WREATH OF HALF BLAME
WHITE OR WHEAT
YOU SAY
STAY
LOWERING MYSELF DOWN INTO DIRT
BENDING TO MEET THE EARTH TO FIND MY BEGINNING
I AM MET WITH SOLID IMMOVABLE FORCE
I WILL STAY
LAYING STILL IN THE MULCH OF MY MAKING
TRYING NOT TO BE SEEN
CAMOUFLAGED
YOU WALK AROUND AND OVER ME CALLING TO ME
TRIPPING
I HAVE MADE YOU SPILL THE WINE
THE EARTH AROUND ME BECOMES MUD
PUNGENT AND RED WITH THE REMAINS OF BLUDGEONED GRAPES
I
RISING TO MEET YOU IN YOUR FURY
GROWING EVER TOWARDS THE SUN
REACHING TOWARDS YOUR THRUSTING FISTS
I GRASP YOUR SORROW
WE WILL BURY IT IN THE GARDEN
I STAY
A.L.
Observations
There is a piece of his hair that always lingers on his brow. He is constantly brushing it away... its swoop seems unplanned but hits the angle of his forehead just right. It lands and then lifts off just above his eye in a way that makes him look roguish but also distracted. Wet or dry, short or long its there. Is it planned? I don't know. I have never had the courage to ask him. It is like the metaphorical question of him in my mind. It could be a careful cultivation created to appear haphazard but in actuality is meticulously planned or a very lucky cowlick that accidentally makes him more beautiful and naturally intriguing.
A.L. 7/28/11
A.L. 7/28/11
Sunday, June 19, 2011
A Letter To My Father
Hi Daddy,
I was just remembering all the Fathers Days I spent dreading the call. I used to time my call so I wouldn't get you at specific times...so you might even be asleep. I was afraid I would get you after too many drinks, that the conversation would be...well difficult. There are even probably some that I missed... when I did not call. Out of anger or fear. Now I can't call, so I am writing. I can think of a lot of things I should have done. That I wish I had done. However, I know you would not want me to dwell on that now. How things ended, how they began and the magic parts along the way, that is what should remain.
Mostly I am left feeling like I learned a difficult lesson that honestly I think we are never done learning. To remember, even and especially when it is most difficult, to give thanks for the life we have been blessed with and those that are intrinsic to it. You were the biggest knot to untie for me...the bumpiest ride...the brightest light...the longest day and the shortest life. I wish it did not take the loss of you for me to understand what we could have shared and that the past and the anger didn't really matter. In the end when it was just you and me, it was like I was little again.We were as we had been and I was grateful for that. I feel so blessed that you let me take care of you in the end. Other than life it was the best gift you could have given me.
I watched my brother with his beautiful daughter this week and it made me think so much of you. He has your sparkle and laugh...your sense of fun and his daughter thinks he is the biggest star in the sky. He too has learned his own lessons from you. So even though sometimes it was hard won... you taught us so much. For everything and the fact of you... for the joy and soul you gave us and for everything in between. I love you with all my heart, I miss you all the time and Happy Fathers Day!
Annie Pie Lamb
I was just remembering all the Fathers Days I spent dreading the call. I used to time my call so I wouldn't get you at specific times...so you might even be asleep. I was afraid I would get you after too many drinks, that the conversation would be...well difficult. There are even probably some that I missed... when I did not call. Out of anger or fear. Now I can't call, so I am writing. I can think of a lot of things I should have done. That I wish I had done. However, I know you would not want me to dwell on that now. How things ended, how they began and the magic parts along the way, that is what should remain.
Mostly I am left feeling like I learned a difficult lesson that honestly I think we are never done learning. To remember, even and especially when it is most difficult, to give thanks for the life we have been blessed with and those that are intrinsic to it. You were the biggest knot to untie for me...the bumpiest ride...the brightest light...the longest day and the shortest life. I wish it did not take the loss of you for me to understand what we could have shared and that the past and the anger didn't really matter. In the end when it was just you and me, it was like I was little again.We were as we had been and I was grateful for that. I feel so blessed that you let me take care of you in the end. Other than life it was the best gift you could have given me.
I watched my brother with his beautiful daughter this week and it made me think so much of you. He has your sparkle and laugh...your sense of fun and his daughter thinks he is the biggest star in the sky. He too has learned his own lessons from you. So even though sometimes it was hard won... you taught us so much. For everything and the fact of you... for the joy and soul you gave us and for everything in between. I love you with all my heart, I miss you all the time and Happy Fathers Day!
Annie Pie Lamb
Monday, June 6, 2011
Actualization And Purpose
Over the last year or so due to many lifestyle changes both physical and mental I have become a much healthier person. I have had many realizations over time that the more I embrace and respect my true and unique self and love and reveal that self openly...that my life becomes more and more full and more and more beautiful. One of these realizations, although a reluctant one, has been that in my own way... I am a leader.
I have it in me to effect change and inspiration in others through the true expression of my own experiences, my life and my personal energy. I spent many years shrugging off that knowledge. I did not want the responsibility for other peoples lives, choices or experiences. Out of fear of failing...caring too much or losing myself. This was partly due to the fact that even given my wealth of personal knowledge and instinctual openness I felt like "who am I to help others as I struggle on my own path"?
What I realize now is that even though a lot of the time I don't feel like I am where I should be or even that I know where I am going...it is not the outcome or destination that really counts. It is how you get there. Not only to survive things but to learn and incorporate everything into your present being. I am really good at finding a way out of a maze... I can always find ways to learn. I have eternal hope and faith and I have retained this essential part of my character through all of my own hardships. I know that there are many other people who are struggling where I have been... or who lack a sense that life is a meaningful adventure.
My own modesty or maybe fear that what I have to say will not be interesting to others or might be too simple or irrelevant is no longer a block in my brain. Now I seek ways to share what I have lived...what I see...what I feel...and not only my triumphs but my stumbles which in the end have only made me stronger and more able. I think this is one thing that is special about me. It is what I can offer to others. I don't profess to have all or even any of the answers but I am pretty good at helping people to unwind the knots in their minds...souls... or lives. I love doing it. It makes me feel alive and full of purpose.
I have opened myself to this personal truth. I am seeking ways to fulfill it. I no longer reject the inclination to lead or the requests of others for me to do so... and I am inspired to share what I have now to be all that I am entirely in this life and help others to do the same.
Love pure and simple has always been at the root of purpose for me and my interactions with others. I do not seek to win, to distance, to hurt to be superior or to prove. I only seek to connect, to enjoy, to love and to inspire and be inspired. I am usually not guarded in situations, well my nature is not to be. I always expect good things. That is not always an easy way to live in this world. I have many times been hurt myself or disappointed by those tendencies in others. This is not to say that I have never hurt anyone or put up a wall at times or been afraid. As thick as my skin seems I am hurt quite easily. Especially by those I respect. What I have learned though, is that those things as frustrating as they are are never personal. They are someone else's shields, wounds or insecurities.
As people we bounce off of each other and we can choose to absorb that kind of energy or to deflect it. This life is ours to live. We truly can make it what we want it to be. That is very difficult when the consideration of others feelings is at stake but we can only do what in our hearts we feel to be right. Conflicted or not it is impossible not to know somewhere inside what that right thing is. We always know. We just get confused by all our options and the opinions of those we trust who have good intentions but whose personal experiences, perceptions and filters cannot give us an answer that fits our self.
I am searching... that is in my nature. I know most people want you to be able to tell them "what you do" or "what are your goals"...or "What are your plans"? Well, I am constantly experiencing, growing, learning, processing, creating, and loving. That is what I do... I know there is not much value for that to many people especially in our culture. That way of being/living does not really involve "things" or specific structure or nutshell phrases. I have many goals. Most of which involve experiencing,evolving, giving, serving and fighting for the helpless, confused or suffering and speaking and sharing my truth and the truths of those who have no voice.... Hard things to explain quickly to people. I know that in our culture that sounds ridiculous or like a luxury to a lot of folks. It is not a luxury to be compelled to be this way...it is a struggle that carries with it inherent responsibilities. I embrace that wholeheartedly now. It is simply who I am.
A. Lamb 6/2011
I have it in me to effect change and inspiration in others through the true expression of my own experiences, my life and my personal energy. I spent many years shrugging off that knowledge. I did not want the responsibility for other peoples lives, choices or experiences. Out of fear of failing...caring too much or losing myself. This was partly due to the fact that even given my wealth of personal knowledge and instinctual openness I felt like "who am I to help others as I struggle on my own path"?
What I realize now is that even though a lot of the time I don't feel like I am where I should be or even that I know where I am going...it is not the outcome or destination that really counts. It is how you get there. Not only to survive things but to learn and incorporate everything into your present being. I am really good at finding a way out of a maze... I can always find ways to learn. I have eternal hope and faith and I have retained this essential part of my character through all of my own hardships. I know that there are many other people who are struggling where I have been... or who lack a sense that life is a meaningful adventure.
My own modesty or maybe fear that what I have to say will not be interesting to others or might be too simple or irrelevant is no longer a block in my brain. Now I seek ways to share what I have lived...what I see...what I feel...and not only my triumphs but my stumbles which in the end have only made me stronger and more able. I think this is one thing that is special about me. It is what I can offer to others. I don't profess to have all or even any of the answers but I am pretty good at helping people to unwind the knots in their minds...souls... or lives. I love doing it. It makes me feel alive and full of purpose.
I have opened myself to this personal truth. I am seeking ways to fulfill it. I no longer reject the inclination to lead or the requests of others for me to do so... and I am inspired to share what I have now to be all that I am entirely in this life and help others to do the same.
Love pure and simple has always been at the root of purpose for me and my interactions with others. I do not seek to win, to distance, to hurt to be superior or to prove. I only seek to connect, to enjoy, to love and to inspire and be inspired. I am usually not guarded in situations, well my nature is not to be. I always expect good things. That is not always an easy way to live in this world. I have many times been hurt myself or disappointed by those tendencies in others. This is not to say that I have never hurt anyone or put up a wall at times or been afraid. As thick as my skin seems I am hurt quite easily. Especially by those I respect. What I have learned though, is that those things as frustrating as they are are never personal. They are someone else's shields, wounds or insecurities.
As people we bounce off of each other and we can choose to absorb that kind of energy or to deflect it. This life is ours to live. We truly can make it what we want it to be. That is very difficult when the consideration of others feelings is at stake but we can only do what in our hearts we feel to be right. Conflicted or not it is impossible not to know somewhere inside what that right thing is. We always know. We just get confused by all our options and the opinions of those we trust who have good intentions but whose personal experiences, perceptions and filters cannot give us an answer that fits our self.
I am searching... that is in my nature. I know most people want you to be able to tell them "what you do" or "what are your goals"...or "What are your plans"? Well, I am constantly experiencing, growing, learning, processing, creating, and loving. That is what I do... I know there is not much value for that to many people especially in our culture. That way of being/living does not really involve "things" or specific structure or nutshell phrases. I have many goals. Most of which involve experiencing,evolving, giving, serving and fighting for the helpless, confused or suffering and speaking and sharing my truth and the truths of those who have no voice.... Hard things to explain quickly to people. I know that in our culture that sounds ridiculous or like a luxury to a lot of folks. It is not a luxury to be compelled to be this way...it is a struggle that carries with it inherent responsibilities. I embrace that wholeheartedly now. It is simply who I am.
A. Lamb 6/2011
Monday, May 2, 2011
A Reflection On The Death Of Osama
I just have to say...in this time of change and theories, catharsis and even sadness...I am bothered by the oversimplification and all the assumptive, presumptuous, and overly idealistic attitudes some people are expressing. I do not agree that we should party over the killing of anyone, or that that death is the answer to the problems we face...(they would have much rather brought Osama in alive, yet that was not what he was going to allow...I am sure) but anyone with any intelligence knows that the catharsis and reaction many people are having is about so much more than that.
Those of us who have not lost someone or many people in this last ten years to terrorism and war, or have not lived under that kind of oppression can have our ideas and feelings about this, but we know far too little about this...both politically and personally to be telling other people how they should feel. There are many sides to this story. Let us not forget what this man's life was dedicated to. That he essentially chose how he would die being dedicated as he was to his own beliefs. That any human life not in line with his system of belief was worthless. He actively participated in the destruction of that life and perpetuated that belief system. We should be working toward peace always...however, though I am not throwing a party or lighting off fire works and popping champagne... I will not be sad that this man is gone. I am glad for the relief of those who have suffered and that there will be less suffering hereafter on his account. Of course we must be aware that this is not over and of course the desire is for a peaceful world. Let us be careful though...not to martyr this man inadvertently in our idealistic quests for "peace". For that is what he wanted. To die a martyr. He lived by the gun and he died by the gun. That was his choosing.
As I was thinking about all of this last night...I could not help but think about World War II and Hitler. Would people be so cavalier as to tell those who survived the concentration camps and/or lost family or friends under Hitler not to rejoice in the death of that man? I cannot imagine the nerve that would take.
Everyone has a right to their own perceptions and in this country...to express those perceptions. Let us try to remember not to be divorced though... from the reality that often conflicts with our high ideals.
There are always those who get swept up in the mob but I think for the most part most people were relieved and glad to have that part of our consciousness behind us and that in some small way the symbol and face of incalculable pain is no more.
I do not believe (this is just my own perspective talking) that the reactions most people are having are about the killing as much as the fact that Osama no longer exists. I believe that had they brought him in alive there would have been as much celebrating. Would there be as much criticism of those who felt relief that this man was no longer in a place of power and could be released from our collective consciousness? That is something to think about. We should not rejoice in killing ever... however are we obligated to mourn the passing of every human life? I am pretty sure the answer is no. Even if you are a pacifist or desire peace... You do not have to deny the human reaction of relief or joy to the end of a period of devastation caused in large part by this man. Death is part of life...the life that Osama chose was all about death.
People are not perfect and no one has all the answers. Our human emotions and psyches are far more complex than simple sayings or idealistic beliefs can encompass...especially when grief and loss and persecution are at play.
We should also not loose sight of the fact that this mans death is not the end of the terror he bred. There are many who followed him and who stand now in his place. We need to deal with the reality of these problems as well as our ideals. I believe that that is possible. Just remember that compassion is complex and involves understanding people and emotions on a multi dimensional level. Judging people for their sincere emotions is not in line with peace either. We must remember that we all have our own multi layered filters that can feel right to us but that do not fit the reality of other peoples experiences. I think...true compassion and conflict resolution...absolutely stems from a real understanding and respect for that.
We need to look at everything as truthfully as possible and try to learn something from it. Even the things we can't bear to look at. For it is all part of life. Worldwide peace is a lovely ideal. It has never existed in our recorded history. It appears to go against our human nature. I do not know if I believe it is truly possible, however if it is to exist, everyone must keep open eyes and an open mind and a willingness to try to understand the suffering and reactions of others.
Angela Lamb 5/2/2011
Those of us who have not lost someone or many people in this last ten years to terrorism and war, or have not lived under that kind of oppression can have our ideas and feelings about this, but we know far too little about this...both politically and personally to be telling other people how they should feel. There are many sides to this story. Let us not forget what this man's life was dedicated to. That he essentially chose how he would die being dedicated as he was to his own beliefs. That any human life not in line with his system of belief was worthless. He actively participated in the destruction of that life and perpetuated that belief system. We should be working toward peace always...however, though I am not throwing a party or lighting off fire works and popping champagne... I will not be sad that this man is gone. I am glad for the relief of those who have suffered and that there will be less suffering hereafter on his account. Of course we must be aware that this is not over and of course the desire is for a peaceful world. Let us be careful though...not to martyr this man inadvertently in our idealistic quests for "peace". For that is what he wanted. To die a martyr. He lived by the gun and he died by the gun. That was his choosing.
As I was thinking about all of this last night...I could not help but think about World War II and Hitler. Would people be so cavalier as to tell those who survived the concentration camps and/or lost family or friends under Hitler not to rejoice in the death of that man? I cannot imagine the nerve that would take.
Everyone has a right to their own perceptions and in this country...to express those perceptions. Let us try to remember not to be divorced though... from the reality that often conflicts with our high ideals.
There are always those who get swept up in the mob but I think for the most part most people were relieved and glad to have that part of our consciousness behind us and that in some small way the symbol and face of incalculable pain is no more.
I do not believe (this is just my own perspective talking) that the reactions most people are having are about the killing as much as the fact that Osama no longer exists. I believe that had they brought him in alive there would have been as much celebrating. Would there be as much criticism of those who felt relief that this man was no longer in a place of power and could be released from our collective consciousness? That is something to think about. We should not rejoice in killing ever... however are we obligated to mourn the passing of every human life? I am pretty sure the answer is no. Even if you are a pacifist or desire peace... You do not have to deny the human reaction of relief or joy to the end of a period of devastation caused in large part by this man. Death is part of life...the life that Osama chose was all about death.
People are not perfect and no one has all the answers. Our human emotions and psyches are far more complex than simple sayings or idealistic beliefs can encompass...especially when grief and loss and persecution are at play.
We should also not loose sight of the fact that this mans death is not the end of the terror he bred. There are many who followed him and who stand now in his place. We need to deal with the reality of these problems as well as our ideals. I believe that that is possible. Just remember that compassion is complex and involves understanding people and emotions on a multi dimensional level. Judging people for their sincere emotions is not in line with peace either. We must remember that we all have our own multi layered filters that can feel right to us but that do not fit the reality of other peoples experiences. I think...true compassion and conflict resolution...absolutely stems from a real understanding and respect for that.
We need to look at everything as truthfully as possible and try to learn something from it. Even the things we can't bear to look at. For it is all part of life. Worldwide peace is a lovely ideal. It has never existed in our recorded history. It appears to go against our human nature. I do not know if I believe it is truly possible, however if it is to exist, everyone must keep open eyes and an open mind and a willingness to try to understand the suffering and reactions of others.
Angela Lamb 5/2/2011
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Tyburn
Longest
Brightest
Strongest
Rightest
Always bringing hope when you return
Inspiring in me a fire that burns
A.Lamb 4/26/2011
Brightest
Strongest
Rightest
Always bringing hope when you return
Inspiring in me a fire that burns
A.Lamb 4/26/2011
Free Verse
The light came through
the window
behind your head
dwindling towards the sea
I sat eating
you watched me
and handed me a napkin
We sat in silence
A smile spread
across your lips
I thought
Happiness could be nothing more
than
this moment.
A. Lamb 4/26/2011
the window
behind your head
dwindling towards the sea
I sat eating
you watched me
and handed me a napkin
We sat in silence
A smile spread
across your lips
I thought
Happiness could be nothing more
than
this moment.
A. Lamb 4/26/2011
Daemon
I wonder sometimes where the words get stuck. Days and hours and even years can go by in that purgatory place. The wall around the moat around brilliance is impenetrable until one day when I am sitting on the hillside throwing rocks into a river. The bridge comes down and like knights riding into crusade...the words come flying at me. Not at me really, more like, through me.
I don't even think the meaning and concepts are my own. They definitely get filtered through me. The ideas, even the words are translated on their journey through my brain... and body. I would liken it to a possession. In that moment, I cannot do anything but write. Maybe its more like sneezing. Your body cannot do anything else when it is sneezing. I feel a surge of adrenaline and a flash of knowing. I believe in that moment I am pulling from a larger consciousness a language I subconsciously understand or a puzzle piece that fits. Those moments have happened to me many times in my life.
I know that I should recognize how lucky I am to have had even one moment like that. The problem is that they don't occur very often. I cannot make a moment like that happen, and believe me I have tried. A very specific constellation of ingredients has to be in place. That is why its so rare.
A. Lamb 4/2011
I don't even think the meaning and concepts are my own. They definitely get filtered through me. The ideas, even the words are translated on their journey through my brain... and body. I would liken it to a possession. In that moment, I cannot do anything but write. Maybe its more like sneezing. Your body cannot do anything else when it is sneezing. I feel a surge of adrenaline and a flash of knowing. I believe in that moment I am pulling from a larger consciousness a language I subconsciously understand or a puzzle piece that fits. Those moments have happened to me many times in my life.
I know that I should recognize how lucky I am to have had even one moment like that. The problem is that they don't occur very often. I cannot make a moment like that happen, and believe me I have tried. A very specific constellation of ingredients has to be in place. That is why its so rare.
A. Lamb 4/2011
Monday, April 25, 2011
Acrostic
Rising to meet the unending challenge
Evaluating and seeking authenticity
Saying what must be said truthfully
Understanding weaknesses and limitations
Revolting against negativity
Relaxing into my destiny
Eating healthy and colorful foods
Considering the possibilities
Taking action now
Inspiring myself and others
Opening up and out
Never giving up and never giving in
Angela Lamb 4/25/2011
Evaluating and seeking authenticity
Saying what must be said truthfully
Understanding weaknesses and limitations
Revolting against negativity
Relaxing into my destiny
Eating healthy and colorful foods
Considering the possibilities
Taking action now
Inspiring myself and others
Opening up and out
Never giving up and never giving in
Angela Lamb 4/25/2011
Thursday, March 17, 2011
The beginings of a song...
I'm a fighter baby... even when I lose, I've won
I'm a dancer honey...the rhythm strikes and I am gone
I'm a walker sweetie...watch me stride out that door
I'm a talker lover...round in circles and your done
You don't know what you've started
You don't know what you've begun
You could wind up broken hearted
You could wind up on your own
Your a gambler honey can't you see the dice have rolled
I'm a tall dark stranger...there's no telling when I'll go
Your a soft lit night on a starry summer's eve
I'm a harsh early morn...and a cold winter breeze
You don't know what you've started
You don't know what you've begun
You could wind up broken hearted
You could wind up on your own
You have lost your way and you ask me for a light
I will show you to the shadows and lead you to the night
You are holding me in the hopes that I will ignite
I'm a fluid less lighter and I'm dim candlelight...
You don't know what you've started
You don't know what you've begun
You could wind up broken hearted
You could wind up on your own
AL 3/16/2011
I'm a dancer honey...the rhythm strikes and I am gone
I'm a walker sweetie...watch me stride out that door
I'm a talker lover...round in circles and your done
You don't know what you've started
You don't know what you've begun
You could wind up broken hearted
You could wind up on your own
Your a gambler honey can't you see the dice have rolled
I'm a tall dark stranger...there's no telling when I'll go
Your a soft lit night on a starry summer's eve
I'm a harsh early morn...and a cold winter breeze
You don't know what you've started
You don't know what you've begun
You could wind up broken hearted
You could wind up on your own
You have lost your way and you ask me for a light
I will show you to the shadows and lead you to the night
You are holding me in the hopes that I will ignite
I'm a fluid less lighter and I'm dim candlelight...
You don't know what you've started
You don't know what you've begun
You could wind up broken hearted
You could wind up on your own
AL 3/16/2011
Mundane Realizations ( writing to write) Getting out of my own way...
My workouts this week have been really tough. I have been experiencing a flip in my daily experience. For quite some time my workouts were the best and easiest part of my day...everything else being a struggle or a long silence. Don't get me wrong. It took me a while to get back into the swing of going to the gym on a daily basis. I started by doing a half hour on the treadmill everyday 5 days a week,then I moved to 7 days a week. Pretty soon I was feeling like that was not enough... I started doing 45 minutes everyday. That was satisfying but I felt like I could do more. So for the last few weeks I have been doing an hour everyday. Four or five miles a day. I can see the change happening in my face... my arms... my tummy. I can feel the change happening in my body and brain. This week however has been different...
This week... I have gotten enough sleep. I am on a creative roll... my days fly by and I am loving my life at home. So leaving for the gym...and a tough run has been less appealing.
They say it takes three days to form a habit and twenty one days to break one. I find that to be roughly true. I am definitely addicted to moving. More so than anything else... I feel high for hours after I walk or run or dance. This week has been a challenge though, I have been fighting myself. Just when I felt I was in a groove the tests...they came.
I have been realizing how closely my daily saga before the gym matches my life saga. It goes a little something like this. I start realizing I need to go to the gym today... the afternoon wares on. About 2 pm I start thinking I should go before the gym gets crowded and there is no parking. I have a moment of excitement and motivation knowing that I will be doing something great for myself and that I will be feeling incredible afterward, followed by an hour of resistance and exhaustion.
I start to say either to myself or to Justin that maybe I will give myself a break today... I am tired, I have been working hard or I don't feel well, then either out loud or in my mind I start to argue with myself. I realize how much better I will feel if I just do it. I never regret actually going... it is the not going that I regret.
Now...here is the best part. Lately... I end up going. Everyday. Even though I have to go through that whole process. Everyday. I go.
I realize that I am accountable to me. Only me. I realize that this act of going and fighting through discomfort and stress and exhaustion is truly the best part of my day. It is a way for me to triumph everyday. It is a daily reminder that I am important to me and it is a practice of learning to trust myself again. These are lessons I need. The simple daily act of working out for an hour is transforming my body... my mind and my life. It is my religion. It does not afford me the opportunity to flake out. The only one to suffer if I do that is me and I finally understand that in a very real way.
This week... I have gotten enough sleep. I am on a creative roll... my days fly by and I am loving my life at home. So leaving for the gym...and a tough run has been less appealing.
They say it takes three days to form a habit and twenty one days to break one. I find that to be roughly true. I am definitely addicted to moving. More so than anything else... I feel high for hours after I walk or run or dance. This week has been a challenge though, I have been fighting myself. Just when I felt I was in a groove the tests...they came.
I have been realizing how closely my daily saga before the gym matches my life saga. It goes a little something like this. I start realizing I need to go to the gym today... the afternoon wares on. About 2 pm I start thinking I should go before the gym gets crowded and there is no parking. I have a moment of excitement and motivation knowing that I will be doing something great for myself and that I will be feeling incredible afterward, followed by an hour of resistance and exhaustion.
I start to say either to myself or to Justin that maybe I will give myself a break today... I am tired, I have been working hard or I don't feel well, then either out loud or in my mind I start to argue with myself. I realize how much better I will feel if I just do it. I never regret actually going... it is the not going that I regret.
Now...here is the best part. Lately... I end up going. Everyday. Even though I have to go through that whole process. Everyday. I go.
I realize that I am accountable to me. Only me. I realize that this act of going and fighting through discomfort and stress and exhaustion is truly the best part of my day. It is a way for me to triumph everyday. It is a daily reminder that I am important to me and it is a practice of learning to trust myself again. These are lessons I need. The simple daily act of working out for an hour is transforming my body... my mind and my life. It is my religion. It does not afford me the opportunity to flake out. The only one to suffer if I do that is me and I finally understand that in a very real way.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
The Judge
Recently I had a conversation with a friend of mine who is also a writer. We were discussing journaling and our many good intentions to do so. My good intentions have landed me two shelves full of beautiful and inspiring notebooks that have one to two journal entries in them and about ten pages of notes, lists and various works of poetry. The rest of the pages are blank. I can never bring myself to throw them out because of those two entries and the random poetic pieces but also because there are many blank pages left to be filled. I also cannot seem to resist buying new ones with the promise that "this time" I will journal. It seems I am addicted to notebooks and furthermore...blank pages. More on that later.
My friend apparently has the same problem. As we were comparing notes on our countless quarter full journals and what to do with them, I suddenly was inspired to blurt out a truth about myself as a writer. One that I have kept to myself for my whole life, out of a sense of shame for my own vanity and delusional thinking I suppose. The revelation was that I always write anything...and I mean anything...(we are talking scraps of ideas here) as if someone else were reading it or was going to read it. Now...this may at first sound like a wise thing. For why else write if no one is going to read it? Alas, no. This is a really really horrible way to create. Basically if you feel that someone is always watching or criticizing or judging your work, you are probably not only going to do poor work but it will also be entirely inauthentic.
The few pieces I consider to be excellent or my best work are the ones I was compelled to write in an electric moment of inspiration and abandon. If someone is always watching over your shoulder you are going to be less inclined to be honest and vulnerable and well...imperfect. The whole point of journaling is to be authentic and real and imperfect. Now this also translates to poetry. I suppose that my poetry is basically my own way of journaling. It is the language I speak...the record of my life...the glass I see through and the most authentic translation of my soul. This perceived judge in my head has been putting undue pressure on my process as a writer. Actually I believe that judge/ or the idea that someone is always watching, or looking or examining has caused me an unbelievable amount of stress in every area of life. In order to create as an artist effectively you must first start at an imperfect...rough and raw place. It seems silly to me that even in my most private moments I can feel silly or critical of whatever it is I am doing or creating... I have fought through this my entire life. My friend heard this...understood it and connected to it. She said that she has done the same thing. This woman whose writing I both admire and aspire to!
In that moment. I felt liberated and understood. I had done what I have struggled so hard to do by telling this truth about myself, I had validated another person in the process and by naming the block I have been able to recognize it when it happens, confront it and move past it. A revelation indeed.
As for the stacks of notebooks? I have kept them all this time not knowing what to do with them. It seemed to make more sense to buy a new one for a fresh start. That was how I did things most of my life, but these days I am immersed in process and imperfection and learning to build on stops and starts. So today I wrote a few lines in a lovely old notebook. The judge in my head would have liked a fresh book with blank promise but I think I prefer a much loved, messy, inconsistent window into my psyche. Poetry is my ongoing journal and of course the occasional list.
A.L. 3/15/2011
My friend apparently has the same problem. As we were comparing notes on our countless quarter full journals and what to do with them, I suddenly was inspired to blurt out a truth about myself as a writer. One that I have kept to myself for my whole life, out of a sense of shame for my own vanity and delusional thinking I suppose. The revelation was that I always write anything...and I mean anything...(we are talking scraps of ideas here) as if someone else were reading it or was going to read it. Now...this may at first sound like a wise thing. For why else write if no one is going to read it? Alas, no. This is a really really horrible way to create. Basically if you feel that someone is always watching or criticizing or judging your work, you are probably not only going to do poor work but it will also be entirely inauthentic.
The few pieces I consider to be excellent or my best work are the ones I was compelled to write in an electric moment of inspiration and abandon. If someone is always watching over your shoulder you are going to be less inclined to be honest and vulnerable and well...imperfect. The whole point of journaling is to be authentic and real and imperfect. Now this also translates to poetry. I suppose that my poetry is basically my own way of journaling. It is the language I speak...the record of my life...the glass I see through and the most authentic translation of my soul. This perceived judge in my head has been putting undue pressure on my process as a writer. Actually I believe that judge/ or the idea that someone is always watching, or looking or examining has caused me an unbelievable amount of stress in every area of life. In order to create as an artist effectively you must first start at an imperfect...rough and raw place. It seems silly to me that even in my most private moments I can feel silly or critical of whatever it is I am doing or creating... I have fought through this my entire life. My friend heard this...understood it and connected to it. She said that she has done the same thing. This woman whose writing I both admire and aspire to!
In that moment. I felt liberated and understood. I had done what I have struggled so hard to do by telling this truth about myself, I had validated another person in the process and by naming the block I have been able to recognize it when it happens, confront it and move past it. A revelation indeed.
As for the stacks of notebooks? I have kept them all this time not knowing what to do with them. It seemed to make more sense to buy a new one for a fresh start. That was how I did things most of my life, but these days I am immersed in process and imperfection and learning to build on stops and starts. So today I wrote a few lines in a lovely old notebook. The judge in my head would have liked a fresh book with blank promise but I think I prefer a much loved, messy, inconsistent window into my psyche. Poetry is my ongoing journal and of course the occasional list.
A.L. 3/15/2011
A Writer Writes
I am writing because I have nothing to say. I am writing because I promised I would today. I am am writing as an exercise and not an exorcism. I am calling the fleet footed messenger Mercury to bring me the words to put down on the page. There is static on the line...Instead Saturn sits on my roof like lead and won't let Jupiter deliver the goods while Uranus bears water and pours it down over my city... I call on Mars to kick Saturn's butt off of my roof but he is busy trying to woo Venus who not long ago was dating me but moved on because I learned about gravity.
AL
3/15/2011
AL
3/15/2011
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Excerpt from "Climbing A Glass Mountain" By A. Lamb
It was at the very edge of reason I began to take control. My mind was slipping from me and I realized that I was the only one who could save it. I have never felt closer to madness. Just within its reach... I marvel now at the strength of my mind under such pressure. Literal and figurative both. My body began to feel separate from me as If I was slipping out of it. I clung to anything that would ground me. Desperate for normalcy I did everything but the right thing...how contradictory we are as humans. What strange creatures we become. Searching desperately for some outside answer to the problem, I would blame and ask and wonder all the while knowing that I was the problem. The intractable beam that seemed to have me in its grasp was relentless... yet some part of me gave myself over to it rather than fight. I am still not sure if it was exhaustion or hopelessness or self destruction. Most likely was a mixture of all three. The part of me that fights...that has always fought would not let go. Even as its voice diminished the echo it left behind was permanent. I could still bring myself back out of the mire.
In Memory of Ted (Broken Glass)
Broken glass in the street is music to her ears...he did that for her. Sliding down the pole at the playground and drinking bad wine out of a bag. Tickets at the river and cheap bathing suits...They climb the mountain together. He sees her in ways that no one else can describe...she cannot reach the breach between them when the voices come. She tries to give him her strength but he cannot hear her. He baptizes her in the water with one arm and shows her her worth with words of drunken clarity...The other guy is on the floor in the bathroom and...he is not the one...She knows this and he tells her what she cannot say. They walk through the madness together and she sees the scars...they laugh about tiny obsidian cats so heavy they tear out the pockets of the strongest denim...Don't sell yourself short...She wants to take away the fears and roll them away like black water...for if they had a boat...He doesn't want anyone to hurt her anymore and she doesn't want him to hurt himself...He is her family...She saw what he had done when they took the wrapping paper off his gift...She knows what happens when the darkness comes but cannot give the answer...He sees the love overflowing, needed to be given and that the rest need her to be strong enough but he asks nothing...sitting in a cold tub with a bottle of wine and a cigarette on a hot day, they laugh and tell secrets...click click beep beep...Can we talk about something else...Yet despite circumstances he is always there as he must be...Too many great men have fallen...she cannot bear to watch the demise of another...they run through the jungle like peace frogs and drive until they are out of gas...they both seek elusive peace...one of body, the other of mind...together they find pieces of freedom in voodoo donuts and screaming into the night...in circular conversations and long silences...friends in the darkest of times reaching for the warmth of sunshine and dancing in the pouring rain to worship the harvest that may come...wiping away the tears that stream down her face with the swipe of a calloused finger...he stands up to her demons fearlessly but fears his own...they are feet apart and the voices come. She takes his face in her hands and tries to overpower the darkness and for a moment is successful...but it just keeps coming...she can only stop them in moments when time permits...he promises tomorrow...there is always tomorrow...She can envision the end for she has seen it before and with a prayer on wings begs it not to come. He checks on her and consoles her with the wisdom of ancient grace...she fears that all who truly see her will disappear...for like laughter escaping with smoke too quickly to catch they all have...there is so much more for him...she can only say let us get in the car and drive, they explore unknown destinations and escape the familiar faces and tears filling glasses...there is always tomorrow...sad and funny they meet in dreams and laugh at the madness of the world...she wants to climb under his skin and let him see the beauty in pain and all that could be. Will he see? Maybe...
A Shortcut Through The Woods
When we climb
that snake like road
They see
magic and green mystery
story book fables
I remember
a long terrifying drive
to find him burning
and then put the fire out...
I remember
a heart bursting full
repeatedly filled and emptied
until the pump wore out and
broke
They sing with pure voices
unselfconscious and joyful
They tell me stories
yet I cannot forget
the cab climbing that hill and the anticipation butterflies
that smothered me
aching to show myself to him
A. Lamb 2010
that snake like road
They see
magic and green mystery
story book fables
I remember
a long terrifying drive
to find him burning
and then put the fire out...
I remember
a heart bursting full
repeatedly filled and emptied
until the pump wore out and
broke
They sing with pure voices
unselfconscious and joyful
They tell me stories
yet I cannot forget
the cab climbing that hill and the anticipation butterflies
that smothered me
aching to show myself to him
A. Lamb 2010
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