Write a brainstorm
Let the novel sit for two years…
It sits, hidden in the book collection
Of hand written journals.
A pet project here,
A pet project there,
Maybe a modern novel will be written by my fingers.
Idolatry… I hope this art isn’t idolatry.
I love writing…
I love it.
The pride of authorship
The joy of seeing myself grow.
Seeing the pangs of youth
Burgeon to the strength of mind in adulthood.
The communist rants
Turn into Burkean homilies.
For my less informed reader…
The one who doesn’t know what Burkean means…
There’s an old saying.
If you are not a liberal in youth,
You have no heart.
If you’re not a conservative in adulthood,
You have not yet grown up.
How the tea kettles I’ve talked about
Those torpid tea kettles
In the meaningful nonsense poems
Burgeon to strange worlds
Yet, there sits my novel in a dozen pages…
The professional writer
Their obvious fault is that they prescribe too many rules.
The amateur writer,
Their obvious fault is that they follow too many rules.
How many spelling errors are there in my writing?
I don’t know…
How many comas misplaced?
I don’t know.
How many “Their”s mistaken for “They’re.”
I don’t know.
How many “Then”s
I don’t know.
Sadness creeps into my bones
Because I don’t know how or what to write.
My self editing is sallow.
My work ethic failing.
Because I see either success or failure
Do not produce the results I want.
I don’t know what would satisfy me…
I eat, but am unsatisfied.
Just like Micah’s curse.
I wonder what reason I am cursed…
I look at my entire life and I find there
The fact that I have committed much wrongdoing.
The same amount as most radical feminists.
My sin is theirs,
But their sin everyone covers up.
Mine… it keeps me poor
Reliant on everyone else around me.
If I had the answer
I would find it.
It’s amazing to me how everyone just revels in sin
And seems happy and blessed.
I wait on God to judge them…
But He doesn’t.
The happiest on earth
Are usually the most vile.
It’s why I’m a Christian.
They make a diligent search for sin
And it’s always found in me…
How that stings my breast to say it.
I cannot escape it.
What I would like…
Is one woman to make love to my whole life
That I can trust with my very life.
This hobby, I would hope to eat from.
But I don’t want fame or fortune.
I can’t work,
Because Fairyland is real to me…
It’s always there in my mind as I sweep
Or mop, or stack crates.
This talent, I need to eat from it.
But I cannot. Some arcane force
Will not let me.
Call it a king, call it a queen
Call it FBI
Call it Satan…
I will call it what it is.
I don’t want to be famous.
What a stupid profession to get entangled in
If I didn’t want money or fame…
Self defeated, I will always self defeat.
Because I don’t want everyone talking about me.
I don’t want my laundry aired to the whole world
And made public, what I know is public
But at least now I don’t have to hear about it.
So… Athena, as it is,
Thinks he’s harming me by keeping me poor.
Really, he is just gobbling up the portion
That I know, in this day and age,
Would eat me up.
Satan… my bloggers,
Can be a kindness on a Christian.
He can take the world,
When you don’t want it.
He can gobble up fortunes,
When those fortunes would incur great wrath.
He can keep you poor,
When riches would steal your soul.
Jude’s greatest wisdom was this,
To not revile angelic majesties.
The reason why, is that Satan
Is there for our benefit, Christians.
How we don’t want to admit it,
But the rod is there for our bruises,
And the bruises are there for our growth.
We grow, and become great through our stripes.
Satan is not there to hurt you, Christians.
He is a roaring lion in the street…
He does wish to devour every one of us.
But Satan is called upon whom he is called.
It is God who unleashes the lion on your life.
And for that, he might gobble up your fortunes,
He might frustrate you with banal dreams…
He might even hold the very thing you want…
But know, a man who gets everything he wants
Is usually the same man who destroys himself.
Yes… someone prevents me from getting published.
Yes, it frustrates me.
Yes, a part of it is myself.
But yes, a part of it is a deal with the devil…
Not mine, but the LORD’s
Who made a bargain with Satan
In Job. Not so Satan could destroy Job.
No. Simply because Job needed to be abased
For self righteousness.
Did Job sin?
Righteousness is not a sin.
But if Job’s own right arm would bear him,
Let Job smite God’s enemies.
But he couldn’t.
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