Frayed Ends

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And what,
dear children,
is the end of the world?

Is it when
a hydrogen bomb is triggered,
and flesh and concrete
and body and soul
are brought to nothingness by the fury
of a stillborn sun?

Is it when
the rich finally get tired
of carrying the poor on their backs
(or, conversely,
when the poor
feel likewise
about the rich)
and drag them bodily
against the nearest convenient wall
(you can see it now, can’t you,
aglow in an aura
of weathered newsreel)
and shove a Luger
straight between their eyes
and blow their brains out,

plink

splat,

like wooden ducks at a carnival shooting gallery?

Is it when
the march of progress
tears apart the land

and poisons the water
and fills the air
with smoke and mercury
and electromagnetic waves
that carry only noise
and boundless ignorance,

aided & abetted
by the zombie hordes
who don’t really have a clear idea
about much of anything
(except, you know,
that they were promised
a new season
of that hot new show
and they really hope they get it
because, like,
that shit is pretty awesome)?

Is it when
a good friend
writes you a letter –

oh let’s be real,
the friend writes you an email
or a text
or a tweet
because who the hell has time anymore –

but for the sake of argument,
a good friend
writes
you
a letter,

itemizing in detail
the exact reason why
he or she
will never speak to you again,
delineating the lines
that you
so carelessly
crossed,
and wishing you
a long and happy life
without the burden of their
continued presence?

Is it when

your car breaks down,
or your phone falls in the toilet,
or the dog poops on your new carpet,
or the other guy at the office
got that big account that you wanted,
or the cute piece at the bar
seems a lot more interested
in that hot blond than in
your particular charms,
or your significant whoever is
mad at you again
because you forgot to mow the lawn or
wash the dishes or
suck them off
like you promised to?

Or:

Is it when you see
your newborn child
for the first time,
when you hear him propose,
when you hear her say Yes,
when you earn that last diploma,
when you meet a new friend,
when you forgive an old friend
for the sin of being human,
when you laugh with a good joke,
when others laugh with your jokes,
when you move into your own space
for the first time,
when you get your first real paycheck,
when you learn something
you never imagined before,
when you help someone understand something
that you know,
when you build,
when you love,
when you live?

And what,
dear children,
is the difference
between an end
and a beginning?

Written by: Geoff Blanchette (use link to see his wordpress) a writer and actor based in Westerly, RI

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The ways to fight

The many ways women fight oppression

 

 

Not shaving

Breaking men’s hearts

Ridding themselves of all things beauty

Working their asses off to prove they can do what men can

Staying home and doing what they love

Embracing all things beauty

being confident in their body

Learning self defense

Creating a workplace the supports women’s needs

Picking up male mannerisms

Letting men help around the house

Being the breadwinner

Being a mom

Eating healthy and going to gym

Flirting

Voicing their opinions

Yelling and screaming

Crying

The arts

Protesting

Hiring more women in the workplace

Teaching more women

Supporting more women emotionally spiritually and financially

Shake Shakin what they mama gave em…

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The list infinite… And I’m open to hearing more

African Influence on Modern Art

For today’s post I wanted to talk about African influence on modern art. I was wondering at first why there isn’t more diversity in Symbolic art. I found that there is diversity and I wanted to make sure to share it. I planned this post last week and I’ve been eager to share it all week. According to The Met, “During the early 1900s, the aesthetics of traditional African sculpture became a powerful influence among European artists who formed an avant-garde in the development of modern art.”  Painters including Henri Matisse and Pablo Picasso, blended the post-impressionist works of Cezanne and Ganguin with the “highly stylized treatment of the human figure in African sculptures.” The combination of the two resulted in pictorial flatness, vivid color palette, and fragmented Cubist shapes which helped define early modernism. What I find most fascinating is that “the artists knew nothing of the original meaning and function of the West and Central African sculptures they encountered, [but] they instantly recognized the spiritual aspect of the composition and adapted these qualities to their own efforts to move beyond the naturalism that had defined Western art since the Renaissance.”

There may be some out there that say these artists stole ideas from African sculptures. I think it’s important to keep in mind that in the art world it’s a complement to influence other artists. I borrow many things from other writers when creating new stories and poems, but most of my work is influenced by creators that have the biggest impact on me. When you are an innovator or creator that is what moves things forward in ways that are needed in order for an artist or even a society to grow. Henry James says ” Art lives in curiosity, exchange of views, variety of attempt, experiment, and comparison of standpoints.” Without the strong influence of these African sculptures, early modern art would not be the same or could not have happened at all.

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Fragment of a female figure from Wikipedia

 

 

Where I found the info:

https://www.metmuseum.org/toah/hd/aima/hd_aima.htm

The Mason

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The Mason

He picked up a red brick

Brushed it off

and placed it on the wet cement.

He had sweat on his brow that

Drip dripped.

His overalls and long sleeve plaid shirt

Were a good choice that frigid morning

But mid-day it was 80 degrees under the sun.

He still stacked because if he didn’t nobody else would.

He spread the cement with a trowel

and placed another brushed brick.

With every stacked brick he gave it a tap.

That set it in place just right.

His back had an ache and his shin had a splint

but every brick tapped was one brick closer

To being complete.

 

-Saschia Johnson

When you have so much to say…

My scattered brain

… But just can’t say it 😐 I haven’t been able to gather my thoughts properly. Or appropriately. So I thought I’d share a journal entry from back in October. After sharing with a few close friends who went through the same thing, I shared a little more publicaly.. And figured I would leave it here as my next entry untill I am able to gather my thoughts right for another new one.

My intentions when I first wrote this was to just help ME heal, and to acknowledge my feelings in a possible different way. I shared with a friend just the very beginging because she too had been through a miscarriage also. After her feedback and hearing that October was “National Infant and pregnancy loss awareness month” I thought my story/expierence may help another female in their healing process, and that even though you are a Christian we…

View original post 2,157 more words

Don’t forget to wash your hands

Do you fear your lack of self-control. Your eyes jump from crevice to crevice saliva slips from that numb part of your lips to your work boots covered in the gritty money you earned. She turns and has that virginal-motherhood smile and you feel that sweat collecting behind your neck making your head itch, but you don’t scratch it and you call her

a whore 
a witch
 a slut

NOTHING, because she’s given you these urges you can’t quite control. You try to look away but that portal she was gifted or cursed with [depending on the day], sings the same song your mother did to you as a child. It sweeps you numb and causes reckless thoughts sending you to hell then purgatory, but only just after you touch the outskirts of heaven in the bathroom stall.

Don’t forget to wash your hands.

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6 reasons why you should write today.

Six reasons why you should stop doing what you’re doing and write right now. people-2587055_1280

  1. You’ll have something to look back on. Not only to see your own growth but to have those memories you hold so dear.
  2. To learn from your experiences. It’s much easier to learn from your experiences when they are written down. Sometimes our brain remembers things wrong. It likes to play tricks on us. Smh, the brain is such an unreliable thing.
  3. It can be healing in so many ways. It could help you figure out what’s holding you back, or why you developed some quirky ritual or habit years ago. It can make ideas and concepts more clear and concrete. Writing can heal in so many ways.
  4. You’ll have something to leave behind. Everyone has so many different experiences and for me it’s nice to read and observe how others deal with experiences similar to my own. It can help other humans feel less alone. It can be eye opening and relieving. It could talk someone off the ledge. Seriously.
  5. You’ll have done something. Even if not one person reads your stuff you’ll have made a difference in yourself for yourself and that’s what’s most important. As they say you can’t truly help someone else until you help yourself.
  6. It can be cathartic. (Thank you Nory for that one.) I was telling her I wanted to set my screen play on fire cuz I’m so over it. She said that would be cathartic and that I should do it. Then I had to google the word cathartic. lol Writing can give you a release you don’t get in other places. Once in a great while things just come together and realization happens. Which can help you progress mentally or spiritually.

Thanks for reading! Hopefully this post has inspired you to write!

 

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Skirts

There is nothing here this is a blank sheet that needs my creativity, only my well has run dry or my muse has gone on vacation. It’s in you, your life is an inspiration but my life is dull dull dull and all I want is to write write write: no bars or small talk, only outskirts will be worn by me. -Saschia Johnsonnature-2884419_1280