Drink up words, drink up people

I am an avid learner.  My favorite question is,

“What is your story?”

 

Like groundwater, hidden in the belly of the earth,

I pump ideas out of my mind and onto the paper.

Characters, plots, and subtext evaporates as stories,

are watered for the ultimate harvest.

 

The volume of my mental aquifer will soon be depleted,

if I do not read, and drink up new ideas in flowing words.

The resource of writing will go dry and die of thirst,

if I do not listen, and drink up the tales of others.

 

A writer cannot live without the water of the reader,

a reader cannot live without the streams of the writer,

a beautiful and fragile ecosystem, must be cared for,

because a resource robbed from a cycle, is lost forever.

 

Copyright © 2017 Zachary W Gilbert

 

Life’s Elixer

Toxicity of evil, served in a rusted goblet,

a chalice decorated with bug carcasses,

that are called jewels.

Sugars, coloring, and  soothing words,

say, “Drink, drink, drink!”

Evil, though often denied, is never,

good.

Behind the heavy velvet curtain,

evil minds marinate in a cauldron

of putrid rot.

A voice takes the stage that tells

tales of light, and banter,

yet the floorboards,

are bloated with black, mossy,

mold.

Why not consider,

serving another human,

a glass of encouragement,

a clear clean glass,

filtered mountain water,

for pure unencumbered love,

is life’s only elixir.

Copyright © 2017 Zachary W Gilbert

Weekday Weekend Contemplation (Haiku)

No work today,

Wednesday is Saturday,

family at home.

Spring wakes up,

Walking the dog, without coat,

trees show buds.

Nothing hollows me,

like my kid getting sick,

get well, sweetheart.

Mountain waterfall,

Snow melts, rain follows.

Rivers drink again.

Money is dead?

Love, happiness, and family,

live. Without it?

3D modeling

I create worlds, life,

I make you move.

A nose scar,

better than a blind eye,

or a busted jaw.

Copyright © 2017 Zachary W Gilbert

Spraying Words

You begin to speak, your words, like water, leap out of a fire hose.

I try to listen, your words, like water, a flowing attack, up my nose.

My hair is ruined, your words, like water, continue to sting.

I am silent, your words, like water, my heart is slowly drowning.

One who is only hungry for ears,

because they have none of their own,

is one day likely, not to be heard,

because eventually, they are alone.

Copyright © 2017 Zachary W Gilbert

 

 

 

Filtration of the Mind

A filter removes contamination, however, what is captured, has to eventually go somewhere….

filter-still-02

My mind, often seems like a forgotten mountain lake.  It is remote, isolated, and surrounded my thick pine trees.  Sometimes I let people dump trash in it.  Why do I do that?  It just rots and festers.  My thoughts tend to swim, like fish in the lake of brain.  They dart, dive, and bump into each other.  They feed on bits and pieces of what I read, what I watch, what I hear, and grow.  Sometimes, if the food is corrupt, they mutate.  A way out? My writhing army of thoughts, my deep chasm of slimy fish are about to escape.  A bar screen lies deep in the bottom mind.  The swirling water is dark, and algae sways in the shadows.  A fishy thought wiggles through a broken bar, it twists and flops down a dirty pipe underground.  It is hidden.  Big fish escape, and become words.

That is why, I installed a filter.

Ideas in their raw form, are barely palatable to most listeners.  In the past, the twisted fish of my mind would leap into the air, morph into words.   A splatter of emotional puss and guts would spray all over the ears and minds of my audience.  It air smelled, and people would become angry.  I found out, an unfiltered thought, that finds its way into words, is a dangerous thing.

My filter is online.  It holds a mass of coal and sand in a deep concrete pit.  I slows my speech and prevents unnecessary contaminants from making their way to my mouth.  As I think, and get tired, the filter plugs.  I get irritated.  My words become ambiguous and aggressive.  The filter is failing.  Then I stop my life.  I take five minutes, it is time for a backwash.  My minds lake is cut off.  I ask, my Creator to walk with me, to ride in the car with me.  Clean water, pushes up from under the grain.  Filth, and debris are lifted out of my filter.  But where should they go? The brine of my evil thoughts, the filter has stopped, are still there.  I could let the dirty water, go back up the pipeline and into the lake.  Then, my thoughts would feed, and grow.  They would become worse, stronger, and worst of all, more dangerous.  I give them to God.  I don’t understand why he would take them.  They are gross, and smelly.  But, he takes them every time.  Now, I don’t have to deal with heavy dark ‘fish guts’ thoughts anymore.  It is a good feeling.

Meanwhile, the fish, still swimming in my mind, are eating trash, and looking for a way out.

Copyright © 2017 Zachary W Gilbert

 

Water Your Thoughts

Water, the heavy universal solvent,

Only so much is fresh, so don’t waste all of it.

It magically falls from the sink, cold on my hand.

Cities rise, limbless metal trees in the sand.

 

Water may hold invisible vermin, who often infect and kill,

A suburban lawn, drinks clean safe water until it has its fill.

Mighty stone fountains, hidden from the thirsty and sick.

The entire world, has a thirst,  “A cool safe drink, quick!”

 

Water, in a storm may cause a cities devastation.

Children unhealthy, and swirling, in a dirty water situation.

Water.  Lost in a desert without it, a dry mouth, longing for a sip.

Soon, water and people, may need to rethink their relationship.

 

Copyright © 2017 Zachary W Gilbert