Writing With Reason

Words from my Heart

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 04 Jun 2015 19:10:00 +0000

I'm standing in the cold.

Holding this umbrella over your head.

I guess these raindrops make me feel romantic.

I could have started it saying...

I put my heart completely on my sleeve

Giving you everything I have.

Physically, time, emotions, my faith.

But that's mushy. Too romantic.

But no matter how I say it, I still have no clue how to express being in love to the fullest.

I believe no fairy tale love story completely embraces every aspect of love.

No. Not even The Notebook.

But I can. Not to you.

Not even to her.

But if my heart could for one minute spit the blood out of itself and talk.... It would tell it all.

It would say it's necessary like air. It's an obsession. All consuming.

It's free. Yet binding.

Selfless. It's kind. Generous.

It's real chemistry. A neurological condition such as hunger or thirst.

It's intimate. Awakening. Almost overwhelming.

It's forgiving.

It's committed.

It is everything you are willing to give.

It's a process. A journey.

It's vulnerable. Not ever a safe investment.

But most of all it is two complete strangers finding whatever missing pieces they have of their soul in each other.

So.....

I'm standing in the cold.

Holding this umbrella over your head.

I guess these raindrops make me feel romantic.

I found the missing pieces.

My soul is full.

Sure of what I don't know

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Fri, 13 Mar 2015 04:26:00 +0000

I've spent time in the bottle

And time in the bible.

Nights all alone,

Fighting my mind, stoned.

Others with a woman, saying she'll hold me,

Laying side by side, but feeling lonely.

A roller coaster life full of highs and lows,

I've never been more sure, of what I don't know.

Making things write

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Fri, 26 Dec 2014 19:17:00 +0000

The pilot is mumbling in the usual smooth, raspy, cocky tone that he learned to do. Probably in pilot school. Something about our Elevation and turbulence.... Bullshit. I could teach that airplane steering prick a lesson about getting high.

That's my life now, putting anyone who has anything down. It's sad. It makes me look pathetic. But not as pathetic as a pilot! Those douche bags walk around like heroes!! Can you believe that? You sit in a seat and fiddle a joystick...? Hero? Ha!! I feel more endangered in a New York City taxi. But those drivers aren't heroes.... They're assholes. "Hey boss you need taxi?" "I take you no problem". 20 minutes later, I'm forking 60 bucks out of my wallet and passing it with my sweaty, clammy hand to Aladdin's step brother. You took me 5 blocks!!!! No matter what, I'd take a egotistical pilot and terrorist raised taxi driver over any asian bus company. Never have I ever found peace with the idea of genocide than when I let those rice cakes take me on a 8 hour bus ride. Every employee speaks perfect English until you have a complaint.... Then they turn into these cynical, arrogant, Down syndrome Mr. Chows. Stop squinting.

I'm still on this plane. There is a game I play every time I fly. I scope out the other passengers. I'm looking for 2 exact types of people....1...Those that look like they are planning a hi-jack after rushing the cock pit. I find them. And I plan my own attack on them. Usually a different finishing move for each of those kamikaze faggots. 2.... All the intelligent travelers. You know.... The ones that don't complicate every little thing!! Why crowd the damn aisle as soon as we stop the plane??? God I really hate people as a whole. Me, me, me, me, me. That's how people think. So I find the smart ones. Who don't stuff the overhead bin with a bag that clearly should have been checked. Me and the ones with common sense just form this bond. We look at each other when one of the half minded other travelers act retarded and smirk. Boom friendship. It's such a fake friendship tho. It last for a few hours without even saying a word to each other.

Funny thing... Last time I was on a plane, it was with the girl I was sure I would marry. I carried that ring with me on the plane too. We went to New York then clear out to utah. Rode horses, went to my favorite "getaway" bear lake, even sat at the top of the tallest roller coaster in town. But none of those were the right place to pop down on a knee and ask that two timing devil to make me miserable the rest of my life. Guess I better thank god.

Funny thing about the heart.... It controls the mind. It literally dictates your emotions. Determines your desire. And decides what you let in and keep out. My heart just hates. It's full of it. Full of hate, distrust, and hopelessness. And all this negativity burrows my good intentions. Shadows my deepest desires of happiness.

So how do I release hatred?

I stab her in the heart with a salty ice pick.

Mail him a box of cancer. Bad cancer.

Pray their kids are ugly.

And crash this plane into their house.

No.

None of that.

I write.

My camp

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 02 Dec 2014 00:05:00 +0000

This is a story about the heart. I was 12 years old and part of the Boy Scouts. We were at a campout with multiple scout troops from the area. I want to make one thing clear.... I didn't go to these camp outs to meet people, make friends, or even do Boy Scout things.... I went because I had to, I already had friends, and we stuck together. After a full day of games, Boy Scout bonding events, and setting up camp... We went to a park for fireworks. We played football under the bursts of lights. Then the craziest, most pathetic thing happened. Another kid, a stranger, obviously with some type of disability tried to play with us. No. Not happening. That's not fun. There's no competition in including him. So it turned into a game of keep away. From him. Remember, I didn't need new friends. I was cool. We were cool. We had to show him what it's like to to look cool. This lasted for a good 20 min. Hiding from him, teasing him, just boasting out dominance. By the end... He was in tears. The fireworks ended. We left. Nobody mentioned our actions that night. It was on to roasting marshmallows and playing cards. But I couldn't forget his face.

The next day I told my mom what I had done. I wanted to contact that kid. I didn't even know who he was, but with the help of my scout master... I found him. I called him, through my tears... I apologized. It wasn't enough but it was all a 12 year old could do.

This isn't a story about how good of a person I am, how I learned from being an ass, or even about how I did the right thing. This is a story about realizing my own heart. I went into that campout as a 12 year old who had everything. I never needed a friend. I never worried about fitting in. Then I realized sometime between the rockets red glare and camp fire stories... That I was weak. That I was the reason that kid had no friends. I realized how every single one of my choices affects someone else. I came to know how the heart works. No matter how much I rebel or how much I put on a bad boy persona.... I hated that I could hurt someone. My heart showed its depth. My heart never left that campout. It still hasn't.

The Play

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Wed, 05 Nov 2014 02:11:00 +0000

Love is not blind, rather blindeth the poor.

Weakens their heart to feel feelings no more.

No. Never give thy heart outright.

Brief, heavenly, kind of delight,

That is all love truly is....

Revealed only by the meaningless kiss.

They all, those smooth parted lips can say,

Hath given their heart to the eternal play.

And who could catch on to the play enough,

If deaf and dumb and blind with love?

Only he that never acted knows the cost

For he gave outright his heart and lost.

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sat, 18 Oct 2014 01:23:00 +0000

Breaking the Chain

We live on thoughts formed by our demographics. School, family, religion, and regional politics form the very theories and judgments we own. A thought only becomes 'ours' when we choose to break away from the system. Whether right or wrong, this way or that way, one team over another... We live in blindness until we venture on our own. Religion is preached and acted upon from an early age, what's cool or popular is evident in the groups in school, political views cloud the media, education, and society based solely on the beliefs of those elected into those hypocritical positions. The brave are those who educate their minds with literature, history, and other forms of knowledge and in doing so.. Form their own beliefs of right and wrong, good and bad, cool or lame. However, society looks down upon those who choose to lead rather than follow the system. It encourages kids to get an education but limits the opportunities available to them. Society abides, according to its definition, to the declaration of Independence. Which declares the freedom of religion, to believe and worship however one so wishes.... Then it discriminates. It mocks those who choose Jesus. It tip toes around those who insist god doesn't belong in our pledge of allegiance. You see we as a people are more prone to judge than to serve. We are quick to point fingers at the problem but never lend a hand for the solution. Only those who truly think for themselves, the free, will ever understand the hurting heart of the oppressed, the self promoted lies of politics, and the disguised limits that are placed upon all of us. And in understanding, only they will have the real answers. The unbiased. For it may be the power and recognition hungry political figures that rule over the land, but it is those brave, wise, the ones who think on their own, that lead the people.

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sat, 18 Oct 2014 00:48:00 +0000

I Am Music

Sitting at his desk he tapped and he tapped,

His fingers mimicked the beat as they rapped, they rapped.

Slapping his books, In the back of the room,

As his feet hit the floor, kaboom… kaboom.

I am music, claimed the boy with headphones on,

That's not true, replied the teacher, insisting he was wrong.

For music is the guitars, the beats, the singing.

It's the drums, the jazz, the bells timely ringing.

Now take off your headphones and give a good ear,

Music is more than just the little ticks you hear.

Sure one can make music by tapping their thumbs,

clapping their hands, or even slapping the drums.

Not your rapping and flapping and all that clatter,

It's a song, a composed jingle for that matter.

No one can be music, that is a rather big lie,

So quit daydreaming and get your head out of the sky.

With silly dreams like that you will never succeed,

Focus on real goals, ones you can achieve.

The boy with the headphones sat and he thought,

When he spoke it went against all he had been taught.

Ma'am I hear what you're saying but I don't understand,

"In order to be music I need to be in a band…?"

No, that cant be right, in fact you are terribly wrong,

For I am music, and he put his headphones back on.

Think of the symphony and each instrument part,

My brain is the director and commands each start.

First go my feet, with the thunderous bass,

Thump thud thud thud keeping the pace.

Now bring in the tongue clicking my teeth,

It's the shakers to my song, rattling the beat.

Then comes the fingers crackling as the snare,

Pattering against my desk leaving an echo in the air.

Soon my head falls into a nod , perfectly in sync,

And the words come to my mouth, without having to think.

You see Ms. Teacher, I am Music, in fact we all are,

As all the other students tuned their vocals and air guitars.

Whether its in a microphone on stage or at home alone,

I am music, said the boy with the headphones on.

My Refuge

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sat, 18 Oct 2014 00:44:00 +0000

My Refuge

(probably my favorite piece I've ever written.)

Where do you go when you need to scream?

Where is your get-a-way after a stressful day, week, or period of your life?

Some lock themselves in a closet,

burrow their faces in a coat

and just scream!

Weird.

There are those who take deep breathes,

count to ten,

and squeeze a pressure ball

Too many steps

Way too complicated.

Truth is we all face adversity,

no one is immune to frustration,

Recently a magazine talked about finding an escape

and pointed out some practices to free oneself.

Describing many simple exercises

breathing in and out,

stress balls,

just screaming.

I found my escape

In high school

I simply left.

But not literally

More like I just remove myself from my troubles

I travel to a place that only I know.

A familiar place

No matter what I am struggling with that urges me to leave

I find comfort in my journey

I feel exonerated,

like nobody can critique what I say,

what I do,

what I choose to look like.

I can scream for 15 minutes

No breaks for air,

no one stops to look at me.

I create thunder in my cries.

The earth is my pressure ball,

The world is in my hands.

Whatever I say goes.

The people listen to me,

My voice isn't one in millions,

It's the one that millions heed.

Even the trees,

The animals,

And the mountains obey my voice.

Sometimes its sunny without a cloud in the sky,

much like today,

At times it can be raining,

a nice rain,

the type you can feel every drop touch your skin.

This is no fantasy world.

It is very real.

I'm here today.

How else could you read about this if I hadn't ever left?

You couldn't.

I am the author,

The publisher,

And the creator,

Of imagery this world portrays.

Like a king,

The people wait for my direction,

Like a theif,

I steal the deepest dream,

Found in the most forgotten part of the brain,

And like a Da Vinci,

I paint a realm of mystery.

I come here when I cant say what needs to be said.

My refuge when I need to express myself.

A harbor for my feelings.

I came here just so I could talk differently.

I spoke like a Jamaican.

Me sees this place as a treasure,

where no man and no woman can destroy me creativity.

I came just so I could fly.

I did.

Nobody on earth has ever been to New York,

to the Pyramids in Egypt,

then to a beach in Hawaii

all in one day…..

except for me!

I did this all in the space of about 3 hours.

That's 1080 times of breathing in and out!

I sang with Fela Kuti,

I raided Harper's Ferry

with John Brown.

I mean….why not?

I did it, I have proof.

I came back from the raid, with absolutely no stress.

I forgot what I was even stressing about!

Anyone would feel this way had they just seized the United States arsenal in 1859 in Virginia.

I matched Mr. Brown step for step

Sneaking through the night.

We all did.

Twenty-three of us,

Fighting on a suicide mission.

It was real.

General Lee called Mr. Brown a lunatic.

We knew different.

It's easy for the free to call the oppressed crazy

when they choose to stand up and fight for equality.

Who wouldn't leave this hell we all live in?

Why are we content with being blinded by rules and judgment?

Today this place is different,

it's calm.

Sitting on the coast,

Georgia.

almost dark now,

The moon presents itself,

Accenting an amber lit sunset.

it's peaceful.

I sit up tall,

feel the cool ocean breeze drift through my hair,

the smell of dusk.

I know ill be gone from here,

from the peace,

from the tranquility,

from the life everyone so eagerly dreams of living,

I know in a sentence,

maybe even just a few lines,

that I will be back to the real world.

This place,

the one I always go to,

it needs a name.

I don't want to name it,

A name gives away the location,

Reveals it's identity.

Can destroy its secrecy.

I don't want it to be crowded.

Its my place.

But I realize,

everyone in the world

could go to this place

and I,

Me,

by myself,

alone,

Will still be on this very coast,

sitting on this exact same rock,

feeling this breeze.

Not because it is an imaginary world,

but because this place

I'll name…."writing",

is an individual refuge

No population,

No weight capacity,

No last call,

No matter our struggles,

we will always find comfort in our journey

into "writing"

For it isn't the destination itself that makes this refuge so valuable

rather, the journey our minds take in order to reach it.

For writing

is building minds.

By Dallin Johnson

To Make You Feel My Love

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Fri, 17 Oct 2014 23:59:00 +0000

To Make You Feel My Love

When a someone can throw a relationship away so easily, without a fight, without a talk, without even trying to fix it... You realize how little you actually meant to that person. Is that sad? Yes. But the saddest part is, you let that person into the deepest part of your heart, you let that person make you believe that your feelings were mutual, and most of all you let that person allow you to think your very own "Happily Ever After" was coming true.
I've always believed and said this before... We all have a destiny. We all have a plan laid out by God that will make us truly happy. Some people just don't choose to follow it. Some people let their own thinking rule their lives. Some people let fear of failure win over the risk of happiness. And some people throw away that destiny because it didn't come out of the box perfect, rather than learning life lessons about yourself, your partner, and true love while you work together to fix it.
I can honestly say today that I followed that destiny. I did everything I could to prove I meant I'd love you forever when I said it. Because I did. And I didn't give up.
And truthfully even after saying all this...the girl still means more to me than anything in the world. There won't be a day for a very long while where I don't wake up thinking about her or go to sleep just hoping to dream about her. To say this doesn't hurt even more, would be an awful lie. I guess i just learned at the age of 26 what true love means and what heart ache really feels like.

By Dallin Johnson

The Beauty of the Future

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Fri, 17 Oct 2014 23:39:00 +0000

The Beauty of the Future

One of the biggest mysteries everyone is faced with is the future. The future is without a doubt different for everyone. Everyone will have their own future, their own story, and at the end... Their own past and the travels they took. But having said all that, the future is also the same for every single one of us. It can only be as good as we make it.
I look at it as the future being a view, and the past being the journey we took to see that view. Whatever look out point or scenic rest stop you choose to to take in that view is totally up to you. Just today I walked across the street to take this picture.
My journey was crossing a busy street, walking through a field of sticker bushes, and climbing a fence. While it may not seem like much of a physical effort, I can say pretty positively, there would still be some people afraid or too lazy to take that journey. Many people expect to have the future handed to them, they wish they could just see the future without taking the journey to get there, or they just plain don't have what it takes to break free from their comfort zone. Whatever the obstacle, people often trust in their own understanding which causes fear, rather than trusting in a destiny mapped out by God which tests faith. Either way the view of the future is not the most important piece to the puzzle of life... It's the journey we take to get there. Every busy road we cross tests our mind, every sticker bush we run into tests out will power, and every fence we climb only tests our determination.
I believe there is nothing that cannot be achieved when you set your mind to it. If you have the heart to fight, the mind to focus, and the wisdom to see past the obstacles.... Then the future is truly yours.
Never let the fear of not knowing the future stop you from chasing or loving what you have been given. Because the journey is where you come to appreciate your final view.

By Dallin Johnson