Mental Health/Illness – Page 4

The novel I should be writing, because I have many pages, is titled Otherwise Entertained. Should you have an interest, you can visit, Chronicles, and find most of it. I do not recall the exact locations at this moment, but I think it is mostly in 2012’s NaNoWriMo month, and then scattered about a bit. I was doing my first Creativity Project around then, a whole year and a half.

My novel presents a scene that is elsewhere, and yet, a part of that story at the same time. It is a problem. I know what to write, I just know it will stretch beyond plausibility, and I know the story cannot move without it. Plus, I procrastinate, I am the best at it.

Elsewhere

It is where I go
When the world becomes too hard
For my tired desire,
I wrap myself in mysteries,
Fancy creativity;
Search within for love
Enough to carry me on
Into cruel hard times,
When my mind becomes a pool
All dangerous, dark, obscure.
Impossible now,
Escape an imaginative
Dream, when I am lost
To whoever I may be,
But I come winning again.
Steal me sweet Elsewhere,
Take me wherever then set
Me firm so I can succeed
In this, every reality,
Let Love minister to me,
Healing this wounded soul as
Freedom becomes, Elsewhere, mine.

By the way, these entries, unless denoted differently, are being written in real-time on the date of appearance. The goal of the Creativity Project is to make things each day, not present pre-created works. Some of the photos are, however, from other times.

As a prompt: What is your elsewhere, where do you find strength? Create something that shows it or what it does.

I am grateful to be done proofing, although I could use more funds. I think tomorrow I may take some time away from here.

All you be careful, create, love, celebrate the pure joy of life. Thank you for visiting Haphazard Creative. I hope you found something that inspired you. Follow the site or come back when you can. God Bless and Keep You, Always, and Forever.

Do you ever ask yourself who you want to be?
I do, and mostly, I know, but there is confusion
and a need to grow into me, upward, onward,
stronger, further, into maturity. Yes, I know 56
should be grown-up, but there is still some kid in me.
I want to be a publisher whose first client is me,
and take the world by storm, inevitably.
I also want to record some of the songs
I let loose into the air, never writing down,
just enjoying the richness of
creating words and sounds.
I would like to be a Laureate since the Poet
is an undeniable force in me. Dreaming, dreaming,
silly one, all a coward can be
is marginalized and hidden in obscurity.
I could coach someone, but I lack credentials
and have no proven success to make me worthy of faith.
I would like to advocate for the mentally ill,
being a prime example of our competence
when given advantages allowing us to live functionally.
My real purpose is love, accepting everyone, reaching
those who might be overlooked or cast away – showing
even in the worst of times, there is through love
a way to make it into a brighter day.
Some people say God is dead,
they have not seen Him in the love of others.
Jesus cannot reach the world without we allow,
Him to be seen, obviously, in us. I would be one.
Money is not mine, and out of my dungeon,
I may never climb. Still, if I could, what
dreams exist in my heart and mind.

This was paragraphs, still a poem, so I added line breaks. The rhyme that kept creeping in told me I had to take it from prose poem to broken. I see myself being hugely open over the last few days here. It is not really my way, shadows taunt and scare me.