Dear journal
In the vast kingdom of writing, another queen had long held her throne. Her realm, filled with loyal soldiers, marched to the beat of her command, always ready to defend their queen against any perceived threats. Her name echoed in the halls of Inkitt, a place where stories came to life, and her power was unquestioned.
But now, a new contender had arrived. Terrex J. Corbin, a story writer of unmatched talent, had made waves on Inkitt, gaining popularity and recognition. The news of Terrex's rise spread like wildfire, reaching the ears of the queen herself. Unsettled by the sudden emergence of this new star, the queen decided to retreat, her mind racing with thoughts of how to protect her dominion.
Terrex's arrival on Prose was met with anticipation and curiosity. The queen's loyal soldiers whispered among themselves, their gazes filled with suspicion and doubt. Who was this newcomer who had dared to challenge their queen's supremacy? The atmosphere was tense, the air thick with the promise of conflict.
The queen, known for her strategic mind and fierce determination, saw Terrex as a formidable threat. She knew that this story writer's talent could not be easily dismissed. As she retreated to her chambers, she plotted her next move, her mind a whirl of plans and counterplans.
Terrex, unaware of the brewing storm, continued to weave tales that captivated and enchanted readers. The stories flowed effortlessly, each word a brushstroke on the canvas of imagination. The realm of Prose buzzed with excitement, and the queen's soldiers could not ignore the undeniable pull of Terrex's narratives.
As the days passed, the queen's unease grew. She knew that a confrontation was inevitable, that she could not ignore the rising star in her midst. The kingdom of writing was vast, but its rulers were few, and the queen was determined to hold onto her throne.
The stage was set for a clash of titans, a battle not fought with swords or shields, but with words and stories. The queen and Terrex J. Corbin, two masters of their craft, would face off in a contest of creativity and imagination. The kingdom of writing watched with bated breath, eager to see who would emerge victorious.
In this world of endless possibilities, one thing was certain: the realm of Prose would never be the same again.
Posting Something Heartfelt...
It's another great day to post something on Prose. Like I said, I simply love it here and like the environment. I like that some people get to vent about whatever it is they are going through, and we are all going through something. You find people writing poetry, and short stories and all kinds of stuff that is all very heartfelt, and it gives a person some form of purpose, apart from what might seem like the ordinariness of Life.
I like that people respond on here, and I like sharing random thoughts, I like putting more and more content into the Prose Universe, and it’s fun to see that people are reading, and replying. Sometimes when someone comments or likes things you are posting, it brings a smile to your face and brings meaning. Sometimes that like or repost can mean everything and is almost spiritual.
Par for the course...
ironically very small figurative gulf
between dictatorship and democracy
latter ala carte courtesy
bourgeoisie versus prolétariat.
Political infighting bickering throwback
to being in kindergarten.
I (a deplorable humiliated basket case)
feels appalled, dismayed, horrified,
maddened, and scared to be part of human race
witnessing politicians -
read Trump's ugly mudslinging,
infighting, excoriating, bickering...
analogous to overgrown preschoolers brawling,
no insult intended
for responsible two, three, four.... year old kids.
Candidates who badmouth their opponent(s)
want for classical modus operandi
to finesse impasse - with civility,
humility, maturity, suavity,...
nevertheless revilement arises
eliciting aversion, thus declination
to desist casting a ballot and not to vote,
a stance I endorse
thus without much neigh saying,
one lone wordsmith prefers to elect a horse
such as Mister Ed
hands down (fifty four) yours truly
with no myth take dear extraterrestrials
this prisoner of Zenda -
me begs to be abducted
far away from the outer limits
of the twilight zone,
where dark shadows
loom and weave along the edge of night
(cuz this Norwegian
bachelor farmer wannabe)
plus a teetotaler to boot
cannot find peace on earth.
...And if I ever lose my mouth
and my teeth
(to late for that, cuz I wear dentures)
souse and Norse
Oh if, I won't have to talk
about gods and goddesses
who belong to two major clans:
named Æsir and Vanir. Odin, Frigg,
Thor, Loki, Balder, Hod,
Heimdall and Tyr
the most elevated representatives
of Æsir and known
as the main gods:
for your edification
the most popular Norse goddesses are
Freyja, Idun, Frigg, Skadi, Sif, and Hel.
Impossible mission to scuttle
out of the danger zone
(even with protection of divine
aforementioned Scandinavian pagan spirit -),
nor pagan gods/goddesses from other civilizations
to bear witness hope for mankind
no matter left holding
the larger part of furcula i.e. wishbone
nor doth sizable rock of ages exist
to carve my unwieldy epitaph on tombstone.
Today...I wanna walk with heavenly angels
to escape a potential dystopia
harkening ever louder heralding
narcissistic and solipsistic megalomaniac.
All my life, this mortal found himself preoccupied with death. No, not morbidly fascinated, but merely intrigued with imagining lifelessness. Odd...so many close brushes with the grim reaper, yet obviously never did yours truly succumb to an untimely demise. More so, a stronger inclination being among gratefully dead souls awoke, particularly as one after another anniversary sped by (at what seemed an uptick in frequency) marking mine uneventfully humble garden variety birth. Fear not permanent cessation of consciousness, an oft repeated phrase (in one variation on a theme for Paganini or another) within this mind fully inquisitive person. Though oy (vey) gully leaned heavily toward atheism, some spiritual dimension within seventy inch plus bonafide frame, nonetheless harbored ethereal evocations, fixations, intimations... regarding that enigmatic, illusive, undefinable je nais sais quois incorporeal essence. How far removed from consciousness (bajillion miles or more), that instant segway from life, yet... gravitational lore inescapably enshrouded every cell constituting (I declare) run the mill corporeal being. While livingsocial impossible mission to experience (let alone describe) amorphous nebulous, tenebrous divide (simultaneously hair line and utterly infinitely profound between existence and mortality. Everyone doomed to die, which linkedin end date prefigured when calculus of conception begot minus any unexpected violent left handed monkey wrenching dislocation. Though aware longevity will inevitably cease, (whether thru horrible snapchatting tragedy, or natural senescence), an internal reflexive recoil away from rigor mortis automatically predominant within millennial legacy of various and sundry peoples swelling rank civilizations and their discontents. Promise to attain, unattainable, unimaginable, unthinkable... chronological centenary plus milestone today (date of tapping out slapdash doordash missive heavily sprinkled with balderdash August ninth two thousand and nineteen) exceeds by leaps and bounds brutish, nasty and short (Hobbesian) tenuous allotment of infinitesimal time back in the day of Neanderthal Man. Without shutterfly of doubt within whirled wide webbed schema of natural phenomena, average amount of years one can enjoy existence pales in contrast to the vast incalculable geologic ages that elapsed prior to appearance of present primate. Difficult and mind boggling to attempt comprehension how epochs (comprising countless eons) etched within terrestrial firmament. Prior to amalgamation of planet Earth (and/or other solar bodies), the cosmos prevailed with much more than fifty shades of gray matter. Speculation asserts the universe may expand and contract untold instances. Each manifestation of organic and/or chemically constituted inorganic material repurposed manifold occasions. I (nor anyone else) cannot (dis)prove such conjecture, but the array of substantial physical evidence attests to former living entities at least on this oblate spheroid. Revelations foretold within saga of bedrock validate Flintstone cartoon incorporation some degree of verity. Animation licensed portrayal and betrayal even an iota of verisimilitude. Superimposition of purported "terrible lizards" (other than those loathsome teachers of yore education) most unlikely inhabited terrestrial plane nsync with proto humans. Most likely the former preceded the latter upon the then virgin global stage by immense unfathomable magnitudes bracketed by millenniums to the nth power, where n being an impossibly large number. Said scads integer beyond mine feeble intelligence. Nonetheless awareness prevails, wherein thinking myself integrated (as an itty bitty chitty chitty bang bang teensy weensy) carbon component elicits humility. Rather than entertain delusions of grandeur (figuratively reed Donald Trump), the outsize role of mankind (Homo sapiens since...way before Bubba's Zayda to another inconceivable exponential power), yours truly downplays the supremacy of twenty first century simians. Rather all species ought to revel in their own valuableness to themselves. Naturally thee self anointed heir/heiresses apparent over entire dominion (comprising gamut of flora and fauna, whereby scads of animals and plants quickly being decimated against steep odds) populate niche environments. Though veritably modest (and not superior to another creature large and/or small), I also concede feeling anonymously insignificant among avast ever burgeoning swarming sea of humanity. Billions of other similar bipedal hominids drown out the relevancy regarding one measly babbling, hobbling, and jabbering fluke of the universe. Worthiness does arise when alone within mine emotional wilderness. Solitariness buzzfeeds capital one cerebrally driven easy going fitbit human. He takes especial pride without prejudice improving his sense and sensibility if for no other purpose than expanding cognitive horizons indomitable against pride and prejudice. What dogs such flickr ring of allotted enlightenment arises from very limited tenure to enhance awareness of self within world wide web. An ecstasy of sorts prevails merely upon gleaning words courtesy of dictionary. Rather humdrum (as symbol eye zed by innumerable combinations from scant twenty six letters) enthralls me. Ah...so minimal number of decades to amass knowledge (simply for passion of learning - at manageable pace) irks this wordsmith greater than the fear of becoming deceased. Try as hard to scrunch brow, nary a handy dandy blues clues ability to shake off such rankling engendered by senescence and eventual cessation.
Writing Like You Mean It
I love talking about my feelings in my blog posts. I recently posted a poem about Love. And about how if we love hard, we might get some of that love back. And if we give love, we may receive love.
It was different from what I usually write which is about ’standing your ground in the lonely world while remembering that there is someone for example some entity like God who watches out over the workings of the cosmos, and over its seemingly insignificant creatures who are somehow longing for him.
Sometimes when you post you have to post things people like to see, just so as a frequent poster, you get someone showing the same feelings towards what you are also putting into the content Universe.
And so I have been writing short stories on Prose for a while now. I love that Prose is so happening, but you have to have something that makes people think or feel something to post on there to get people reacting/responding/reading/clapping for your posts.
When I had started my journey, thinking of my self as a writer of some sort, I did a course in ’creative writing’ which had nothing to do with content writing. I never thought/pictured my self as some sort of Fiction Author, and in no way did I ever think that I could write a short story.
I started writing short stories for good measure, which go up to 1,500 words. And yes the course I did in the morning gave me awesome ideas! They said things like maintaining a writers journal was an important part of honing ones creativity as a writer...
So its a given that I rarely post things without them meaning anything here on Prose. If you ever liked anything I posted, remember that I put my self into my writing, and no effort of mine is ever just for the sake of doing it. I love writing, and I love the Universe, and God, and he helps me write the things I write, a little better every day. Even the poems about Love.
Stumbling Upon An Old Art Piece: The Ebb and Flow of Healing From Past Trauma
While packing up all of my things to move to a new apartment, I had an opportunity to sort through things that, over time, I’d forgotten about. I was flipping through an old sketchbook and I found a painting paired with a poem from a couple of years back.
And I remember
the first time my necklines,
Became blurred lines,
and then borderlines
became crossed lines,
and now every time I sigh
I
Hear the cries
over guidelines
that should have been redefined.
And now every time I breathe
I
Wonder if my necklines
can be rectified.
As I read this poem, I was flooded with emotions. Today, years ago, I was sexually assaulted, and this poem was something I wrote in an attempt to make sense of the guilt, pain, and confusion that I’ve battled ever since my assault.
Over the years, through the help of a strong support system, I rediscovered what love, intimacy, and joy could look like in my life. I learned that I could in fact rectify my body, my boundaries, my purity, my strength, and my sexuality. However, as I read my old fears out loud to myself I couldn’t help but feel this nervous tingle in my stomach. “What if I never truly healed from this?”
You see, I’ve always strived to remain open about the things that I’ve struggled hoping that my story could in some way help someone else. But as this day approached, I felt a long-forgotten heaviness in my chest causing me to clam up any time I tried to talk about the guilt I was feeling with friends. I was so confused.
So, looking down at my sketchbook, I started to meditate on how the road to redemption, while full of moments on the mountaintop, has moments spent in the valley.
Today, even though I didn’t quite feel ready, I reread the poem again. I was surrounded with peace and grace; I softly whispered to myself,
“You have been redeemed, you have freedom from this”.
I used to feel like I could never experience rectification for the things I had gone through. I believed that every single day, I would spend meditating on what had happened to me. That any time I was lying next to a partner, I would look into their eyes and see his face looking back at me. And while some days, this still feels like the case, most days I feel more strength, healing, peace, self-love, and forgiveness than I ever imagined possible.
Healing can be painful. Healing is a process. Healing can sometimes feel endless. Healing can be difficult. Not every day is easy, and in fact, most days aren’t.
But healing is beautiful, healing is possible, and healing will come.
If you feel like you’re in the valley, just remember that not all of your journey will be spent there. That every hard season eventually passes. That our doubts and worries and hesitations, while very real, aren’t always rooted in truth. And while you may not always feel like you’re making process, you are.
You are moving forward. You are climbing the mountain. You will reach the top. This is just the beginning, you are so worth loving, and redemption is at your fingertips.
Excerpt from the debut chapbook “Who I Am Today” by Julianna A. Leverette.
“Who I Am Today” holds a decade of work, honoring the journey of life; from leaving adolescence and childhood homes behind to searching for a place in the world, from navigating shadow work to healing ones deepest hurts, from releasing external expectations to deciding for yourself who exactly it is that you want to be. This poetry collection navigates past loves and lives, the hurdles of mental illness and existential dread, and creating peace with yourself, your experiences, and your choices, and believing that truly, it is well, through the ebb and flow.
Gratitude Journal For The Week of 7/15/2024
"Thankfulness is like a door to God's presence."
- Kendra Barrow, Vineyard Northwest
"Enter His gates with thanksgiving; go into His courts with praise. Give thanks to Him and praise His name (Psalms 100:4 NLT)."
A Church I follow has an app (Crossroads Anywhere) where we journal together as a community, and one of the things we journal about are things we are thankful for. I wrote these for this week's prompts from the app. I hope these inspire you to reflect on what you are thankful for in your own life. :-)
7/15/2024
"What are you looking forward to this week?"
- Time with my family, including my core unit reunited.
- Good shows, games, music, podcasts, and sports to check out.
- Opportunities to learn and grow.
7/16/2024
"What are you grateful for today?"
- Waking up this morning.
- My family to return home to tonight.
- Getting some writing in last night.
- Coffee
7/18/2024
"How did someone help you this week?"
- Support from the gentlemen in Man to Man group as we discuss life and build each other up.
- My wife helping me with tasks we needed to accomplish.
- Support from co-workers.
7/19/2024
Affirmation: "God listens to me."
Thank You God for Your lessons and presence throughout this week. Thank You for walking with me through life's challenges and blessings, and thank You for a longer weekend to enjoy with my family.
Gratitude Journal For The Week of 7/8/2024
"Thankfulness is like a door to God's presence."
- Kendra Barrow, Vineyard Northwest
"Enter His gates with thanksgiving; go into His courts with praise. Give thanks to Him and praise His name (Psalms 100:4 NLT)."
A Church I follow has an app (Crossroads Anywhere) where we journal together as a community, and one of the things we journal about are things we are thankful for. I wrote these for this week's prompts from the app. I hope these inspire you to reflect on what you are thankful for in your own life. :-)
7/8/2024
"What are you looking forward to this week?"
- My son's birthday.
- Putting the lesson from yesterday's church service to work, and remembering the times God worked in my life before, and how He will do it again.
- Time with family.
- Playing some new games, listening to some new music, reading, and podcasts.
7/9/2024
"What are you grateful for today?"
The desire God puts in us to learn, and the multitude of people and resources out there we can learn from.
7/11/2024
"How did someone help you this week?"
Leadership and co-workers helped me to get some things done at school this week.
7/12/2024
Affirmation: "I trust God."
"Is there anything you would like to thank God for this week?"
Thank You God for Your presence during a very challenging week, and the peace You provide while I navigate through some life storms. I know You are with me through it all, and I appreciate You.
Gratitude Journal For The Week of 7/1/2024
I thought I could keep up with doing gratitude journals without putting them on Prose, but I was wrong. So in an effort to be consistent again, I am bringing these back! I hope these inspire you to reflect on what you are thankful for in your own life. :-)
"Thankfulness is like a door to God's presence."
- Kendra Barrow, Vineyard Northwest
"Enter His gates with thanksgiving; go into His courts with praise. Give thanks to Him and praise His name (Psalms 100:4 NLT)."
A Church I follow has an app (Crossroads Anywhere) where we journal together as a community, and one of the things we journal about are things we are thankful for. I wrote these for this week's prompts from the app....
7/1/2024
"What are you looking forward to this week?"
- Putting to the test my church's reminder that "There is always a solution (quote from Steve and Wendy Backlund)," and using this throughout the week when inevitable struggles hit.
- Time with my family, especially my wife and kids.
- Also inspired by the message from church this week, getting back into a focus on gratitude.
"Thankfulness is like a door to God's presence."
- Kendra Barrow, Vineyard Northwest
- The release of the new RPG game "The Legend of Heroes: Trails Through Daybreak."
- A shorter work week.
7/2/2024
"What are you grateful for today?"
- Not walking alone, even in stormy times.
- Having some time this morning to connect with God.
- Today being the "Thursday" of my work week.
7/3/2024
"What made you smile or laugh this week?"
- Doing Gollum impressions at work.
- Playing Fortnite with my sons.
- Friendly gloating to my Dad about the Reds winning their first game against the Yankees.
7/5/2024
Affirmation: "God has great plans for my life."
"Is there anything you would like to thank God for this week?"
Thank You God for being close by through the good times this week, along with being there during the new challenges this week brought. Thank You for some rest over the holiday, and for a few more days to enjoy with my family before returning to the grind next week.
A Sunset Sentiment
Maybe it was the way the clouds floated still, not moving even an inch. Outlined by the dim, orange glow they hung motionless under her dazzled gaze. Yet, when her staring was interrupted, diverted to the external world, they seemed to shift at an immaculate pace. When she returned her dark eyes to those cottony spectacles, she found they had shuffled into a new, dimmer, yet equally stunning array. A more somber and ordinary scene ensued, finding the clouds less illuminated by the sun’s waning color. The reverse-dawn had taken its toll, disguised at first as a beautiful sunset, but now only an oncoming veil of dark abyss. With the darkness came reality, and with the sun went hope. The sentimental meaning she had been searching for revealed itself. With the last streaks of color leaving her view came that sad analogy: depressing truths shaped like motionless, dull, grey clouds.
4/10/2024
Today I’m supposed to start working on my self assessment at work. I’ve been really screwing up for the past year so I really don’t know what to write. Maybe “with all the shit I’ve been dealing with in my life, it’s a miracle I can get out of bed in the morning. I’d have offed myself a long time ago if I’d known this was what my life was gonna be. So my self assessment is this: it’s a miracle I’m still alive and breathing. Anything else is above and beyond.”
I feel like writing about how I make a great salary but can’t afford rent or utilities because my estranged wife who told me two and a half years ago she was gay and wanted a divorce has refused to sign the papers because she’s getting a free ride from me. I’m paying for two houses, two sets of utilities, four kids, and her. I feel like writing about how I have four young kids ages 4-10 who are struggling and having behavior problems and depression issues because of their fucked up, fractured home lives. I feel like writing about how my mom is failing mentally and can’t remember to take a shower or brush her teeth or do all the things we take for granted and how my brother moved her closer to him so it wouldn’t be as big a burden on me but I’m missing her and constantly worrying about her and I don’t even have her phone number or address. I feel like writing about how my dad died four years ago but I never grieved him because my life since then has been catastrophe after catastrophe. I feel like writing about how my soul mate who I had a short fling with is with another man now and it’s killing me emotionally and intellectually along with everything else. I feel like writing about how hard it is to work when my mind is fixed on her and my heart and soul are aching and dying. I feel like writing about how I no longer have a person, a helper, someone I can turn to. I’m drowning and I have no life preserver, nothing to reach out for. No hope.
I feel like writing about how amidst all of this, I haven’t been evicted, my electricity is still on, my kids are being fed and have a roof over their heads and the structure and discipline I’m implementing are improving their behavior. I feel like writing about how rather than sitting around moping, I’m playing music at clubs and bars, I’m facilitating a bimonthly writing workshop and a poetry/spoken word open mic. I feel like writing about how I’m constantly getting out socially and meeting new people. I feel like writing about how I’m taking karate classes, working out, and running through all my pain and sorrow. I feel like writing about how I’m in the best physical shape I’ve been in my whole life. Though there are still nights I spend alone missing my kids, missing the woman I love, smoking weed and trying to watch movies to keep myself from staring into a bottle of pills.
But somehow amidst all of this, I’m alive, living life even, and trying my damned hardest to move forward somehow.
Today I’m supposed to start working on my self assessment at work. And I feel like writing all of this. But I have to stick to work stuff. Accomplishments and whatnot. And I’ve been barely holding it together, sometimes not holding it together at all. I haven’t accomplished much of anything at work. So even though I’ve done so much, and just turning on a computer and typing a sentence is a miracle for me right now, I’m afraid all I am is a blank page.