The Valley of Longing

Everyone’s lost

In the valley of longing.

It’s a journey within

When seeking belonging.

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Looking for something

To put one at ease.

Searching for light

Shining bright through the trees.

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Down your feet take you

Through mud and deep roots.

Clinging to branches,

As vision dilutes.

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You slip and you fall,

But you’re ready to see.

The future self’s guidance,

Deep within thee.

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The journey’s sufficient,

To make you fulfilled.

But right at the bottom,

Is quiet and still.

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Nothing but clay.

Clay and decay.

The truth of your life

Brings pain and dismay.

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No inner child,

No voice of the soul.

Yourself cannot guide you

You’re down in a hole.

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A selfish puddle

Of tears in rain.

With the realisation

You’re lost again.

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The valley of longing

Traps all the lost.

A prison organic

Where children are tossed.

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To thine own self be true,

Is a beautiful lie.

You’ll slip down inside,

And true truth will die.

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How to escape

The valley of longing?

Look to Zion

The city is dawning

*

Written by Randall Evans.

The One You Need

Strive to be the one you need,

But search your inconsistency,

For injustice that is thrown on thee,

Reflects your incongruity.

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What are the traits you have in mind?

Are they the ones you left behind?

As you seek it’s true you’ll find,

Staring back your judging eye.

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Double standards in your heart,

So within yourself is where to start.

Look deep within and strip apart,

The real sin inside your heart.

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For kindness to find be kind.

If selfless you seek, rewind.

The values you must align,

Should shine from a place inside.

***

Seek the one who makes you whole,

And be the one you’d want to know.

So when connection wakes your soul,

Your seeking heart can be on show

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Strive to be the one you need,

But search your inconsistency,

Remember words graced from above,

Your neighbour as yourself you love.

***

Written by Randall Evans.

If you like it, hate it or appreciate it let me know in the comments below. I also love reposts… and chocolate chip cookies.

Fashionable

It was a mid-morning start, which meant the traffic was a little lighter and the gangs of retirees were taking over the cafes. I pulled up next to a trendy family car – Upper middle class.

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I couldn’t see the driver. All I could see was the left arm of the passenger.

The wrist was decorated with the cuffs of a women’s power suit and a gold bracelet that was probably purchased in 1993. The bony hand, barely visible through the window tint, was worn and stressed.

Why isn’t she at work? It’s past 10…

Why wasn’t this independent hand on the steering wheel?

She had probably just come from the doctors. An elbow so casually, so… tensely resting on the window could only mean bad news. Her husband, or dare I say, old friend who’s always loved her but never been able to crack through her tough exterior, had driven her for moral support.

He left his car at hers because she’d rather be dead being seen in his bomb.

What’s the point? I mean, what’s the point of that gold bracelet? It doesn’t impress me much. I wonder if she was rubbing it in her anxiety as the doctor told her the news.

I turn up the music in my car. I wonder if I do it to impress the retirees with amazing heavy metal.

The status symbol is too heavy. It becomes a chain… A metal chain that pulls her along.

What hit her the most in her appointment? The realisation that she’s going to die, or the realisation that she’d wasted her life.

The car, the chain, the suit, the nail polish…

The skin, the muscles, the bones…

The heart.

Let’s strip it all away.

She’s protecting herself. The little girl she once was… She was hurt by the world. So, she put on her armor. She wasn’t enough just being a shining light, a pure spirit. She needed to project and deflect. If she fails, and she will, it’s because of the suit, the chain, the car, the lack of skills… never because of who she is.

She’s not a failure… She’s not…

Written by Randall Evans

This is The Vile Mint

 

Fashionable

 

Guest Blog? Free post-age…

I want to grow my blog. As a result, I’m offering my weird voice to anyone. I don’t care if you have 1 follower or 1 000 000. You want a little content, drop me a comment or message.

Give me a subject or a one sentence beginning and I’ll create something. You don’t like it, don’t use it. All I ask is for a link back to my blog.

Sound good? Message me!

Random Liquid Thoughts

The soundscape of water.

The undercurrent tone.

What is reality ?

These waves ?

Waves from wind, wind forms windows, windows into further dimentions of experience.

Under the surface, a expancive melody plays. Can you hear it? I can feel it.

Wait for the sun to set over graveties prisoner.

Wait for the lights to cast over this earths silk gown.

Mirrored reflections of golden light, ever changing, rolling, burning the back of my eyes.

What a strange idea it is, the idea that an object can float in water. How strange are the ships that carry people back and forth over ever changing, overlapping liquid matter. What is this surface?

What is this divide ?

Two worlds collide.

Flip me over, make me drown…

Don’t look down.

Im nothing but a moving shadow in the sun.

Don’t look down.

– By Randall Evans.

The Beach

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Ash floats through misty sea breeze,
Above infinite sand of memory.
And a mother’s son runs along this beach,
With the water cold beneath his feet.

A revery passage to the other side,
A moment’s mortality magnified.
They built a castle by ocean spray,
Worth more in time when washed away.

Beneath, or within, the expanse of stars,
The beach is alone, but these two say it’s ‘ours’.
The boy, now a man, knows just what to do,
He carries his future; a ring out of view.

Mystery entwined in pure connection,
Introspection, no answers, but new life from affection,
The man smiles in his thoughts of reflection,
Undulating emotion recalls the castle’s perfection.

A mother, son, wife and child,
Surrounded by the sea.
The tide rolls in, her spirit drifts out.
Now there’s only three.

The sunset shines across the sand
Something’s heavy in his hands.
Three long shadows slowly fade
Clouds obscure, the beach is greyed.

She holds her son so the man’s alone,
The cold breeze blowing undertone.
With a breath and a cry the ashes are thrown,
Swallowed into sea, mother taken back home.

Ash floats through misty sea breeze,
Above infinite sand of memory.
And a mother’s son runs along this beach,
With the water cold beneath his feet

– By Randall Evans.

Funeral

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The bitterness of death swims in my blood.
But I can’t feel it.
There’s a dizzying warmth in the room,
Faces from the past share smiles that scream.

Walking beneath the waves, beneath the sea.
Someone took the wheel from me.
We all become part of the same organism.
And this monster is drowning but can never be drowned.

I’m a shell. An invisible shell.
Tear stained faces glance, but they’ll draw nothing from me.
I’m empty. I’m numb.
The memories haven’t died, he’s here somewhere. Somewhere…

In the corner of your eye you see him.
In the laugh of a stranger you hear him.
The flood gates of pain spill inside.
But I can’t feel it. I won’t feel it.

Why are you laughing?
Where has mine gone?
Why can’t I feel it?
Where are my tears?

Run from the room.
Hide in the corner.
In the darkness of your soul.
Don’t interact. Don’t let them steal anything from you.

Emotionless. Motionless.
It broke my friends.
They are broken like me.
Where is the light?

Death takes the invisible.
The eyes are empty.
The day ends with the taste of women’s tears and cheap perfume.
Please give me piece.

Put us back together.
Let us laugh. Let us cry.
I need to feel.
Was it really I who died ?

Please God!

I need to feel.

I need to feel.

– By Randall Evans.