From the mind of a mild mannered maniac

Archive for August, 2013

My Right-Brain Rant

When I sit down to write, and I really start to slide over, into that fertile, right-brain territory, I can free myself of my earthly bonds, and constraints.

I slip away from all the mundane, day to day stuff, and escape into a whole new world full of dreams and possibilities. A place of my own creation, where the only limitatation is imagination.

Trouble arises though, when nosey old Left brain decides to crash the party. He is one heck of a party pooper! He marches in and starts demanding realism, credibility, common sense. All that boring stuff!

The other day I was off on a right-brain drift. It was great, ! I kid you not! The words were really flowing ,cascading onto the page like rapids over Niagra’s Falls!

Suddenly old lefty gets it into his side of the head to start editing.
There are some things you don’ t do in this life, you don’t tug on Superman’s cape and you don’t mess with  my words mid-stream like that.

“Get outta here,” I yelled, “You can do what ever you need to when I’m done here!”

He left in a huff, but by then I wasn’t in the mood anymore!

Don’t get me wrong, he is a handy dude to have around. I get him to do all my spell checking, proof reading, research, rewrites, fact checking and editing. When it comes to all that tedious crap, he’s a wiz!

A problem has arisen recently though, where lefty has been trying his hand at the creative stuff.
He is convinced that he is the second coming of Lord Byron! Can you believe it?
The trouble is that he is rubbish at it!

Yes, the verses are beautifully punctuated, and the spelling is spot-on, but the there is no flair, no feeling, and a totall lack of imagination. The waste basket is overflowing with his discarded attempts.

I really have to nip this one in the bud though. Writing is truly a division of labour between the pragmatic left and creative right side of the brain. I always try to let “Righty” fleshout a draft as fully as possible before “Lefty” comes in and tears it apart.
🙂
I’m certain that this is something that all creative people, the world over, struggle with daily,

Thoughts?

Cheers,

Cliffy

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And the winner is……

The Submissions

Morning Commute

image

The cars pull in at sunrise
On their, circuitous, route downtown.
Early risers climb aboard,
The lucky ones sit down.

Just a few miles further,
And the crowds begin to grow.
The daily slog is underway,
the only way we know.

The platforms are overflowing,
the crowded trains roll in.
The angry mobs surge forward,
like sardines in to a tin.

Stumblin’ jumblin’ mumblin’
Our ride, roughly arrives.
I grit my teeth and marvel, at how,
society survives

An elbow to my rib cage,
stilleto to my shin,
More Angry, swarming, citizens
Cram tighter to fit in!

A cloud of scent mal-odorus,
and insanely strong cologne!
A loudly droning radio,
Someone yelling at their phone!

Poking, prodding, shoving,
the calm is fading fast.
Oh, how I long for journey’s end,
And open air, at last!

I want to scream, but whats the use;
Who would even hear?
Aboard this crazy train of fools
Your senses disappear.

image

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Drawing a blank

Despite the fact that I had been searching high, low and everywhere in between. I couldn't, for the life of me, find the sweater vest I was looking for in the Gentlemen's clothing store. I studied the advertisement for the umpteenth time, but the sale item was nowhere to be seen.

Aside from myself, the store was devoid of customers, and the only sales clerk was preoccupied with a phone call. As I approached the sales desk, it became obvious from his expression and body language, that the conversation was of a deeply personal nature.

Not wanting to eavesdrop, I waited a respectable distance away, but just near enough that it should have been clear enough, to anyone, that I required assistance.

The salesman briefly looked up at me, but despite knowing, that he now had a customer to attend to, his ear remained firmly glued to the receiver.

Long minutes ticked by and my patience wore thinner, and thinner still. It wasn't even as i he was on the line with a client.

"Excuse me…" I began. He raised his hand, palm out, to silence me.

I glared at him, spluttered something about rudeness and customer courtesy, but essentially, words failed me.

I tossed the flyer on the floor. The uncouth clerk, looked at it, grunted something like, "Whatever," shrugged and went back to his phone conversation.

I stormed out the door, but couldn't get the blasted thing to slam shut.

It wasn't until later, while seated in a coffee shop with a steaming mug in front of me, that the words returned. Firstly I had a number of choice suggestions as to where he might stick his phone, none that are printable here however. Then a better comeback occurred to me.

I went back to the store, looked him right in the eye and said.

"My employer sent me down here to arrange an appointment. He wishes to be fitted for a dozen hand tailored, double-breasted suits, ten shirts, and six silk ties."

The clerk's eyes gleamed as he was quite clearly calculating his commission on such a sale. Then I added,

" Unfortunately, since you were too busy to help me, with it, I was forced to take my business elsewhere!"

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HUMAN RACE

image

Don’t stop, just change direction
Life’s too short for that
You have no time, left, for reflection
Your deadline’s in seconds flat

Warp speed all the way,
You’ve so much on your plate.
Chasing ’til the end of day

you’re, truly, in a state!

No time for smellin’ flowers
You’ve business to attend
As life ticks by in daze and hours
No rest until the end

Your whole life is spinning by
At such a hectic pace,
yet, still some people wonder why
it’s called the human race.

Copyright2013
Posted from WordPress for Android

LOVE HAS DIED TONIGHT

Empty-pill-bottle-300x199

He, walked out on his wife that night,
he didn’t need another fight
Did it, really, matter who was right?
Why had things gone so wrong?

She sat defeated on the floor,
she’d thought their love, worth fighting for.
What good was living anymore?
She cried the whole night long

Gradually his anger died,
replaced with emptiness inside.
He tossed away his foolish pride,
and raced home to make things right.

He gazed into her lifeless stare,
the empty pill pot lying there.
A crumpled note, upon the chair,
said “Love has died tonight”

Copyright2013

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