fly-with-no-hope-no-fear

[fly-with-no-hope-no-fear]

•visitors & dirty office windows•

[fly-with-no-hope-no-fear]

•happy birthday, you’re alone•

[fly-with-no-hope-no-fear]

•if you notice anything, it leads you to notice more and more•

#TheMoths #MaryOliver

[fly-with-no-hope-no-fear]

Poster Girl

Yes, I’ll be your poster girl, (For never saying what I mean,) With radiant smile, (Kept never far from reach,) With ready laughter, (Given a few moments,) With easy banter, (An acquired skill,) And the right expression. (A justified mask,) I’ll be your poster girl, (If you want to play,) In a world never messy. (A calculated game.)

~A.G. 11/30/19

[fly-with-no-hope-no-fear]

Untitled

Dusted finger tips lead To carefully analyzed Brain cell modules, Buried deep within Work-drawer cereal And chipped-paint swathes. Dry wall fires never lead To poorly lit Basement rug threads, Mixed direct within Flashback-driven emotions And dread-encasing memories.

~A.G. 11/29/19

[fly-with-no-hope-no-fear]

Untitled

How dare you. How dare you Take what I’ve Told you, Take my struggles, And try to subvert it, To say it’s just Because I’m not With you. My anxieties Are not caused By being apart From my family, And I don’t Come home Every weekend Because I “need to” For me. Don’t project Your feelings Onto me. I’m not “Putting on a brave face”, When I walk Out your Front door. I promise, I feel better Anywhere else.

~A.G. 11/28/19

[fly-with-no-hope-no-fear]

Restlessness

Restlessness. What else could this feeling be described as? The feeling that there’s more To being alive than slogging through The bills and loans and gas-station fill ups. Making money just to spend it On remaining a functioning Member of society; A product with the blessing Of a bachelor’s degree.

~A.G. 11/27/19

[fly-with-no-hope-no-fear]

Sword And Serpent

Sword and serpent, Stylus and sparrow, None are stronger Than the other When swords don’t spill ink, When pens Don’t slay enemy. Still serpents Can’t fly above, And sparrows Can’t slither under. Each has its own purpose, To be used when Discerned to be proper.

~A.G. 11/26/19

[fly-with-no-hope-no-fear]

To Love So Much

The warmness of fairy lights, And temptation of Moose Munch. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, (Mechanically tearing out pages from a hymnal). To love so much is a strength, To love so much is an Achilles heel.

The world outside continues to rush, Thoughts continue to cycle with no rest. Time feels suspended at the moment, (But the stack of torn pages grows). To love so much is rejuvenation, To love so much is exhaustion.

Something is gnawing down hard, Somewhere within these unquiet bones. A sense of urgency painstakingly released, (A sixteenth of a hymnal instead of any other). To love so much is commanded, To love so much is condemned, (Robotically tearing out pages).

~A.G. 11/25/19

[fly-with-no-hope-no-fear]

Creation, Andy

“Important: Do you think humans are better at creating or destroying?”

“It’s a binary thing? Either we create or destroy? Creating def. If humans are made in the image of God, then they create innately. Destruction is the byproduct.��

“Well, obviously we have a tremendous amount of power and are capable of both. But I’ve been trying to figure out what human beings are most inclined to do. You raise valid points.”

“In art you have to destroy to create. That’s what I was taught by this one old teacher named Churchill Davenport (kickass name). That just meant that even if you like some precious little brushstrokes you did, you’re probably gonna have to paint over it, so don’t get too attached. And while we’re at it, we might as well rip it into 4 pieces and collage it. It might look better...I destroy and create so evenly I never finish anything.”

~A.G. 11/24/19

[fly-with-no-hope-no-fear]

Inebriation, Andy

It isn’t liquor, He reminds himself, The remainder of a blunt Passed on to another, But the high only Drags him further down. He’s done this once before, He can do this again, He hates this crutch He fooled himself into. Good riddance to Inebriation, Andy.

~A.G. 11/23/19

[fly-with-no-hope-no-fear]

Grief, Andy

He lost his best friend, All five stages of grief And then some seemed To sucker punch him At once. But now he’s feeling Each one by turn. He knows he got lucky, That could have been him, But how could this death Be any part of a plan? He’s aware he’s too Steeped in this loss To be aware of those Around him still, But he can’t quite Pull himself out of this, And reach for them. This is grief, Andy.

~A.G. 11/22/19

[fly-with-no-hope-no-fear]

Oblivion, Andy

Sitting on the night dark Front steps of AA, He reflects on What brought him here. Drinking career Starting at 13, Need to escape Showed him The bottom of A bottle Way too many times. He wants change; He wasn’t ready, Last time. Sick of Oblivion, Andy.

~A.G. 11/21/19

[fly-with-no-hope-no-fear]

Andy, But Why Not More

The ushers still Call him by nickname; He’s a familiar face now And she’s gotta know more. Cocoa cup conversation Reveals his past And his predicament. He is searching, But not quite sure What for. This pothole sucks but Keeps him safe from The traffic overhead. If he moves, He’s sure to be knocked Further down, Amongst the Disappointment, Guilt, Anxiety, Depression, And fear. He asks why not more.

~A.G. 11/20/19

[fly-with-no-hope-no-fear]

God-Servant

An instantaneous mist gathers At a glance through glass door. In dim artificial candlelight A vulnerable figure kneels. Conversing deeply yet silently With evident devotion. The moment feels too intimate To witness from carpet-rooted stance. This lobby is too close And too far at once. A role-model servant Exuding authentic but gentle masculinity. The feeling of choking and peace Is caused by this stolen sight.

~A.G. 11/19/19

[fly-with-no-hope-no-fear]

Change

Muffin wrappers lit on fire Iced tea bottles in pieces, The enigma of a person’s change, A source of constant frustration.

There’s much I don’t like about myself, There’s much I’ve fought to change. Progress has been made Just as much as hasn’t.

The inconvenience of a self-preservation That activates traits most hated, Tests progress thought to be made, And limits the challenge of identity.

It seems change is a result of pain, Whatever form that be, But certain traits remain inherent, A default that will stay.

You can discern the response But can’t help the initial reaction, Redirection of recourse, But not the source of clash.

So yes I’ve changed And I’m still changing, But recognize the things that bother you, Torment me far more.

Struggles with the self Are rarely pleasant, Reminiscent of the implications Of knife fights with God.

~A.G. 11/18/19

[fly-with-no-hope-no-fear]

Aberdeen, 2019

Casseroles, All over, Green bean, Pineapple, Sweet potato, And noodle. Silt-murky rivers, Reddish clay ground, Work your own land And help out your Neighbors. Chainsaws, axes, And ride-on mowers. A handgun on every Bed-side table, And a shotgun on the Mantle, Let the dogs go, They know their way home. Aberdeen, Mississippi.

~A.G. 11/17/19