Lubricant

Under the Green Desk Lamp…

Green DesklampOn morning’s dawn the cock does crow,
I fetch my glass and this I know,
A splash of whiskey brings a glow,
As I sit down to ponder.

I spin my pen and try to think,
But grand ambitions start to shrink,
I’d better have another drink,
My mind’s begun to wander.

A clearer head and I set sail,
Over the page I plot my tale,
I think I’ll fix one more cocktail,
Before I lean in to write.

Now one more has turned to three,
And look at what they’ve done for me,
The words are coming all so free,
I’ve finally found my rhythm.

I work until the lights go out,
The pages full do sooth all doubt,
One more time let’s raise a shout,
To the noble cocktail.

-Brad OH Inc.

Change, Fear, Truth, and Renewal

Under the Green Desk Lamp…

Green DesklampThe only immutable

Force in the world,

The grinding of time

Is the sense of absurd.

Futility tracing its

Claws down your back,

And leaving its markings

On minds sorely wracked.

Then doubts do set in

And preponderance lost,

So shifting with worry

To escape at all cost.

When realization

Makes fools of us all,

Stand tongue-tied and mute

Never hearing that call.

Not too late does it happen

That sudden release,

Understanding, acceptance,

And finally, peace.

-Brad OH Inc.

Re-Share: My Abode

Under the Green Desk Lamp…

Today, we’re taking it easy. The days tend to get busy on occassion, and it is important to remind ourselves to apprectiate the great friends, places, and times that make them all so worthwhile.

In that spirit, we give to you, once again, ‘My Abode’…

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The Tavern on Whyte,

Is the spot where I write,

Its confines so quiet and dark.

The suds run cold,

Make my spirit bold,

The denziens are good for a lark.

With my pen as my might

I must strike quite a sight,

As I spin my stories and more.

I sip on my beer,

As I stew in my cheer,

Until they throw me out of the door.

The Tavern on Whyte’– Click the Pic to Visit their Site!

-Brad OH Inc.

Muse

Under the Green Desk Lamp…

The minutes crawl, meandering mindlessly by,

as the mind mulls on myopic miseries.

Minutiae distracting—malicious in its mediocrity,

as merciless minions of misgivings muddy the waters.

But where the muse, whose music brings meaning?

When weaning from mundanity we writhe,

then written on the walls is the wonder of her witchcraft.

Who mollifies the weary and meddles with our worry.

Myriad memories are woven in her menagerie.

Where many malevolent mental blocks

are withdrawn and mended into that

magical mess of which they were wrought.

The who’s and the where’s and the why’s and the when’s,

writing we wrestle them while we still can.

It’s merely a moment, a miraculous wash

but wading unworried we’ll master the world.

-Brad OH Inc.

Spin Top

Under the Green Desk Lamp…

You can feel it in each day,

As the plans just slide away.

You can feel it in the minute,

Perhaps there’s just more in it.

More to look back on,

To miss where you’ve come from.

You’ve made it nowhere before long,

Into the distance the road goes on.

The axis spinning starts to wobble,

Yet unfinished on you hobble.

More to do, and more to see,

And more to meet, and more to be.

But every year’s a little faster,

Can you hear the laughter of the Master?

-Brad OH Inc.

Tomorrow

Under the Green Desk Lamp…

The world turns around,

Another day,

Of urgent nothings,

Slips away.

And all the things,

You’d always meant,

To have a try at,

Came and went.

Busy getting by,

Keeping life at bay,

With the real treasures,

All on layaway.

The most dangerous lie,

That you’ll ever know,

Is the endless promise,

Of tomorrow.

-Brad OH Inc.

7-3-1

Under the Green Desk Lamp…

The seven sons challenged their fate,

For the three jewels of light.

And mired in and endless fight,

Were twisted by their hate.

 

Three fell in the forest caves,

To the Elven King most fair.

And laying kinship bloody bare,

Two died beside the waves.

 

But two did find and finally hold,

The treasures they had earned.

Unclean indeed, their hands were burned,

As it had been foretold.

 

One jewel was cast into the sea,

One to the fiery core.

The last was set on high to soar,

A sign that hope should be.

 

Yet in the end all that was done,

Of good or ill intent.

Has proven but an instrument,

In service of the One.

 

-Brad OH Inc.