Monday, October 24, 2011

Welcome to the World

Welcome to the family and welcome to the world, Colton LaVar Ficklin. Every day of your life will be worth living, so live each one of them well, and remember that you will never have to walk alone.

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Today I have no words of my own.

You Are Tired (I Think)

You are tired,
(I think)
Of the always puzzle of living and doing;
And so am I.

Come with me, then,
And we’ll leave it far and far away—
(Only you and I, understand!)

You have played,
(I think)
And broke the toys you were fondest of,
And are a little tired now;
Tired of things that break, and—
Just tired.
So am I.

But I come with a dream in my eyes tonight,
And knock with a rose at the hopeless gate of your heart—
Open to me!
For I will show you the places Nobody knows,
And, if you like,
The perfect places of Sleep.

Ah, come with me!
I’ll blow you that wonderful bubble, the moon,
That floats forever and a day;
I’ll sing you the jacinth song
Of the probable stars;
I will attempt the unstartled steppes of dream,
Until I find the Only Flower,
Which shall keep (I think) your little heart
While the moon comes out of the sea.

e.e. cummings

Thursday, July 28, 2011

The Dawn Rose

D. Lawrence Ficklin
July 28, 2011, 10:00 PM

Once the dawn rose, and I with it
You, in me, came along
And we watched the world awake from atop this peak

You sang a song
My heart, in me, burned like the sun
Never had I felt its like before

A star, in my chest, in my throat, in my mind
In me
And I in it, and it was you

And I was burnt alive, down to cinders, ash
The dawn rose, in me
And set, and died

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

The Old Aches

I've seen decades come and go,
Centuries grow old and fade away.
Nations rise up and decay, empires go to waste,
Over and over again.
Constance: the greatest myth I've heard,
And throughout all this world
Nothing lasts but the change.

So why do I still hear your name?
Why do I see your face in everything?
These memories and pains refuse to fade,
These old aches, until you've been remade
Or they die with me.

Ten million miles beneath my soles
I've seen every sight, walked every road
All that has ever been, it's all alike to me

Sunrise blurs with the dusk
Above I can't tell the moon from the sun
It's an endless life each day I lead
An eternal waking sleep
Since I was born and this world made mine
I have it all and nothing I can keep

While I am walking all alone
Where once you were, but now gone
And I've no choice but to go on

Sunday, May 29, 2011

Hymn for a Rainy Sunday

I lay myself upon the ground
Raindrops patter 'round my head
Thought, care and worry flees away
I listen to what the storm has said

Boughs bend and sway beneath the wind
The leaves rustle their applause
As the thunder and the howling gale
Make known the voice of older gods

The torrents like a choir sing
Their hosannas seep into the ground
And lost within the pouring rain
I feel as though I'm newly found

Content, I drift beneath the sky
The rainstorm is my lullabye

Monday, May 9, 2011

There You Are

There you are
There you are right where
You said you'd be
Without a word and still
You cannot see
What it could mean

Shut the door
Those what-if musings won't fly
You seem so surprised
Have you seen the score?
You can't ignore

'Cause there you are, there you are
There you are without knowing where you are

Such a crime
You feel shut down, locked up
All the time
Put your hands up, kid
You won't get out alive
End of the line

What a shame
All that promise left out
In the rain
So much potential, still
Forget what could have been
What could have been

'Cause there you are, there you are
There you are, without knowing where you are

And come a time when you're all alone
Way off in that distant, hazy future
You won't look back, because that's all you've known
That's all you know, that's all you know
All there is is what you've known

Or look around
Open up your eyes and
Knock the sky
Breathe the air and feel
Your hand in mine
I've been here this whole time

So here I am, here I am
Here I am, here I am

Here I am, here I am
Here I am, here I am, all yours to find

Saturday, February 12, 2011


I'm guilty of daydreaming. A lot. Even more than I dream at night, and I have many dreams every night (of varying content and complexity).

Sometimes, when I get really consumed by my daydreams, I start to behave as if they are actually plausible. For example, I'll work up a scenario in my head where I confess my true feelings for a crush, she reciprocates with her own hidden emotions and dreams, and then we ride off on a motorcycle that was willed to me by Bill Gates (along with 50% of his Microsoft shares).

It looks something like this:

With this image in my head, I decide to act on the dream. I prepare myself for the coming romance by dressing in my most fashionable attire, shaving any possibly-accumulated scruff from my face, and perhaps a small spray of my favorite cologne.

Thus properly dandified, I set out to call upon the object of my affection. Along the way, I run the coming bliss over and over in my head in an endless loop, finding myself absolutely giddy at the prospect of finding such happiness.

Then something peculiar happens. About ten feet from my crush's front door, an alternate ending somehow makes its way onto the projector screen of my imagination, and it goes something like this:


By the time I actually reach the door, my confidence has completely evaporated. I no longer hold even the tiniest sliver of hope that it might all turn out alright, yet I am stuck in an autopilot that continues to move me helplessly towards the inevitable fiasco of creepiness.

Before I even know what I'm doing, it's too late to stop myself, and I've knocked on the door. It opens, and there she is.

It is at this point that my mind is literally screaming at me, "SAY SOMETHING!!! ANYTHING!!!" My eyes flit rapidly about, looking for some sort of clue that I can use to extricate myself from the awkward, uncomfortable silence. By now I am willing to carry out any plan other than the one I originally pursued, no matter how ridiculous. And then, right when I figured the earth was about to swallow me up, it comes to me. The perfect thing to say. The way out.

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

A Thousand Words

Some posts I had up on Facebook. Click to enlarge and enjoy!

The Atlas

It was no single road that brought me here
No well-paved avenue beneath my feet
No smooth thoroughfare, sure and unerring
But a web of paths never before trod
Winding to and fro towards dreams and visions
Up mountains, over seas where no man sailed
Through forests where the ancient trees whispered
Rustled softly their wisdom in the wind
It was no single road that brought me here
But an atlas, a world, both crissed and crossed
That is borne on my shoulders as I go

The Fleeting

My true love is in the fleeting
The there and back again and gone
Delicate in its short meeting
A half-remembered quiet dawn

The kiss of cold wind on my cheek
The play of light upon her face
The twirl of leaves along the creek
A stranger's walk of unmatched grace

The fall of snow as they are whirled
By God's own breath down through the air
The silent music of a world
That has a voice beyond compare

O, that I should know the cost
Of loving all that I have lost

Friday, January 21, 2011

"I have the simplest tastes..."

I've loved the plays and poems (and single novel) of Oscar Wilde since I can remember. His philosophy of life - and the gentle elegance he uses to present it - has inspired me as I've cobbled together my own (which also consists of hefty doses of Calvin & Hobbes, among others).

In one of his works he said: There are only two tragedies in life: one is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it. Tonight, I think I finally understand what he meant. The knowledge makes me happy, but the consequences are somewhat sad.

(He also said: A dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world. This, despite all its talk of punishment, makes me happy. My insomnia is none improved, and I am proud of the fact that I am linked to him in any way -- even if it is a sleep disorder.)

So, in honor of Oscar Wilde, I've decided to treat you to a poem that is truly beautiful (read: not written by me) to which my soul has resonated on many occasions.

La Fuite de la Lune

O outer senses there is peace,
A dreamy peace on either hand,
Deep silence in the shadowy land,
Deep silence where the shadows cease.

Save for a cry that echoes shrill
From some lone bird disconsolate;
A corncrake calling to its mate;
The answer from the misty hill.

And suddenly the moon withdraws
Her sickle from the lightening skies,
And to her sombre cavern flies,
Wrapped in a veil of yellow gauze.

Thanks to everyone who keeps on reading this blog, despite my best efforts to bore you to tears. :)


Friday, January 7, 2011

Red or Blue?

It's a new year, and though I have never subscribed to the "Resolution" school of thought, I can't help but feel that change is in order. One might be persuaded, after almost 23 years of going to church, listening to talks (and especially the hymns), being raised in a very fine and upstanding household and being instructed (more lovingly than can be appreciated) by two incredible parents in how to live a decent and moral life, to believe that making the correct choice would be an easy, instinctive matter. Instead we find that it is usually anything but. (At least I do.)

You also might think, given all of the first-hand knowledge I've acquired on choices not to make,that I should be able to recognize an undesirable consequence before the options are ever placed before me. Again, it is regrettably not so. Still, a lesson learned the hard way is usually a lesson that need not be repeated (usually).

There are so many things to learn, though. Here again my curiosity is both asset and happy liability, leading me through every emotional briar patch to its connecting sunny glade and back again.

But I feel an urge. A need to fulfill a duty, almost a calling. But I continually stress over whether I am doing it out of honor and personal satisfaction or as an accepted, though perhaps unwelcome, obligation.

I've moved apartments (unexpectedly, but truly a blessing in disguise for all its temporary inconvenience), and I'm still clinging (against all precedent) to the relationships and friends that I formed there, or that I hoped might form there which hadn't, or to which could very easily have become something wonderful if not for that terrible voice in men's brains which makes them fearful of every good thing. I want to have something wonderful.

And I'm scared out of my mind by it at the same time. I'm an expert in hurting other people when they deserve it the very least, and I'm falsely stoic in the hurts I take upon myself from the same, because I say that I might deserve it (a lie that I don't even believe when I speak it).

But the wonderful has been terrible to me in the past, and I to it in return. Isn't that just like life? Against all reason, I must do exactly what I have done in the past: expose my Rest Of Me to a sometimes careful and sometimes carefully ruthless world. Exactly what I have done in the past, only different.

And as that old armor rusts away from my body (against every warning bell and instinct), I can only pray that the future I make this time has more wonderful, and less not. Because the future is not a result of choices among alternative paths offered by the present, but a place that is created - created first in the mind and will, created next in activity. The future is not some place we are going to, but one we are creating.

Thursday, January 6, 2011

Music for a long drive

A few favorites of mine that have been played hundreds of times lately. No flashy videos or anything like that, but lovely songs nonetheless. Hope you enjoy them!

Missing Peace

Something is missing
Something I can't quite put my finger on
I've forgotten what to say
Or how to smile
Or where I am
And that worries me

Lately I've thought I was happy
Lately things have gone my way
But then a thought
(Or was it a dream)
And here I am, not what I seem
Because something is missing in me

The world has showered me
With all it's praise and laud
With gold enough to make King Midas green
I have pleasure and pawns
But when the houseguests have gone
I sit alone, I can't breathe
What price has my missing peace?

Something is missing
Something that I can't live a life without
I've forgotten how to pray
And here I cry
I've lost my way
And that worries me

Saturday, January 1, 2011

I'm No Good At Science

Sometimes as I sit late at night
In a darkened room
The sky outside my door begins to boil
And shift and whirl

Until the basic little pieces
The atoms and the molecules
Quarks and preons
Mountains and seas
Worlds and stars
All lie in a hopeless jumble
Of no particular design

And I think sometimes that it's an accident
As I wander through the canyons
And the valleys
Between trees of string theory
(Which makes no sense at all)

But then I will say,
'How strange it should be just so:
with the trees backlit by yesterday's sunset
And the clouds glowing with tomorrow's noon.'
And I will gaze and puzzle over what I see
And the look on my face might suggest
That I have learned something that I've forgotten
(Without being taught)
Or that the sight has granted me great wisdom
(Without the burden of being wise)
Or that I have realized that it can't be true
Even though I see that it is
Because impossible cannot be as a rule

Unless you are mad or a physicist.
And I'm no good at science.

Sometimes when this happens
I wake up
But I never really want to