Monthly Archives: February 2015

Epeolatry

I yclept (by the name of) MarvelVarital, and I am performing adoxography (skilled writing on a unimportant subject) about Epeolatry (the worship of words). Some of these words are hippopotomonstrosesquipedalian (pertaining to extremely long words), and others are mytacism (the incorrect or excessive usage of the letter M). 

I galvanize (to imbue with life or animation) these words for the agelasts (one who never laughs) to be recrudescent (becoming raw or sore again) and laugh at my witzelsucht (a feeble attempt at humor). Do not charient (an artfully veiled insult) me and think that I am an aeolist (a pompous windy bore who pretends to have inspiration) for I will not decubitis (the act or attitude of lying down) and eccedentesast (fake a smile), because I will recumbentibus (a knockout blow either physically or verbally)  you. You will have wanweird (an unhappy fate)!

Words are peaceful like psithurism (the sound of wind in trees or leaves rustling), brontide (the low rumbling of distant thunder). Words are ‘under what circumstances would you even need to come up with such a word’ like, vigesimation (the act of killing every twentieth person), and qualtagh (the first person you see after leaving your house).  Thank you for being part of my concilliabule (a secret meeting of people who are hatching a plot) about . . .

 

Epeolatry.

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Six Word Story

Sunrise, Sunset, Sunrise, Sunset – start over.


Falling. Falling down, down, down. Snap!


Wanted: Scientist can create super powers.


Reflecting, Reflecting, Reflecting, Reflecting – no more.


Born, Grow, Save, Live, Help, Die.


Have it, Lost it, Found it?


I murder, she victim – I survive.


“It’s your friendly neighborhood Spider-man.” “NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!”


Try this when I die, tomorrow.


Jesus died to save, then arose.


Wag, Run, Frolic, Catch – Happy Puppy.


“Holy best acting skills ever, Batman!”


Snow day = Fun = me really happy! 🙂


The young queen’s zipper is stuck.


Faster than a speeding bullet . . . . SUPERMAN!


Did you enjoy, Six Word Stories?

Am I Alive?

Am I alive?

Do I truly live?

Of course I don’t mean homeostasis, organized cells and response to stimulus!

“To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all.”(Oscar Wilde)

What is LIVING?

Emotion

What separates humans from sloths? (Although sometimes they’re one in the same) 🙂

Thoughts

What allows humans to think?

Emotions

What starts wars? Religion, Land, Allies, Oppression

 

What is the root of these?

Ideals

What is the root of ideals?

Emotion and  thought

What is THE good and THE bad?

Actions pulled from desire – emotion

Everything comes from emotion, and emotion comes from everything.

 

How do emotions and living correlate?

 

You can have emotions without LIVING, but not LIVING without emotions

 

I believe you have not lived, until you have felt an emotion that cannot be described in a word.

 

But what kind of this emotion that changes everything?

 

Positive emotion, yes.

But what if it is a negative emotion?

What then?

 

What if you’re overwhelming emotion is hate and not love?

Does that make you bad?

What if the best response, the most logical, is hate?

 

What if happy is a negative emotion, and we’ve been getting it all wrong?

 

I don’t know. Do I want to know? Do I want my life to be simple and JUST live?

Maybe?

Is it strange that I’m okay with contentment?

 

I will always strive forward and be better, but . . .

I’m not some character in a teen romance novel where life is going good and then better, then the fall, and come out even better, and nothing can stop the character and it leaving you feeling all warm inside and ready to take on the world.

My life is so much more simple and yet complex than just that ‘type’ of character.

 

So when a person achieves LIVING, can they fall back and become the unliving?

 

Can have it, but lose it?

Can you lose emotion?

Can you have all the emotion, everything you need to LIVE, but not accept it?

 

You have all the

hurt

guilt

nightmares

torture

pain

desire

messy background

need

for grace from God, but not accept it.

 

God has all the grace in the world, but someone doesn’t want it?

 

I don’t understand, I truly don’t

 

Am I Alive?

 

Up until this past November, I’ve been ‘waiting’ to who I am going to be. Slowly painfully, I become who I am. But what comes after finding yourself? There is a next level, but what does that consist of? I am who I’m suppose to be, but am I LIVING, yet? I’m in and out of being ALIVE. It’s a battle – not of life and death – but of living and unliving. Between surviving and thriving.

 

I leave you with the beginning of one of my favorite songs by Jamie Grace:

All the signs of life

They’re all around me with every heartbeat

I feel so alive,

I am joy and sadness,

Peace and madness

What are the signs of life?

 

What are the signs of your life?

 

Are the signs of your life mean that you are alive?

Am I Alive?

We Liar

“Liar”


The word was but an utter whisper, which stung the lips.


 

What even does this word mean? What does this word mean to us? What does this word mean pointed at us?

 

Did we do something wrong? Did we say . . .

 

Did we do something right?

 

No No No. We did something wrong.

 

Being a “Liar” is wrong. Yes Yes Yes. Lying is wrong.

“You got that right, baby”

 

Right. We got “Baby” right. Lying wrong . . . Baby right?

 

No sense. No sense. No sense.

 

“I’m not yer ‘baby’ no more”

 

Baby right, but . . . wrong.

 

Why . . . “Liar”? Why not another name to call us? Why not over? Why not . . .

 

“Figure it out on yer own time, I’m done”

 

Klack, Klack, Klack

 

We alone.

 

“Liar” is to person.

 

Person to Person

 

Us to Us?

 

Can we lie to ourselves?

 

No, No, No

 

Are we lying to ourselves?

 

About what?

Lying, yes. Subject . . .

 

Who we are? What we do? Who we really are? What we did? What we say? What we said? What we . . .  feel?

 


Turning the head like a dog,

Confused


 

We lie

 

We lie to ourself. Yes

 

We lie about . . . us.

But lying is good.

Lying can be good, and it is.

 

Lie to survive

Only way

 

We do something right, we lie.

Yes.

 

I lie, wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong

We lie, right right right right right right right right right right

 

We liar

E. V. O. L. – L. O. V. E.

Do you love to breathe?

Do you get excited about your next inhale? Do you dream about the oxygen that will enter your trachea?

No. Breathing is involuntary.

Do you love to eat?

Do you get excited about Thanksgiving? Do you dream about the turkey?

Yes. Eating is voluntary, but a necessity.

Love has become involuntary. You love without even realizing it. You just love. You involuntary give your heart away.

I want voluntary love.

I want to fall in love and feel the gravity taking me. I want to voluntary give my heart away.  A swirling, churning, and changing emotion. A love that is like the wind, you can’t hold it and understand where it comes from. A love condition that has so much power over you, that if you try to understand it and condense it into some small little ball – it loses it’s gravity over you. An emotion where you get chills and sweat at the same time.

Where everything is right-side-up, when you’re used to you’re universe being an okayness of sideways.

Then I slowly begin to realize . . .

there’s this love I’ve been wanting

right out in front of me

all I have to do is reach out and grab it.

Jesus died on the cross to save me, but even more than that . . .

To love me

Jesus died to love me.

He’s giving me this love, and all I have to do is accept it.

It’s a voluntary love, not involuntary.

Given and now accepted.

I have a love condition, a love condition for Jesus my Savior.

Do you love to love?

Do you get excited about the actual action of loving? Do you dream about how your very soul will feel?

Yes, I do.

Reflections of the Night

The ball of fire submerges into the arms of the earth

The sun sets behind the trees

The essence of color yawn

The flowers close up

 Piercing of vision fractures the sogginess

The stars light up the night

The cocoon that envelops the world is ponderous

The air is high in humidity

The swirling of intangibility surge against out reached fingers

The wind blows against the grass

 The creatures relinquish their sound from their frames

The animals cry out

The feeble decorations emit aromas mixing with the very world

The flower blooms give off their smell

The everlasting luster scintillates the in-folds of day

The moon lights up the sky

Emotions and thoughts are reflected perfectly against the hue of the

Night