Chaos.

May 9, 2023May 10, 2023 Ronovan Poetry Anger, Confusion, Coping, life phases, life stages, Lost, Poetry

There are so many things, that I cannot see what they mean.

Never knew it was temporary, fool be me.

Reality hits but doesn’t hurt until I feel it.

Making waves is not an occupation but a final destination.

Given a blank check to the heart’s infatuations, to bad the date was an expiration.

My confusion is not an exaggeration.

No longer breathing now I’m alone, can’t scratch the surface of the undertow.

Stories go to the end, but the book never closed.

My words are senseless unless you know.

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You need to cry…to breathe. Men, I’m talking about us…you women too.

February 29, 2020February 29, 2020 Ronovan Inspiration & Motivation, Life, Poetry allowing men to feel, Anger, avoidance, Coping, crying, Emotions, gender expectations, Life, Loneliness, Loss, Pain, Poetry, PTSD

To the artificial us, the expected supposed to be, and to humanity begging to shine through, I give you one piece of advice. Cry. I began this thread of idea to speak to the men of the world and their need to cry, in order for them to release all the pent up fears, angers, humiliations, and confusions, but the audience later broadens to be all inclusive.

Through this release through crying we, as men, might avoid the catastrophes we inevitably create for ourselves. Catastrophes created by fear of failure, anger and humiliation leading to obstinance and inflexibility. Confusion of not knowing what to do with all these feelings we’ve been told and ingrained with not to let show, let alone to allow exist inside of us. Again, the fear of that confusion because if we have these sensitive thoughts, feelings, and reactions then people might think we are more woman than man.

But, as I thought of how men in society should support man to cry, I thought also of how women should let us cry as well. Then I realized that society doesn’t allow women to cry freely without judgement either. Crying is seen as weak. Crying by a man is often thought of as showing their feminine side, as though having a feminine side is a bad thing.

This led me to the thought of why we still refer to behaviors as feminine or masculine.

I believe crying and laughter are the two most powerful healing and coping mechanisms every person has available to them, and it’s free to do either. No prescription necessary or diagnosis required.

Just as men are seen as weak for crying, so to are women. I believe that view along with that about men has led to many wrong decisions in the 20th and 21st centuries that caused great losses. This is not just an opinion I have about the U.S. but one for all countries around the world. Some even worse than America itself.

Many of us have or will experience a life altering trauma. We’re afraid to admit it, afraid to show we are scared or hurting or completely lost. A good first step is to let yourself cry. It works. I speak from experience.

So to humanity, I once again say…cry, and cry often. But also remember to laugh just as much. It’s all about balance in ones life to have a good and healthy life.

Cry like a man?
Cry like a human.
Cry like a babe calling for the need of telling the world it needs relief of something.

Wash away the poisons of loss
of grief
of fear
of anger
of the loneliness of being you.

Cry from no one listening
of no one noticing
you are no longer the you they know or you recognize.

Cry…so you can then breathe…and laugh once again.

RonovanWrites #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge #218 Steam&Cover

September 10, 2018September 9, 2018 Ronovan Haiku Prompt Challenge Anger, Community, Daily Post Event, Haiku, Haiku Challenge, Haiku Prompt, Poetry, Prompt, Romance, Sensual, Sexual

Remember to come back and visit the comments section during the week for your fellow poets entries!

Haiku Poetry Prompt Writing Challenge Useful Links.
Thesaurus: Steam, Cover.
HowManySyllables.com
Thesaurus.com

The Guidelines are simple.

Take the two words and write a Haiku. I use Haiku in English as my style, which is 5 syllables for the first line, 7 for the second, and 5 for the third, but you can use what you like. The link above has links within it to articles about how to write Haibun, Tanka, and even a new form I created called Freku. You can also do the 3/5/3 form if you likeinstead of the 5/7/5 that I usually use. Write, share, and have fun. For syllable help visit HowManySyllables.com. (You would be surprised at how many syllables some words actually have.)
The two words can be used as you like. Words have different definitions and you can use the definitions you like. You can even use a synonym word as long as it does not change the meaning. Go to Thesaurus.com for Synonym help.
Use the Tag of Ronovan Writes Haiku Challenge. This will help me find you in case you forget to ping back or leave your URL in the comments.
Copy the link of your finished haiku URL in a comment so we can all go and visit your site to see what you have done. You can do a ping back. What’s a ping back? Put the URL link in the address bar of this post, if you like, within your post. Your inclusion of the link encourages others to try the challenges out, be creative, and join a community to find friends and more followers (hopefully). I honestly gain nothing by more people visiting the post. I don’t have ads running I get paid for by your visit. Click HERE for a detailed article on Ping Backs.
You may copy one of the badges/images appearing in this post below or above and place it on your site if you wish, most normally use it within their post. I am not saying you need to, but if you would like to do so then go ahead. It is simply my way of saying thank you for participating. I sometimes make custom images for the week, if time and health permits.
The Challenge currently BEGINS at 8 AM EST (New York City time) on Mondays. And a DEADLINE is Noon EST (New York City time) on the Sunday following the Challenge Post release.

The Challenge Words!

Steam&Cover

Not sure how to write a Haiku? Click HERE for a quick How to write Haiku Poem in English Form with links to articles for other forms of Haiku.

Much Respect-Much Love

Ronovan

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@RonovanWrites

My Sunday Thought: Be quiet.

December 7, 2014December 7, 2014 Ronovan Inspiration & Motivation, Thoughts, Writing Anger, Be Quiet, Bible, Christianity, Cosby, Ferguson, Garner, God, Inspiration, James 1:19-22, Jesus, Motivation, Proverbs 17:28, Society

I always like to write my Sunday Thought about something to do with events that are happening in society today. The problem with that is the same things have been going on for weeks now and to be honest I have been attempting to avoid simply going off on a rant to say exactly what I think of the various situations. So far I’ve held my tongue and merely spoken in a somewhat neutral tone. Mostly because it would be such a long article that I know it would not be read and everyone has there opinions.

And they would be just that. Opinions. You can take two people and give them the exact same information and they will see something different. It all depends on your view of how things operate.

Why do I not give my full blown, knock down, in your face opinions on Ferguson, Cosby and Garner? Because it would be an opinion that, although not in the media and not sensationalized or used inflammatorially would still add fuel to a fire that no one can know 100% either way about. Don’t make assumptions about my opinion based on that statement. Why?

James 1:19-22
¹⁹My dear brothers and sisters, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry, ²⁰because human anger does not produce the righteousness that God desires. ²¹Therefore, get rid of all moral filth and the evil that is so prevalent and humbly accept the word planted in you, which can save you.
²²Do not merely listen to the word, and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says.

And if you don’t want to take the advice of the half brother of Jesus then take it from the wisest normal man that ever lived.

Proverbs 17:28
Even fools are thought wise if they keep silent,
and discerning if they hold their tongues.

I’ve taught my son one thing if nothing else. Keep quiet unless the teacher asks him the question or he’s certain of the answer being asked. You see kids just spout out an answer sometimes and look like they are crazy. We think it’s funny. Adults do it and we look foolish. That happens in every aspect of life.

Much Respect

Ronovan

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A beauty so high.

November 20, 2014June 16, 2015 Ronovan Fiction, Flash Fiction Anger, Creative Writing, Death, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Loss, Love, Mystery, Short Story, Story

Stoneworth didn’t give a fig about life. As far as he was concerned it could end in a breath and that would be just fine with him. He had lived long enough and life was a bunch of bull. Every step he took he stepped in a big pile of a reminder of it.

“Mr. Stoneworth, may I have your autograph, please,” said the young girl.

Stoneworth looked at the book and pen offered. Gritting his teeth he put on his best fake grin and signed one of his somehow formulaic but popular mysteries. If he thought it all was crap then why did he care if the girl was happy or not? Perhaps he didn’t want it to be all bad, maybe he wanted a sign of something good. Or maybe he wanted to pay bills until the crap buried him.

He left the tip on the table and then the cafe behind. His burger was not even half eaten. It was not a normal bull day.

It was worse. It was like rodeo week and he was the head scooper.

He should have stayed home and eaten the frozen Chinese dinner. It would match the frozen ears he had from the early winter wind. His work was now going to suck the rest of the day and night and he was going to be hungry. Any flow of plot he had was gone. And he had a deadline. Ten days or death would be knocking at his door. Either death or his agent. They looked about the same.

His apartment smelled like burnt hot chocolate, not coffee. He had tried the stuff but couldn’t drink it until it had enough milk, sugar and chocolate syrup in it to taste like hot chocolate. Why waste the time and the money? Just cut out the middle men.

He looked at the wall thermostat and the screwed on lock box. Freaking landlord. 65 degrees. He left his coat on and turned the small electric heater on. He let it oscillate just to have some noise in the place.

Even though he knew his purpose of the day was ruined he sat down at the laptop anyway. The 1 appeared at the top of one tab of the many opened in his browser for research on ancient Central American civilizations. His thoughts improved with hope.

He had mail. The list of songs were long and not quite his usual fare but he listened. She had sent them. He didn’t listen to much music. It caused headaches. But from her, the headaches didn’t happen. They inspired him.

My beauty has given a gift to me

One I don’t often have time to take

It could not be more sweet and dear

Unless the music her own fingers did make

How is one so beautiful

How is she in my life

If by chance life did change

“Stoneworth!”

He looked up at the ghastly form approaching. He stared through it. Why would it not leave him be? The ghost of a past that was no longer his. All he wanted was the now, the reality of what is.

He did not need what was the never was. He closed his eyes and pressed his hands together until his fingers turned white. The music started again in his ears.

“Worthless! Invalid!”

Stoneworth moved his hands to his ears and pressed hard. Forcing the music in. Driving the hate away.

The pain seared through his brain and down his spine. Cackling laughter reached his now unprotected ears. He slowly sank to the floor unable to control his movements. His body arched as spasms began.

Laughter.

Music.

Laughter.

He shut his eyes tight. Focus on her eyes, those brown eyes, focus. The cackling continued. The pain continued. But suddenly he did not care. He felt warmth touch his skin. A smile crossed his face. It didn’t matter. There was a light he could see now for the first time. And music. He was climbing higher and higher. His dream was there, higher than he had ever been before. A beauty like he would never witness again.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know officer. I came in when he missed his deadline for a book he was writing and found him.”

“Did you turn that heater on?”

“No officer. It was already going. I moved it away from his face though. It was really close.”

“Well, it looks like a heart attack.”

“He always said that’s how he would go.”

“Well, this looks like another case he solved before he ever got a chance to write it.”

Ronovan

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I try to write but all I get is hit

September 24, 2014September 24, 2014 Ronovan Poetry Anger, anxiety, Depression, Fed up, Harrassed, Harrassment, Pain, Poem, Poetry

I try to write but all I get is hit.

I can’t finish a sentence before someone starts talkin’ some . . .

I just want to sit here and speak my peace.

Why can’t they all stop, make their jabbering cease?

Oh man you’re just on a burnout quest.

I’m not part of it, I’m better than all the rest.

What, serious, are you freakin’ out of your mind?

You’re one of the biggest of the whacked out kind.

Look at me, do I look like I’m okay?

Do you hear my words, listen to what I say?

No, I can tell that you don’t hear,

Cause if you did you would just disappear.

Don’t look at me like that, trying to make me feel bad.

I’ve been dealing with your crap before you even knew you were sad.

So why don’t you give it a rest?

Don’t you know it would be for the best?

But, no, uh uh, you don’t know even have a clue,

My biggest dilemma is what to do with you.

Only one thing keeps it all from breakin’ loose.

I’m not ready for no hangman’s noose.

I’m here, and I’m stayin’, nothin’ gonna change that.

So just you back off real quick and stop actin’ like a brat.

I tell you this once so listen real clear, if you think this is about you,

Then ask yourself why do you think it could be true?

LMP

Sick of it!

September 24, 2014September 24, 2014 Ronovan Poetry Anger, Exploitation, Friend, Hate, Old Man, Poem, Poetry, Womanizer

Sick of it!

I gotta ask this cause I’m tired of all the whack,

Why do the tender hearted always end up busted up and jacked?

You make me sick to my stomach and illin’ in my brain,

Leavin’ a trail behind you like some Depends leakin’ stain.

You think you’re somethin’ when you ain’t but an old fool.

Pick up your lip cause you be slippin’ in your drool.

Why is a woman who has the looks and is so sweet,

Gets used up like some little kids basket of a Halloween treat?

Yeah, I’m angry and I’m fed up with the walkin’ dung heap,

Slippin’ and slidin’ around like he is somethin’ when he’s really so cheap.

Nah, I ain’t so nice, I call you like I see you.

You’re a blue pill poppin’ womanizin’ slut jack who just want’s a hole to do.

It’s been a while since my words have been like this so crazy.

When my friends get played, used, the fog rolls in and my patience gets lazy.

I wish at times I were the type to just stomp the punks in the ground.

Lucky for y’all I have control and my brain in that sense is sound.

For those of you with your salt water tans,

Along with your sycophant barely legal fans,

How’s it feel when you look in your mirror,

When the Devil is starin’ over your shoulder smilin’ cause you’re one second nearer?

LMP

Asphalt and Inheritance

August 27, 2014August 27, 2014 Ronovan Poetry Anger, Big Business, Capitalism, Creative Writing, Earth, Hypocrisy, Meek, Poetry, Politics, Ranting, Society, Writing

Why, why, why?

Is this time to be torn by the pattern woven by men?

Do lives creep silently to catch a breath just for a moment in a light that will never set upon them?

Hurling through concrete hoops to land on melted asphalt to be trapped by the creations they have made.

Can they complain?

Do they have a right?

They made it.

They were the forces that shoved it down the throats of others.

Helplessness has been rewarded with gloating over the fall of the mighty movers of all.

The meek and the earth,

They shall inherit.

But is the earth our home or heaven?

The meek of what shall inherit which?

You got no Hook

August 17, 2014August 16, 2014 Ronovan Poetry Anger, Mad, Plagiarism, Poetry, rant, Rhyme, Theft, Thievery

You got no Hook

by Lost Mind Poet

You’re stealing my patterns

You’re taking my rhymes

Boy you best be prayin’

Cause I be hearin’ them chimes

A common thief

A petty crook

You look to me

Cause you got no hook

Play on you silly boy

And you’ll find yourself hollow

Cause when I finish with you

You won’t have even one last follow

You didn’t think I would notice

Imitation is a compliment

I guess you about to learn

A difference to your astonishment

Take your burglary

Carry it to the max

I got originality

While your head needs ex lax

Pain from the Ignorant

August 4, 2014August 4, 2014 Ronovan Poetry Anger, Blogs, Extremists, Frustration, Ignorance, Peace, Poetry, rant, War, World

Pain from the Ignorant

I don’t care about government

I don’t care about race

All we’ve done since we’ve been here

Is corrupt the whole freakin’ place

I say let’s erase all the borders

Forget the religious rift

But it’ll never work–know why

Because God created peace and man destroyed it

I don’t know the story

Our facts are far from complete

But why can’t we all agree

To not kill each other and our babies in the street

Oh, don’t blame your neighbor

So what if they look like the bad guys

Their grandparents built the store

Where you eat your yummy to die for fries

But you say they’re the same people

Okay, so what do you mean

Have you noticed my bigoted brother

Every culture has some whacked out extreme

Talk to one another

You’ll be somewhat surprised

That not to deep down

We’re all the same . . . just in disguise

I’m Back-Return of the Lost Mind Poet

July 12, 2014July 12, 2014 Ronovan Poetry Anger, Bullying, Harrassment, Men, Poem, Poetry, Slam, Women

I’m Back

by: Lost Mind

Did you enjoy my break

Did you enjoy the vacation

Well it’s over now

It’s time for a proclamation

To all those idiots

Who take shots on the blogs

I won’t be calling you pigs

But boys you be acting like hogs

No, I ain’t a wordsmith

I ain’t poetically adept

My words come out wild

I’m manic I sound desperate

I’ve been riled and angered

Yeah, you might say I’m ticked

Because I’ve been seeing some boys

Who been acting like a . . .

You don’t take no for an answer

You think your truth is better

You don’t even have one

You couldn’t find it with an Irish Setter

Some of you like to spout and spew

Like a philosophical misfit

Let me tell you something guys

We’re all just full of . . . it

The women say what they say

Then take it as fact

Don’t be looking for reasons

To jump on in for an attack

Oh, I’m sorry

Do you think I’m talking about you

Well if you think that

Then start brain swirlin’ why you think it might be true

Look at my history

In the poems I’ve wrote

My message is consistent

With women don’t rock my boat

Yeah, I’ve been quiet for quite some time now

You thought the Lost Mind done been found

That I had done been happy

That I was over the rainbow bound

Oh I try and do I get my smile on

But let me tell you something Jack

When the Lost Mind snaps

My poetic reflex snaps back

So to all those self important self attention seeking typists

That is for both men and women as well

Don’t be throwing out your spiel

Because you got nothing to tell

Prismatical

July 11, 2014July 11, 2014 Ronovan Poetry Anger, Chronic Pain, Confusion, Emotional Scarring, Fibromyalgia, Insanity, Lost, Pain, Poem, Poetry, Release

Prismatical

by: Ronovan the Lost Mind

These limbs I hate

Give me a saw

But how would I do it

Without them at all

So they ache

My fingers pain

I keep writing these words

Driving me slowly insane

I have happiness

But why do I fight

I hang onto the madness

With all of my might

Is it that the pain

Is something that is always mine

Is it that it will never leave

Is it because I’ll never be fine

Spin around twice

Capture the light in a bottle of green

Shake it up

It looks quite obscene

Yeah that just came to me

In the middle of this thought

Now you see what I deal with

It’s something I’ve always fought

Bring on the words

And throw out the time

Days mean nothing

When you have no kept mind

You probably been thinking

This boy is crazy crazy

But to know the whole truth

My brains just dazy hazy

The luminary softness glow

Cascades across her ebon locks

Enticing my thoughts to danger

Worth death of all for one kiss

I went off in another direction

My mind is distracted by a world aflamed

What does it all mean

I’m learning not to ever feel ashamed

Let your thoughts flow

Just get it out of your system

Cause if you hold it in

You’ll be fractured psyched like a prism

Half fabricated Nonfiction-A Poem

July 3, 2014July 3, 2014 Ronovan Poetry Anger, Creative Writing, Debate, Frustration, Lobbyist, Poetry, Politics, rant, Reality

Half fabricated Nonfiction

by: Ronovan

What’s my thoughts on the political debates?

Sit right back while your time I confiscates.

You have the pros over here and the cons over there.

Depending on your side depends which you think is fair.

There are the facts that we all know about.

But they are the facts that others put out.

You want this view then go to that site.

You want another well you got another for a sound bite.

Here is my take on the whole situation.

I hope it don’t start your heart into palpitation.

In my honest opinion and as you know I have no other.

I think the whole thing is just a big old great mother.

I don’t know jack about which side is right.

Because neither side gives up the truth to our sight.

Give me half lie and I’ll find you a half truth.

Let them open their mouth and I’ll show you the serpent tooth.

What side do you want to win in this here contradiction.

The one for or against in this hell-bent half fabricated presented nonfiction.

I tell you what to do and then you can tell me to go blow.

Because you all know that no matter what I say you already know what you know.

You take what you believe and vote on what you like.

Then when your rep gets elected they’ll tell you to take a hike.

It’s over and done with now that you got them in office.

You should have taken history as a sign an auspice.

They got their lifetime payment plan in the bank.

Now they just roll with whatever their donors put in their sugar tank.

Sounds all kind of like there isn’t much we can do.

Let me tell you the fact is that the sounds is just that—true.

Politics is a root of all kinds of evil portent.

They say it is money but let me tell you they both lead to discontent.

You see if we all did what we should be doing.

We would all be together refreshed and renewing.

You do yours and I’ll do mine is what some people say.

But what happens when yours seems to be treading on my way.

We hear the yelling and shouting and the screaming and stewing.

But all it comes to is a lot of name calling and political screwing.

Don’t ask me to support something I am against.

I won’t ask you the same if an issue of yours is dispensed.

Whoever comes out on top is the way it will be.

Until the next tomorrow when everyone will disagree.

Now that I’ve ranted and you have wanted away.

I’ll end with this bit of mindless attempt at something to say.

Whatever anyone votes and decides is in a runoff.

Just go ahead and put it where it belongs . . . in the hog trough.

Stone Heart

July 3, 2014July 3, 2014 Ronovan Poetry Anger, Children, Emotional Abuse, Emotional Scarring, Emotions, Haiku, Hate, Pain, Physical Abuse, Sadness, Verbal Abuse

Tender faced tears end,

With drying fists of anger,

You make stone walled hearts.

Stone Heart

by: Ronovan

My Own Heart’s Irritation

June 28, 2014June 28, 2014 Ronovan Poetry Anger, Attack, Creative Writing, Depression, Despair, Frustration, Heart, Lost, Mental Anguish, Personal, Poetry, Writing

My Own Heart’s Irritation

by: Ronovan

My heart strings are a weapon

Used secretly in stealth

They cause confusion and destruction

And deranged mental health

You look at all the forensics

You say there’s no crime

This ain’t no OJ

There’s no fix in this time

You spend just a moment

Just to catch a breath

Those strings get to tuggin’

Causing a cerebral death

Stop just a second wait

It’s all that is needed

But no oh no

The words fall as they’re pleaded

Extra Extra read all about it

The explosion has come

Yeah the heart strings

I’ve been hamstrung

Why so surprised by that comment

Who did you think was the victim in this situation

What body could be harmed

By my own hearts irritation

Lost in Ranting

June 24, 2014 Ronovan Poetry Abstract, Anger, Creative Writing, Haiku, Lost, Poem, Poetry, Rambling Tornado, rant, Ranting, Writing

Lost in Ranting

by: Ronovan

Tornado Painting — gettyimages © Original Photo by Don Farrall

Ranting does nothing,

When you have no direction,

You will lose your way.

ronovanwrites

Author, Poet, Blogger, Father, Reader And More

Anger

Chaos.

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You need to cry…to breathe. Men, I’m talking about us…you women too.

RonovanWrites #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge #218 Steam&Cover

Remember to come back and visit the comments section during the week for your fellow poets entries!

The Challenge Words!

Steam&Cover

Subscribe to Blog via Email

My Sunday Thought: Be quiet.

Subscribe to Blog via Email

A beauty so high.

Subscribe to Blog via Email

I try to write but all I get is hit

Sick of it!

Asphalt and Inheritance

You got no Hook

Pain from the Ignorant

I’m Back-Return of the Lost Mind Poet

Prismatical

Half fabricated Nonfiction-A Poem

Stone Heart

My Own Heart’s Irritation

Lost in Ranting

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The Challenge Words!

Steam&Cover

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