“Questions of Peace and Hope”-A poem

My poem for the day on Embracing a Wounded Soul. A lot of questions. Do you know the answers?
Ronovan

The Lost Minded Heart

The Lost Minded Heart

by: Ronovan

 

Depressed Man in Dark Room
gettyimages © Original Photo by Michael H

Oh this mind I have.

It seeks to tear itself from my skull,

And scatter its sanity across the wind.

It denies me all things that I crave.

Long sequenced words to form thoughts,

Escape behind a mesh door, seen but unattainable.

This mind knows it is a piercing pain of storm and fury.

How I hate it.

It laughs and runs and races and calls and shouts and screams and twists.

Do I mind?

Ha! What mind do I have to mind with?

But how does one without a mind each day continue on?

How does the mindless give, how does it give hope?

How does the less minded give encouragement?

 

The Lost Mind still has heart.

 

2014 © Copyright-All rights reserved-RonovanWrites.wordpress.com

Lost: Death of a Creative Mind

Depressed Man in Dark Room
gettyimages © Original Photo by Michael H

 

 

Why did you do it

Take my mind away

I can’t even maintain focus

Fore even one day

 

You drove the lightning

Deep into my brain

My creations out of my reach

Slowly driving me insane

 

I once could write with ease

The thoughts were defined with clarity

You took it and shook it

Now my mind reads with jealousy

 

Short words in short rhymes

Are all I can manage

Because of the pain

Of this body with damage

 

I had a thought

It came yesterday

Then I fell asleep

That’s when you took it away

 

Don’t worry, no Sir

This is not me making a complaint

It’s not casting blame

It’s just me losing my restraint

 

I’ll be okay tomorrow

After the sun rises

When the moon is gone

My world is full of surprises…again

 

2014 © Copyright-All rights reserved-RonovanWrites.wordpress.com

Waves of Uninvited Sensation

Waves of icy fingers spread

Grasping for a hold

Slipping across the surface

Gone but returning twice cold

Waves flow undetected

Toward opalescent spheres

Through lightning flashes meander

And hysterical maniacal tears

Grasping with deflective talons

Not making the slightest defense

Staring into the nothingness

Losing all time and all sense

Waves of icy fingers spread

Spreading over the rippled mass

Holding onto the silent monsters

Shattering the quivering like warped glass

2014 © Copyright-All rights reserved-RonovanWrites.wordpress.com

Embattled-Poetry for What you Need it to Mean

Embattled

by: Ronovan

You begin silent

Over the noise of the world’s moansWoman with Migraine

Cacophonous dins ring

 

Creeping into the dwelling

Like smoke through the crevices

You engulf all things

 

Confusion then starts

As the opposed forces clash

Battle is begun

 

The lightning afield

Covered melded defenses

Trembling in space

 

Furious fists

Pound the helpless whimpering

Hands force the pain back

 

The driving deepens

The anguishing to great heights

Flies into maniaWoman with Migraine

 

The darkening breaks

The shattered foes defenses

Hide insanity

 

You stand the victor

Over the assured defeat

Sight slips to the base

 

Your voice is not heard

As the sound falls to dead ears

Sleep comes to the lost

 

Until the next dawn

Breaks and the day is anew

Once again it comes

 

 

 

© Copyright-All rights reserved RonovanWrites.wordpress.com.

Electrocution of the Lost Mind

Electricity Tesla

Electrocution of the Lost Mind

 

Electricity split his skull, into a cobweb of blue and white.

His eyes glowed in their sockets, but all only visible to his inner sight

 

Everyone looked at him as if he were an invalid, mad, or  insane.

Their eyes held pity, but there actions spoke shouting into his brain.

 

His darkness crept around him, from inside to the out.

Then whenever his brain exploded, no one heard him shout.

 

Faintly prancing little feet dancing into his way.

Dainty little  jade green eyes saying more than anyone could say.

 

Reality would never stay in his land for long.

In truth if it did he would forever say it was wrong.

 

Peace and quiet were to far and fleeting gone.

If he ever thought to rest, his mind would slip out in a yawn.

 

 

© Copyright-All rights reserved-RonovanWrites.wordpress.com.

I Begin to Fail

Stars fail to break through the clouds

The blanketing darkness suffocates

Heat grabs at my flesh

As I race through night to escape

 

Sounds follow as if unafraid

What is there plan for this time

My legs begin to fail

As the stumbling brings forth reality

 

Why did I bother ever running

This body can no longer do such

With each increasing crackling sound

I am reminded of my failing too much

ron_dark_1

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There it is finally capturing me

I feel the fingers on my spine

Time has run out

My body stiffens as the searing begins

 

The fingers burn deeply within

Carving and severing bone

Ribbons of pain flow outward

Sucking the air from my depressed lungs

 

I succumb as I do each time

Never able to outrun this pain giver beast

This body depleting reaper

That creeps through my every piece

 

 

2014 © Copyright-All rights reserved-RonovanWrites.wordpress.com

No One Can Understand

No One Can Understand

Cavan Images-Photonica

It’s my life to break, and I know what I can take

Too much every day, but I can’t seem to run away

I should know by now, there must be another way somehow

But I’m just the same, and I’ll always be to blame

 

I’m hopeless, hopeless for love,

No one can understand

What makes me this man

 

It always seems, that love is just a dream

No one can see me through, cause of the things that I do

Players play, and the bad boys are the way

But I don’t know the games, I just get burned by the flames

Why don’t I change, because this world seems so strange

 

I’m hopeless, hopeless for love

No one can understand

What make me this man

 

I walk the line, coming back time after time

No matter what the pain, no matter it drives me insane

They say loves not what I think, just pour up a drink

But I know what I know, and I just can’t seem to let go

 

I’m hopeless, hopeless for love

What makes me this man

I’m hopeless, love is in my sight

What makes me this man

I hold love with all my might

I’m hopeless

Hopeless for love

Yeah, I’m hopeless for love

 (If you are thinking these seem like song lyrics, well if you know the song Dead or Alive by Bon Jovi get the tune in your head and read it again.)

 

 

2014 © Copyright-All rights reserved-RonovanWrites.wordpress.com

Another Day Down

Another Day Down

bleeding_hearts_flowers.jpg

Another day down

Another drop of the heart fails

No one really understands it

I speak but they then begin with their own tales

 

 

I am in pain toda . . .

Oh, I understand I feel that way too

My Migrai . . .

Oh take this and you’ll feel better in just a few

 

 

Another day down

Another drop of heart fails

People all around me

Think that they were the blazer of my trails

 

 

I fell and hit my hea . . .

Oh, I’ve been there and done that

Sounds drive me insa . . .

You’ll be fine and okay it’s a fact

 

 

Another day down

Another drop of heart fails

You forget what I am now

Your words are like nails

 

 

I love yo . .

Oh, I know, nothings changed, we’re fine don’t be insane

But you don . . .

No, you just don’t understand my words because of your brain

 

 

Another day down

Another drop of heart fails

Another day of missed out

Another day of misunderstanding Hells

 

 

2014 © Copyright-All rights reserved-RonovanWrites.wordpress.com

Nourished by Misery

Nourished by Misery

Copyright-All rights reserved-©RonovanWrites.wordpress.com-January 28, 2014.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Misery is all,

This heart nourishes upon,

Days of loneliness.

 

 

2014 © Copyright-All rights reserved-RonovanWrites.wordpress.com.

My Soul Bleeds

My Soul Bleeds

 

These eyes see tragediesCover _Red
Falling lives in every direction
Hopes and dreams denied
Their pains added to my collection

Why do I feel so much
My chest expands to fill space
Anguish rips to shreds
Tears streak this pale face

I care too much
Wanting to be all things to all
Wishing for nothing
I teeter atop the heap knowing I will fall

The fall is inevitable
The mistakes come and I cannot save
My heart is worn through
My soul bleeds from the last joys rays

 

2014 © Copyright-All rights reserved-RonovanWrites.wordpress.com

I Destroy

I Destroy

shattered_heart.jpg

I destroy that which I love

My words wander into oblivion

They drift sedate and comfortable

Always driving away everyone

 

I know not what they do

They slip through the cracks of my mind

I despise the day

A fall flipped a switch for no control I can find

 

My judgment is hindered

My life is incomplete

My ways are forced hesitant

I always fall in defeat

 

The beginning is a fortune

Times bring happiness as if a boy

But always and inevitable

The best I have . . . I destroy

 

 

2014 © Copyright-All rights reserved-RonovanWrites.wordpress.com.

Stop my Mind from Wandering. It means what you make of it.

Do y’all ever wonder if you’re wrong or right? Or maybe if your right where you belong? Do ever get the lyrics to a song wrong? Yes you do. Admit it.

The classic is Iron Butterfly’s Ina-Gadda-Da-Vida. It is 17 minutes long in its original form and is the entire second side of the album by the same name. It went on to be the first album to receive Platinum status. What do you think it says? In A Garden of Eden? In The Garden of Eden? In A Garden of Evil?

 

I’m not here to talk about Iron Butterfly or misunderstood lyrics. Instead, today I want to talk about lyrics and what they mean to the listener. One of my favorite songs is about a leaking manhole and crazy fans. Doesn’t sound like a very good reason to like a song, does it? And especially not a good reason to be reading an article.

 

For me the song takes on another meaning entirely. The song was recorded by the Beatles in 1967, written by Paul McCartney. It appears on the album Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. An album with many reasons to be written about and one of which I will delve into one day for y’all.

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Insanity Havens Shattered

Insanity Havens Shattered

 

Viking_Funeral_Pyre.jpg

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I can’t see where I am waiting

The light has gone out of my eyes

The dam breaks into the cavernous hollow

That was once my mind filled with memories of you

 

Now I don’t know what I am here for

I can’t seem to discover my path back through

The rifts of the time I was in before

Keep me in your thoughts and your heart

 

Torch marks engrave the image of you

Torn deep into the crevices of my soul

I look for a way to hang onto the pain

The pain of loving you

 

Thunder pounds into the echoes of madness

Lightning strikes behind my dimmed eyes

Even opened

They still see lightning strike images of you

 

Cracks formed in the insanity havens

Believed to be the sanctuary holding me bound

But now

Now I can no longer heart beat be found

 

 

 

2014 © Copyright-All rights reserved-RonovanWrites.wordpress.com.

I hate a word

I hate a word

I hate a word that is inside

I hate a word that is felt

I hate a word that cannot be explained

Black Sight

  I hate a word

It pushes at all things

There are moments of embracing

It grabs me and holds me down

 

I hate a word

It squeezes me to death

There are times I cannot control it

It shuts me down to nothing

 

I hate a word

It smothers my heartbeats

There are struggles in the night

It shuts me and cloaks my eyes

 

I hate a word

It captures my minds words

There are ways it slices my throat

It chokes me and takes my life

 I hate a word

 Black Sight

I hate . . .

Black Sight

alone

Black Sight~~~~~~~

Black Sighti hate . . .Black Sightme

me

2014 © Copyright-All rights reserved-RonovanWrites.wordpress.com.

A Conversation

A Conversation

by: Ronovan

 

“Tell me how you’ve been doing since the last time we spoke?”

 

At least the questioning was consistent. I supposed I should take comfort in there being something that remained the same. Of course that didn’t stop me from replying without the brain filter in place. “Do you really have to ask?” I kept staring at the ceiling tiles. I wondered if the room was really that dark.

 

There wasn’t a reply or even a sigh revealing a hint of disapproval or exasperation at my tone of wording. Not that I really expected one. “Okay, fine, I’m about the same as always. Is that what you wanted to me to say?”

 

“Only if that’s the way you’ve really been.”

 

Was that what they call passive aggressive? “Yeah,” I sighed. I had always wondered what that ‘sigh of an answer’ meant in reading but now I knew. You could sigh and speak at the same time. It’s like a surrender of spirit almost.

 

“Tell me how yesterday was.”

 

“It’s like every other day Pinky, I tried to recover my world,” I said.

 

No laugh. None expected. But I imagined old cartoon shows about mice weren’t on the viewing list.

 

“Where do you want me to start?” I stared at the spot on the ceiling where the shadows always made the dust look like a puppy if you looked just right.

 

“How did you sleep?”

 

The thought of ‘in a bed’ came to mind but I knew better than to be that sarcastic. There was being pretty tolerant and forgiving of my moods, and there was downright disrespectful. Even if I didn’t have the brain filter any longer I still knew better than to be downright disrespectful. “I woke up about 1:30 the first time, I think. The days tend to run together after so many being the same.”

 

“Are you sure it wasn’t 3:00 AM?”

 

I was wrong there was a sense of humor. “You’re a funny guy I don’t care what they say about you.”

 

“Why did you wake up this time?”

 

I smiled in spite of exhaustion. “This is a funny one. I think I actually breathed too hard.” I knew that wasn’t going to be enough of an answer, but it was the truth.

 

“How do you breathe too hard?

 

“Well, actually I just took a deep breath for some reason. It could be the sleep apnea.” But if it were sleep apnea then I would not be breathing at all, but then I would take big gulps of air. Okay so it might have been the sleep apnea.

 

“And why would the deep breath wake you up?”

 

I started counting the tiles in the ceiling, as if they had changed in number since last time, or the time before that, or even the time before that one. “Pain Monster didn’t like it.”

 

“The ‘pain monster’ is your lower back?”

 

“Yes,” I began. “At least that’s what woke me up. Then Neck Grinder started to protest as well.”

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Prismatical

Prismatical

by: Ronovan the Lost Mind

Prism xray like image

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

 

 

Image Credit: gettyimages© Original Photo by Steve Satushek /The Image Bank

© Copyright-All rights reserved-RonovanWrites.wordpress.com.

I Don’t Stop Living

Fibromyalgia Doesn’t Stop Me Living

 by: Ronovan

If you’ve been around my blog a bit you notice a lot of things written about how I hurt sometimes, usually in my poetry. That’s my release, that escape hatch. But something else you may have noticed is, I haven’t stopped living my life.

 

For one I do a fairly decent job of putting out a lot of content for my blog, and it’s varied. Perhaps that’s just the old noggin not being able to shut down from the concussion.

Buck Toothed Smiley with Light Bulb

 

 

Sorry, I had to write down an idea for another blog article. But as I was saying I don’t let Fibromyalgia stop my life. I have a son, let’s call him B, yeah for boy, original, huh?

Boy at desk with apple

But wait, you say you don’t know what Fibromyalgia is? Wow. Actually I’m not surprised. Oddly enough you may be reading this and have it yourself. You’ve heard of Chronic Pain and Chronic Fatigue syndromes? Then you know something about FMS, Fibro, Fibromyalgia. I’m not going to go into details right now, but just think of having pain all the time or pretty much every minute. I’ll do an article of what it acutally all entails another time, but I’m not letting it take over my life of having fun blogging right now.

Now back to living. I’m not supposed to do a lot of things with my ailments because they make me hurt. But here is the thing . . . it’s a secret so don’t tell anyone else, okay? Good. No matter what I do or don’t do I’m going to hurt anyway, so I’m going to enjoy life regardless.

 

Sure I can’t sit in a chair very long. I can’t lay down very long. I can’t stand up very long. Riding in a car is grrrr. But other than the car I know I can stop or change whatever it is, and those I am with understand it and if they don’t they can just go on without me.

 

My son needs practice hitting a baseball. We have some wiffle balls to use and he has my old Louisville Slugger little league wooden bat. Yes, I know they use aluminum bats but this is what we have and it is actually working on his strength. Just imagine when he pick up an aluminum bat to hit the kind of speed he’ll have.

Wiffle balls and bats on grass

So what do I do in the day time? 20 wiffle balls in a bucket times five rounds of buckets equals 100 pitches from the guy that isn’t supposed to do things. Oh and that’s 2 buckets for him to hit right handed, and 2 to hit left handed and the final 1 for whatever he wants to do. Yes, 9-10 year old who can switch hit, all on his own. These are very light so it’s not the weight that gets me it’s the arm motion. My arm doesn’t move like that any longer, but I make it do it.

 

He sometimes wants to learn to throw a spiral with the football, American football. I’ve discovered during this summer that I can apparently pitch pretty well and my throwing arm for the football is not bad at all.

 

What happens after these B times? Yeah, pain. What happens during the B times? Yeah, pain. But you know what happens as well? Life, learning, laughs, and love.

 

Just because I have something that can’t be cured doesn’t mean that I have to let it dictate my entire life. Are there days I just can’t do things? Oh yeah, plenty. And everyone understands that. But if it is at all humanly possible I’ll do things. You see I’ve lived with pain for so long that it’s kind of like a limp. I have it every step I go but I don’t notice it, I just keep walking and I keep getting to where I want to go.

 

Oh, but there is one thing my son won’t let me do. He won’t let me on his bike. I tried when his back was turned and he nearly freaked out. I don’t know if he was worried about me or his bike. But yeah, he does watch out for me.

 

Much Apprecation to all of You

& Especially for my boy B

Ronovan

 

© Copyright-All rights reserved-RonovanWrites.wordpress.com-July 05, 2014.

Stone Heart

Tender faced tears end,

With drying fists of anger,

You make stone walled hearts.

gettyimages © Original Photo by studioscape

 

 

 

 

 

Stone Heart

by: Ronovan

 

 

 

 

 

 

Image Credit: gettyimages © Original Photo by studioscape

© Copyright-All rights reserved-RonovanWrites.wordpress.com-July 02, 2014.

Meet Beautiful ‘M’: A Marfans story.

Isaiah Austin has Marfan Syndrome and won’t be able to play professional basketball in the NBA. That dream is over. But due to his talent and popularity he has many opportunities to remain in the sport he loves from coaching at his alma mater to a job with the NBA once he finishes school.

Isaiah Austin with NBA Commissioner

You’re wondering why you should you care, right? Ronovan doesn’t write about sports. Keep reading. How often do I not have a madness to my method?

 

Marfan and Beautiful ‘M’

by: Ronovan

“About 1 in 5,000 people have Marfan syndrome, including men and women of all races and ethnic groups.”-marfan.org

 

Now take a look at what Marfan Syndrome is:

 

“Marfan syndrome is a genetic disorder that affects the body’s connective tissue. Connective tissue holds all the body’s cells, organs and tissue together. It also plays an important role in helping the body grow and develop properly.” “Some Marfan features – for example, aortic enlargement (expansion of the main blood vessel that carries blood away from the heart to the rest of the body) – can be life-threatening. The lungs, skin and nervous system may also be affected. Marfan syndrome does not affect intelligence.”-marfan.org

 

 

For something most of us that has never heard of it, we can tell by that simple blurb this is a very serious disorder.

 

 

What if you aren’t a superstar athlete . . . in a popular ‘sport’?

 

 

First of all, don’t think I am knocking Isaiah Austin. He didn’t ask for Marfan or the opportunities coming his way. That’s not it. Now that he’s drawn attention to Marfan I want to draw attention to another side of it.

Meet ‘M’. She’s not a superstar yet, well not to the world but she is to those who know and love her, but she is a competitive athlete. She’s been in competitive cheerleYoung Cheerleader with Marfanading for most of her life.

Some don’t realize how tough competitive cheer is. ‘M’ has been a flyer. Meaning she is the one that is thrown in the air and just prays she is caught. She has to spin and do all sorts of things while up there and still find her mark on the way down M-InAirwhile trying to stay in sync with the other flyers.

On top of that she also does the gymnastic tumbling and has to be super strong in her core, abdomen in order to stay stiff as a board while standing up with people holding her in the air. Or how about you have to support someone as they jump over your head while you are in the air? Think it’s easy? Try it. Plus she also has to hold others in the air while she is up on peoples hands because she is so strong. You know that person in the middle of all those people up in the air that others are hanging onto? That’s ‘M’.

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