by Bela Johnson | Mar 18, 2014 | inspiration, musings, philosophy, poetry, popular culture, Uncategorized
She moves, and moves frequently enough, expects life to fill a yearning, bottomless craving, a pit. Young face etched with uncommon sorrow, she doesn’t yet understand the power of thoughts. Nubile, she hasn’t calculated life as the means by which we are blessed...
by Bela Johnson | Mar 11, 2014 | lifestyle, musings, nature, philosophy, poetry, Uncategorized
An avalanche or a rockslide cleaves sharply from its origins; boulders of perception tumbling, tumbling thundering carelessly over terrain flinching passively; unexpected projectiles lodging fragments into storied ice. Millennial madness, and it drives and it...
by Bela Johnson | Mar 4, 2014 | family, musings, personal, poetry, relationships, Uncategorized
It’s complicated. I think of her lying in bed alone, ridged shit-stained fingernails and the blue bulge of veins under translucent skin; bony hands curved inward, silently cursing agility they can no longer manage. Silk lily of the valley embedded in white...
by Bela Johnson | Jan 28, 2014 | family, personal, poetry, Uncategorized
She drops down, swipes over polished floors, repeating back and forth motions, elbows cracking, jaw set and grimaced. It would be, could be zen, though it’s clearly frustration in motion, the drudgery of repetition maintained for decades. I, too, witnessed the...
by Bela Johnson | Jan 16, 2014 | happiness, lifestyle, philosophy, poetry, relationships, Uncategorized
What was important then empties into bleakness as we relax now, savoring moments inside skin; dropping defenses if we are lucky, losing the act if we are smart so that others may access our heart. What is it about the young, pushing against, away – only...
by Bela Johnson | Jan 14, 2014 | musings, people, personal, poetry, Uncategorized
Regarding me over bins of oatmeal and millet, not comprehending choices – where is the plain, brown, recognizable? Offer of assistance precipitates wonder: Do I work there? Perhaps, and one never knows another’s motives, What qualifies me to answer?...
