Used
by Graywolf32 2/8/2012
Use
Used
A tool to be used.
a tool to be thrashed and abused.
A tool used by the user.
whom wields me and drives me into the ground?
Whom sees me for what I am.
whom knows the truth of my reality?
I seek out the thickest tree
and I'm embedded deep in its bark.
I light the night when its dark.
I start the car when its cold.
I produce furiture.
I do all that is asked of me.
I am a tool.
In the hands of a skilled worker,
I'm artistic by nature.
In the hands of a careless lout
I can only do so much, there's no doubt.
I'm a tool.
used by the great user.
Sometimes I bring joy as I serve my purpose.
Sometimes I bring about great sadness.
there's no rhyme or reason other than to serve my purpose.
I'm a tool
hammers and chisels are my friends.
Cold hard steel.
there's nothing more to feel.
Time is sometimes the ageless enemy,
sometimes it's the most convenient closest of friends.
sometimes it is fleeting by fast, sometimes, it's of the slowest snail pace.
Whatever the case, it is the one thing a tool must face.
whether used by many or one.
Or just there to wonder into lives.
Do what I can, then move on.
Sometimes years gone by,
sometimes merely days
before I take my leave.
I bring a smile, maybe two.
I keep something to keep my memory
of each of you.
then, the forces that be
make me see my reality.
I'm a tool, inhumane,
lacking anything.
I serve a purpose
which is to simply serve.
It's a vicious circle.
It's all I know.
My energy is not
reserved for me.
That would be selfish
So, i give,
endlessly
like a battery.
I've contributed
much energy
to the synergy of smiles
upon others.
And those smiles
start to see me as a bother
that's when I know.
time to move on to another.
And then
I go on and on.
There's nothing
I reserve for me.
There was a time
when I was asked
Why did you give
that which was desired
after I was turned away.
And I simply knew,
what happened to me
didn't matter.
The fact is,
what little I give
what little I gave
made someone's world
a little better.
For the path is narrow.
Few that find it.
I do not choose this path
because it's one that will last
or I'll have the time of my life.
It's a choice I make
to give to others what they will take.
I do not hold anyone accountable.
My will is indominable.
I am a tool.
Wielded and used
to serve a purpose.
And in so doing.
maybe the world will be better.
and no, no single minor act will be remembered.
That's o.k.
because maybe.
it inspired.
maybe, some of the greatest art.
Some of the greatest actors.
Maybe some of the greatest writers.
Maybe some of the greatest amongst us.
will be influenced by a single act.
And maybe that act
is all it took for one soul to go on
and inspire others, and those went on.
And in so doing my purpose is done.
WhiteWolf Within
Based on Whitewolf Within
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Memoirs of the Wolf
Memoirs of the Wolf
Short by Graywolf 2/5/2012
Sometimes I walk out onto the the street and look both ways wondering which way to go. There's no one around the cars are silent the lights are off. There's nothingness. I sniff the air, it's void of anything living. The wolf wonders the streets, going through town. There's nothing, there's no one. the spring breeze flows throught he trees. Yet the wolf can sense nothing. No danger, no living, no dead, just nothing. It's this great empty that the wolf fears. This great empty the wolf fears anyone to know. For within this place the deep dark thoughts flow. Though they are kept at bay, the wolf looks around, quickly and franticly searching.
The wolf's fur is gray, it's tail is low between its legs. It searches franticly. Panic pressing in. Is there anyone around. Something drove the wolf to town. Yet, there's nothing, there's no one. Not even animals to gossip with. No squirrels or birds to chase. The wolf's hunger grows.
It runs faster and faster through the city's streets. Stopping and sniffing car to car. The doors of building after building. Yet, nothing. What to do? Keeping his nose raised into the air he searches . No scents still. the wolf wonders into the country away from what's left of civilization. He searches the barren land. The grass is green, yet there's nothing. Not even a worm. He runs up to a tree and paws at its bark, and speaks in the only language it knows... "Pardon me, Mr. Tree, have you seen anything living?" The tree's branches and leaves wave in the breeze. There's no response. He runs to the next one and the next one until he finds one that's not in the great slumber. "Mr. Tree, Mr. Tree, I'm in need of food and am unable to find anything or anyone to talk to. So, I'm trying to find out from you." The tree awakens from it's slumber, it's old and tall. It's branches withered from the harsh winter. Few leaves have formed.
The tree lets out a loud yawn and speaks, slowly as though just waking up from a long sleep. "Mr. Wolf, I presume. The animals have gone. You're alone."
The wolf's fur bristles and it lets out a growl. Not know or understanding the danger he's in. He begs the tree angrily to tell him the truth. "Your hope has moved on, you're here, it's a choice you've made... so, curl up in my shade, and take a rest. There's nothing left." The wolf angry claws the trees bark and a willowy branch comes down and smacks the wolf away.
"You've chosen your place great wolf. This empty place is where you've come, if it is not where you wish to be, then, by all means, be gone..."
The wolf runs up to the tree lays down and curls up. Head on its large front paws. It rests. Its eyes close.
"Time to get up, are you going to sleep your life away? " the mom Yells as the 10 year old boy struggles to awaken. Wondering about his dream. He rubs his hands to his eyes and finds them watery. What is it he had dreamed? What was the nightmare. There was a lingering fear. The child slowly makes his way to do the morning ritual. Decades later, the child looks in the mirror and sees himself buried deep within.
The wolf and the child flash before the man. All three had something in common. What it was the man could touch, but yet, not understand. Not yet, It wasn't until he later realized that the world he lived in, in which he was the only being left behind, was the world he had created himself.
Though things changed, and the young child, the wise, naive wolf, and the man, had found a way to merge their lives over time. And gain acceptance of themselves. It was at this point though, the man knew the world he had created. Was a world he could never go back to. He left, it, the empty dark place where nothing existed but a single lonely willowy tree. And though the tree remained, it was simply a guide. A warning to all that went there to realize they would be stuck there forever, if they made the choice to make that empty place their home.
The wolf, the man, the boy, each made the decision, to move on, to the world of the living. To the world in which life abounded and existed. The world where the streets and homes were not empty. The world where the birds still sang their songs and the squirrels still played their silly, nutty games. It was in this world that the man, child, and wolf found their joy. Though, their fear, their memory, of that empty dark place, would never leave them. They always had that place in mind, it was that place that tied the three together. It was that place, they forever feared. It was that place they could never ever linger without being pulled in completely. It was that place that each avoided with strong conviction. This made all three a little sensitive and a little uneasy. Always uncertain what would trigger the next descent into that empty world.
Yet, They did all they could, to avoid that place. And in that hope and that purpose, they lived on. For the remainder of their days they worked to support each other, never being alone again. For each, the Wolf, the boy, and the man, served each other's purpose. It is in this that they were able to save each other from that empty place of despair. No one else was needed, they prefered the company of others, to help them reenforce each other, yet, they valued their time simply to be alone with each other.
The landscape of that empty dieing world turned intolerable with the grass becoming hot and barren, dry desert covered much of the land. Without anyone to come and attend to it, it became a dieing place. Yet, where the man, the boy, and the wolf lived on, thrived, with life abundantly. They were there for each other, for all their days. And over time even the desert simply began to be nothing but a distant memory.
Short by Graywolf 2/5/2012
Sometimes I walk out onto the the street and look both ways wondering which way to go. There's no one around the cars are silent the lights are off. There's nothingness. I sniff the air, it's void of anything living. The wolf wonders the streets, going through town. There's nothing, there's no one. the spring breeze flows throught he trees. Yet the wolf can sense nothing. No danger, no living, no dead, just nothing. It's this great empty that the wolf fears. This great empty the wolf fears anyone to know. For within this place the deep dark thoughts flow. Though they are kept at bay, the wolf looks around, quickly and franticly searching.
The wolf's fur is gray, it's tail is low between its legs. It searches franticly. Panic pressing in. Is there anyone around. Something drove the wolf to town. Yet, there's nothing, there's no one. Not even animals to gossip with. No squirrels or birds to chase. The wolf's hunger grows.
It runs faster and faster through the city's streets. Stopping and sniffing car to car. The doors of building after building. Yet, nothing. What to do? Keeping his nose raised into the air he searches . No scents still. the wolf wonders into the country away from what's left of civilization. He searches the barren land. The grass is green, yet there's nothing. Not even a worm. He runs up to a tree and paws at its bark, and speaks in the only language it knows... "Pardon me, Mr. Tree, have you seen anything living?" The tree's branches and leaves wave in the breeze. There's no response. He runs to the next one and the next one until he finds one that's not in the great slumber. "Mr. Tree, Mr. Tree, I'm in need of food and am unable to find anything or anyone to talk to. So, I'm trying to find out from you." The tree awakens from it's slumber, it's old and tall. It's branches withered from the harsh winter. Few leaves have formed.
The tree lets out a loud yawn and speaks, slowly as though just waking up from a long sleep. "Mr. Wolf, I presume. The animals have gone. You're alone."
The wolf's fur bristles and it lets out a growl. Not know or understanding the danger he's in. He begs the tree angrily to tell him the truth. "Your hope has moved on, you're here, it's a choice you've made... so, curl up in my shade, and take a rest. There's nothing left." The wolf angry claws the trees bark and a willowy branch comes down and smacks the wolf away.
"You've chosen your place great wolf. This empty place is where you've come, if it is not where you wish to be, then, by all means, be gone..."
The wolf runs up to the tree lays down and curls up. Head on its large front paws. It rests. Its eyes close.
"Time to get up, are you going to sleep your life away? " the mom Yells as the 10 year old boy struggles to awaken. Wondering about his dream. He rubs his hands to his eyes and finds them watery. What is it he had dreamed? What was the nightmare. There was a lingering fear. The child slowly makes his way to do the morning ritual. Decades later, the child looks in the mirror and sees himself buried deep within.
The wolf and the child flash before the man. All three had something in common. What it was the man could touch, but yet, not understand. Not yet, It wasn't until he later realized that the world he lived in, in which he was the only being left behind, was the world he had created himself.
Though things changed, and the young child, the wise, naive wolf, and the man, had found a way to merge their lives over time. And gain acceptance of themselves. It was at this point though, the man knew the world he had created. Was a world he could never go back to. He left, it, the empty dark place where nothing existed but a single lonely willowy tree. And though the tree remained, it was simply a guide. A warning to all that went there to realize they would be stuck there forever, if they made the choice to make that empty place their home.
The wolf, the man, the boy, each made the decision, to move on, to the world of the living. To the world in which life abounded and existed. The world where the streets and homes were not empty. The world where the birds still sang their songs and the squirrels still played their silly, nutty games. It was in this world that the man, child, and wolf found their joy. Though, their fear, their memory, of that empty dark place, would never leave them. They always had that place in mind, it was that place that tied the three together. It was that place, they forever feared. It was that place they could never ever linger without being pulled in completely. It was that place that each avoided with strong conviction. This made all three a little sensitive and a little uneasy. Always uncertain what would trigger the next descent into that empty world.
Yet, They did all they could, to avoid that place. And in that hope and that purpose, they lived on. For the remainder of their days they worked to support each other, never being alone again. For each, the Wolf, the boy, and the man, served each other's purpose. It is in this that they were able to save each other from that empty place of despair. No one else was needed, they prefered the company of others, to help them reenforce each other, yet, they valued their time simply to be alone with each other.
The landscape of that empty dieing world turned intolerable with the grass becoming hot and barren, dry desert covered much of the land. Without anyone to come and attend to it, it became a dieing place. Yet, where the man, the boy, and the wolf lived on, thrived, with life abundantly. They were there for each other, for all their days. And over time even the desert simply began to be nothing but a distant memory.
Balls!
Well, everyone, before I write this I just wanted to say hi to my fellow followers. I apologize to all of you that have been checking here now and then. I haven't written much lately (of anything). I've been busy, that's a bit of an understatement. As it is I'm struggling to have the energy to get my class work done. My career has been a bit of a disaster thanks to some changes that are keeping me walking on eggshells. A lot of triggers there, considering my past personal relationship...
Well, I have a person in my life that has been challenging me to think in new ways. She may or may not realize how much she challenges me, but, it's really refreshing to have someone that can challenge my thinking. Well, this is dedicated to the person that has challenged me. We were playing pool Friday and she says to me, "isn't the game of pool like the game of life... You avoid the 8 ball until it's completely inevitable and then one must face it." How many things in our life are like that 8 ball? We bounce around from ball to ball, trying to find a way to avoid that 8 ball. then, after we've exhausted all the possibilities we end up one on one with that last ball.
Coincidently this is a similar metaphor to the movie "The Gray". When Liam is faced one on one with fighting off the metaphorical alpha wolf. Most of us have that one thing we all have to face but do everything in our own power to avoid facing it. It can be whatever it is. I have had a lot of 8 balls in my life. I'm proud to say that as they pop up I face them now. Head on. I didn't used to.
I dedicate this to my friend who has inspired this. I dedicate this to all the people that read this. I know you all, whoever you are, have had things you don't wish to face and have a tough time struggling to face. I dedicate this to the struggles of the human race. May we face our "8 balls" together!
Balls!
by Graywolf 2/5/2012
Spinnning off upon the carpet of green
freely rolling from place to place.
Sometimes I feel so out of control.
Wondering where I next roll.
from ball to ball I hit.
Causing some strange cascading fit.
I sometimes wonder,
do the balls all roll away from me?
Or are they just rorganizing themselves?
Sometimes I run into you.
Sometimes I run into them.
Sometimes I just bounce off the sides.
I never know if I'm hitting solid or stripes.
I wish I knew where I was goin
and sometime I wish I knew my destination.
Sometimes I bask in knowing I'm just rolling around.
Someday, I may bump into you.
We share of ourselves for a brief moment in the universe.
It's that moment when our lives touch
just briefly.
Then we go on freely rolling our own way.
We all bounce around into each other.
Sometimes I wonder if I'm just a bother.
Yet, many of you have called me 'brother'.
Again, I go spinning as God's queue stick
pushes me into a new direction.
I bounce and roll and bounce some more.
I get to know a crowd for a moment
as it goes disbersing in its own directions.
Life is but a game.
I'm just a white ball that rolls around
with no claim to fame.
I wish I knew my goal, is it simply to
get some of you into God's pockets?
Or, am I simply to scratch?
I wish I knew how it is
I bounce around getting to know all
these awesome people.
Then I go on my way.
As I'm placed on the soft carpet of green.
I can never stay in the pocket too long.
My work is never ever done.
I go one.
From era to era, from time to time.
Putting the solids and stripes in God's pockets.
My life a testimony, my life a witness.
The angels all around look upon me and know
how things have been.
they know my end.
I see it in their eyes of brilliance.
I see the goal.
It's number a symbol for infinity.
It's single circle of white,
it knows my plight.
It stands there waiting.
Waiting for god to send me spinning into it's circle.
Just it and me.
I went from ball to ball
Hoping to flee this inevitability.
Here it is, the inevitable before me.
All I've wanted to do is flee.
Yet, here we are.
Two balls on a board,
both wanting to avoid God's final pockets.
When this is done, the game is over.
Seems a rather 'soberality'!
And wham, I'm off, aimed at that
infinite number.
And as we clash, the lightning flashes and thunders all around.
Heaven and hell collide in one booming sound.
It's though this was some epic battle.
Yet, it is just my demons and I.
Ants in a vast universe.
With billions of games going on all around.
this may seem epic,
actually this is just a simple topic
Each life it's own battle with that beady eyed 8 ball.
I strike true, thanks to God, with the push and shove,
I'm able to stem this battle and avoid the invitable for a while.
The little beady eyed ball rolls carelessly into the side pocket.
I casually roll away safely away, only for the game to start again.
It brings all its friends again.
I end up starting the process, and
over and over we roll into each other's life.
Time and again I get to know you, you get to know me.
We sometimes roll together for a while,
we sometimes roll away.
It's sometimes sad, it's some times a joy
to celebrate being free.
I roll around to not face that 8 ball alone,
yet, it's all been done.
Many times over.
There's no doover.
Yet, it always ends with that clash.
That final clash with eternity,
sometimes it's simply a closeted demon we try to flee.
Yet it's always there, always waiting, it never runs, it never is afraid.
It's always smugly waiting there watching us as we work hard to avoid it.
Take aim, and watch, as we shove that demon into God's pocket..
over and over.
Unfortunately it never gives up.
Yet, neither do we.
Locked in this struggle.
We grow and in this way, maybe
we somehow learn which way to roll.
Well, I have a person in my life that has been challenging me to think in new ways. She may or may not realize how much she challenges me, but, it's really refreshing to have someone that can challenge my thinking. Well, this is dedicated to the person that has challenged me. We were playing pool Friday and she says to me, "isn't the game of pool like the game of life... You avoid the 8 ball until it's completely inevitable and then one must face it." How many things in our life are like that 8 ball? We bounce around from ball to ball, trying to find a way to avoid that 8 ball. then, after we've exhausted all the possibilities we end up one on one with that last ball.
Coincidently this is a similar metaphor to the movie "The Gray". When Liam is faced one on one with fighting off the metaphorical alpha wolf. Most of us have that one thing we all have to face but do everything in our own power to avoid facing it. It can be whatever it is. I have had a lot of 8 balls in my life. I'm proud to say that as they pop up I face them now. Head on. I didn't used to.
I dedicate this to my friend who has inspired this. I dedicate this to all the people that read this. I know you all, whoever you are, have had things you don't wish to face and have a tough time struggling to face. I dedicate this to the struggles of the human race. May we face our "8 balls" together!
Balls!
by Graywolf 2/5/2012
Spinnning off upon the carpet of green
freely rolling from place to place.
Sometimes I feel so out of control.
Wondering where I next roll.
from ball to ball I hit.
Causing some strange cascading fit.
I sometimes wonder,
do the balls all roll away from me?
Or are they just rorganizing themselves?
Sometimes I run into you.
Sometimes I run into them.
Sometimes I just bounce off the sides.
I never know if I'm hitting solid or stripes.
I wish I knew where I was goin
and sometime I wish I knew my destination.
Sometimes I bask in knowing I'm just rolling around.
Someday, I may bump into you.
We share of ourselves for a brief moment in the universe.
It's that moment when our lives touch
just briefly.
Then we go on freely rolling our own way.
We all bounce around into each other.
Sometimes I wonder if I'm just a bother.
Yet, many of you have called me 'brother'.
Again, I go spinning as God's queue stick
pushes me into a new direction.
I bounce and roll and bounce some more.
I get to know a crowd for a moment
as it goes disbersing in its own directions.
Life is but a game.
I'm just a white ball that rolls around
with no claim to fame.
I wish I knew my goal, is it simply to
get some of you into God's pockets?
Or, am I simply to scratch?
I wish I knew how it is
I bounce around getting to know all
these awesome people.
Then I go on my way.
As I'm placed on the soft carpet of green.
I can never stay in the pocket too long.
My work is never ever done.
I go one.
From era to era, from time to time.
Putting the solids and stripes in God's pockets.
My life a testimony, my life a witness.
The angels all around look upon me and know
how things have been.
they know my end.
I see it in their eyes of brilliance.
I see the goal.
It's number a symbol for infinity.
It's single circle of white,
it knows my plight.
It stands there waiting.
Waiting for god to send me spinning into it's circle.
Just it and me.
I went from ball to ball
Hoping to flee this inevitability.
Here it is, the inevitable before me.
All I've wanted to do is flee.
Yet, here we are.
Two balls on a board,
both wanting to avoid God's final pockets.
When this is done, the game is over.
Seems a rather 'soberality'!
And wham, I'm off, aimed at that
infinite number.
And as we clash, the lightning flashes and thunders all around.
Heaven and hell collide in one booming sound.
It's though this was some epic battle.
Yet, it is just my demons and I.
Ants in a vast universe.
With billions of games going on all around.
this may seem epic,
actually this is just a simple topic
Each life it's own battle with that beady eyed 8 ball.
I strike true, thanks to God, with the push and shove,
I'm able to stem this battle and avoid the invitable for a while.
The little beady eyed ball rolls carelessly into the side pocket.
I casually roll away safely away, only for the game to start again.
It brings all its friends again.
I end up starting the process, and
over and over we roll into each other's life.
Time and again I get to know you, you get to know me.
We sometimes roll together for a while,
we sometimes roll away.
It's sometimes sad, it's some times a joy
to celebrate being free.
I roll around to not face that 8 ball alone,
yet, it's all been done.
Many times over.
There's no doover.
Yet, it always ends with that clash.
That final clash with eternity,
sometimes it's simply a closeted demon we try to flee.
Yet it's always there, always waiting, it never runs, it never is afraid.
It's always smugly waiting there watching us as we work hard to avoid it.
Take aim, and watch, as we shove that demon into God's pocket..
over and over.
Unfortunately it never gives up.
Yet, neither do we.
Locked in this struggle.
We grow and in this way, maybe
we somehow learn which way to roll.
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