I'm like a pencil;
sometimes sharp,
most days
well-rounded,
other times
dull or
occasionally
broken.
Still I write.
j.g. lewis
is a writer/photographer in Toronto.
Category: Uncategorised
Failed attempts or application.
Unfitting. State of a nation.
Weak argument. Nothing’s ever new
Happenstance. Déjà vu.
Here and now is now or never,
the lives, the lies, go on forever.
This ain’t living.
Injustice. You can’t breathe.
Chests rise and fall, like democracy.
Architects of misery,
we can’t ignore, or let be.
Air so heavy. Birds don’t fly.
Politician postures, no one cries.
This ain’t breathing.
Build a nation or build a wall
Ignorance, above all.
Embarrassing priorities.
Prime time for all to see.
Unbalanced power, it’s not right
Hypocrisy in plain sight.
This ain’t working.
© 2019 j.g. lewis
Throughout January, Mythos & Marginalia is looking at Where We are, as witnessed by contributing writers from across this magnificent planet.
Posted on January 8, 2019 by j.g.lewis // 3 Comments
By Denise McQuiston
I remember once, it seems like decades ago, hearing that the Earth’s poles were going to shift and all hell would break loose. It sounded scary; I didn’t think much of it after. That was then. Today I do.
We all do.
People in Alaska are probably thinking about it with earthquakes and thousands of aftershocks. Today it’s scary. Fires, record storms, global warming and global cooling, what is next? This question sits on your shoulder waiting to be answered.
The current climate conditions aren’t the only question looming over our shoulders.
The agenda of world leaders is questionable. Election fraud leaves us feeling powerless. Trade policies hurt the planet and all the life it sustains. We want to feel like we have control of policies and our leaders. But we don’t.
We can flee from a hurricane and tornado, but bad leadership is something we must endure and suffer under.
We are no longer in shock of this.
We are over the shock. We are over the anxiety.
We are awake now and in the great fight for our souls.
Amen or R.I.P.
© 2019 Denise McQuiston
Denise McQuiston is a writer, avid photographer, and wanderer who lives in Western Massachusetts. When worlds collide she can be found drining around New England with the music blaring. You can read more of Denise on Facebook Self Healing Movements + Tuina Answers.
Throughout January, Mythos & Marginalia is looking at Where We are, as witnessed by contributing writers from across this magnificent planet.
Posted on January 4, 2019 by j.g.lewis // 1 Comment
By Mitch Smith
Where I am now is decidedly different from where I was at twelve months ago.
Then I was angry and cynical about our country and the tin pot dictator who had stolen the White House. I was in a perpetual storm of ego and angst, of despair and hopelessness. I had to take a small part-time job because of some financial issues and I was trapped, it seemed, in a loop of maddening sameness; a La Brea tar pit of banality.
Needless to say, I was not at the top of anyone’s social list, not even mine.
Then mid-year, my daughter, who had given birth to my granddaughter in November 2017, ran into some difficulties with the baby’s father and needed a place to stay. I was all too happy to accommodate them, although I will admit to a certain trepidation and fear. What would that mean to my life, to my routine, to my stability?
As tenuous as my life was, I had lived alone for almost twenty years, which is a hard nut to crack.
Zariah came into my life like a laser, like a shooting star across a black sky. Everything I thought I knew about love and devotion and surrender were all shaken away, like loose skin, and I was immersed in a level of sheer and utter rapture.
Now, months later, I am still floating with this feeling. Seeing her grow and take on a personality and a spirit is an everyday miracle for me. Seeing her smile, and even cry, blows my heart up like a giant balloon.
My angst and cynicism? Oh, they are still there, but now I find that I don’t need to dwell there anymore, they no longer define me, or explain me. I am now someone’s grandfather; someone’s father; someone’s lap to nap in or shoulder to cry on.
I stand now, at the end of a tumultuous year, in a renewed sense of hope. I am seeing the world through different eyes and no longer assuming the worst of everyone and the world at large.
That little girl has rescued me from myself.
I am home.
Photo by Mitch Smith
Mitch Smith is a 64-year old semi-retired substance abuse counselor, who lives with his daughter, and granddaughter, my dog and two cats. Mitch enjoys reading, writing, photography, and continually learning how to be content and happy in his life.
Throughout January, Mythos & Marginalia is looking at Where We are, as witnessed by contributing writers from across this magnificent planet.
