Under the Boardwalk

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Under the BoardwalkUnder the Boardwalk,
originally uploaded by Mema13.

Step lively, step quickly

My feet in the sea

The currents, the currents

Will carry me

Why am I so unnerved by my feelings? The time and the tide that keep turning, pique my yearning. Gotta give the gods credit for influencing the creative spirit, making the world my Muse. Seems all I am right now is filled with ideas and thoughts and aspirations. Now, all I have to do is zero in on them. Focus. Hopefully, I won't be overrun by my imagination, drowning in those bitter little frustrating muddled up crumpled pieces of paper! Writers often have too much or too little. Never "just enough" to gain a clearer understanding of what to do first. That would prove too simple. So right now it is the insomnia, the details, details, details and the half-mad rants at three in the morning over characters which interrupt my sleep! It's pure bliss and delicious torture. I secretly admire the romance of figuring scenes out, analyzing the plot from every angle. I let those damned voices speak to me until the me that I know is cast away from myself to let the other players have their say. ..and boy, can they talk! For now, it's just Jane in her Candie's high-heels and blood red toenails. She loves to steal every scene, and if it weren't for Ruth, the Sheriff, and Cy, she'd get her wish alright. The mighty Aphrodite of my murder mystery.

Indio smokes his tobacco from his tightly wound cigar but hides from me when I turn the lights back on. I find him there, atop the refrigerator. A minitiaturized version of the being that lived; with handmade beads wound 'round his base. It is he whom I spot, every now and then, moving from his stationary post. He squats, he sits. He raises his hand to shade his brow. But when I turn, he is back in the same place as he was before. I know that he was given to me to serve as a guardian, protecting me from harm. I know too that this relic houses a spirit that will one day be my final guide. It will be his face I see: noble, stoic and unyielding; on the other side. When that day comes, I will turn to him and say, "You've served me well, old friend." And perhaps, he will finally show me a smile. And perhaps, God will let me in the front door.

See what I mean? A million thoughts. A million roads, a million different directions. Which brings me to the parallel notion: What if there were a back door in Heaven? What's a cat gotta do to get in?

I'm hoping Heaven has a back door, to let some sinners in

The battle for the soul, I hope, won't let the Devil win

If last is first and first is last and the meek shall inherit the Earth

Then I hope God lets the pauper get himself a fortune's worth



About Lisa Perez

Lisa M. Perez is a published poet, editor, copywriter, public speaker and artist. The co-creator of the first ever ArtSpace in Jersey City, member of IUOMA (International Union of Mail Artists), and administrator for an online Mail Art group, Lisa supports the arts and advocates for creativity. Her successful, Art Journal and "Notes from my Brain" series are ongoing projects that evolve with the artist. In addition to being an active blogger since 2005, Lisa scripts and edits copy for various online articles and videos. In September 2017, she was a guest-speaker and virtually chaired a YOGA Recovery meeting. In her spare time, Lisa studies, reads, and creates while maintaining a day job in a STEM field and being a full-time fur-mommy to her shih-tzu, Cher.
This entry was posted in Art Is My Life!, These Dreams Go On When I Close My Eyes. Bookmark the permalink.

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