I'm Only Living a Lie When I tell my soul I am fine, by S.M. Bjarnson

It wasn't clear to me about how far our livelihood had come.

We are travelers on a path nobody has a map too. 

I listen to the yearnings that pull me to every unmentionable path. 

I am alone.

Watching the waves hitting the bottom pits of the ocean.

They are encircled in time when there has been no time but now.

We are living in a breathless fought over universe only we are the only ones at battle.

With ourselves we are the only ones looking for victory when victory has already given into us, time and time again.

We are poor soldiers waiting to go home, awaiting a decision from the leaders we think execute their plans with us in mind and not from their own ambitious winnings.

We were right weren't we, leading a team of masked teenagers into a battle, no one had ideas of winning.

Our paths stained with generational bloodlines. 

Our maps colored with veins.

The world was a line and there had been for curves created to save those who were not absolute in the eyes of our leaders.

Claims and taughting of voices made it clear we had no voice or reason to commute the exile pathway.

After everything is said and down we evidently find ourselves at the beginning again, with a clearer frame of mind, understanding what roads to neglect and others to partake in the journey of.

Rumors will be true if you let them live on.

The fictitious character we call time can be reset anytime.

I'm only living a lie when I tell my soul I am fine.

-S.M. Bjarnson

A piece at a time, -S.M. Bjarnson

My concentration broke and I was at the worst of them. Breathing under strict rule of where and when I was to leave and bleed my words and to whom. My glued eyes shut I reminisce in a once victorious land. I stand alone at the battle field of the mercenaries. I am a king if not a queen to the trap of solitude. I am the heir to a terrible crumbling kingdom. With cruel intent I will seek them out to become more than just a maiden in a chamber. There will be blood as there always is the red stain among the men in history.

Wishful thinking tells us that we are longer good, we are longer able. Who is the judge in the case? The ruler that signifies us disruptive. For a short time we may live out the remaining years will a solemn prayer of being an achievement of the human race, but you see that is the mistake we are all in a race.

Hills and valleys will let us know if our succession is relevant or rather a mistake of guidance on our elders part. We are children being led away with a string or a rope, led to another world where our imagination is held captive and our irrelevant lives became purposeful.

We stood through streams and creeks remembering our fallen brothers. The cold chills turning over the aged rocks, exposing secrets my lovely sisters kept. A dark hidden past was one thing and then another when the light made it glow. Terminal, the position our beloved on us. Our potion was a category for defeat and victory was not on the contents of victory. Sacrifice on the other hand was a very big ingredient in the poison.

Fruit taken from the tempting tree were we all at the devils hands, tug graves and cutting corners. There was music in the air. Swirling the temptations of what had come and what had not. We would not last the night, the morning dew taking the place of our final determination. Trembling words fluctuated around the matters of factual and factious.

Could you remind me of my crime dear sir? Could you so ever gallantly refresh my deprived memory of the crimes you accuse of me committing?

There was a line I had drawn upon the fallen walls of the kingdom we called home. White marks leading up and down and curve to remind us we were never to be left alone in this day in this age, we were prisoners. We were the answer to the most disgusting of questions.

The solutions for a match made in ever. Our turbulence qualified for a ok landing, but there was nothing and we stood for exactly that.

A piece at a time.

-S.M. Bjarnson

Now Onto The Next Step, by, S.M. Bjarnson

I wrote this article a little while ago for a friend blog. I thought it was time to reshape and revamp motivation for the year!

           There are many challenges in our lives that we can easily walk away from. Trials that phase us either the right or wrong way. There are plenty of times in a young artist's life when giving into the odds is easier than spiting them.

           Transforming from girl to woman, boy to man, is a course both chaotic and indirect. Nonetheless finding yourself in this oblivious world is a straight forward blur of uncertified facts mixed with a mirage of fictitious morals.

           Imagine yourself at the bottom platform of a cascading staircase. Your glance is met with all the necessary steps to acquire the high beacon.

           Your focus not declaring or assuming its presence. In life and in love, faith tells you, it exists. It speaks loudly in your ear persuading your greatest efforts of this wonderful idea of success. Eyes closed, deep breaths taken in. Picking up each foot to make the next sacrificing stride. This staircase leads you up a winding beautiful mountain. The scenery claiming no faults in any direction. Quiet peace surrounding your persona. Welcoming in this attitude of gratitude; you are calm and powerful. Hope lingers beside the knowledge of your daring being, ever so silently.

            As you make your way further up the curving pathway, not knowing what the next step may bring you; trust first, then believe. Without question or much hesitation you begin to hear a faint annoyance of a buzzing. Turning around, the landscape empty except of you. Ignoring the humming whispers, you decide to press on. Suddenly, the small buzz has turned into a crack in the stone, a trip in your step. Staggering your progress and casting your view down. Faces appear at your shins grasping at your weaknesses and applauding them in mockery. The doubts and fears you have start challenging you, whispering to you false information. They tell you there is no chance in paradise with you ever reaching the top of this hill. You're never going to accomplish the task ahead. The last ones always cutting the deepest; you are unworthy of being victorious. Draining the potential power left to win this race. They have made a personal commitment to bringing you to your knees in definite defeat.

            You stumble trying to keep balance. Scraping by another inch or so. You rise each foot again and again. Pledging your name to that trophy. The new found strength in your legs makes the effort easier. There's a break between the white clouds and your destination is in pleasant view.

            Throwing your hands up in the air. Hallelujah on your tongue. You have made the long journey. On top you are welcomed with applause and a celebration of your triumph.

    In closing a final tune to keep in mind:

        When you’re stuck in rut, and your story won't fly.

Think of the thoughts that make your heart jump and the setting catered your way.

What words would be said and words be exchanged, how confident are you with the world you have created?

Can you think up a rhyme or a time of age?

A character’s name or how it will end?

Just remember when you’re down on your pen and your ink has run dry, tomorrow has a better thought in mind for the end of your lines.

        

Best wishes, and whimsical hope!

S.M. Bjarnson

Called to GO

I got that letter the other day accepting me and saying I’m good to go.

So I’ll pack up my belongings, pack away the memories, we’ve contributed too.

Because, I think I’ll take that opportunity, think I’ll start that journey.

Been wondering if I should tell you, what I’m feeling so.

Been wondering how you feel about me and about us.

Going to get in my car, roll down those dusty windows.

I know it will be hard but, I’m going to turn my back to this place, to you, if I have too.

I’ll be gone like yesterdays sunshine.

Hair whipping in my face.

Wind blowing through my ears.

Time rolling underneath my wheels.

I got to get away, away from this place.

I got to take that chance, got to take that risk.

Got to go somewhere, going to be somebody.

So, I’m going to go. Yeah, I’m going to go…

Will you cry, will there be tears in your eyes?

Will you miss me, will you kiss me, goodbye?

Will you shout to me, will you scream for me?

Were you planning on yelling my way, honey?

Honey, Please, Don’t GO! I need you, so much, it kills me inside.

So what’ll it be…be, be?

 You going to follow me or just let me go…

I’ll take you with me if you want too, go.

Grab my hand; take the seat next to me.

Hair whipping in my face.

Wind blowing through my ears.

Time rolling underneath my wheels.

I got to get away, away from this place.

I got to take that chance, got to take that risk.

Got to go somewhere, going to be somebody.

So, I’m going to go. Yeah, I’m going to go…

As I drive away, my heart starts to fluster.

You didn’t show up to my going away parade.

Don’t you like me, like I liked you?

Maybe it could have been love.

Maybe it could have been something real for once.

I guess things change and you never wanted me the same way.

I won’t be seeing you around, so goodbye, I wave.

Hair whipping in my face.

Wind blowing through my ears.

Time rolling underneath my wheels.

I got to get away, away from this place.

I got to take that chance, got to take that risk.

Got to go somewhere, going to be somebody.

So, I’m going to go. Yeah, I’m going to go…

Guess it’s time to say so long, I take one last look around for you.

Hey is that you?

My bags are packed, yours are too.

I see you standing there, next to our departing ledge.

You’re wearing that smile that leaves me breathless.

I reach for you, guess this is hello.

-S.M. Bjarnson

Quote of the Day;

She left being the forbidden fool, and when she came back she was the unattainable beauty .

 http://www.coleyyyful.com/2013/05/1920s-makeup-hair-fashion-information.html