Your insincere sincerities
Are so much akin to cake
Whereas the eating of and having it
Conveys your deeds as fake
Your insincere sincerities
Are as a window cooling pie
While an ugly truth is better
Than the most beautiful of lies
Your insincere sincerities
Bring sincerities to shame
Cut and paste some random sentiment
And fill in the blank some random interest’s name.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
(excerpt from PIOUS, a novel by Kenn Bivins)
Today is August 10th and the original, proposed release date of PIOUS, my first novel. In the past few months, I’ve learned so much about the publishing industry and how intricate its workings are. To think that all I wanted to do was write stories and assume it was that simple. Silly me.
Some people have perfect lives. I’m not one of those anomalies or people.
There are those rare days where discouragement sneaks up on me and the hope that has been coursing through my veins has mysteriously bled out. It’s hard during that time to be positive or feel thankful without some clouded film of negativity blocking my view. As I said, I’m imperfect.
Somewhere in there, just as mysterious, a reflection, a stray word from a stranger or a friend, a prayer, or a conversation can yank me from my dismal spiral. When brought back into consciousness, I am inclined to listen to a song to mark my new found direction and lease on life. That song has often been “For Once in my Life” by Stevie Wonder.
“For once, unafraid, I can go where life leads me and somehow I know I’ll be strong.”
And if one can overpower him who is alone, two can resist him. A cord of three strands is not quickly torn apart. (Ecclesiastes 4:12)
to be in a place
where there is no noise, trouble
or hard work. it means to be in
the midst of those things and still
*author unknown
If you know me, you know I love Switchfoot – their lyrics, their music, and their heart for a relationship with their Creator. Well this song, Stars, punched me in the gut this morning while I was listening to it.
My perception shapes everything. If I live a meaningless life, it’s my choice. I (and you) was created for a purpose. Look to the heaven’s and the expanse of the oceans, beyond the easy-to-see negatives in this existence. The world and my reason for being born is so much bigger than me. The heavens and God’s handiwork remind me of that.
The sun shone on her for so long
That her absence is drawn on my walls.
A silhouette of where she once stood
Is painted there while her scent still lingers.
I’m left to resume dinner reservations for one
And attend the parties of my single-serving friends
While listening to them talk of the glories of
Being single or married or dulled by alcohol to not care.
Coleman Hawkins and his saxophone blow “Don’t Love Me”
And the echo of the loving monikers I was once called
Are hatefully marked out with red crayon or her blood, I’m not sure.
For now I’m just another single so and so.