Campus Martius

Campus Martius wrote that he was a better writer when the shit was hitting the fan. More interesting to read at any rate and  now that life was good and settled, he was a boring blogger. I wrote my way through fifteen years of agony. I crawled in the belly of the beast. I drown in it. I lived it. Wore it. Fought it and rolled over for it. Was it more interesting? Yes. Do I miss it? Yes and no. I always said I didn't write my poems, they wrote me. They did and its true that they did. I became a third person. I could distance myself from the pain and the game. I slowly came to realise that what I believed was the foundation of life, was instead,the bane of existence. That all I had once held as reverently so, was not at all so with one small exception. Me. Then slowly I chose to realise, you create your own reality. I set about doing just that. It has become a work in progress. Delightfully so. Other wise it would be boring. I am never bored so how can I be boring? Trust me I can be boring. At least my writing can in the same way that C. M. talks about. It is the fight that is interesting. The struggle. The rapids of the river compared to the slow deep water. The storm. And the fiercer it rages the more interesting it is. To a certain point and then the human struggle becomes pointless. Once you pass the  no return sign, your redundancy and your inability to grow and change, should have and has not ,become self evident and it then becomes boring and completely self destructive. What I was not expecting was how similar our struggles were. That we all fall over the same feet. Love, family, perceived wounds, money, you know the same old tired bull shit. Humans. Some of us write our way through it, others counsel, some find religion.All of us believe we have found the truth, the one true way to look at it.The only one that makes any sense. I find myself saying things like I wish I could see it like they do, it sure would make things easier.  But since two plus two is four I can't buy into that bullshit. I never seem to say what it is exactly that I do believe, just that is different from what every one else believes. Is it so different? We are after all children of our environment. I do believe that I am different. I would venture to say I know this. When I break this down I am surprised to find myself looking for common ground to justify and make my self seem normal. In other words I am only different in a good way. Or I am a normal person that some bad things happened to and I handled them all the right way. What a crock. Why put up that fence. As if being human was not  varied enough to cover the ground that I have covered. Or as if I had some thing to be ashamed of, that god forbid might make me different. Nothing human is foreign to me. We are so similar in our differences. I watch movies and find myself feeling angry because they have the stereotypical conformity down pat. I didn't grow up in a house like that, with clothes and school and parents like that. So does that mean you , you being "the general public", does that mean you can't read me, or comprehend or appreciate what I am trying to say. Because we have no common ground? I have found this to be seemingly the case when it came to my poetry. I always got a reaction, which was good, but not always a good reaction. I can remember my ex's boss who I personally would never have read my poetry to, saying to the room smugly "Oh Kelly we had no idea you were so dark!"
Suddenly I was no longer one of them. Thank God!  Well Campus Martius so much for the rant, thanks for the inspiration.