Pencil

Externally, I am wood. Carved from trees and shaved into a long, smoothed out utencil that is easy to hold with the hand of a human being. Internally, I am lead. A soft but heavy metal that is liquified and made to fit into the prepared wooden frame. Sharpen my tip and I am ready to use. I know I sound simple but what it takes to make me is not so simple. There are many steps in my creation.

Before my existence, my state was rock-like and I could be used to make markings on other, more solid types of surfaces. Before technological intelligence modified my state, I was the Leader of anything that had to be written from the thought or idea of a human being. The smarter the humans got, the better my physical being became. Lots of things were written and not able to be taken back once written, so to fix this mistake, I was then assembled with an eraser to clear the image.

As time and humans evolved, so did I.  I have came such a long way from making markings on cave walls during the beginning of mankind to writing rough drafts for the Presidents speeches. Now, rarely used, I remain humble with the knowledge that I Am the Leader and first element to create history on paper. I drew the blueprints for the buildings and homes that we obtain. I drew the blueprints for the roads you travel. I wrote the laws that you abide by. I made history, literally.

I have now been replaced with computers, keyboards, text messaging, and cellular phones but I can say that the children still love me. They use me and my many colors that I come in to create what their learning minds are pondering.

FYI, Lead also makes bullets. So when you use me to write, think of your word as your ammunition. To my people who still use me..... Write On.


PENCIL

Andre Reed

Pencil

An object made of wood, lead, a crown that encases a rubber piece which is called an eraser by most.....

An object quite parallel in design in structure to that of the human anatomy without the leg and arm appendages, but the pencil does have the ability to walk in writing, when not in use lay dormant until placed in operation by authors bearing thoughts and visions.....

An object for which ideas, thoughts and emotions are transferred by the authors mind and hand.....
A pencil is harmless when dormant, just as the gun.....
Its in who and how we use it for it to be deadly, cause injury or fun.....

A pencil can be held and caressed by the gentleness of mental calm and stand.....
Or snapped in two by sudden emotional outbursts, a non cooperative spirit or an insensitive demand.....

So small in stature, yet can change the world's view with a signature, relationships, soothe, attack, calm, make funnies by the oodles.....
Or just make character faces and scribble abstract doodles.....

It transfers thoughts to paper where text messaging now rules, I've heard No adjectives for descriptions, just symbols for brevity of words.....

They are used to break the silence, express mental clarity or disturbances on matters of gridlock or impasse.....

We can throw daggers when expressing emotional turmoil, mentally abuse and engage to destroy from a hate mode or mischief play.....
Yet, ball the paper in after thought, I really don't feel that way.....it's the vices of drugs, lying and improper conduct controlling the pencils sway.....

The canvas from which the pencil writes is from the minds eye of the holder, whether your dark sides, spiritual sides, artistic sides, relationship sides, you control the flow of your environment through your pencils pressure, hopefully no lead breaks.....
In times when our pencils seem erratic and careless with works and words that harm and stunt our growth.....

We refresh the leads dull edge by re-sharpening, look to the erasers tips.....

To erase the negative turmoil within the author and reduce the Freudian slips.....
The pencil colors are many, bright, joyous and loving I find.....but
Without the lead (heart) no spiritual covering (wood) and the lack of the eraser (forgiveness) doeth we waste a perfectly good pencil and mind.....

Pencil

For generations I stood tall providing life to the earth. Whether I stood alone or in the company of many I did what was required of me. For God gave me several missions in life, I provided air to breathe, shade for the worker, shelter to God’s creatures, the American Dream if your credit was good enough. For centuries I stood my post and did not complain. At times I was greeted by sparrows, hawks, eagles, panthers, and strange life forms called mankind. Though mankind was birth at my feet I never dreamed I would give birth to so much.

Standing tall through eternity, I was struck down by mankind dismayed at first, for I knew not what was in store for me. Agony befell me as the metal teeth ripped through me, my brown tears falsely named sap poured down my body. God for what did I do to not enjoy recompense for standing tall, shading your prized creation, housing that which you loved, covering that which created in six days. Falling for what seemed like eternity I hit the ground and was stripped of my covering. Once pinched I traveled down stream to meet my end, my life no longer meaningful. Traveling with my eyes looking toward heaven I hear a horrible grinding sound, a sawing sound. I scream out as my body is being grinded away. Oh the pain, Lord why have thou forsaken me, I stood tall for generations shading your prized creation, housing that which you loved, covering that which you created in six days now it comes to this. I feel the blackness overcome me, maybe if I just sleep.

I open my eyes once again and see this funny clear substance before me what the… Lord I am grateful for your mercy for you have given me my reprieve. Where is the sky I stood tall in for generations? What are the things with the no.2 written on them and why do they surround me? How long have I been sleep? My god, how has man grown, even the young are bigger than I. What is this red thing on my head, why has my trunk been made into a black point? Where did this metal crown come from, Lord what has thou seen fit to provide me this day?

For generations I stood tall providing life to the earth. Whether I stood alone or in the company of many I did what was required of me. For God gave me several missions in life, I provided air to breathe, shade for the worker, shelter to God’s creatures, the American Dream if your credit was good enough. For centuries I stood my post and did not complain. At times I was greeted by sparrows, hawks, eagles, panthers, and strange life forms called mankind. Though mankind was birth at my feet I never dreamed I would give birth to so much. What now is required of me? I am now one billionth my former self?

How man has grown, now you cover me, direct my path. What is this strange motion you have me do? Ahhh, I remember when God first shared his word with me, you are writing. Thank you Lord, I see how thou has blessed me. I save lives now; brothers now use me to express their anger and not guns. Countries use me to make peace concrete. God used me so you may partake in his word. Mankind used me to share their hearts and minds, express them selves in word. Utilized me to educate their young. Thank you God, I am The Pencil.

The Spark(s) of Life

Brother beloved, yet unloved. Disliked but accepted, after all he is married to my sister. One of the most gifted brothers I have come across but talent wasted, his mouth gets in his way. His ego bruised is damaging to the love of my sister. Upon reflection, what is it exactly that makes me dislike this brother? Perhaps I see the younger me. The me of nearly twenty years ago, my brother is behind the times of maturation but he will be fine. Life giver, love stealer, his gift is evident to all but himself. Focused energy on the negative aspects of love, loyalty and family keeps his household in disarray, but what can I say, he is the younger me. Lies and innuendo are his power; love of self is his kryptonite. Yet my sister loves his dirty draws. Perhaps that love is warranted, but from her big brother’s eyes it is not merited. But what can I say, he is the younger me.

Hmmm, oh I see, that it can be that gift is useful to all that be because he will no longer be the younger me. Perhaps my sisters love will pull him through, man him up, make him better, man can that be, no longer the younger me. The Spark(s) of life has given my sister joy at times, but pain has always followed, guess what it is a new year. Focused energy on the negative aspects of love, loyalty and family forever changed. Builder of hopes and dreams he shall become. That gift now realized and placed into action makes him endure the burdens of being the man while also being the comforter and blanket of security. Dirty draws now clean still very much loved by my sister.

Brother beloved, now loved and very much respected, more than accepted, after all he is married to my sister, why would it be any other way? On this day, I say, much love little brother, glad you came our way. Keep the Q smiling is all I will say.

God bless this day, no longer the younger me I pray!

Duality of Love

What does it take to love someone? What does it mean to love someone? At what lengths must one go to show they love someone? What affect does ones tradition, pride, stubbornness, and selfishness have on love? In the end is losing the one you love worth those things? Is it necessary to always be right, or always stand your ground if it kills love? How much does something you want from a person mean, rather than what that person means to you? Is it worth it? Too many times love is lost due to the idea of something and not the reality of something. What is your idea of love? What is the reality of the love you have for each other? In the spans of time there has only been one perfect person, and realizing that none of us is Jesus, we should not be looking for such perfection.

Some people may think of you as weak, or not being man enough as it pertains to your wife, but does your pride mean more to you than the love you have for your wife? Do you pick the battles necessary to fight or do you just choose to fight at any cost? Choose the former and not the latter. Compromise can sometimes be hard, even difficult, but love sometimes means doing something the other person wants even when you do not want to. Are you the man of the house I think so, do you need to prove that to anyone, I think not.

Giving of oneself, does not mean you are a door mat, or you are less of a person because you place the person you love ahead of yourself. After all, isn’t that what love is? God so loved the world he gave his only begotten son, if God can place us in front of himself, what then, is expected of us?

Does being separate make you feel better? Are you better off alone than together? What kind of team can you be if you can get past the small stuff?

I hope you find out.

Opening Act

Lets talk.  I am creating this blog to share some of the things I think about.  How I deliver them will differ.  Whether it be in the form of poetry, topic discussion, or just long winded prose, I want to take you to another level of thinking and get your point of view.  Some of the things I say will be from my life experiences, while others may be my creative juices flowing.  In either case, I hope it is thought provoking, honest, and most of all respectful.  While we may not always agree, I promise to listen, share my honest opinion and agree to disagree when no common ground can be reached.  In the end, lets open our minds to different points of view and keep the discussion flowing.

God Bless

Keith