Cooking With Crayons

Cry your Crying into Weeping I cried once It was the first time I cried later to see if it felt the same It didn't. All I needed was someone; Yet, the someone I needed was going to have to solve it. All I needed was everything to never be the same again. That time I cried the first time I had no idea that I would cry so much. Not only did I cry too much that time, I cried too much the next time and the next time. Crying started to feel good I did it so much. I began to think I was crying my way into heaven. If something was trying to get my attention-- I didn't want it. I was by myself, crying. If you could cry away your troubles I would have done it by happenstance. If you could call crying weeping instead, maybe I was weeping. I can't remember the exact day that my crying turned into weeping, But, I can tell you life is a lament. "Life's lament" I would say. And, I felt that clever. I have cried once because I will never be clever ag

A Book Review by Rob J. Blevins of www.cookingwithcrayons.com Demian by Herman Hesse      I couldn't put this down. Most importantly this book was written in 1919 in pre World War 1. In remembering his childhood, the author is examining the realms of good and evil, and within that he hits the age old art of building the character around his psyche and the questioning of moral principle. Since Hesse was thought to be undergoing psychoanalysis at the time of writing--there are many of the foundational qualities of psychology itself. Also, this was an important era in history because Friedrich Nietzsche had just begun decades prior to give account of the pride of nationalism in Germany and the devaluation of morals. Having Hesse as a successor to Beyond Good and Evil , it is refreshing to hear someone dealing with ethics in such a humanitarian and often sectarian light. It is a tale of the admiration of an eccentric friend by a dynamic character who happens to be the

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The Tears that Wipe the Blood from Our Cheeks They cry out give them books. They cry out give them money. But no one cries out to stop the tears that wipe the blood from our cheeks. They look for the root of the plant. They look for the soil to spring up with never a seed. They can but they don't Stop a single tear. Instead They gaggle and babble They waddle and wade In a non stop pool of ideas Each one more shallow than the last They look for us under a mountain Of their own misgivings, Placed down on our peon minds From a lofty seat of extravagance. Greed rains down and wipes the blood from our cheeks. Dry fountains are filled with our tears. We long for a little light to come We ask for forgiveness Even though we did nothing wrong. They hope to keep us walking In the same direction Towards everything we need. They say we want it, But we can't want what we already need. Nothings and Nobodies There are but few moments we often never cling to, Th