Of The Sculptor And The Clay

An individual who has fallen victim to prolonged psychological abuse and deprecation will continue to subject themselves to the very same treatment even after having left the damaging relationship. These individuals have been conditioned to believe that they themselves ARE in fact what they have been led to believe themselves to be. What causes such self-doubt and degradation to remain even after the source has been removed? In my experiences, I firmly believe that the cause can be found within the practice of repetition and also a strange form of comfort brought about by way of familiarity. That is not to say that these individuals find comfort within the act of self-deprecation, but in doing so they find a realm in which they can better control certain aspects of their own lives. If it is their fault, they can theoretically fix it. Having assessed themselves to be the problem, they feel much better about possessing the ability to form a solution. What these individuals fail to understand is that this particular habit comes with a terrible price. Just as a sculptor chips away at a stone becoming increasingly unhappy with his work, he soon finds that his masterpiece is nothing more than a pile of dust with nothing left to chip away at. The road to reparation after immense psychological abuse can be better attuned to brushing away the dust of the old self and beginning anew with a more malleable medium such as clay. The clay of which I speak is a metaphorical depiction of one's own capacity for self-motivation and courage. In this way the individual can begin to form and shape new confidence without stifling limitations and irreparable damage. In conclusion, if you have experienced psychological abuse and the aftershocks associated with it, think not of yourself as a pile of dust, but as a new lump of clay with infinite possibilities and hopes for your future construct.  

Of The Vanity Of Inconvenience

Vain is the fool who adamantly seeks consistency among an inconsistent existence. If such incongruity can be found within something as immaculate as nature itself, what hope then is there for consistency amidst humanity?

 

Of The Perception Of Truth

What is truth but one's own perception of reality? If this is so, then is sanity anything more than that which is massively accepted as the universal perception? Can we then discredit another's perception simply because it falls outside of the popular opinion? If all things are relative, what then gives truth any exemption from the rule?

 

Romancing The Sea

Romancing The Sea

We set sail, for our seeds must be sown
Never mind the skills we've yet to hone
Our chests show pride
But it serves only to hide
The fear of her vast unknown

Adrift, we ponder
What lies yonder?
Across her waters deep?
We've no way to foretell
What lies beyond is hell
And our hearts, a devil means to keep

The fog, how it looms
An omen of doom
For those who would heed its warning
Curiosity reigns
We've lightning in our veins
We'll have tamed our goddess come morning

The moon glistens high
As she reflects the sky
The image is remarkably stunning
As the clouds slowly gather
We pray to our masters
That the storm she commands isn't coming

The thunder, it crashes
The lightning, it gashes
Our vessel is set ablaze
With courage, we'd vowed
To chain ourselves to the bow
We'll not be tossed by her waves

The ship has succumbed
Nothing more can be done
We'd best make a swim for our lives
But what horrors we've found
The chains to which we're bound
Drag us under as our hope is capsized

Weep not for us all
For you too shall be called
No man can resist the fever
With her infinite beauty
The sea will seduce you
And no man shall ever leave her

By Justin Huskey Copyright 2011

 

Reverie

Reverie

I drift to sleep and you are there
The yellow Sun glistens through your auburn hair

The light, how it dances in your emerald eyes
With every breath you take, my lungs capsize

Your lips, how they glimmer, moist for a kiss

Oh dear angel, how could I have been so remiss?
How gracefully you move as the ground begs for your steps
You whisper sweet nothings and my thoughts, you intercept

Reality calls and I'm brought back to life
To a world filled with misery and suffering and strife
Your Ghost haunts my halls
You flicker and fade
For one gentle touch, my heart I would trade

Your eyes are pitch black

Your hair has turned white
Your touch is ice cold
Your heavy chains rattle as you drag them in the night

My reveries are memories frozen in time
In my slumber I desperately attempt to rewind
To days filled with joy and hope overflowing
You've left me here bearing the burden of knowing
That never again shall I touch your sweet face

If only this hell my dreams could replace

By Justin Huskey Copyright 2011

My Adversary

My Adversary

My adversary, how I loath thee
You hound me fiercely with no reprieve
You steal my peace with no remorse
You capture my thoughts with unyielding force

When I drift into peaceful slumber
You lie in wait, my dreams you plunder
You tear away my starry night
And fill my skies with crippling fright

Each night my chest will wax and wain
Oh adversary, what do you gain?
My heart pounds quickly beneath my flesh
I'm arrested in panic at your behest

Away from you, I long to be
Somewhere calm, by the sea
Where waves that crash upon the shore
Cleanse my mind forevermore

Away from you I cannot be
For I am you, and you are me
You were born from fear, you see
Enemy, thy name is anxiety

By Justin Huskey Copyright 2010

The Butterfly's Story

The Butterfly's Story


Once my swallowtail did confess
That which had caused her much distress
That which had tossed her into the storm
That which had left her beaten, tattered and torn

'Twas a masked spider she did state
That stole away her heart and her soul it ate
Her mind it wrapped in a liar's snare
Her body it trapped within its darkened lair

Alone she hung there fixed in fear
Alone she hung for eight and one years
Alone she hung a shell well worn
Depleted she was tossed amidst the storm

Beneath the heavy rain she did find
New sorrow and pain most unkind
There she fought for four long seasons
Raped of logic and stripped of reason

Amidst the lightning and thunderous crescendo
She did behold a lonely window
On which she thought to rest her wings
To dry a bit and perchance to sing

In time she had found her past to be
A chaotic storm which had led her to me
Though her spirit which by the spider was drained
She found through me her hope regained

By Justin Huskey Copyright 2013

The Butterfly's Worry

The Butterfly's Worry


Alone and weeping one day I did find
My swallowtail bound within chains she did bind
Her heart and soul she did herself tear asunder
'Neath the influence of anxiety she was held tightly under

With tattered wings filled with doubt she did tiresomely worry

Of turbulent winds and insurmountable flurries
Of things left undone and life left unfinished
Of comfort which was lost and of love which had diminished

My hand I did extend as she did solemnly weep
My assurance to her 'twas my heart she did keep
My intent I did affirm to her with a kiss
My love I did express lest I were to be remiss

Of her fears she did speak and of her worries she did confess
Of her pain and her sorrows she did rightly profess
'Twas her mind that had caused her to dread the unknown
'Twas her past which had caused the dread to which she was prone

To flight she did take and my shoulder she did find
To comfort her soul and to rest her worrisome mind
Immense gratitude and love she did verily convey
For the shelter I did offer and the place she did lay

Her worry did vanish and hope in its place
Found a new home in her warm, loving face
My message is clear to those who would see it
Life is not the destination but the journey to meet it

If love you do possess on this very day
Worry not of the future and the toll you must pay
For life is ever fleeting and the sands ever pour
Time is ever hastened and once it is gone, there is no more

By Justin Huskey Copyright 2013

The Butterfly's Gift

The Butterfly's Gift


What can I say of this generous gift?
For my smile it did find and my brow it did lift
My heart it did tune to a love and a laugh
To my soul it did sing, for from your spring it did tap

In my lungs it did find a way to exhale
The worry and strife of which my past did entail
For much grief and fault my heart did possess
But my demons did vanish when my flaws it addressed

In death I awaited some life to behold

My face slowly withered and my spirit waxed old
From death I awoke to a warm summer sun
'Neath skies of hope I did lay, In fields of love I did run

If doubt you do harbor in your deepest of thought
Of the light you did bear and the path you have wrought
Worry not little swallowtail for verily I state
'Tis a beacon, your gift, and the darkness abates

Curiosities abound in your head I am certain
What gift do I hide 'neath this poetic curtain?
Forgive my dramatics and my lack of clear brevity
You should know my dear madame, thy gift is sweet levity

By Justin Huskey Copyright 2013

The Butterfly's Kiss

The Butterfly's Kiss

Once upon a fateful evening
Amidst a storm I sat solemnly grieving
For loves I had lost and a life which had ebbed
For my soul which was wrapped in passion's dark webs

My heart did pound with fearful dread
As the rain thrashed down within my head
So distraught was I in my hopes disbanded
I had almost failed to see that she had landed

Upon my sill so small and frail
There sat a weather-drenched swallowtail
Her wings were worn and torn and weak
Shelter from her own storm she did truly seek

She sat there drying in the warm summer sun
I sat there confounded as my mind came undone
What beauty had found me in this dreary place?
What sorrow I saw in her warm, loving face

I spoke to her gently and asked of her travels
She sat there in silence as her own mind unraveled
She spoke to me softly and expressed her apprehension
No man had ever spoken to her or gave her much attention

She told me of her worth and of love unrequited
She told me of her thoughts and in them I delighted
She professed her sweet love for me which had grown
She blessed the sweet window through which she had flown

I searched for a sorrow but none I could find
No sign of the dread which had once filled my mind
Her delicate wings brushed my cheek with such grace
That nor sin nor fault could be found in my face

The truest of all the facts ever stated
Is that life for me has been heavily weighted
By storms and the rain and gravity fierce
But through all this a butterfly's kiss did rightly pierce

By Justin Huskey Copyright 2013