Love inside out

Soft clouds drift by as I lay in the summer sun while the whole world comes undone. My music on my phone it sings bringing me alive. Thus hopeful I stand; begin to sway to the beat, dance out to the hope inside my head. They probably want me to give up instead. I won’t let them stomp out my passions, reactions, or satisfaction. I turn off the fear they attempt to create with all their static noise and hate. I see no boundaries but open field’s ways around their exploitations, destructive games of arrogant violence. I claim peace, rainbows of beauty, and if we all could stop the judgment, they claim only one could do, then maybe they could to end the silly battle of who’s wrong or right, and just let us all live our lives and move on. No one can choose what’s right for you. Are you a dreamer too? Or do you want a government that defines it all, one that will push you against a wall? How can we be genuinely free except inside our heads, when those offensive words are read..- in a democracy…- in a world we once called free? Will we soon only be free inside our minds? We will only know in time.
~Angela K. Crandall~
©6/15/19

Mid-Day Ramblings

Everything feels the same
No forward momentum
There is no change
But everything is changing
Moving
Going
Growing
Even I am moving further into my life
Each step leading to aging
I am writing, serving what I feel is my purpose
Still, it is stagnant
Not, ripening like an apple
But I will rot
We all die
I attempt to live in each moment
And when I’ve risen
Someone pulls me down
Their words, thoughts actions I’m told to ignore
And when I rise above them, the hope lasts maybe a month
If I’m lucky I can brush their thoughts or views aside
Exhale and try to make things matter
This voice that screams for you to listen
And then you’re told you want attention
We all want attention, to be heard
Or would we rather
Sit back and turn on the television
Ignore the things turning around us
It’s hate, beauty, and the uniform we are forced to wear
Society’s standards are not mine
And I type on my machine
I’m in no race
Click, click, click
Words with meaning to sometimes only me
And I wonder if they glimpse at all, peak at what is underneath this skin
Of a beating heart that would bleed
For those who wish to speak
I know what it’s like to linger in the sidelines
To stop, not speaking, to not interrupt, to be polite
Because if you stumble over them, push them, or try
You have no manners
While neither will I.
Angela K. Crandall
©4/2/19

Barriers

All that remains are people who want real conversations.
The depths that were once there before the age of computers.
When you could sit out the back door and neighbors would walk by and wave hello.
The sound of children running down the street as they rushed to their best friends house.
Now it’s cell phones out and heads down, its words typed on computers, not on paper sent as letters.
And while some of the technology has brought us closer together, it can tear us apart.
I’d still rather you text then call because solitude is often better than always trying to keep up with acquaintances.
Although I know who is really there, who certainly do care.
I’m grateful not a punk, but I do like Punk if you are wondering.
I miss the 80’s; 90’s and sometimes even the Beatles.
It would just be nice if once in a while people still hung out to watch films, choose conversations over coffee, and set their phones down.
Because memories are not of phones, computers or technology, but ones we make together face to face, present in those lives we cherish.
Angela K. Crandall
©3/7/19

Nano-Writer

I’ve been away typing.

Writing

Stories

Dreams

Scenario’s

Wondering if the outcome will be

Played

Made

Born

Into illusions in heads bringing them to life.

Will you feel every fear she faces, hope, needs, or desire?

How about welcoming these strange events with open arms?

Or will you toss the book aside wondering why you started at all?

Will you be appalled or fall in love with the main characters wishes?

These are my questions I ask myself as I write what’s inside, put it all down, daring to be the writer I wish to be.

Angela K. Crandall

©11/13/18

What used to be.

I miss you
Being understood
The light you turned on within me
Our friendship growing brighter
Now everyone who understands is far away
I’m told no one has to understand
And I wonder how they
The others who claim this is Okay survive
As I try to be bipartisan but still get burned
While the world turns and hate thrives
And those that love me back the best are furry creatures who don’t answer back
Being denied what you need is allowable
When you are told you allow it, but instead turn away
Still shunned
And no matter how used to it I try to get
The more I want to crawl into a hole
To not exist at all
But I can’t do it
I wish I could
If I were brave, I wouldn’t exist at all
And they may care for a day
To look as if empathy lives in their hearts
But it’s only a show
From start to finish
As they hold the glasses high
I choose to endure the suffering
I choose to cry
I decide to keep going
And I sometimes wonder why.
Angela K. Crandall
©10/26/18

untitled.

And you keep believing

Even when you question

If there is any hope out there

at all

Stepping up to the plate

Attempting to hit the ball

Flying at you

Before you fall.

Angela K. Crandall

©6/20/2018

Wonders

Pop pop pop
Go your dreams
 letting the doubts
And
Fears burn brighter than the light inside  
Allowing those voices to get the best of you
Wondering what the critiques will be
How will they see what I choose to display
Perspectives of varying vices might make you fall
Are you willing to evolve past this?
Sing out your song
Let go
Carry on
And
Just be
As you are

Angela K. Crandall

©11/24/17

 

In Default

“I miss the summer light that peered into my bedroom each morning. When I awoke, I’d push the covers from my feet rising to greet the sun. Then reach for the smell of the dew on the grass or the sweet trickle of rain that had simple past as I’d slept. Now, there is the darkness of the fall. It pushes me into a deep desire to sleep, devours the emptiness, void of light. No longer am I feeling the bounce in my step, but an eagerness to lay dormant beneath the sheets in my bed.”
~Angela K. Crandall~
©9/18/17