tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-46146771106854122532024-02-19T03:40:44.685-08:00Random Thoughts of RyanRyan Dittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16245707194140623610noreply@blogger.comBlogger35125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4614677110685412253.post-72038474784494971712016-03-19T13:32:00.002-07:002016-03-19T13:33:01.750-07:00Seasons (poem)The seasons come and go,<br />
<div>
But I remain.<br />
I'm paralyzed by endless sunshine that burns red behind my closed eyelids and crisp wind that scatters scores of leaves across the sky and snowstorms that leave the world muffled and frozen. </div>
<div>
My solid frame is trapped in place, a breathing contradiction to my mind that will not be still.<br />
The world does not cease its cycle for me. I am left behind, slowly deteriorating. The Earth waits to claim my dust for its own, not feeling, unmisted by judgment or preconception.<br />
<br />
When I am gone, all that will be left is a faint, ethereal imprint of my consciousness, struggling even then to comprehend the planets and systems and galaxies and universes that somehow still excruciatingly manage to survive. Those sentient, swirling beings; somehow both immense enough to crush me beneath the weight yet exquisitely minuscule, gentle and delicate enough to exist on a pinpoint of a single thought.</div>
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Ryan Dittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16245707194140623610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4614677110685412253.post-78640913688676545872015-01-04T01:11:00.001-08:002015-01-14T12:30:13.735-08:00PoemI am playing a vicious game<br />
A game of lingering silences and stolen glances<br />
I don't dare to open my mouth<br />
because my sharp tongue always betrays me.<br />
<br />
My thoughts are dissonant<br />
Shuttered away from reality<br />
Our thinking is not truly in harmony<br />
Is there purity or malice in my mind?<br />
<br />
The beckoning of possibilities<br />
Ensnares my thoughts like barbed wire<br />
How do I know where to go?<br />
Fettered by my own nature.<br />
<br />
The game, it seems, is fickle<br />
Playing by imprecise rules<br />
An outcome never reached.<br />
Does victory or loss really matter?Ryan Dittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16245707194140623610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4614677110685412253.post-72262230673073743142015-01-02T15:37:00.002-08:002015-01-02T15:39:32.716-08:00PoemI wrote this for you<br />
The future, and the past that won't let it be.<br />
The fig tree, the wheel of Time, once brutally persistent,<br />
now frozen.<br />
A crossroads maybe? A junction of choice that beckons while my brain is locked in a muted frenzy and my heart pumps out ragged, uneven beats that call out your name, name, name.<br />
<br />
I'm trapped, trapped in between thoughts and actions and feelings and words and <i>futures</i> that yesterday cannot promise.<br />
<br />
________________________________________________________________Ryan Dittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16245707194140623610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4614677110685412253.post-28620114817395281292013-11-30T18:48:00.000-08:002013-12-01T16:19:25.375-08:00Revelation (poem)The noise began slowly and softly, like summer rain falling on a tin roof, coming from the moonless air and issuing its macabre melody to the tree skeletons and cold street.<br />
<br />
It was quiet at first. And as the night began to darken around me, I could see the stars fading away into pinpoints of light and the sound grew, like an echo, a phrase repeated over and over. <br />
<br />
I stopped in my tracks, listening hard. A whisper floating on air, innocuous, accompanied by the misplaced sound of horse hooves. It spoke: "Come and see!" <br />
<br />
Suddenly, he was there.<br />
The dark figure loomed in front of me, making me stumble backwards. In the darkness, I could make out the large figure of a horse, with a man astride.<br />
The horse, pale in color, pawed the ground and looked at me with dead, cloudy eyes.<br />
The figure on the horse was tall and broad shouldered, and his image seemed to shimmer slightly, never seeming to settle on one image, flickering back and forth in ghostly hues.<br />
<br />
My breath caught in my throat, my body turning cold. The sudden silence was so strong that I couldn't even find the beat of my heart within my chest.<br />
<br />
I stood frozen until he spoke to me.<br />
<br />
He spoke in a lazy and arrogant, yet undeniably powerful tone, lulled into a dangerous cadence.<br />
<br />
"White, Red, Black, Pale<br />
A blunt separation, a covering veil<br />
The seals that were broken, we ride on the air<br />
Four ways that we travel, a curse that we bear<br />
The sword and the Lamb and the beasts and defeat,"<br />
<br />
He turned away as if to depart, but glanced back at me, looking me right in the eyes.<br />
"My work on this world is not yet complete."<br />
<br />
And with that he was gone, the sound rushing back into the night.<br />
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.Ryan Dittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16245707194140623610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4614677110685412253.post-34223709507031803902013-09-10T18:46:00.002-07:002013-09-10T18:47:32.843-07:00PoemI cannot remember the way your smile looks<br />
Or if your eyes have ever been filled with anything but ice.<br />
They are like dead creatures<br />
A shell of something that once was.<br />
<br />
Black marks on a screen hold no meaning<br />
And do nothing to sate the growing animal in my chest<br />
No matter how much I try to distract him<br />
All he does is stare at me with his wicked eyes, silently mocking.<br />
<br />
Reality has bent, it seems<br />
The world around me too bright, unfocused<br />
Thoughts caressing the shore like the tide<br />
But being whisked away too soon to remember.<br />
<br />
I wish I could remove the shadows<br />
Let different light illuminate the space remaining<br />
Phantom places where you once rested<br />
And leaving me to wonder if it ever happened at all.<br />
<br />
_____________________________________________________________Ryan Dittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16245707194140623610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4614677110685412253.post-8607221922417163432013-08-10T18:08:00.000-07:002013-08-10T18:08:06.016-07:00Butterflies AgainA vague memory, an unwelcome thought<br />
the brush of the wings<br />
of the butterflies that were suddenly there when you were near<br />
You are not mine anymore, though<br />
Those tender insects, now wretched and misplaced<br />
A number of them trying to escape,<br />
but just inhabiting the empty space you left behind instead.<br />
<br />
___________________________________________________________Ryan Dittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16245707194140623610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4614677110685412253.post-72713813493745561912013-06-15T10:51:00.000-07:002013-06-15T10:51:45.629-07:00Sometimes I can feel the moon <br />
shining on me with its bright eye<br />
and pulling my thoughts tide-like towards it<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Z6ob5qebtq13Wc5mGwn4VOMnVVqwVZitbZQGTPkjrkTIoIVAPznFnkO9VYM3s2Pz15PDSNZjmh-PlLWJb2MsYXRhoJaZn6dr22dubbhkgFp1GG0VXZJoiP3_YdpfRC6P9u5uogonOy0/s1600/smallest-full-moon-year-2010-2_24922_600x450.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Z6ob5qebtq13Wc5mGwn4VOMnVVqwVZitbZQGTPkjrkTIoIVAPznFnkO9VYM3s2Pz15PDSNZjmh-PlLWJb2MsYXRhoJaZn6dr22dubbhkgFp1GG0VXZJoiP3_YdpfRC6P9u5uogonOy0/s1600/smallest-full-moon-year-2010-2_24922_600x450.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Z6ob5qebtq13Wc5mGwn4VOMnVVqwVZitbZQGTPkjrkTIoIVAPznFnkO9VYM3s2Pz15PDSNZjmh-PlLWJb2MsYXRhoJaZn6dr22dubbhkgFp1GG0VXZJoiP3_YdpfRC6P9u5uogonOy0/s400/smallest-full-moon-year-2010-2_24922_600x450.jpg" width="400" /></a><u><span style="color: #0066cc;"></span></u><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Z6ob5qebtq13Wc5mGwn4VOMnVVqwVZitbZQGTPkjrkTIoIVAPznFnkO9VYM3s2Pz15PDSNZjmh-PlLWJb2MsYXRhoJaZn6dr22dubbhkgFp1GG0VXZJoiP3_YdpfRC6P9u5uogonOy0/s1600/smallest-full-moon-year-2010-2_24922_600x450.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: black;">___________________________________________________________</span></a></div>
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Ryan Dittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16245707194140623610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4614677110685412253.post-82418671512132474382013-06-08T18:45:00.000-07:002014-05-15T12:35:23.646-07:00What is innocence? <br />
An able vicissitude<br />
Thrown and tossed about<br />
<br />
__________________________________________Ryan Dittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16245707194140623610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4614677110685412253.post-72727582883951083332013-05-20T18:19:00.002-07:002014-05-15T12:37:19.898-07:00Will (poem)Somehow, in all of the great vastness of the world, of space, of the universe: the millions of stars and galaxies, and time that stretches onward<br />
<br />
I am more immense.<br />
<br />
With my mind, the darkness and light are mine to embrace, reject or amplify.<br />
I am not a small part, one small sentence in Life's book.<br />
I hold the pen in my hand.<br />
I can write hundreds of books, fashioning each page with my own desires and feelings that shoot from my mind like comets and fashion the very fabric of what the universe is formed out of. <br />
<br />
Thoughts. <em>Will. </em><br />
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_______________________________________________________Ryan Dittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16245707194140623610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4614677110685412253.post-26799952766681961042013-04-15T00:01:00.000-07:002013-04-15T00:04:53.674-07:00poem<div style="text-align: center;">
Time is singing in my bones</div>
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And turning them to dust </div>
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Ryan Dittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16245707194140623610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4614677110685412253.post-34336456503979936322013-04-11T00:11:00.000-07:002013-04-11T00:11:38.892-07:00footprints (poem)I've had footprints in my dreams<div>
and on my mind. </div>
<div>
Phantom trails that slowly move from the top of my head </div>
<div>
down my jawline and down my chest and to my fingers. </div>
<div>
I can feel them. The marks of those who walk in and out of my head</div>
<div>
leaving trace like silent snow in a frozen world. </div>
<div>
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Ryan Dittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16245707194140623610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4614677110685412253.post-84506047691612485672013-02-24T21:59:00.001-08:002013-02-24T21:59:53.599-08:00Poem<br />
There are gold flecks in the pavement<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
and spray paint on my brain<br />
and all of it runs through my eyes like water through a drain.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Green leaves on trees and owl calls</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
backyards and cars and loud footfalls<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">the sounds of fate </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
a rusty gate</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
the train tracks to my left in wait</div>
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the echoes of the past </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
fly through the air like birds on wing<br />
and ghosts of those who wandered here<br />
are there in everything.<br />
the air is warm<br />
the nights are long<br />
but youth, it fades, and soon is gone.<br />
<br />
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Ryan Dittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16245707194140623610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4614677110685412253.post-27713667774987958422013-01-31T22:04:00.000-08:002013-01-31T22:04:12.374-08:00Weep No More (poem)<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">As the
droplets trickle down in paths like human veins, and rain falls, a gentle
cacophony against the glass<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">The flowers
have all closed their petals<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">And the sky
has gone quiet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">I cannot
hear the songs anymore<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">They used
to reach out to me like branches of trees<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">But now
silence has deadened their limbs and wilted their leaves.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">It is the
sound of faded colors <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">The earth
slowly weeping.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">_________________________________________________________</span></div>
Ryan Dittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16245707194140623610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4614677110685412253.post-61658548434933874082012-12-30T15:47:00.001-08:002012-12-30T15:48:05.418-08:00Poem<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSaNyMJrOb0fF7LGAMEb6G3qKAmo45spjJtKZOYMRKsMvpU4onjZ2R5vird4vbeErOI0DVGt4VNUw9OorgXYI40xnFaXBYJcCL9966OK9d42k9kgtYigl3qa4YSoLHia-RIDWFSJ7zUfw/s1600/field-of-stars1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSaNyMJrOb0fF7LGAMEb6G3qKAmo45spjJtKZOYMRKsMvpU4onjZ2R5vird4vbeErOI0DVGt4VNUw9OorgXYI40xnFaXBYJcCL9966OK9d42k9kgtYigl3qa4YSoLHia-RIDWFSJ7zUfw/s400/field-of-stars1.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />
Out in the field where the weeds rustle, and bend and shimmer in waves like golden honey.<br />
Only the stars can see us, those stars, encapsulated by their deep folds of space<br />
Their lights winking out one by one by one, until we're all that's left.<br />
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_____________________________________________________________________Ryan Dittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16245707194140623610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4614677110685412253.post-48607795795934047042012-11-29T23:55:00.001-08:002012-11-29T23:58:45.203-08:00Poem<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I
walked down my path through the trees; the sunlight streaming
down in golden rays, and illuminating each individual needle on the towering pines beside me, dazzling my eyes.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">This
spot in the forest was mine; there was no sign, no deed in my name, but it was
mine. I could sense it in the way that the trees recognized me and waved their
branches, could sense it in the whisper of the lazy wind as it made its way
through the leaves; the sun warming my back like a friendly smile, or the deep
reverberations of the earth, as it awakened with every step, welcoming me back. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
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___________________________________________________________________Ryan Dittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16245707194140623610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4614677110685412253.post-47219124620020314592012-11-29T23:29:00.002-08:002012-11-29T23:31:28.702-08:00Ocean<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9vueCR7iQaicE3bkepqHih79whkDGnBslZNAqip3XCQAEAAFJIwgMtmOuVqthtdsd2OTcOCsO2VD2Eq-OqwAbrMGzvZ8sCAnqUnw787j-m80XHWdjKr0pVndtsbsce3oHDDi00zSngJk/s1600/save-the-ocean-tips_13821_600x450.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9vueCR7iQaicE3bkepqHih79whkDGnBslZNAqip3XCQAEAAFJIwgMtmOuVqthtdsd2OTcOCsO2VD2Eq-OqwAbrMGzvZ8sCAnqUnw787j-m80XHWdjKr0pVndtsbsce3oHDDi00zSngJk/s400/save-the-ocean-tips_13821_600x450.jpg" width="400" /></a>Sometimes I'm like an ocean.<br />
<br />
I can feel waves and currents pulling the threads of my being into the deep.<br />
<br />
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_______________________________________________________________________Ryan Dittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16245707194140623610noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4614677110685412253.post-51319580624913906722012-10-23T01:29:00.001-07:002012-10-24T22:11:08.957-07:00Desiderata<span style="font-family: inherit;">This basically sums up my whole life. This is everything I believe in, and everything that I strive to be. It's the model by which I live. It's simple and perfect.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Desiderata is Latin for "desired things".</span><br />
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<b style="font-size: large;"><tt><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Desiderata</span></tt></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even the dull and ignorant; they too have their story.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter;</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Keep interested in your career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Exercise caution in your business affairs; for the world is full of trickery.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals;</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">and everywhere life is full of heroism.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Be yourself.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Especially, do not feign affection.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Neither be critical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars;</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">you have a right to be here.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be careful. Strive to be hap</span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">py.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">-Max Ehrmann</span></div>
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<br />Ryan Dittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16245707194140623610noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4614677110685412253.post-23319833470936796422012-10-17T19:28:00.002-07:002015-11-25T15:37:29.554-08:00Change (poem)I took a walk today, and I met someone along the way.<br />
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She was wearing a long white dress, no shoes, with a bright yellow flower in her hair.<br />
We walked awhile, wending our way leisurely down the path as the wind blew warm laughter through the leaves and the light danced with shadow, waltzing in circles around our feet.<br />
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We spoke no words.<br />
Everything we needed to say passed between us in heartbeats and the crunch of pebbles beneath our feet.<br />
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As we walked along, the trees began to change. The sunlight grew thin and the leaves began their dying dance toward the expectant earth.<br />
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I looked over at her, but she had changed too. She was now striking in a black dress, with lips painted deep crimson and a black hat that dipped down and covered her eyes.<br />
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The path became uneasy now. The air grew colder, the surroundings increasingly barren until all I could see were tree skeletons and the unspoken words my breath left like crystals on the frigid air.<br />
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I looked back again, but she was gone.<br />
Nothing left but her name, the word, left like a faint whisper of gold dust in the air.<br />
Change...<br />
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___________________________________________________________Ryan Dittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16245707194140623610noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4614677110685412253.post-75629513189552149892012-09-09T22:35:00.001-07:002012-09-09T22:36:40.515-07:00Fireworks (poem)<br />
The canvas of my mind is dark like the night sky.<br />
There are stars and planets that faintly dot the darkness with points of light<br />
Occasionally, the moon comes up, in a variance of one of its cycles, and casts a soft glow over everything.<br />
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But that's not what I want.<br />
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What I want are fireworks.<br />
<span style="background-color: white;">I want explosions of color to paint my sky, different and unique bursts of light and shapes cascading and spiraling and painting vibrant pictures that tell stories.</span><br />
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I don't want my life to be another night panged with anticipation. Another bland night where I watch the sky, just hoping for something to happen.<br />
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No. I'm ready to take action. And if I have to strike the match and light the fuse myself, I will.<br />
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Ryan Dittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16245707194140623610noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4614677110685412253.post-6121560721637013412012-05-22T15:42:00.002-07:002012-05-22T20:55:27.230-07:00PoemI don't know why i wrote this poem.<br />
Languishing in what's wrong, Outside of myself, lingering there.<br />
Vacant in my own skin, Every thought painted in red, gold and black<br />
You probably don't know why i wrote this either. Obvious, is how i feel, obtuse, sometimes.<br />
but i'm often wrong. Unless you can't hear the loud thoughts coming from my brain,<br />
this is for you.<br />
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________________________________________________________________Ryan Dittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16245707194140623610noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4614677110685412253.post-38340474057806174872012-05-06T23:09:00.000-07:002012-05-06T23:09:53.715-07:00Twinkling (poem)Eyes glazed, teeth frosted<br />
Frozen cold articulates form crystals on the tongue<br />
Do I dare?<br />
Whispers and thoughts spin in shapes around my head<br />
Divisions, revisions, decisions<br />
Do I dare?<br />
Left, right, up, down, side to side<br />
My thoughts are in a flurry as each grain of my sand slips through Time's hourglass<br />
Do I dare?<br />
My silhouette is the only shape visible against the horizon<br />
As the sky leans down and whispers,<br />
"Do you dare?"<br />
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I do.<br />
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I'm taken gently upward, and my thoughts are calmed<br />
Time has shelved my golden hourglass,<br />
And I am changed.<br />
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Further upward now, stretched north and south, then east and west.<br />
And in a twinkling, I'm twinkling.<br />
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_______________________________________________________________Ryan Dittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16245707194140623610noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4614677110685412253.post-63440460800568352952012-04-30T20:44:00.000-07:002012-04-30T20:53:49.059-07:00Invisible Numbers (poem)Can you count the wind?<br />
I can.<br />
I can count each separate breeze as it brushes through the leaves and trees.<br />
I can also count each ray of sun, the beams igniting one by one.<br />
A mote of dust, a grain of sand<br />
Each separate bit my eyes can land,<br />
and count.<br />
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But you.<br />
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I can't count you.<br />
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The hair you toss over your shoulder,<br />
The calculative stares from eyes that smolder<br />
The smiles that play around your lips,<br />
Your vocal cords that issue quips<br />
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It's all the things that i can't count<br />
The things that make you paramount<br />
in my eyes.<br />
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My eyes.<br />
My eyes that see, full of stars,<br />
my eyes, that see exactly what you are.<br />
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And yet I still can't count you.<br />
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<br />Ryan Dittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16245707194140623610noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4614677110685412253.post-41023225451449601192012-04-30T20:36:00.002-07:002012-04-30T20:53:38.788-07:00Butterflies (poem)Butterflies?<br />
<br />
More like killer bees.<br />
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My stomach feels the buzz of their wings when I'm with you, but once you're gone, the sting sets in.<br />
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You're like a drug, I see the world through different eyes, feel different things, but once the high has worn off, I want more, and I regret it.<br />
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___________________________________________________Ryan Dittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16245707194140623610noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4614677110685412253.post-8614705375929444752012-04-22T21:03:00.002-07:002012-04-22T21:04:11.876-07:00Short story<br />
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This is an excerpt from a short story that I'm writing that I'm stuck on. I thought maybe posting it here would maybe spark some ideas. </div>
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Jeff
climbed out on the windowsill, dangling his feet out over the edge. It was
raining, brushing gently across his face and getting caught in his eyelashes.
This was his favorite place to sit when it rained, because you could be right
in the middle of it, feeling like you were a part of it—without actually having
to get all wet. It was hard to describe rain, he thought, as he looked out
across the rooftops, seeing trees bend in the wind and small droplets of water
slanting down sideways. Because with rain you couldn’t really describe the
smell, or that feeling that it makes you feel, something close to satisfaction.
The way that the rain changed all of the colors of the world, making the greens
greener and the thick blanket of grey that covers the sky, makes it all that
much harder to take in; like your senses can’t absorb it, like no matter how
long you look at it you’ll never be able to remember exactly how the scene was,
everything blurring together into one vague memory, all of the pleasant things
extracted and compressed, until when, later, you try to recall the memory all
you get is a faint echo. Jeff sighed. The rain had turned to a light drizzle
now, now making him look like a very damp, very crazy person hanging out of a
window. “As if I actually care what anyone thinks,” he thought to himself as he
climbed back inside his room, and flopped backwards onto his bed. <o:p></o:p></div>
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There were a million and one things
running through his head, as he lay down on his bed. Each image blurred into the next until they
became one humming drone of bumblebees buzzing and bouncing drunkenly around
the inside of his skull. He closed his eyes but the images didn’t stop; he
could just see the nauseating colors in greater focus. He sat up suddenly, as
if awakening from a dream. Reality had slipped; but returned just as quickly,
transforming, leaving an impression and a recurrent headache.<br />
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<span style="text-indent: 0.5in;">___________________________________________________________</span></div>Ryan Dittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16245707194140623610noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4614677110685412253.post-31931494118098175862012-04-04T22:26:00.001-07:002012-04-04T22:30:57.988-07:00Laila MajnuRachel showed me this. I was skeptical at first, but it is amazing. Watch it. Even though it's in Hindi.<br />
I couldn't find a version with English subtitles, but if you have netflix, it's on there. Just search "Aaja Nachle" and skip until there's only 30 minutes remaining. And it has English subtitles.<br />
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