And if this place be real, or Nothings Worth.
Friday, May 31, 2013
Sonnet of Love Lost: Love Found
As I layeth here in the solitude of my own room
There comes a heaviness over my Body and Soul
A grief so great, I fear, as my Heart doth threaten to break
Even so, Love rends apart my Spirit and Soul.
Thou Lov'st elsewhere, and therefore, Fly'st from Me.
One Year Ago, My Love Began, and now, is this the end?
I tell Thee that though, All my friends prayed me a boon.
Thou shoulds't not have the thing that Thou dos't hope
When the end comes, recall how it began,
for a woman's, weaker than a Man.
He needs Me, Calls Me, Loves Me: LET ME GO!!
Now My Heart is heavy for Him that I have sent away
And, If Thou can, then keep thyself from me.
I feel the dagger in my side, Oh hate me not my heart,
it IS burning me, God is my witness, that I will not yield.
And Now at once give Joy to all my grief.
Let My soul fly and my Mind be set Free.
Oh how fickle a Woman, Thou must think of me
Yet Look in the Mirror, Tell Me what You See!
I might command my case:
Except what proves that I Belong to Me.
Because My Heart, with inmost Love doth Sigh,
An Important Meeting of the Mind.
I Bare and Share All that I Am
Learn then that I shall give of my Heart Purely
Tomorrow early in the morn, I Shall know, What Thou Art
And if this place be real, or Nothings Worth.
And if this place be real, or Nothings Worth.
I Shall dwell in my condition through Love.
Be justified and set in order, because My Heart is the Friend that Warmeth
When My soul Stands with all acts reviewed, then may I Plead:
As Though from He, Thee came.
No real comparison is truly made, for one is not like the other.
I Hear in every space, New Verses finding Voice:
From every branch around and above,
The birds contend in song.
My Heart will pant and yearn, a THING is in my mind.
To feel my joy again, that which I Almost put away
I liken to a room of mirrors, Looking, Seeing, Peering,
To what was in front, to the side and behind
Now I see within my Mind, I can Smile Again.
Oh how Wondrous is the warmth of the Sun
Upon My Face, for so long, I had none.
My Heart is Burning Me, I seem So Brave and Gay.
Remember the Sweet Rhymes Our Lips Make on this Day.
I felt a Spirit of Kinship begin to stir,
Within My Mind, Longtime unfed till now.
And saw Love coming towards me, Fair and Fain,
(That I knew him in his joyful face!)
Saying: "Be Now Indeed My Worshipper!
And in His speech, he laugh'd and laugh'd again.
Then While it was His Pleasure to Remain
I changed at the look, and way he had drawn Near
And even now as my memory speaketh this,
Love spake it then: This second Love, He is So Like ME!
OH Earth to show me a miracle for sure
Give Me something to Believe in
Merely the site of Him, Made my Head Bow
I thought to be forever separate
Alas! My Soul within my Heart doth find,
A strange ecstasy that rains upon my Mind,
That I Say: Sir, I Am Wholly Thine.
by Anonynmous. (I don't have her permission to post her name)
Wednesday, May 29, 2013
As I go elsewhere, seeking more, doing what I do.
by Mark William Darus.
Amber: You are with me, always. Every step I go, down every dark pathway, to areas disgusting and beautiful at the same time. You are most high with me.
Fleicia: You and I are learning about one another. This aspect in my life my higher power said I must do. What ever occurs between you and I and what we will learn from one another will either happen or not in its own time. If you are my mirror, you'll either understand this or you won't. Your call. I don't hold 'love' the way 96% of our population have twisted it. With me, Loyalty holds the most. It is not that I hold you less than others in my life, but time and its tests are the descriptions of what we are made of.
I am being pulled. Yanked sideways as my blog grows. As my brainchild goes on and on. Once again, my words are making a difference to some. These are the crying children of a god most share, they are in pain that I think i can make a positive change grow in their lives.
In the last 90 minutes I had a chat with an abused woman in another country. Her and I will try to Skype each other as talking is way easier than typing. She said my words helped her, my blog is making a difference in her life.
I still cannot believe anything I could share might make this happen for anyone. Yet is has nonetheless, and I sift through emails getting larger all the time as I read through them daily.
In all honesty I am not sure what I can give of myself to any one person can ever be normal in nature. I am called by my god: Hurt no one unless you think they may grow from it. >and my god, spiritual father, helped me kill my emotions for me to be this way, for the benefit of others that would enter my life. A disciple in the modern age. < Yeah, some might say it: "sucks to be Mark." I don't think that way. I was made different for a reason. I was leveled out for a reason, at that point in my life and time, and understand myself to begin something and continue it.
I am not a psychologist or psychiatrist.
But my god has given me a place of peace and serenity and the grit to do what I believe I can do best. Fear nothing nor no one as I try to find just what makes us human/ hooman. And most importantly: Help others without emotion clouding things and fucking them up. And to do this FREELY! Give my time and thoughts to them without judgement or demeaning actions.
Amber knows this about me, Felicia. She's known me for over a decade. You don't, though. I'd like to face myself in your eyes. You and I can learn a great deal about ourselves by knowing one another. That choice is yours alone.
I am ever changing anymore. I see things differently, photograph them and write about shit as I do.
My writing is Black and White while my photography is colourful/hopeful. Yeah, welcome to my world. lol
Amber, meet Felicia. Felicia, Meet Amber.
I cannot say where my life will take me. Frankly, I don't really want to know. I do as I am told.
I am Mark William Darus, son of Marion and Theodore. I can only be myself and I am grateful I have found this place.
You can be in my world or not.
That choice is always yours alone.
Mark William Darus: 05292013
Saturday, May 25, 2013
Like I'm Floating Through Life.
by Sonia J.
I thought to myself I’ve never written before
something is driving me to Write….
what should I Write about
should I just make up a story that would draw people to read
maybe I could strike it rich
should I Write what I feel
what I desire
my thoughts about life
as I see it now…
or how I feel so different than anyone else
sort of like I don’t belong
like I’m floating through life
should I write how its suppose to be written
written with rules and regulations
as society expects you too
.. Or should I just write
express to the world
as I see the truth with no hesitation?
After all I’m not a writer...
does it really matter if people read my story?
Or if I have a best seller
or is it more important to me
and helpful for me
to just Write
not hold anything back
because just maybe
there are others who feel as I do …
everything happens for a reason
but can’t explain or understand why
even now the reason I’m writing is the reason why your reading this,
the reason why I’m who I am and you are who you are….
Life leaves you with many unexplained questions
sometimes you don’t ask as to not be different
or weird sometimes
you have answers without a question being asked
I guess that can be weird ….
I feel what I feel because I am alive
filled with life…
I write what I write merely to express what I see with my eyes and soul
my hopes that maybe someone could maybe reflect on my thoughts
explain the theory to me
maybe as I express myself I’m explaining it to you ..
you see there’s really no secret
I believe everything every day
that occur good or bad
have a reason
an outcome …
we determine that out come
through our actions and reactions
how we handle the obstacles
transpire in our lives
it’s not our job to question why
yet it is our job to learn how to manage
situations so that we can get the outcome
t we require for a better tomorrow
our actions determine our outcome in our lives.
Sent to me 05182013
Authors Note: Sonia: thank you once again for sharing your mind with us. I think you have much to give as you write and express things that your mind catches hold of.
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
A few blocks down: Held Hostage for Ten Years.
A Photo-op with my impressions.
by Mark William Darus
Last Thursday/Friday, law enforcement officials opened up Seymore between West 25th Street and Scranton Avenue. I had Friday off, which is to say I didn't have to report in at 4pm. I took these photographs about 8 AM or so. I was mildly out-there when I decided to grab my camera and take a stroll. I was also highly influenced by a womans writing that a facebook friend of mine posted on her wall. That entry here, titled Three Missing Girls in Ohio, published 05172013.
As I left my house, craving coffee, having enough cigs, I looked around a bit. I've lived in this house my entire life with the exception of the ten years I was married. I think the only things that change around here are the death toll, faces of the addicts and various levels of mental illness.
Don't get me wrong though: Flowers do bloom here, the sweet smell of black-locust tree blossoms are amazing and some people can still smile.
I believe that, for me, I experienced and enjoyed the most perfect of marriages since July 2012. The mating of photography and my thoughts. My weapon is my camera, its bullets are my minds turning thoughts into words. If you're with me, great. If not, go elsewhere and do so in Peace.
As I've said before: Let's take a walk, you and I.........
First shot when leaving my place. Looking south on Scranton.
Down the road.
Flower behind galvanized steel. Beauty shining through.
Another of her splendid flowers.
Church on the corners of Scranton and Meyers, heading toward Seymore. Decades ago, I was a pin-spotter at the bowling alley this church had in it's basement. Oddly, I remember no one from the years I spent there. I guess that is part of my Dead-Zone memory.
Cleveland Emergency Medical Service (EMS). Not an uncommon sight around here. Cleveland Metro General Hospital is just a block a away from me and hearing their sirens 24/7 is as common as drinking a carbonated beverage and belching soon afterword. At least at that hour of the morning, around 8AM, chances were their arrival was not from a gunshot wound.
Another view of this church with uncommonly clear blue skies. A gift given to me, perhaps, for being awake when I would normally be sleeping.
Survival: Life will find a way. I cannot imagine the pressure this plant had to endure to find its place in the sun as it broke through rock and stone.
Doors fully stretched and waiting like the gentle arms of a friend. To take one in and comfort them.
Looking down the road toward Seymore.
The second Church on the Seymore Stroll.
Once a part of Cleveland Central Catholic, I did the ninth and tenth grades their. I wasn't and am still not Catholic. Formerly connected with the soon-coming third church on this tour.
I just liked this one for some reason.
Statue on the former school. I seriously need to do a photo-op on these alone. I've walked by this thousands of times. Does this look like a child begging forgiveness to you?
Stoned: Long before weed became illegal. The craftsmanship to create such: AMAZING!
St. Michaels Church: Church three as we walk a few blocks.
Church four. Corner of Scranton and Clark Ave, diagnolly from church 3. I used to take my children here for their Good News Group on Weds nights. While they did that, I attened bible study. The pastors name was Joe. He liked me, though most of the people in bible study disliked me for my opposing views from theirs over my interpretations of the scripture. Paston Joe liked me. He said I gave the group another, and valid, point of view.
Corner of Scranton and Seymore.
Church Five: This on the Scranton and Seymore corner. I didn't know they had services in German. I'd like to attend that and think I shall.
Remnants of Police: DO NOT CROSS tape tied to rusted utility pole cable. Note the bullet impacts on the stop sign to the right of the photo. I didn't catch those when I captured this.
Like aiding a gunshot wound with a bandaid, my city was very quick at painting fresh white road lines and protecting them with cones. Well, go figure, this event hit world media attention.
Boarded dwelling on Seymore.
A first glance down Seymore. Six city blocks from where I still live and grow each day.
You bet there is!
Tall cold steel fence in place, not so much to prevent escape as much as to prevent those like me from gaining entrance. Sorry, and I'm sure doesn't describe me well, but I want to go in there if for no other reason: To let my mind do what it does. Gather impressions as my hands travel across surfaces, my camera's eye and my mind to see things differently in a search for truths unseen.
Another view of a house I might call: Loud Screams from Silent America. The reference to America simply coming from the Eagle on the front of the house.
Seymore: looking East toward Scranton.
Lone tree standing proud, Seymore and West 25th Steet. I was taken by this single tree that somehow escaped many a lawn mower over the years and was able to reach out and live. Such things can happen in such a dismal area as mine. One of my neighbors and close friend had a son that graduated the Cleveland Public School systen, went to college and flourished to gain a job in his field of study. This child is doing very well. Perhaps this child should be an inspiration, a human flower or weed if you will, and beat the odds against all costs and make the presumed imposible a reality.
The photo tells you where this was taken.
Established 2000! Really?!?! I guess I need to pay more attention to my surroundings, though I've only been remarried with a lens view since mid July 2012. I promise I will watch and capture this.
Many have been wasted within 5 blocks of my home, and sadly I have lost count over the decades, this capture was a first for me. I was actually stopped in my tracks at its blunt title. It's always nice to see something as coldy asking questions as I attempt.
If you know anything about this: Call 216-252-7463. I did not know this person or any of the others that get dead around here with the exception of a long ago friend named Doug Litvak.
Doug and I were about 12-13 when he was cut in half by a shotgun blast at a range of about 4 feet over some asshole 18 yr old males thoughts that Doug wanted his 14 yr old girlfriend. Yeah, I've been a kin to violence my whole life, I guess you say. Looking back, though I was at his funeral with my mom, I didn't cry even then. He was a close friend of mine. Granted, he was way more extroverted and sexual active than I was then. A wild child by most accounts versus me being extremely shy until I was 15-16. At this funeral my mother and I found out that what Doug thought was his sister was really his mother and that all considered his mother was really his grand mother.
Before you make the (in the NOW judgements,) consider this was the 1970's when this occured, okay? Life was different then. Abortion: TAboo, Interacial marriage, forbidden and Homosexuality unspoken. It was a different life people walked. I'm not saying it was right or correct but it was merely a placing of history.
Fuck, this poster hit me in a way unexpected! It made me think of Doug and the things we'd done together. He and I put together a gasoline powered tethered minicar and ran in Metro Hospitals parking lot. We spent hours making it go faster and faster until the tether broke and the car smashed into the side of a black Cadilac. Like all kids that age, we ran like hell after gathering our things. He and I made our first candlebomb out of parfin wax and regular household chemicals and shared smiles as it detonated, feeling the concussion on our growing bodies.
It never occured to he or I to use the bombs against others as we grew and did other things far more diabolical. The same can be said about the many friends I briefly had while growing up. Never once did it occur to us to get even with anyone. We merely wanted to see if what we made would work and that was enough for us.
I will see you again, Doug. And by the way: You are the only Doug I have ever known. Tell me that isn't for a reason.
Zubal Antique Books: Offering to the Hood. I found this good and just.
West 25th and Kinkel. I don't know who Kinkel was, but that's okay. We're heading toward my grandfathers home and it's ghosts that are telling me to leave. Perhaps it's time I grew. Made another life for myself that I can call my own.
Fluffy puffs and striking glory. Is a blossoming weed less beautiful than that of a rose?
Yeah, don't enter here! You could die as a drug deal goes bad, some hooker gets screwed <forgive the pun> or hit by an idiot driving while texting on a cell. In all honesty, this is but a Oneway street sign my mind ran with other meanings.
The Sheriffs Dept is never far away in a NO Stopping/Parking Zone as eager informants often swarm on them with Intel just a block away from...
I actually have a recent history with this place while I was unemployed after Progressive Insurance fired me for Dishonesty in August of 2012. Seriously needing cash, I ventured here and wrote about it on this blog. I refered to this place being like that of a human-cattle milking ground. Plasma flowing for cash from human arm like milk from a dairy cow, Replacing tit suction with Plasmapheresis machines. All I can say about his can simply be put this way: MOOOOOO!
Going south on West 25th. I cannot say I have ever seen Tesca open. I can't say I'm surprised though. There is much money being laundered around here with small businesses that when they fail, simply re-tag and get reborn.
I bet it was good when it was open.
Look just right of center and see the white single story building to the right of the grey house. This building has house so many, what we refer to as :Illegal Chop Shops over the decades. I'm not sure what it is now, but chances are, if there isn't something vehicle theft related, it soon will be. This street, Meyer looking from West 25th, is going back toward my home.
This building has housed so many companies over the decades I have spirited here. Perhaps I should do a history of it?
Water Tower of the previous buildings photo.
Now a bait and tackle shop facing west 25th, it has been a pizza shop, a couple of hair stylist places and many a bar. My best
memory of this place was getting drunk there with friends at the age of 15-16 and pissing off some biker much stronger, older and wiser than myself. I ignorantly planted my ass on his stool though i did not recognize his beer and smokes in front of this as meaning anything of importance. I'd had a few beers when he stated his place here. Yeah, I'm a teen then, stuborn and defiant. I am ignorant to how things worked in the real world.
He wanted his seat back and told me to move. I gave him a cocky glance and he asked to just get off the seat. He said 'please', so I did.
At that point he ripped the barstool from its homey place with Earth and raised it above his head.
As I saw him raise the stool above and aimed at my head, he said: I could kill you right here and now, kid. I could do this and walk away and no one would have seen anything.
Though I was freaked, I didn't back down.
"Do you understand what I am saying to you, Punk?" I saw his eyes, magnificent and looming.
"yes', I told him. My eyes never left his. I didn't feel fear even then, maybe I should have.
Meanwhile, my friends were shitting their pants as they watched this. I felt a few of their hands trying to pull me back, yet I stood fast against the biker and his barstool.
"Okay, Kid. What are you drinking?" He put the stool down and motioned me to another set of stools. Though i was drinking beers, totally wasted, I had a liking for Scotch and told him Scotch and soda, top shelf.
He and I got trashed together, long after my friends left. He thought it unusual that I wasn't afraid to die. He shared with me his life, wives and time after Vietnam. Horror stories for sure, and I wish him well if he is still alive. If he is dead: Go tall and proud as you killed others as America directed you to do so via orders. Know this though, my time-of-life friend: I owe you many a round, okay?
Walking up Meyers to my alley.
An alley next to Stinks. If Buildings could speak about thier lives, I have a good idea of what this place could say.
This field my friends and I played football here. The green of grass was not here when we did this as it was gravel then. Yet we played tackle football and hurt each other as best we could when on oposing teams. Yes, we smashed each others bare limbs and caused gravel to mate with flesh and looked at it as fun. We didn't hold grudges or wished payback. What I believe we did was learn a grander sense of knowing 'what could happen if we..??? and so forth. '
Guardrail fence going to my home. Know this: Wandering down this alley could kill you, scare you, make you an addict, a whore, some idiot that thinks having a degree makes you immune. I warn you on this: I believe most of you do not have what it takes.
The top roof is the sheltering of my physical head. Bringing it home for me.
There have been so many killed, destroyed and wasted in the tiny area around me, as close as a house away. Yet I feel nothing as I write and photograph and send it out there.
I believe there is a higher-power for me that guides me. I am sent Angels of inspiration that guide me to do as I do. This confuses so many close to me that I have trouble describing this to them.
In conclusion: I dedicate this entry to Sonia J. It was her innocent view that made these photos and this entry possible.
Mark William Darus. 0522013