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The Journal of James Zealy

working on something
09/29/2014 01:38 a.m.
haunted whispers of loneliness
fraught with fear of isolation
winters of barren celebration
cast aside by tears of happiness

Two souls on uncertainties ledge
leap into moments of chance
Where trust is happenstance
Awaiting a committed Pledge

Family is an uncertain artifact
Both now and in the past
As they begin their quest
To make a lifelong pact

Blue flowered forget me nots
Laced by tears of rain
Weave their webbed domain
Pointing tendrils of thought

That convey silent phrases
Heard with a pointed finger
Woven with a laugh that lingers
Painting a stereo face

I am currently Fabulous
I am listening to mouse clicks

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working on something
04/22/2013 05:19 a.m.
Did I say I love you today?
Though my heart sings it loud
My mind stays on replay
These aching eyes filter crowds
Til you appear center stage

I restless searched with lack of purpose
Randomly finding a princess of peace
Who deciphered run on phrases of prose
From my attempts to appease
A black hole of despair

Her spirit filled the Abyss
Her passion inspired a revived muse
Her presence released a heart suppressed
Her lips kissed unbridled desire

Every day I question my soul
Did I say I missed you today?
Did I say I yearn your happy face?
Did I sat I feel your focused gaze?
Did I say I love you today?

I am currently Affectionate
I am listening to cnn

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started saving
12/26/2012 05:38 a.m.
it is Christmas day
saturated with images
of past christmas foray's
When paper carnage

Is the first of events
while Stockings hung
Await a laughing covenant
Of candy, fruit so soon

Apparitions of lights
Adorn each window
Bushes glisten brilliant white
We ascend her corridor

Of carpeted wooden ramp
Greeted by a raucaus laugh
That smiles as a mega watt lamp
As she ushers us into a caraf
Of warmth and a news alert

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ocean walk
08/22/2012 12:24 p.m.
Ocean sands and pale gray skies
Endorse steps of a couple
Finding beauty in soothing surf

Where rainy skies chase away
Any that can spoil the reverie
Of two that find adventure
In each others touch

Where ocean tides
And summer storms
Reflect rise and fall
Of conflict resolved

As this pair finds
Blessings in moments alone
Where only their love resides

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Collaboration Unfinished
09/26/2011 03:37 a.m.
Only The Gloating Silence Knows

Silent agony rattles the pains on memories’ window,
As she views them through the smoke-etched glass.
She loves the maraschino cherries topping her drink,
Savouring the sips that soften the pain in tasteful tickles.
One sliver of the sun’s glinting ray reflects
the hourglass sands of thoughts long past.
Machete voices echo choices like noises
Still bouncing inside her tombed head.
Despite the suntanned and rum-sweetened glow,
Pain shares her scarlet cheeked heat.
She breathes her dreams in sunnyscape
where the window is always open
and she can feel life’s breezes’ blowing.

His fatigued telescoped eyes gaze back
At events long past, through smudged glasses
Dripping with prespiration,

With hoe in hand
He digs and removes grass tentacles
That will later return for another go

For a moment he is thoughtless and at peace
As only the dirt is within view
Deafening white noise silence
Plays harpsichord notes in his mind
While his nut brown hands and arms
Make rhythmic motions

As if toiling for the treasures
would sprout the fertile words that lie
hidden in the mind’s harvests
begun in seedling songs.
She reaps his melodic notes
Blossoming upon a wind of words
Blown to silence the secrets of her sadness
As she lifts the sash on the sunnyscape sill.

A rustling sunlit wind of inspiration
Flows from her wind swept verbosity
Stimulating his lethargic mind
Melodic notes ring symphonic symetry
That interplay limitless spectral colors
Whispered surges of energy
Explode silently in his mind
Flows freely to his hands
That shake with anticipation
Of the words that cannot be restrained
I am listening to nada

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Random thaughts from the beach
08/13/2011 08:41 p.m.
rainbow ocean moon

magic wands shower rainbow colors
against an obsidian opaque sky
Cloud smoke swallows a misty moon
Playing a game with now you see it
To now you don't

Shimmering colors flicker against
Ivory sand crystals in kalideiscope views
Murky ocean waters with white stocking caps
Swim on an evening beach shore

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beginnings of poem
08/01/2011 04:35 a.m.
Where Pelicans glide in disciplined flight
Sands below their searching eyes
Sprinkled with multi colored shells sight
Walking toes curled in wavelets tied

To undertow currents that erode
Paths my feet have strode
Waves buffet breakwater stones
Splashing emerald spray pheromones

Walking in thought consumed
By conflicting emotions in tune
With eratic ocean scenes
Teased by waters blue green

I am currently Apathetic
I am listening to nada

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There is More To Him
03/07/2011 04:29 a.m.
On March 2, 2011, the day after Tom passed, I visited Nancy (his wife) in her home. There was a crowd of friends all in different parts of the house. As I drifted from room to room, it became apparent that everyone had their own snapshot of or panoramic view of the man who is Tom Wall. All these views are him but slices of him. None of us has a complete picture, but through each other the picture becomes more complete. When I saw this interaction, as is my habit, I put pen to paper so I could plant this thought firmly in my mind. It was then I believed that there is no such thing as Tom past. It's why my focus on writing "There is More to Him" is in the present tense. It is by design so the focus is on who he is to us, rather than who he was.

I cannot in my minds eye see Tom as gone, because he is not. What I observed by watching the people who know him, is that he left a piece of himself to all of us. Nancy his partner of 40 years, his children Mandy and Zack, his grandchildren Tom and Dorothy, his son in law Jeff, his daughter in law Sarah, Nancy's brother Lonnie and his wife Deb and daughters Connie, Sally, Barbara, their children Autumn, Rachel, Page his friends of which I am one, all had this distinction.

For His children, Zack and Mandy, Tom is their father first and foremost. He understands his children are his legacy. There is always a future in children no matter what calamities are put in their path. Mandy and Zack are a reflection of persistence and their father's faith.

For Nancy she knows every nuance that comes with living with someone for 40 years. Like any long standing relationship that ebbs and flows with the ocean tide, she knows the best of Tom and those nagging thorns that drive her to distraction as we all do with our significant others.

Jeff has found his own unique place, and like Tom has that same purely analytical train of thought. Sarah is Zack's counterpoint, the one he is motivated to care for, much like Tom is for Nancy.

Lonnie Deb and crew has empathy with Tom where charismatic caring and sometimes off color Nancy is concerned. The rest of his friends that know him well, Hubert and Jan and Margaret and Dan share a common passion for beach music and Friday nights shagging at Thirsty's.

So there you have it, and like I said in the last line of the poem:

"There is no end to him
Only a beginning
Of his gifts of himself
To all of us who know him"

Yes there is more to him; what was his physical form is never going to define him. That is what makes Tom unique and special to all of us, not his final resting place but the windows of himself that he opened to all of us. When all the chaos is done, I still see him in every action the rest of us take. There is more to him.
I am currently Reflective
I am listening to mouse click

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Roses on The Hill
11/18/2010 07:03 a.m.
I am currently Affectionate

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I am Your Wave You Are My Shore
11/04/2010 10:34 p.m.


I am currently Affectionate
I am listening to Mouse click

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