Free for an Unlimited Time

By Scott Vanya

There is something inside me which predates me.
There is something outside me which will end after I do.
Yet Here, in the Middle, the Eternal Inside You and the Eternal Inside I can meet
hold hands and rejoice in that.
Peace and Love Outlasting.
Glad we are in this time and space together.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Scott Vanya
• Release date: Jul 12, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311174956

Scott Vanya

I've been writing for a very long time, what seems like my whole life, taking it seriously from the time I was about 11. Now, at 46, I think I may be starting to get the hang of it: Say what you feel, as passionately as you can, but always with an ear turned to those who are listening.Most of my more serious work is done at live performances, which i do totally extemporaneously, channeling the mood of the room as my fingers play on the guitar. You can see some of that if you go to "my" website. (Open Mics Austin is a platform I created to showcase the Spoken Word scene here in Austin, TX. Only a small role in which i play.)As far as I can tell what makes good writing is LOVE. Love ,plainly simply, and with no strings attached.I put these words/books before you, not so much because I want something back from it, because I think and feel like I feel my bones and my soul, if you were to see the world, experience it like it do, for even a brief moment, you would walk away from that happier, more alive, compassionate and in tune with all those around you.Peace, good will, and harmony. Let those be your guiding light.Agape forever,Scott VanyaPublication Credits:Stepping Stones Magazine, The Main Street Rag, www.carcinogenicpoetry.com, Texas Art Initiative, Phoenix New Life Poetry, Walt’s Corner, Manna, Perigee, Chicago Literary Review, Mobius, Cosmic Trend, Pitchfork, Romantics Quarterly, Artisan, Pegasus, The Neovictorian, Red Owl, The Story Teller, The Blind Man's Rainbow, Atlantic Pacific Press

Book preview

You came from where, now?

Do you mean the sea,

  of womb and heart

  and blood?

Or is it the current of air,

  trees, and shrub

  you are responding to?

Me?

Oh, no clue.

Figure the car brought me

  or the desire to share

    love, affection,

  tenderness and the things

  I care about

  with others.

And The Great Tree?

Did it spring up

  inside of

  you?

Blossoming flowers on everything

  and out of

  every part of you?

Or The Great Stream

  of Time

  pulling dirt

  away from

  the roots

  and the ground

  where you stand?

Came?

From?

Mood?

Run?

Running?

Away from the "Sum

  of All Things"

  or

Two others

  or even four

  or five

  or six

  of them.

Destination?

Perhaps

  we should speak

  on that.

Home?

Grave?

Sunrise/set or

  Moon the same.

And when it

  is all said and done

  or if we are

    lucky

  before

  even

  then:

The Journey

The Reality/Important One/

(You know the one I mean)

Is not one of

  running

  to nor fore

But in front.

(Tho simple it may seem

  in this half-light)

Of sitting.

Sitting.

Just sitting.

Sharing

  (or better said)

  Dreaming

With Friends and Loved Ones.

---

-Peace, try that instead.

---

Previous:Next

Kicking my addiction to flagellation cold turkey

Don't think anything has been harder than this:

  Kicking my addiction to flagellation cold turkey.

Have beaten myself up

  about so many things for so long.

Perhaps, you show similar symptoms:

  Feeling really badly

    when

    there is really

    no reason to;

  Getting down in a funk,

    when everyone around

    has nothing

    but praise for you;

  Knowing full well,

    the mug/cup/glass

    really is overflowing,

    though on your lips

    it feels like you are

    sucking in

    the last few drops.

Wanna pull my hair out,

  wanna run and holler,

  wanna find an end

    that means more than

    than just bothering

  to do something else.

Kicking my addiction to flagellation cold turkey!

Kicked smoking once,

  chewing on beef-jerky until

  my gums bled.

Similar circumstances perhaps,

  this,

  teething on the poem

  or butt of a smoke.

Yet, I know, for I have kicked other things:

  football,

  drinking,

  drugs.

And the light,

  you know the one I mean,

  the pure and wholesome one,

  that