Posted in Blog, deep thoughts, late night, Poem, Poems, Short stories, Writing

At 12am 

Wide open universe that captures all my soulful thoughts and wants. I don’t want to be famous I want to be known. I want to give away my hopes and chase my dreams. I need to know that success is more than what others see and less of a self serving disillusioned rat race to make money.
I want to survive in a world that I barely believe in. But I don’t know how to do that and maintain myself. How to reach a place of sustaining. How to make a career in working for myself instead of making money in a career working for someone else?
I don’t know; I wish I knew. I wish I knew….

I wish I knew how to grow mentality as well as spiritually. How to reach for the stars and sit amongst the clouds. Floating freely above it all. Weightless and spinning in and out of the sky with the birds in the heavens. Where I don’t have to think or worry or guess what’s next. Where I can know all the answers to all the questions that cloud my mind at 12 in the morning.

By C L Cunningham

Posted in Artist, late night, Music, Short stories, Uncategorized, Writing

Not just music on my mind

With my headphones on I listening closely to the beat of the music and my mind starts to wonder. Like musical notes on a page I imagine the words as a picture. With details and colorful accents. With faces that are showing joy and sadness.
I hear the pain in this song, I hear the anger in this song, and I even think I can hear the hope of what could have been in this song. But what I don’t hear in this song is you. 

Is that the persona I hear on top of the down beat that’s blasting through my ears? Is that the frustration of what didn’t happen the way you wanted it to happen on that particular day? Is that the wasted chance you had the chance to take that you didn’t take? Because if it is then I can hear that. I can hear the front that you put up for the world to see. I can hear the alias that you have made for yourself to draw in a fan club of people who don’t really want to know you. But they enjoy the ideal of what you represent. That I can hear, I can hear what you want me to hear, those words that made you express that anger and that sadness. But I don’t hear you. 

Not the love you gave, not guilt you feel for the role you played, not the feeling you got when your happiness was at an all time high. I defiantly don’t hear the love. That obvious love that you must of had that brought to that pain that you obviously feel. I’m not a fan of your music. I’ve never listened to more than the today’s hits of your chart toppers before today. I haven’t followed your career or wished for a picture to show my friends of the persona you play for the world to see. Before today I had no ideal of all you have accomplished in the years of you playing this role that you play for the world to see. 

Before today I didn’t want to know you, to hear you, to see you. 

By C L Cunningham

Posted in deep thoughts, late night, Poem, Poems, Short stories, Uncategorized, Writing

Dear grandpa,

I cry for you. Even though I don’t let the tears flow, they are there. Inside my head, ripping apart my heart, and causing the air in my lungs to stop me from breathing. I called you one day. I knew you wouldn’t pick because you aren’t here. But the act of dialing gave me comfort. 
It’s game day today. I would have been excited to update you on the score and hear you say “yeah yeah gal” when I rub it in that your team was losing. You’d laugh at me and I’d smile. I lost that smile. 
I don’t know what to do without you. Everyday seems like a dream. I’m still with him, sorry that I’m not stronger paw paw. I know I deserve better, really I do know that. But you never told me how to leave when he begs me to stay. How to know when he’s telling the truth or feeding me lies. I wish you could tell me now; I’d pay attention now, I just wasn’t ready to listen then.
I miss you. My soul screams at the time that passes by without you. One whole year.. wasted. 

Nobody loves me like you did. Unconditional with no judgement. Even when I went crazy in the head you picked me up and took me with you. Didn’t say much on that 3hr drive just smiled and nodded your head to the beat of the music playing. I thank you for that. For being my saving grace on the way back to reality. For never putting me down for becoming a teen mom unlike all the other grandkids. I was your rebel and you loved me and now your gone.  

By C L Cunningham 

Posted in late night, Poems, Short stories, Uncategorized, Writing

The sound of the rain….

As I sat on the hood of the car I could hear the thunder start. I took another puff and said to myself “how much fun would it be to be a kid dancing in the rain”. 

I blew my smoke out and walked inside. But as I sat on the edge of my seat I kept thinking about the rain. Finally after a nagging feeling I decided to give it a go. I’m going to go outside and dance in the rain.  So I go into the living room and check to see if the alarm was set and figure out if I’m going to go out the front or the back. If I pick the front the neighbors might see me and it’s cluttered in the back so I might not go there. 

After realizing that I was just stalling I picked the backyard. I opened the sliding doors and stepped outside. I could hear the thunder storm getting bigger and the rain dripping down. So I tipped toed from under the porch and felt sum droplets touch my skin. Cold and tingling it fell onto my fingers. I giggled a little starting to feel that childish glow on my face. Feeling brave I walked further into the yard and started to spin around. It felt like being on a merry -go -round. My smile got bigger and then I started to giggle and laugh. I threw my hands in the air and spung even faster and yelled at the universe. 

Then I stopped and just let the rain pour down on me like the tears I wish I would cry but won’t from fear of being weak. I let it wash over me like peace on a Sunday morning. And then I walked back into the doors, and shut them quietly and turned off the lights. I reset the alarm and walked into my room where he slept. I went unnoticed and unbothered but so free for about 5mins.

By C L Cunningham