The Atlanta Writers' Club

A disclaimer, a poem, song lyrics, . . . how about a super short essay?

       Last monthly meeting of the Atlanta Writers' Club (AWC) featured one speaker (published) and then a panel of four published members.  The subject is always the same: how do we (the audience) go from being like us to being like them (the published authors).  The room packed audience was tuned to a high pitch of expectation, and the speakers and panelists were eager to share their breathless stories of labor, frustration and success.  The electric atmosphere in the room, for the first time, turned me off.

       I arrived as a member only 10 months ago, sensing that I had maybe gone to heaven.  This same charged atmosphere of both speakers and listeners elevated my spirit gloriously.  These hidden souls, my cloned aspirations, where had they been?  I concluded a subsequent poem, "All these years, all of these years, my words wasted on frigid ears."   Now I was home.

       I joined critique groups, went to seminars and workshops and monthly meetings.  Now, how lies it that ‘my’ joy lies slain?  It seems as if we  have a disease, and we seek the cure by congregating, together and with speakers who offer the cure, but the cure is the disease, and the speakers are carriers, and both they and we are contagious.

       We gather, wanting something so bad.  It's driving us crazy. It is irresistible, irrepressible, incurable.  I was terrified by these thoughts and feelings, but I am infected and I doubt that I will be able to stay away from the writers club sanitarium.

      

Can't Promise (song lyrics)

Can’t Promise (drafted 3-19-06)

I can’t promise I’ll be what you want me to be.

I can’t promise I’ll do what you want me to.

I can’t promise because I have promised so much

And to promises made, I have never been true.

I can’t promise I’ll be what you want me to be.         Chorus

I can’t promise I’ll do what you want me to

 I have used them all up, and although I want to

I can’t promise I’ll do what I say I will do

I can’t promise I’ll do what you want me to.

‘Cause I never do what I say I will do

To my own self I can’t even be true

But I hope some day love will shine through

I gaze at your beauty, a sight to behold

I know in your arms  that I’ll never grow old

My words and my acts your love can’t control

Instead all my lies turn your heart stone cold

I can’t promise you that I’ll always be here

Or even promise to always be near

I’ll walk and I’ll talk and I’ll try and I’ll cry

Then promise you this and it will be a lie.

I promise I will and then I don’t,

Keep a promise I made, likely I won’t,

You want me to say and you want me to do,

So I say what I say and you know what I do

  

I can’t promise to give you whatever you want.

All my broken promises come back to haunt,

And every time that you want to believe,

The trying and crying end up for nougtht.    

I can’t promise I’ll be what you want me to be.

I can’t promise I’ll do what you want me to.

I promised enough for this life and the next

I promise, I say, but then I do it to you.

My Lyin' Eyes (Poem or song)

My Lyin’ Eyes

By Bill Hines

I’ve never been any good at lyin’,

Even though I keep on tryin’,

My eyes won’t lie, even for a game,

Fear about lyin’ is a dreadful pain.

It’s just a game that we are playing,

But my face won’t remain the same,

Just a game of legalized lyin’,

I can only play the hand that’s mine.

I can only play the cards in my hand,

The other players understand,

I can’t resist the urge to fold,

I can only play the cards I hold.

Though the rules of the game are fair,

I can’t do it and I don’t care,

It’s not in me to be that bold,

I can only play the hand I hold.

Rather be me, I’d rather be free,

I’d rather bet on things I can see,

Rather hold on to the ones so dear,

And just pass on the thrill of fear.

A friend recommended that I use a blog for several short essay-type articles, some of which were not a good fit for our church Newsletter where they were being published one per month in a column named "Hinesight".

In agreement with her, I sought out a free, easy way to start.  Blogger is the first  found and was not too difficult to set up- so, here it is.

I'll probably post some poems, also; maybe some song lyrics, short stories, novel excerpts, (good) jokes, opinions, short original dramas; life events, who knows what else.

Where to start?  Maybe a theological disclaimer:

I am a Christian.  I do not believe in Bible inerrancy.  I believe that the historicity of the Bible is severely compromised and distorted by its authors, and unfrotunately, many of its interpreters, lay and professional.  I believe that Biblical literalists, Bible thumping fundamentalists are the biggest threat to Christianity today.  Their faith is weak in that they have to have magical, hocus pocus, out of touch with twenty-first-century-reality stories to bolster their belief in the living God and the living Christ.  Their insistence on the "inerrant 'Word of God'" and their dogmatic insistence that their way of believing is the only way, and their attempts to impose those views on the rest of humanity- destroys the real meaning of creation and salvation demonstrated metaphorically in the Bible.

My writing is usually benevolently irreverent, sometimes tongue-in-cheek benevolently irreverent.  This approach frequently gets me in trouble with readers who don't pick up the 'tongue-in-cheek benevolent' part.  But, that's the way I write.  I don't want to include literal explanations to keep those who are so inclined from going down the wrong track.  If they don't get it, then 'tough shitsky'! (The previous sentence is an example of benevolent irreverence.)

Some of my poetry is self exposing.  I think I will include two of them in the next blog entries. I will save the (sometimess facetious) heavy essays for later.

32
Used to be a waist size
Now, it's an anniversary