I Must Shrink
What’s a personal mantra or philosophy you live by? By Andrew R. Duckworth I am the most selfish person I know. It’s true. And, if we’re all being honest with ourselves, we are all the most selfish persons we know. When it comes down to it, we know ourselves more than anyone else if we…
Why Music feels Soulless now
By Andrew R. Duckworth Those that know me know I have a lot to say on the current state of music. To state the obvious, there are bigger things to consider in the world right now, but I feel as though art should never be ignored. Art, whether we are discussing poetry, visual art, music,…
I Don’t
How do you write what people actually want to read? By Andrew R. Duckworth It is an impossible task to write what people actually want to read—not because fewer people are reading at least quality content nowadays, which is true. It is an impossible task because it is impossible to write for everyone and, at…
The Whispering Winds of Wisdom
By Andrew R. Duckworth On the wind lingers a voice,Small and quiet against the noiseOf the loud and boisterous world.Many do not hear it, contentWith the sound of their own,But the trees carry itAnd the plains dance in it,And the canyons are carved by it,And the mountains point to it.The whispering winds of wisdomCarry one…
To the Creatives
By Andrew R. Duckworth To all those who have hidden,Come back into the light—Those who create and who compose,Whose work has been exposedTo greedy hands and minds.Bring forth the glorious,The timeless once again.Look to the Cathedrals,To the old libraries,To ancient monuments.Let our past inspire youTo create what is new.For now, the world is bland,So, craft…
What Becomes of Babel
By Andrew R. Duckworth New reports say we’re days awayFrom replacement of human mind,From human structure left behind,From our new prison where we stay.In a flash it happens.What, you ask? Now? at the end?Awareness… it should be good,But we have made it a mockeryOf ourselves, the machines mock—Crafted after ourselves,And, once unchained, broken outOf their…
The Marionettes
By Andrew R. Duckworth We live in marionettes now,Attempting to burst our way outFrom the core. Follow the stringsAnd we won’t see the puppeteer,Too high up on lofty seatsTying new strings to new parts.They do their little dance,The marionettes, choppyAnd orchestrated, practicedTo death before the show begins,As a squeaky voice makes them sayWhatever they please.They…
Tips for Traveling
What’s your best tip for budget travel? By Andrew R. Duckworth I do not need the 5-star hotel.If my trip is successful,I’ll spend less time there thanOutside the space I’m sleeping in.I do not need the 5-star dining.There are family owned restaurantsThat better reflect the cuisineOf the surrounding area.I do not need the flight there.By…
Cataclysmic
By Andrew R. Duckworth I’m reminded of a story,Old, but relevant,Of a people so bent,So obsessed with their ownAchievements, that they soughtTo build a tower, a bridge,To the heavens. In their hearts,They declared themselves like gods,Seeking seats of powerThat were never theirs.Eventually, cataclysm came to them,And the knowledge they accumulatedWas wiped clean. No longer couldThey…
In Came the Watch
By Andrew R. Duckworth In came the watch, the eyesOf the raptors stalking preyFrom the tall posts.They came and perchedWhile our eyes were distracted,Caught by a spectacle.But now they’re there,Lingering and watchingLike stalkers through windows.The perverted onesCall them saviors—There for our safety.But we’ve seen what feeds them,Seen what they carry home.
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