One Crowd

Over the last few weeks, I’ve been working on a startup. A magazine that is 100% crowd sourced. This is a labor of love, where the hours put in are after my work days of 8-6. I realize there is a lot of inherit risk with this attempt, yet this is where my heart is. I believe all writers and artists must follow their passions, sink or swim. If you would like to join in via feedback or submissions, please see below. Here’s what’s posted on the Facebook page dedicated to the magazine:

The core belief at One Crowd Magazine coincides with the basic human act of sharing. OC is the first ever, 100% crowd sourced magazine. In addition to being 100% reader submitted, OC will be a stand alone publication. There will be no digital content. OC’s dedication is to those who prefer print over digital and would like to have say in final proof.

Our goal is to give readers the opportunity to share their works, ideas, art, thoughts and opinions in a real and tangible way. No longer will you need to share a link on an illuminated screen hoping someone actually clicks the link. Here is your chance, to see your artwork in bold beautiful colors, a chance to see your writing in crisp black and white. When you want to share your published content with friends and family, you can physically give them your work and see their first response and reaction. OC believes that people still have emotional connections with printed material, that there is something special about picking up a copy of a magazine or book.

Our goal within the composition of the magazine, is to keep dedicated sections so that those who are photographers, writers, poets, painters etc will always be able to showcase their work. In hopes of sharing with others, there is one area that we would like to dedicate to suicide prevention and awareness. Through our initial start up, we hope to team up with a select organization to keep the stories of survivors alive. We want stories that touch lives, art that inspires and concepts that are new, to be present in our magazine.

This is where we need your help. We need your stories, poems, articles, writing or any art that you may want to submit. One Crowd will let each artist keep all the rights to their works and creations. We ask that every work submitted has a short paragraph explaining the piece to the readers. If you have a piece of self created art you would like to see in print, please submit to: joshuawright@onecrowd.co

Soon we will be making more announcements about partnering organizations, how to advertise and going green via recycling options.

Ferns Street Infirmary

This window set within the trees
My view above the crowded world
Of lonely streets and simple stares
I’ve set my chair near the glass
Where I observe the lives that seem so fitting

A bird in a cage I am trapped
My body betrays me fragile and sick
These bones break under pressure
A diagnosis that never comes
Unravelling from within my anger builds

I am trapped within these walls
A permanent structure I’ve become
A test subject for new procedures
Of trial and error in mans modern ways
Treatments that bare false hope

This empty life that’s been created for me
Every night a mystery to what dawn will bring
Stolen from me the chance of normal
The days are few when nothing I can feel

I will watch you pass me by
Day and night unmoved from this chair
I will long for the day when I may be free

Early Morning Poems

Sometimes, I write a random poem in the morning. I leave these in an “unpolished”, unedited, rough draft. I feel that writing them and leaving them in this stage shows more of what I am feeling in that moment. Here’s two, enjoy!

One step Forward
Growth and fear
A wayward son
Moments and thoughts
Contemplation of a better day
Go and do
Act upon your passions

To take and give
Regret and sorrow
Looking back with heavy hearts
Joy and peace
Love and silence
Making right what came undone

THANK YOU!

This is to everyone who reads my work, likes it, comments and believes in me. To the few fans I already have at this point, THANK YOU! It means so much to have feedback and know that there are those who enjoy what I do! Each and everyone of you keeps me going and keeps this dream alive.

Stretch Your Legs to Walk Hand in Hand

And I thought it odd to meet this way
Obscure as it is where love begins to grow
A withered heart becomes a home
To spring forth love and trust anew
When opening up to share ones life
And define romance in ways of our own
I dare not say much at all

So careful for what we do next
Afraid to move beyond what once existed alone
Midnight walks and mourning talks
Now we can’t help make this up
Sentiment of what two create

My heart comes undone in your hands
I see the change that you have brought
For better is the man that stands together
Not to separate within our age
Where hope enters at center stage
Discovering a new life of kindred hands
I’ll let down my guard to let us reflect

*This particular piece is about when my wife and I met and where I was at in life. She met me at a very difficult and crucial point in my life. She helped change a lot for me and for that, I am forever grateful.

Over Huron

Dawn broke
A cold winter breeze whistled through the pines
My toes numb to the snow that soaked my shoes
The long climb leaving me winded
I take aim at the bottom of a steep hill

A gaze to the NorthWest
Falling snow wisps against my face
The air is crisp and still
I breathe in deep to let the cold fill my lungs

The setting sun
Of Pink and orange hues against the
Drifting snow covered fields
So quietly the world sings
To the only one atop this perch

I make a path thru the drifts
To pace amongst the bitter winter
This frozen world of icey trees
A glistening white wash to
Preserve the earth

Though my hands are blue
And my arms they shake
All this beauty over Huron
And the river that runs through
Will keep me here and draw me back
For my favorite place in all this land
Is covered in snow

Fairview and Halifax

When at once we part
All color will fade to black and white
For I would lay my head to rest
If only there I’d dream of you
In our sorrow here remain still

Motionless into the void
The seas of saddened song
The nights of fearful thought
An empty dwelling throughout

So sorrow and courage
To brave new worlds
In changing seasons
Without a trace that you were here
When at once we part

New Romance

She remains still, softly lit in the light of day. The morning birds to sing her song. Her face aglow with a hush kept quietly on her lips. My eyes are fixed upon her there. A glimpse of desire. My cheeks begin to turn red. There is a pause in the air as I wait for her gaze to meet mine. In this one moment I know her well. Her touch so soft, her voice so sweet. A place where all my secrets are exposed, the same in which they are kept safe. Her arms outstretch to a warm embrace. In the middle of this room we meet and become one to share in love what the world may not be let to know.

Here I stray, my mind slips and fades into the most quiet of places. We pine and discover. I trace the lines that first caught my eye. Her beauty overtakes me. This place where soul and body meet. In her I find comfort, joy, peace, tranquility and solace. I keep her close for she is safe within my arms. Her head so gentle upon my chest, her eyes so bright. I find rest in the simplest of romance. So transparent are we upon this day. A new life, a new love. We have begun to take on the best the worst and to hold on through the depths, for here is where life begins.

Shattered Glass

I spent the night in darkness. Alone to sit in silence. I painted, though my eyes were blind. I sang though no one could hear. I wrote though there was no light. I began in struggle to find my voice, my vision, my thoughts. Through a blurry moment I found you there. A quick glimpse of perfection. Lost in the shadows I frantically searched for your hand. When all seemed lost and you were gone, I wrote your name in pen. I sang for you, I painted you. In being consumed by you, you became my enemy. With countless acts of a selfish heart, I sought you. With fear in my fists, I fought for you. You, became reason. The paper on which I paint, the ink with which I write, the notes that build a chord. In this darkened silence you fade. You leave me with nothing. You take what little I have to give. You leave me in peace. I beg of you with writhing hands, hang these paintings and frame these words. I’ll sing you a simple song.