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Fluorescently Lit Ambitions

“A Poem Adventure”
By: Scott Hidenea
Illustrations By: Robert Ammons
Sampled from the complete work “Fluorescently Lit Ambitions”
20 poems and illustrations derived from reoccurring life experiences innate to this modern world.
A combination of both direct and indirect inspirations blended with fluorescently lit motivations.

Published: July 2017
Hidenea Publishing LLC

Free E-Book ISBN: 978-1-947700-00-0
E-Book DX ISBN: 978-1-947700-01-7
Print ISBN:    978-1-947700-02-4

Download the High Resolution Version at:

All Poems © Scott Hidenea – Hidenea Publishing LLC. All rights reserved.
Cover art and Illustrations © Robert Ammons. All rights reserved.

Special Thanks to all those:
Who support and encourage the continuation of the arts.
It is You that make projects such as this one both possible and enjoyable.

Table of Contents

Hungry to Be

Hungry to Be

Hungry to be, My senses delighted,
Ingesting canned soup with karma ignited.
Easing back slow, I’ve become accustomed to trance.
Lost once again in a mental romance.

Twisted with colors, vivid and spry,
thoughts of true passion will take to the sky.
Overwriting life’s real and what it’s come to be.
Steel tempered wonderment, surrounded by tree.

This is where strives often subtly slumber,
beneath oceans of anguish and personal blunder.
Amidst playful escapes does one’s truth survive.
A hint at the real through a daydream sublime.

I’m hungry to be, My personal ideal.
I long to align what I think and feel.
Identification is key to thriving successfully,
for to live without knowing will always get the best of me.

Dynamic Flexibility

Dynamic Flexibility
Tis’ quite a show, come feel the flow,
it moves on and on, forever as you know.
An innate desire with immediate impression,
No amount of explanation can cease the second guessing.

How many times till one learns the lesson?
Probably infinity, cause there is no said lesson.
The truths are held dear, but life holds no truth.
Dynamic Flexibility is the virtue of hope.

Tactfully move with the play of the game,
free-form like liquid, they can never take away.
It’s actions like these that dictate progression,
sidestep the slowdowns of structured lessons.

Take action then hold, a personal zeal,
then differentiate between a good and great meal.
Take lead and stand, by personal demand,
All of the difference can stem from your hands.

Paced with a Snail

Paced with a Snail
Paced with a Snail, no rush is present.
Fantasized passing despite the pennant.
Momentum won’t stop, forever driving on,
King of this land, King of this pond.

Masters of art forms are long held components.
Though you might drive it, you won't likely own it.
Held into place by a welcomed acceptance,
plunged under water like a half bag of bricks.

A rise with the phoenix, becoming impossible.
Doused by the waves and a situation hostile.
Misguided rebellion, refusing oneself,
damaged your body, corroded your wealth.

Still it’s the message that’s ever presently clear.
Live fast not long, have fun while you’re here.
You know what feels good in the heat of the moment,
pray memories hold value, poor health will disown it.

Toxic Sea

Toxic Sea
Living like a school of fish in a toxic sea,
people try to pick the locks despite having the key.
Social confirmation, the core of constant pressure
mental reinforcement, getting better and better.

Following my school of fish, I’ve been led astray.
Into predator filled waters of high toxicity.
Watching brothers and sisters become sickened from such
together, we break free, and swim towards the sun.

In hopes that the rays can alter the make-up,
realign atoms and set stage for a wake up.
Coming to light brings welcome to the day,
while the rest stay swirled in human decay.

“Living with a school of fish in a toxic sea.
I have no wish to pick the lock, I threw away the key.
Never will I hold concern for what my actions yield.
I trust in some, it’s usually fun, so to me it’s no big deal.”

Cocktail of Stimulants

Cocktail of Stimulants
Social king of the globe has never felt so jaded.
Has the world by the balls still so much is hated.
Been given opportunities: crash, burned, and faded.
A never ending strive to again feel elated

A Constant Infusion this cocktail of stimulants .
Leaves human minds in perpetual bewilderment.
Judgment numbed and memory shorted.
A daisy chain of minds lining up to be thwarted.

Manage to keep conscious? It’s pure strength of will.
No worries when a credit card is covering the bill.
One drink too far has got you losing the thrill?
Bring it back again with a small white life pill.

Keeping on time, and staying persistent.
Aspects of life will always keep with it.
Endlessly haunting in each living moment.
Bought all out with debt, so you'll never own it.

A Constant Infusion this cocktail of stimulants.
Leaves human minds in perpetual bewilderment.
Judgment numbed and memory shorted.
A daisy chain of minds lining up to be thwarted.

Landlocked Poseidon

Landlocked Poseidon
Lost on a phone call, forever one sided,
contemplating time lost and loves unrequited.
Focus is kept on a land locked Poseidon,
wanting to stop the worlds from dividing.

Wanting to stop the plates from colliding,
despite the new land the process is creating.
When a back-track becomes the first choice,
you’ve grounded the metaphorical whale of this force.

Lords of oceans hold little power on land.
Asked to climb mountains by a land dwellers demand.
Dared to take attempt on an unsuitable mission
and stray from thy element, towards one more stricken.

Poseidon should always remain in the ocean.
Favorable environments long stand such commotions.
Stay true to one’s being, and keep righteous to one’s self
to ensure you’re the god of your plan, not anyone else.

Blown Out Instance

Blown Out Instance
Above the blown out instances and negative displays.
Between the comments of ill intent, lies a true decay.
Though flesh and bone continue, they keep regenerating.
The unseen mind in enemy lines does no resuscitating.

Raging on through rain and god, momentum cannot cease.
Velocity locked, the truth will drop in oceans infinitely deep.
Evolution will still progress, but the result may not survive.
The procreation of flawed advice does none but plague the mind.

Left alone with only a phone, my soon to be best friend.
Held in place, with proper face, I bleed from rough offence.
Laid to try or laid to die, my opinions circumvent.
Still in time, my minds sublime but trapped in wonderment.

Deep below the waves of time, its slumber never breached.
Here I try with unseen eyes, out stretched arms don’t reach.
Expansive knowledge closely kept, the human global mind.
Despite all these physical struggles, one's immortal souls just fine.

What it Means to Fly

What it Means to Fly

Concentrated efforts compressed into a syrup.
Drizzled over life's intent, because it's forever near us.
There's Hunger when alongside such vivid passions.
Holding onto these modern times, relinquishing old fashion.

The flickering of tired bulbs say more than I could hope.
A chance to stand, get near a door, I long to just elope.
Candid actions fuel this life, one perhaps insoluble.
An aim to strive, actions to thrive, I seek to be more audible.

Combinations reconvene, they set themselves aside.
Burdens peak and often leak, what you feel can't be described.
Fires only wish to rage when given proper fuel.
With good intent they circumvent, then overload the mule.

Internal struggles intersect all of human action.
With a rise to power comes crushing flowers, it’s by no accident.
Never ending stairs to Heaven crest imaginations worldwide.
Convolutedly guessing and avoiding such confessions, for some it means to fly.

Mediate My Discourse

Mediate My Discourse
Mediate my discourse, apply it to some other.
Met up in the middle, mutual neglect for each other.
Down into trenches, the war machine foots this bill,
lost in all directions, both sides hungry for a kill.

Subdivide my intentions, spread them over oceans.
Released into the trade winds, I am no longer orphan.
Home to a state of being that stands firmly in my mind.
Left up high, with damaged eyes I struggle to be kind.

Maintained warmth despite request, why is it you care?
Left at home, still in bed, this separated pair.
Though I try to reconvene and break the space between.
Fate entails, the speed of snails is often how it leans.

Might I try and instigate what one may say is futile?
Parched from dust and shining suns, still without approval.
Time elapsed, without naps, my decision of delirium,
come to find, what was mine is all I ever needed.

Masters of Art Forms

Masters of Art Forms
Masters of art forms, kept hidden from light.
As gray somber thoughts form one's unknown plight.
Materialist endeavors strike out at life strives.
The casualties of such means someone may die.
That bottled up voice and pent up aggression
melt through all ice and pierce through confessions.
Mitigated intentions, where others fail to achieve.
Left sitting in dirt, surrounded by trees.
Those who feel deep, often deeply affected.
Overwhelmed, dragged under by societies ill mentions.
Trapped in a box, held under water,
The tightening pressures does not cause dishonor.
Yet there is a glimmer some off in the distance,
fore walking with death spurs a desired resistance.
Freedom from chains met through harsh realizations
You hold so much more power than a brisk termination.

Diamond Formation

Diamond Formation
Pseudo-ambitions help nod people’s heads.
To make others feel confident in what was just said.
No true premonition of what might ensue,
just freeing up space to let you be you.

When one's out of line the whole world comes before them.
In breaking out years, that same world will adore them.
It’s never too late, find time to dig down
Deep in the mantle, beyond all earthly sounds.

Therein lies a point to often neglected,
buried long ago before people inspected.
Held like a treasure in molten gooey liquid,
a capsule of diamonds will forever be gifted.

The aspects of might, to all we do hold.
For one to dig deep, embark on what’s bold.
Seeking a piece once thought forever lost
Means pressing on forward despite any cost.

Rigid Transitions

Rigid Transitions
Rigid transitions kept further in time.
Pulled under waters of exceptional slime.
Stacked on with burdens from a life incomplete.
Living in a bucket over watched by elite.

Starving for air with a clean molecular makeup.
Using this lack of excuse, I don’t want to wake up.
For slumber soothes all, outside of current events.
When a home doesn’t heat and a cars full of dents.

Yet this mind is on fire, it’s in need of a vent.
Serenading a novel in a snow covered tent.
Building ambitions on a cold, red, dead planet.
Just to say we did it, then allow God to damn it.

We feel this ground shake but won’t inspect foundations.
With backs to the ocean this trust's been misplaced in.
Counting down days until the expected takes place,
when all is washed out so the Earth can save face.

Blind To All Things

Blind To All Things
Eyes fixated on a glare, I’m blind to all things.
Warmth radiating like fire, the intensity sings.
Take hold of this instance, never let it slip.
This world endlessly rotates, it’s an inevitable round trip.

Back once again, this cycles is eternal.
Consistently adapting, as my pool is vernal.
Present moment time, it’s all that persists.
Release all of the past, the future doesn’t exist.

With each waking breath and each step I take,
each bit of understandings fuels this intake.
Concepts wrought into the shape of a knife
Though it strikes deep, so precious is life.

Ancestral Action

Ancestral Action
Bleakness derived from ancestral actions.
Left in a studio, withered dry, eating aspirins.
Maybe one day the headache will cease,
though it’s unlikely given the manner it speaks.

Here revving this engine, devoid of all oil.
Friction makes heat, within heat, it toils.
Captured as a work slave, the conditions neglected,
squeezing blood from these bones while suppressing eclection

Please prove your worth in a measurable degree,
and Take pride in that action as it's open to see.
Eyes shocked in awe from these veritable motions
Despite lifted hand I cannot part this ocean.

Chained with the dogs, my masters unkind.
Threatened with livelihood, I must make this drive.
When ambitions faded perhaps it’s time to re-think,
you can drown me in water but you can’t make me drink.

All Aspects Complete

All Aspects Complete
Quickness persists, ensures all aspects complete.
Left under the gun and laid below feet.
Here with the worms is where I feel comfort,
above in the world, my desires fall short.

The mountains been moved yet it must be put back,
reduced to mere dust so there’s no chance of that.
Commands all persist regardless of facts,
Just get it done - a directive that lacks.

Though I wish to stand, I've only a place to sit.
Wrists tired and worn, I love to deal with it,
Strict pace and form, look good while it’s done.
Never comprehend the true nature of one.

Kingpins still fall, it’s in their design.
Top heavy misfit who wasted through prime.
Living in rage from a truth never told,
try to save it rich before you’re too old

Hostage in a Pail

Hostage in a Pail
I'm coming back whacked as a matter of fact,
I'll put my word in a book, then preach it as fact.
Keeping on track, in the spirit of a train,
Steam locomotive through a life of distain.

Coming back bold! Like a salt covered snail.
Surpassing, amassing, but still hostage in a pail.
Morphing these endorphins, while laid beside an ocean.
May the tenacity of lake placid be a notion for my devotion.

Sometimes a mind's body is upheld as a menace,
there's pressure to amend and to see a hygienist.
But with a slime body, these trails ever happening,
Eating ground debris left in the sun napping.

All while armed rockets threaten to claim top picks.
Astronomical Units can hardly shed profits.
Just as a snail cannot be without shell,
The rhetoric sucks, and the message is Hell.

Past Consumed Thought

Past Consumed Thought
Self-thought out implications take form.
A wild revelation quite slowly unfolds.
The might of another rising up from before,
Digging out what could be an ocean sized hole.

One off transgression intersects dotted lines,
strengthens sudden fears of apocalyptic grime.
Truth comes to tell, articulations go on hold.
May I digress with an action marked bold?

Similar traits will spawn similar actions,
often a hope to return to old fashion.
Lost in the ways of a previous person,
Relived in new days with a similar curse on.

Oh human minds love to crave past,
Glorified good times tend to do just that.
Those met in difference now see new light,
Cause your current state sucks, but not as much as last night.

Voluntary Release

Voluntary Release
This picked interaction is forcefully put forth,
The desires that drive it have the strength of a horse.
Though morals restrict what should and should not be,
the one called free will assures no interference from thee.

The buildup of such, leaves lasting impressions,
with aftermath intent one's true fires is guessing.
Negativity spawns off the back of a good time,
when a lost apparatus is all you can find.

Shout outs to those caught in such a tangle,
to be freed from a mandible requires correct angles.
It's not what you do, or in which way you do it
but the people involved and how one lives through it.

High magnitude action can leave everlasting scars.
Just as voluntary inactions will haunt a sky like stars.
There is no sure way to reach the best case,
So be true to oneself and let Karma take place.

Office Suicide

Office Suicide
Time, lost in working relations
where the efforts of many are taken for granted.
Lives, time and concerns all forgotten.
The physical bodies seen sitting are rotting

I pray to the tube-lights, please let them keep shining.
That brilliant light that drowns out all whining.
A bold cup of coffee will speed up one's mind,
Helping pass countless seconds of time.

A Computer, one's window, to stare at a screen.
Comprehend the implications of what it is to be.
Minds will wander yet eyes may not,
at least not within sight of everyone's boss.

This loss that I see traded for financial gain,
it is a wonder we don’t hear more vocalized pains.
For to give up such time to merely survive,
is an and of itself a form of suicide.

Message from Scott H.

Thank You for spending some time with “Fluorescently Lit Ambitions”. Our moments are limited on this planet, so it is with great appreciation that we thank you for investing some of those moments with us.
Putting together “Fluorescently Lit Ambitions” has been in the works for several years. A majority of that time spent gathering real life experience, while the remaining of that time spent scrawling feelings and impressions sporadically down on whatever media was readily available. It has always been my intention to try and encapsulate the rawest aspects of impressionable moments but devoid of my own bias’s. I wanted to remove myself from the instances that inspired these words and leave only the essence of such emotions intact. The result of which is what you have read above, a collection of poems that aim to strike deep and promote self-thought. Part way through, I began feeling that poems alone were not going to be enough to achieve this. The real challenge would be finding someone who could naturally illustrate the abstract themes present in each. Meeting Robert Ammons by chance and seeing his abilities in action is what solidified the fact that “Fluorescently Lit Ambitions” would have illustrations. Mr. Ammons’s unique style and ability to derive abstract illustrations from abstract wording has been critical to this project and in my opinion has bridged gaps of thought that would otherwise have be difficult (if not impossible) to achieve with only words. His dedication and the ferocity of which he was able to produce each illustration is of admiration to me and one of the driving forces that brought “Fluorescently Lit Ambitions” to finalization.
I hope you have not only enjoyed this work, but have also taken something positive away from it. If you have any comments, feedback, questions or the like, I encourage you to reach out via the methods below and voice them. We look forward to hearing back and producing a spiritual successor to this piece.

“Fluorescently Lit Ambitions”

Please consider purchasing “Fluorescently Lit Ambitions” for 21 additional poems with illustrations and additional poems without. Your patronage is greatly appreciated and will help us continue to create unique content for your reading pleasure.

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Once again, I thank you.
-Scott H.


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