yes, this goes out to the one I love… how much simpler can I get.. how much can implore you not to be me… my regret is, I am a romantic moron, a purist… an absolutist… I hate myself for it but how do you break the chains of your own construct? fuck me… I am 50 and still harbor utterly stupid insecurities… guilty… I wish there was a guide for this, I would think there should be by now… why has it taken me so long to not give a shit about … well, anything, especially since my life is closer to death than it is life… and perhaps kids… it is the type of thing that can drive you nuts about life… just venting I guess, who cares what I post, probably no one, but if it resonates with anyone… I am cool with that, that was always the point of this space, me being me, today, well, tonight I am just lost, not in a bad way, like suicide… which I have considered so many times over the years in theory only… but I never came close to action, I understand it… in some ways… like we all die, so why wait… or total pain, but maybe I am afraid of that as well… or both circumstances… I don’t know, in 1000 years my words will be lost and nothing anyway, but I say hold on to life as long as you can… because we have nothing else to hold onto and nothing else we can know or have known… damn it is a lot to contemplate… and I do… and it bothers me… I am alone. and I dont mind it, but I regress to the time I was with her… even now, but I am so wired different, I used to think there was something wrong with me… no. I am me… we are all wired different and that is why we need these spaces and talk to each other… nothing has changed in the digital age… be with people and talk to people, that connection can never be replaced… now you have more people to communicate with… do it with love in your heart.
clarity
seek not the righteous path
for there is no map
your inner compass
will
point the way
so- listen
your feet will follow
sometimes it best, to sit near a window, observe the snow, listen to the quiet as flakes fall, with a warm cup of joe… and just be… let things come to you in the calm.
lost, love, letters…
might I send out an army-
to rescue you.
if I only had the resource-
beyond just my love,. my love.-
a net
to catch you
on the fall
a web knitted
from the silk of my soul
but I have no control-
over you
the day after
that scent-
of a quasi burnt
everything bagel
is quite-
intoxicating
I am not sure
of the pure-
definition
of the
sensation
perhaps
just the bits
of garlic
or are they onion?
back to work-
the morning
after
a holiday
Thanksgiving Thoughts…
Thanksgiving was interesting…
My mother hosted Thanksgiving for years upon years when I was a kid, a literal houseful of people (usually around 30 or so) and she did almost all the cooking (some people brought sides but the mains, nah, all my mom), which somehow made my dad (RIP) pissed off that other family never did these holiday things (oy, family politics that you find out about later, even though all the signs were there when you were a kid – and how those little tremors reverb through life, and you find out later – and were like “duh”… so obvious but not to you). I was so used to the huge ‘all family’ (well, half family, it was my mom’s side almost always). Thanksgiving. It was very much the old school thing, the dudes (men) would all wind up in the den watching the 4pm NFL game barely staying awake and having all the man talk about football and sports and football and… more football)…. the women in the other room, talking about, well, I have no idea, I was in the dude room but there was always coffee. The little ones, like energy bombs, impacting both rooms with joy, happiness, chaos, those little immediate flare ups (“such and such hit me!!!” etc.).
Things have varied through the years since… since many things, people move away, people move to well – you know, that place, family politics push and pull…
This year, my cousin had a bunch of us over again (even with some burdens in her life – her husband has a debilitating disease), which was really great, I brought my Mom who is now on the eldest end of the life conveyor belt… I often think of life like that (a conveyor belt)… and it is strange for me to be nearer to the end of that belt than toward the beginning – but – better that than the alternative – some people never get to this point.
But I guess this is like the Thanksgiving day parade we all go through.
I did sit back today and just watch a ton (I felt a bit detached at times)… seeing my younger cousins who I used to love watch running around being total rugrats… so now, to see them, with their kids… little mobile units that need bumpers and buffers, running trucks under tables and people’s feet with no cares, others, a little younger, bringing the current boyfriend, who was a good dude, who seemed smart enough to know he was being measured up (even if mildly, can’t be an easy spot – but what those kids don’t realize, if they are good enough to make those we love happy – we usually like ’em), seeing the generation just ahead of me, that used to seem so much older, they seem so much closer to myself somehow, in age these days, decades- seem to shrink as you get older…
I used to love the gorging… the eating.. the food (I am not a sides guy, give me 5 lbs of turkey – white meat!!)… still do, not today, I ate, but not much, enough, but just being there eclipsed the meal portion, watching all this “life” in the ‘wild’ of domestic bliss… regardless of anything going on in the backgrounds of our lives… this coming together survives and teaches… these type of rare days are like a crucible of what can be…
last call.
the sound of the 10pm piano calls-
not quite midnight my dear
not quite tomorrow my sweet
so, have another drink
no rush to dawn
no hush to sleep
forget all your ills
for at least one more song
lost. love. letters.
I wonder aloud-
if this moon is ours, alone.
this night-
just for you ;us, (you correct me with your eyes, as you are known to do)
looking on, with a shared looking glass of love,
a concave canopy bends our perception (above)
ah- sweet fools
or old souls, now grown old
just a beam
of that light
is this ours alone? tonight
and only ours-
my love
I love you.
youth.
the insolence of youth-
perhaps Icarus should not have flown in June
if only perhaps a hemisphere
might lessen the fall
for us all,
even from the depths
of Orpheus’ song
another young fool
who flew too soon
but I only know this
of my distance from youth.
lost. love. letters.
her name-
for ramparts fold
no matter
time or mortar
an open portal
guilt, I can hold
regret, I can hold
but absence
has no answer
no comfort
no quarter
I suppose
until that end.
I pray she is at that door
for one more, conversation.
it is love that holds it all together people… so much else melts away when you embrace that… the trick is staying in the room, and I have surely not mastered that, even after all these years… but the goal is a good one to go for…
moonlight serenade…
as I know- (although this seems magical)
moonlight comes from the sun
hiding in the night
foreshadowed in your eyes
I could gaze there forever
and in that embraced moment
find sudden eternity
if only for a time,
my love.
the things we know, the things we assume… we all know so little even advanced in years and drenched with experiences, we are all but babes in the sun of one of an untold amount of stars.