Summer Rain.

Summer Rain.

shallow focus photography of water droplets
Photo by fotografierende on

I would ask… no, I would require that you load this video prior to reading… it will put you in the exact moment I was done writing, I was huddled outside my house in the rain, trying to find a place to not get soaked but more importantly not soaking my journal, my papers… while I wrote… how often can you be this close to the creation?

summer rain” 8.22.2018

I do not know if I can quite explain

the smell of summer rain

but it is something I have always known

different from driving storms

different from drifting snow,

almost like a lake

green and musty

full of earth and soil

dark gray skies

yet full of hope

I look up through the trees

following trunks as guides

the leaves shake like a web of shadows

but joined with no intrigue

no ill intent

just in between portals to the light

and the falling wet

drops, louder now,

you know the sound

instinct telling you to run

but… why?

this is just summer rain

bathing the landscape


from the scorching summer sun

this is not some violent tempest

a roaring electrical fire

of crashes crackles and pops

this is a loving womb

enveloping and rebirthing life once more

at least for a time

at least for a respite

this is the scent of a sigh

from up within the ground

all the animals are quiet now


listening to the sound

of this, summer rain,

how the breeze infuses, and passes through

carrying on, passing on, the sound

just minutes spent, time has moved on

the scent remains

barely still

the summer rain.

notes… I went out tonight with my folks and my brother to Old Man Rafferty’s in New Brunswick NJ (amazing place), oddly, I remember when the place opened (during my tenure at Rutgers), it makes me feel old but at the same time complete, New Brunswick was certainly no peach when I went there, Johnson and Johnson made the town into what it is now (a mecca really), my parents, in their failing health, it hurts to watch them walk around, they want to not be old and just be people, but that is not reality, life catches up with us all, we all don’t want to think about it, who does, but it is there, I wonder about my future, it is so easy to assume you will be well.

nothing profound, just me.

nothing profound, just me.

backlit birds bright cloud
Photo by Pixabay on

to be, without” 4/24/18

what will be

when I walk into that last breath

that last beat

of my heart

as my eyes dim to the ever dark

will you be there

to save me

and reclaim me yours,

will I know your warmth

your calm

your gentle touch

as I pass into eternity

with your love.

pen writing notes studying
Photo by Tookapic on

Sometimes I am just me, thinking about my failures, trying to be a better person, not some avatar for hopes and dreams, we all are peaks and valleys… even when we wish to be mountains observing it all… I want to be a mountain, but maybe that is why mountains are in a range, there is more, than just… one.


black record vinyl
Photo by Miguel Á. Padriñán on

musical thoughts… I was listening to the blues for most of the day, specifically BB King, I can not tell you why, just was in the mood, maybe the rain on my roof… not sure, I didn’t pick up one of my own guitars, I was letting others speak to me, so far…

BB King, You Know I Love You

and I hope she does, that’s all.

Inspiration is baffling.

Inspiration is baffling.


So I was off today and I ventured down to my usual haunt, what I like to do in my free time (as little of it as there is when you work 6 days a week solid), Big Brook Park NJ to literally dig for fossils in a stream (well… a brook, but what’s the difference really), we have had some constant rain this season, not unheralded or unprecedented.. just pain-in-the-ass-ed, meaning it has been a good month since I was able to get out into my little nature spot and sow my wild oats (recharge the old battery by getting away from the everyday grind of work/life), it was not a particularly nice day but the rain held and I was able to be out among the wild, I even spotted a great blue heron (huge bird!) but did not manage to capture a photo of same (my bad), but man.. the wingspan of that thing is impressive, however it was quite skittish (and not photogenic apparently or it just didn’t like me, must not be a fan of this blog…), so you would think being in the middle of nature would trigger some inspiration ?  nah… something popped in my head on the ride home, so as usual I was in the dim confines of a GSP rest area creating lines… ah, inspiration, you have a sense of humor second to none…

spun” 8.20.2018

nefarious tongues weave insidious lies

naive babes on their backs


on a bed of knives


a cocoon of your death

the red hourglass

dangles, over your head

all in this late hour

your life is spent

petty change

not even a coin

for a river ride

you have been dealt

your fate.

Just wrote this now… speaking of inspiration…


I am 45

so, I am 45

but I am really not

I spent 9 months in my mother’s womb

a mother I do not know

I have spoken in the past how I am adopted, I can not explain how these words came to me, they just did, I have never cared about my birth mother, ever, I still don’t but these words came just the same…

If you won the lottery…

If you won the lottery…

where would you go ?  But let me limit the thoughts…  it has to be someplace you have been…

white globe on a desk
Photo by Kaboompics .com on

So my point…there is a ton of places I would LOVE to go to like New Zealand (hence my poems as such) and clearly tons of European destinations … and then there is my own hemisphere … sheesh… too many to name ! So… that is why I limited this exercise to places I (or you) have been.

I would go to Islamorada in Florida… it is part of the Florida Keys, this trail of islands that kind of trails off the end of Florida, it is a magical place for me.  I have driven the length of them many times along the one highway (which is such an amazing drive). Islamorada is more me than Key West… because it is sort of like a normal town (as normal as you get in the tropics/the keys).  The tourism is not the total driving thrust of the collection of islands (which is what Islamorada is) but more or less something that happens as people come on through (mostly to Key West).  I remember so fondly that the island seemed to shut down at/near sundown and people flocked to see the sunset  (and a margarita) @ Papa Joe’s (not open last time I was there, apparently it was demolished)…  it was.. something out of a book, no wonder Hemingway loved this place, I would tend to agree with him… imagine a place where you work and then everything stops.  So you could meet at the local tiki bar, on the water, up on stilts, peering out into Florida bay, watching the sun slowly fade into the clear water, sipping a cool drink in a humid heat, with a cool breeze off the water washing you over, the hot sun, sort of surrendering to the day, still burning and fierce but sinking, revealing all the colors of sunlight you do not see during the day… draining all stress from your bones, the tide, seeing the waves just rolling past the mangroves, washing over you like that last daylight.

yeah, I would go to Islamorada and maybe never return.

check out this youtube channel, pretty much what I would do down there



fish aquarium thailand royalty free
Photo by Public Domain Pictures on

lion” 5/21/18

I am a lion of the sea

slicing through reeds of water

with gallant speed

hunting without respite

upon the deepest blue

flick of tail

gnash of teeth

prey beneath

last moment upon them

they can not fathom


I am a lion of the sea

I’m on the prowl

searching the lengths and depths

of the aqua savanna

abstract black and white blur book
Photo by Pixabay on

notes… why a lion on this day?  Simply, it is the end of the sign, the cusp onto the next one, why would I care? because this day is mine… silly.  This is one of those poems I just loved immediately when I wrote it, there was instant gratification, visceral reaction, I can not begin to explain it as I am… well, actually doing here with these searching words, these prodding thoughts, into the depths of what drives me to write, it is hard to explain something that was always in the room, always there, sometimes I managed to put it away in some corner (for whatever reason over the years) but lately it has been the shining chandelier lighting all things, my lens, my view master to inform my etch-a-sketch (and yes I owned both those toys as a child)…

wood black and white music musician
Photo by Stephen Niemeier on

music… as you may have noticed, unless you are new (welcome), my musical appetite is all over the map, I am always looking for something new and exciting (whether I missed the boat on it or not), and genre does not color my ears in response to new stuff.. or old stuff… I think of music like emotions, I want, ok, I demand the full gamut, the full run… because what the hell… we aren’t just puppies and unicorns.. or fire and death.. or simple beings period…  oh, so after all that ranting… check this out, sure, I don’t speak the language (maybe I should given my last name heritage)… but… listen…

Faun – Federkleid

Simply Saturday…

Simply Saturday…

clear glass window with brown and white wooden frame
Photo by João Jesus on

Another week passed, another post after my last, this seems like a pattern but I am determined to make it all different, I am going to lay back and post some simple works, such as they are, the older I get the more I seem to want to boil things down to essence, if I can find it, I guess the grind of life has taught me that we don’t need all the ribbons, sashes, and long eyelashes , the goods that makes the cake is the goods in the bake people!  we all know it.. do we all live it ?  I am making an attempt and am certainly not above reproach, so approach these works with that thought, and thanks for even reading this.

half moon and silhouette of trees
Photo by Philippe Donn on

bother” 4/23/18

why bother

when I know it is you



all the while


all the while

moving on, as they advise

but always to know

they are never you

beach beautiful boulders calm waters
Photo by Pixabay on


what is the difference

between a rock and a boulder

I guess I do not know

I suppose

how high you must go

a mountain, a moon


for you” 6.1.18

I’m sorry

if you only knew

I would change everything

but only for you


I have conversations

with you in my mind

I wish you could hear them

I hope you understand

I should have been more honest

at the time

notes?  nah… not this time.

music? eh… OK.. how about some classic metal/tribal stuff that doesn’t get the credit that say “walk this way” does in terms of style breaking…

Sepultura – Ratamahatta

hells yeah this gets me going… plus the video is cool as hell…



green leafed plant on drinking glass with ice and water
Photo by Oscar Mikols on

you have me, on the rocks” 8/4/2018

the ice melts, so suddenly

your eyes melt me, so subtlety

your voice, a symphony

the words – no matter


of such sweet notes

the nectar of honey bees

the sound hones

the buzz slides across my lobes


dance me in a daze

and I look lock gaze

the fierce fire

of your eyes

burns me alive

notes… is there a person, that one, that can just melt you with their eyes?  put you under that spell?  that you just connect?   I guess I should consider myself lucky that I did have that once for some years, and perhaps look forward to it again should fate shine her little light onto my tiny patch I’ve carved out of the universe’s darkness whole, I can only hope because the alternative is definitely not of hope.  I posted a word with “middle english” origins because… some of my favorite works are of the time. Specifically I am referencing two things Heloise and Abelard and also Alexander Pope (I won’t say he is a hero of mine, who knows such things, but an inspiration ? and a fantastic poet ?  yep).  Note the last line of Pope’s poem (sheer brilliance imo):

Such if there be, who love so long, so well,
Let him our sad, our tender story tell;
The well-sung woes will soothe my pensive ghost;
He best can paint them who can feel them most.

music… yeah, I am big on the music, I am so….  currently obsessed with Anna Murphy, so this song fits…

Anna Murphy “Lovelornia”

her vocals are transcendent, it really makes you believe as an artist that talent is out there stalking and taking down prey (for all of us to consume)… all for us to enjoy, so go out there and look for it… additionally I am always looking for new music, so if ya got something ! tell me dammit!  I only have so many hours of so many days to search on my own, while I am a great excavator a little help is always appreciated my friends ! Be well all!




it is easy to be complacent in your place… meaning, I wrote this poem, and then I look at where I get reads from – like all over the planet! (which is pretty damn cool when you think about it, side note)… and… I should be more cognizant of my (potential) audience, not how I write, but how I inform, things I take for granted or just common are not so for some of you, and vice versa… which is damn cool… so, about the Firefly… it is something I have always known, taken for granted (in my bio-zone) but… bioluminescence… how amazing, man has never accomplished that (well naturally I mean, we do have glow sticks)… but think of the wonder of nature making it’s own light with chemicals… we need fire for light, well, OK we have electricity now but… not that long ago these little bugs had us by miles…

fireflies” 6.27.2018 (rewrote 7/8/18)


adorn my sweaty lawn

humidity stalks

and lays thick

almost like a fog



hover above the grass

sparkling like carbonation

in a glass

I look for a pattern

or to understand

the timing of their show



the universe

up into the sky

I look for a pattern

in the stars

I can not surmise,

even here on earth


I can not even devise

the plan

the pattern, the why

the random dance

of the fireflies.

notes:  one of the rarer times I did a rewrite (I will always be honest with you people because… I have nothing to lose anymore)… and hey, I do things my own way, haven’t you figured that out by now ?  if you are new, well, read some back posts.

Music?  I am always listening to something!

Ty Tabor – Live in Your House

He recorded this all himself a while back, there is plenty of back story there for me personally but just… listen to the song, sort of southern rock with beatles influence… I love it (obviously).

Sun shower…

Sun shower…

blur bokeh colors dark
Photo by Jennifer Moore on

Such a cool thing, drove through one today, and reminded me I wrote something last month, I raced through my notes and found the thing, I don’t have much to say tonight, I worked around 14 hours so… I’m beat but determined to post every day this month.. why?   This is the lion’s month, the pinnacle, the heat, the roar, lions and kings… and well, me.  We are a prideful bunch, even at work I have a pride… one, she is fierce, a summer lion, unbalanced early in the month, her claws are rarely hidden in her paws… the other? she is the cowardly lion, afraid of sharp things, quiet and repetitive… and then there is me, on the cusp, the end, the very last day, more balanced but still… a lion.

trees and grass field under cloudy sky during daytime
Photo by Tahir Shaw on

sun shower” 7.5.2018

out from the sunlight

came the pouring rain

a sun shower

a sure sign of summer

and then

a black cloud regatta

patched to and from the horizon

racing to an unseen end


against the backdrop of sky

crimson fire

orange glow

pink bellies

forever for a moment

this one,

petals of flowers

blossomed across the sky

birthed in the heat of this early july

the racers sail on by.

Musical piece or peace… ?

Tiamat – Do You Dream of Me

obscurity is my domain, do you wish to join me ?

Fire, when we were.

Fire, when we were.

man and woman about to kiss each other
Photo by Ana Paula Lima on

our fire” 4/16/18

glen miller orchestra sounds fill the room

mind seduced ‘in the mood

I picture us dancing

I could see it in your eyes

the world could feel our fire

every room lit full of envy

singed by the heat

radiating like a star

from our desire

as we passed by…

I remember, our fire


is that the crackle

of rain on the window

or the aged voice

of this old recording

I remember…

our fire

notes… this is very personal on many levels…  although I listen to what ‘some’ would call horrendous/awful music or cookie monster stuff (death metal) but at an early age I was exposed to Big Band era tunes, specifically by my father who used to take us (me and my slightly older brother) to work with him running his provision route back in the day through central New Jersey. We would ride in his truck picking up the meats from the processing plants (ie slaughterhouses essentially) and deliver them to pubs, strip clubs and restaurants…. sort of the seedy side of life when you see a pub in daylight, I remember the musty smells, the sort of… wood gasping out the wounds of the night, sunlight hitting places it shouldn’t dare (much like a vampire’s lair)… it was all so surreal, and in neighborhoods that are now destitute unfortunately,  but always we would be rolling down the road in that big yellow truck  marked “Freddy Kay” (my last name is so easy to screw up my parents would always abbreviate it to make it easy for the rest of the world), just that big yellow truck rumbling down the road, so loud and creaky,  making every bump known and holding on to the rails on turns (for dear life), so distinct, all the smells and sounds, and then there was the radio…

Make believe ballroom time

I had no idea about the music, but it was so… confident, so composed (and had that vintage feel because you could hear the flaws in the recordings).  I loved it.  And now it is just such a reminder of my father and our time together.  You know that time in your life when you think your parents (or one of them) is a super hero ? This was that time.  We were delivering these huge boxes of goods to all these places, sure, I knew my way around a hand truck but a huge cut of raw brisket? not so much. I was a small kid, an undeveloped kid… I was always in the “lower 10%” in terms of growth, and that freaks out parents, but as it turns out, I was normal in the end (well, at least growth wise, everything else is still up for debate).

So, this poem is more about my love for Mirsa, whom I left a long time ago now, everything was just easy with her, it just made sense, but sometimes things just don’t work, I am sure we are both to blame but I really hold myself responsible right or not, I visited her after I left… a couple of times (she lives way far away from me, literally 1000 miles)… and we still had “it”.. the chemistry, I guess that is the worst part, people could smell the connection on us even after a few years of being apart they thought we were together when I visited, that is the crux of this poem, we exchanged emails recently (april) and that was the spark for me to start this journey into blogging and sharing myself with you, anyone who reads this, it reminded me of life, of happiness, of love… it was so easy with her, and the world noticed and I failed her, or we failed each other… but I gained back something I had lost a long time ago.. a passion for life… even if I wish it was with her I have to bring forth that verve… and who knows, someday, maybe my love and I can be together again, I don’t think so, but at least I have some hope for the future, and what more can I ask… but hope, and love… and faith in the same.