“scraps we hold” 8.28.2018
a scrap of paper
a scrap of words
a scrap of film
is all you’ll have
when I’m gone
(and these electrical impulses).
I circle my index and thumb
together
as if searching for a grain of sand
or
of a trace of man – so soon gone.
life is a tenuous lot, be thankful for what ya got…
(a continuation of my porch series)
A two-fer this morning, plus a poem, yours for only $19.95 in 192 installments! new and improved! just set it … and forget it! So sit back on your my pillow and if you spill something don’t worry about it, just sham wow it ! if you’re hungry just chop some nuts and if you want a relaxing boat ride I have just the solution… now, without further nonsense my entries to my actual collection…
reason for being 12.29.2018 in the AM walking out to my car for work
I noticed the flap of red overlap of a local newspaper plastic sleeve in my driveway bend up and over this morning in the breeze, if I was not there to witness who might be, so was this event just for me? a universe wink? something to ponder? or nothing at all (aside from a racing mind)? the immensity of what had to transpire in the universe (to this point) to just have this simple, seemingly meaningless moment of my notice is beyond calculation, barely in the grasp of comprehension and surely more complex than humanity may ever know, but there it was, a moment just for me to see in a world of all happening and motion, of lives starting, ending and being, of the earth spinning, the sun breathing radiation upon our goldilox home, the sheer perfection of the amalgamation of circumstance, in a blink and I move on, to the mundane spectacular that is this daily life. (but listen closely, for a moment, just a fraction I bet, time stopped and froze, for that pose my eye composed in just that very precious second in between all seconds, I did not chose this, it chose me, and in that exists the birth of miracles, if you stop to notice).
winter flowers (driving to work)
not that today should be (or is) any different than the next (or previous), but decidedly I feel a different vibe going on, driving to work this morning the sky feels more alive, the winter sun’s emissaries bursting in lines out through the unmanned outposts of barren branches, casting long shadows across the road (right to left) showcasing cars upon the median wall in a procession of shadows like the projection of a carousel at night, the light adding a shimmer to the leftovers on the asphalt from yesterday’s never ending deluge, somehow things seem better, warmer, surely not in truth by empirical data (my usual cozy), but in feel, who am I to argue, but rather observe and revel, something about the winter sunlight beams as the earth’s pores broadcast open wide and soak them all in, the clouds all in place in one layer, sitting there aligned as a blueprint laid on top of the blue by a steady hand, many times I ponder that which is beyond this atmosphere, out there, but today… I am perfectly grounded within that laid out in front and behind, this morning drive, I can’t quite put my finger on it, but maybe that has been my problem sometimes, sometimes it is better to sit back and take it all in, smell the roses, even in winter when flowers are rarer but not unknown.
for winter flowers are rarer to see
blooms on stark precious domain
a lifeboat rises in the barren sea
when all hope has left for none
winter blooms in the faded sun
Music…
Never my favorite song (but other KX fans love it to death) but this video shows the devotion of the fans and what it is like to be at a show… the band does not even have to sing (have you been a part of anything like this? I have over the years, mostly Over My Head), by the way Dug is almost 70 (the lead singer), seriously, they have been killing it out there as one of the most original bands since the 1980s, here is the original version just for comparison. Ty Tabor is the reason I picked up a guitar (before Eric Johnson blew my mind, and SRV). Jerry ? A NJ guy so what can I say, I’m partial…
and as always, likes, follows and thoughts (comments) are always appreciated.
no, it is not some old school classic RPG (I loved the early ones on PC especially V), it is the next destination of the New Horizons probe (the craft is a pretty small thing, maybe the size of a piano traveling @ 32,000 miles per hour), Ultima Thule is located in the Kuiper Belt (think of it as our solar system’s leftovers after the really long wedding party), this knowledge is less than 100 years old in our dialog, amazing to think about, in the past 40 years we have moved out of interstellar space only recently (Voyager) and now are checking out the Kuiper Belt… and this is just our little neighborhood in this little solar system in this one galaxy in billions… there is literally endless possibilities out there… but we are all worried about the latest Iphone, silliness but I understand it, I would love to tell you I am above it, but I love all the little gadgets that distract me from being just a grain of sand on the grandest beach of all…
12.26.2018 “goodbye”
not from the stars do I think judgement comes
as the sky changes by forces rung
but as I examine the sky tonight
I notice one missing, a closing light
as in stars we might not know
the light we see or how old
but eventually with distance lens
even the brightest must meet an end
and all folds back to cosmic dust
to return to life on the cusp
and once again form another
from the same constructive endeavor
but only once ever a star is born
never the same as it was before
materials remain but have no soul
for that we turn our inner eyes
to find love, the eternal sign
notes… strange to think we are stars, but surely we are, more important than the hollywood ilk, we are surely cosmic beings in construction, and all this we have built around us,the distractions from all that, these little things that are chains of amino acids walking led to candy crush? who knew… do I overthink things? probably… but I am fascinated by how we got here, the process is almost overwhelming to ponder (almost… 🙂
the first line is a call out to some guy named Shakespeare (specifically sonnet 14), I like the old classic stodgy poets as such, just my thing, I enjoy the ring of their cadence (Milton, Shelley, Byron, Dylan to name a few). just my thing.
Music… Minus the Bear – Last Kiss (live acoustic) “I can’t believe it ends this way…”
12.25.2018 “generations”
so, the wave has begun
the first domino has fallen
a generation has come
to begin an end.
I have seen the wave coming
off on the horizon
everything seems so far off
in the inevitable ocean
but so soon crashing upon the shore
this is the way of things
for we are mere pillars
rock fashioned of sand
drawn down and back into the surf
from which we once rose
in and out the flow
just life
for us to suppose
and follow, as if we have a choice
but we pretend
to have some modicum of control
ever looking at the horizon
and the coming waves
as they come for me
surely, some day
might I be aware
and enjoy the warm rays
bright bouquets to grace the peaks
one more time
upon the waves
that carry my soul away
to some other place
I hope
to some other place
I pray
notes… as I stated in an earlier post, I have been spared death more than most, but that will not be so anymore, and I sense it, I hope I have the strength to relent it and continue on, in the pattern of such things it becomes difficult to reconcile self worth, or more plainly my life’s worth upon this earth, there is no accomplishment any of us can make that will satisfy my view of the world, so I just have to fall back on faith, and fate, and the two combined will be my future, I know what that is but do I accept it ? do I quit? or do I fight and meet the same outcome? these are the thoughts that cross my mind. There is so much to life, so much, that needs to be the focus but I must admit, I struggle.
from the porch (continued series, tonight, is of course, some xmas holiday or something, I am told…), and without further fanfare, popcorn commercials or coming attractions (or an oddly sticky floor and just awful cup holders)…
Mustering up the muster to sit and write, on a xmas night, none the less, not a very xmas feel, at least in these parts (and I am not referring to my legs), cold enough but not quite cold enough, somewhat clear sky, not quite a full moon, everything seems just a bit less than it should, I guess the bloom comes off the rose at times, there have been those Rockwell scenes, the fire blaze, the cozy afghan blanket, gently falling snow where you could read the stories on the flakes themselves as they fell, no, not this year, and no saint nick, no jolly old fellow, just a myth, but not such a bad imagining, not such a bad thing, in a world sometimes grim, marred by pain, a jolly old fat man to bring presents mysteriously in the night, there are worse things to believe in, surely, no reindeer, not certainly in this metro shadow, we see the odd deer (or four), mere cousins of the north pole dweller reign, and no little laborers either (with their busy little hands), the only ones here are garden gnomes and they feel less genuine than their brothers (especially when said gnomes are busy trying to book me flights all the time), where is the harm in old saint nick? has he been reduced to an app just yet ? (I’m afraid to even google that to find out the answer) well, at least Norad stays in step with the season, tracking the sled even if just an exercise for Joshua, where is the harm in this quite affable fellow? maybe we should just tell the kids the truth, the truth that it is not the myth that needs belief, it is what lies underneath in the fabric of the thing, no, not the felt red sack or silly hat, or even the contemplation of a stranger sliding down a chimney (surely worse than a coal miner’s dime), what drives the sled? good tidings for the ride, the idea of giving with nothing in return (well, perhaps a tray of cookies in trade, fair enough), the idea, not the man, and children can know throughout the land that morning comes and gifts exchanged, they have the power within… to do the same.
be well everyone. and to all of you a good night.
(re-post if you like just link back, alright?) all eyes on this or anything I write are truly appreciated, thank you (yes you, that reader thing out there)
music? OK, I will be guitar nerdy and holiday-ey. (a new word damnit)
12.21.2018 “upon these fields…”
upon these fields of lore
where the dead shall walk no more
where the perilous battle fought
when all souls they will succumb
under sword and under feet
their blood remains within this earth
upon these fields of lore
those before me shall walk no more
nor haunt these fields
with voices still
ghosts only in the eyes
of those remaining here
as another shall pass
from this ground to the greatest of halls
I mourn for this one I know too well
for walk this path we all shall know
and mourn the death in the time to come
dedicated, with love, to my uncle, Samuel Goldberg, may you find a righteous endeavor in the next life.
Life is a battle, one we all lose, but we MUST fight!
Generally speaking I am an optimist, but I am also a realist, and a skeptic (boy I sound like a pain in the ass). Death is usually not gently slipping into the ever-after in your sleep, rarely. How many of us have this belief? or is it a distraction for what we really know deep down as truth? I have been lucky (some may say blessed, that’s fine with me) that I have had very little death in my family, at least those close to me. But as all things are, things end and I sense a wave of coming (unfortunately a whole generation). We may not want to see what that looks like, restraints, screams, bodily functions, the knowing the end is there but the days must be the days in hospital watch, the pulling out of tubes, the curses, the fever, the thrashing of anger as life escapes bodily form – and reason flies out the door, surely – not the dream of dying in our sleep. But this is what makes us most human. What we do with these things, these situations. We are given a choice. We can delve down and be drowned in the specter of death (and succumb ourselves)… or live, holding up the full sword of life, because we may not know what death brings (a true end?) but we do know one thing… life. we are alive now, there is nothing more certain than that, and in that I put my faith… to fight some more, for those I love, and for myself.
music…
Testament – Musical Death (A Dirge)
overlooked by the mainstream and even the rehash metal movement that embraces Metallica etc these days, this is a beautiful piece from years ago, it tempered the thrash fury of an album but also informed some souls… like mine.
I cleaned up (updated) the Collections and Series page a little, it needs some more work… I know. But I like to organize things so, give me a moment or some and I will (still finding my way on this blog thing)…
and as always thanks for reading any of my nonsense, it is appreciated. Any suggestions or criticism is always welcome, I might blow you off, but hey, this is my thing after all (wink).
music... just cause it is what I have been listening to lately, a bit of a throwback, a band that certainly made it huge but like many artistic endeavors was cut short…
Alice in Chains – Dam That River
and not to be remiss I also review movies and such…
12.18.18 “hyber”
might I become a bear
and sleep the winter long
in a cubby-hole
turning off the world,
and dream perpetual
of the coming spring
for the awakening
that will be to come
Anthropomorphism… ah, some days it is good to be a word nerd, I was an English major back in the day @ Rutgers (color you surprised) who wound up as an IT tech these days, Rutgers was a good time, the grease trucks were near frat row, the fat cat was the only ‘fat’ sandwich (the category is quite cluttered now, call me a purist), Mr. C’s was parked right in front of Tinsley Hall (I was there when it blew up, quite literally which was the beginning of the end of the truck freedom – way ahead of the country in terms of food trucks by the way, we are talking early 90’s), our football team sucked, our soccer team was boss (we had Alexi Lalas when I was there but no one cared (the crowd was dozens)… and man those soccer players were nuts, oh the parties, off frat row in that one house), damn, how I get off track, I will one of these days put all my anthropomorphic poems in one spot, it is something I like to do writing wise or as an exercise, I like it to flex the mind, we can never be truly something else than anything we actually are, we can pretend however.
King’s X – Pretend (just listen to that bass, that tone, that voice)
Shades of My Garden 