perception…

perception…

art blur close up fidget spinner
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the sound of my
bathroom exhaust fan rattling
from years of revolutions,
outside
I put my ear to the ground
to listen for that very sound
but to the surface dwellers
this is imperceptible
or on a frequency
not given
this is a frequency
for which
I am not equipped.

notes… I call this observational poetry, something catches my eye (or ear) with a hook of metaphor, what for ? I don’t know, ask the muse, I just work here.

And I looked out upon the day…

And I looked out upon the day…

desert under yellow sunset
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(music to read this by, let it load and start, trust me on this one…)

the heat, the weight of a summer day yoke
the intense concentration to hallucinate
the air above
the asphalt groves
a belly dancer, undulating
a snake charmer, hypnotizing
the air
like a stagnant pool
shade retreats
looking for itself
the air
so damn still
a pin could drop and never hit the ground
statues sweat without pigeon feet
the silence of the wild
is the sound of retreat
as night, sweet quench-cold drink, approaches…
lies just out of reach
fierce the brave thunderstorm
would be a most welcome site
I consider melting
into a puddle
instead of the sweltering
boiling in my own skin
even a lemon ice
is a blink reprieve
how I wish and beg for
the night to draw
the earth to yaw
how I yearn for that sweet refrain
oh, the coming of the night
if only for the time
so I might close my eyes
and delve into that sleep
to gather back my rivers
for the coming day
and flow into an endless ocean
carried on a dream
on the calm cool ocean
a feathered kiss
a breeze…

notesI wrote this out on the porch tonight, it is what I do, or have been doing for a year now, damn, it is so much better in the summer, sitting out on my perch… er, porch, just riffing with words, this is all off the cuff stuff, some slight word changes but all written in a blink tonight, in the moment, could I perfect it ? hone it? hell yeah. but that is not the point, the point is raw, deliverance, me, my thoughts, you dig it ? great? not… well I still wake up in the morning… I think…

and if you did not get fair warning, shame on you… van halen was once the king of the damn world for a time… there was something about the maelstrom, the collection of those guys at that one time and the times at hand… all I can tell you it was a thing, I imagine that is why the Stones still tour even though I think they are completely droll…

a poem, of a lyrical nature…

a poem, of a lyrical nature…

houses near mountain
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and the water runs dry
when the water is gone
and the roots dry crack
when the rain is gone
and the wells wide gasp
when the sea is gone
bones pluck will lie
when the river runs stop
damns ditched run dry
when the last blood drop
mirrors fade paint bend
pick past last crop
we are at our end.

notes… just one of those gifted to me by the muse, I wrote it as is, from scratch, it made me think musically, lyrically.

Thoughts from my porch…

Thoughts from my porch…

night fire burning sparks
Photo by Miriam Espacio on Pexels.com

I decided to mix things up a touch, I was in the mood to listen to some music while I sat out here, contemplating my little world and all the whole thing, strange to see the world moving around but not hearing all the usual sounds, just the ones I chose, melody, the beats almost mold my experience, my butt perched in the same old spot, watching much the same scenes, I imagine myself as those clouds, over there, the last warmth, the last rays of the day upon my face, much more comforting than the sun of noon, a warming palm upon my cheek, as the temperature casually calms into a more comfortable zone…
have you ever really watched fireflies? they make no sense, like a top, they spin around in all directions until they stop, their wings are the illusion of spin, little bells hanging and bobbing in the wind, it all seems so random, there must be some purpose I think, it just eludes me, irony, irony would be that the secret of life resides in the dancing chaos of this common summer insect in my yard, why not? maybe it is them not eye, that has a case on the pulse of the universe, light without electricity, I can only imagine what ancient people thought of these things, magic? or something else? but, we, are so much more evolved, our cars, houses, computers, et al… but in the end we are all doing the same things, living, loving, telling stories to each other by the fire, my fire happens to be this blog, irony, like a log, sitting on a log, in front of a fire, seeing embers crackle up into the night sky like starry travelers, telling stories of wonder, of the future, of the past, of things mystical, wonderful, and true, or that hold some truth, for truly, how much have we changed, aside from all the extra layers of technology, are we just the same?

musicRoom for Me (Ty Tabor),  how this is not something tons of people have not heard is beyond me… check out the album “Safety” it was all about his divorce, most of it crushes me.

Always the sky inspires…

Always the sky inspires…

atmosphere blue sky clouds cloudscape
Photo by melchor gama on Pexels.com

sky draft
the sky is a story, right now
a beginning, and an end
the script reads left to right
I can not say what language this is
but the design, I recognize
over there is the fight scene
or the love scene
hard to tell, at times,
a dark cloud brooding
about halfway through
skip ahead
a bulb laid on blue
some pages appear blank
perhaps a spot for improvisation
weather or not
the story holds
or is being written
with an unseen pen
changing, shifting
but always a beginning,
always an end.

notes… we all look up (every version of humanity has), I wonder for many reasons, the fact that our sky is actually so thin and is all that separates us from what ancients used to call heaven, a little layer of air is all the separates us from space, and suffocation, and all that happens in that little layer is amazing, a whole system of intertwined water vapor, truly a wonder as it swirls asunder and not so much under, swirling clouds of water vapor, patterns in the sky, braille for the gods I suppose or just those that can fly above…

music… let me introduce you to another genre…electronic, more upbeat than ambient but still… chill… enjoy…

>>>Chillwave/Synthwave/Retrowave

silly thought for the day…

silly thought for the day…

assorted color sequins
Photo by Sharon McCutcheon on Pexels.com

this is the weekend, I need to take off my serious hat for a moment, I drive past this one mega church all the time, they have various signs they change on a regular basis, and I must admit some are amusing, today, for whatever reason I thought of something for myself…

If was to own a church, I would call it The House of the Rising Son

struck me as funny, so I will probably be struck down by the powers that be shortly…

Housekeeping!  I did a bunch today, totally updated my Collections and Series page, and also got my Porch page up to date (it has been a year… holy shit!)… man, it is hard work but worth it, screw the king’s men, they don’t know how to put me back together again… it is up to me to eat the elmer’s and piece things back together, thanks for being around to check it out… and the rest who aren’t…. ah, you’re missing out…

lost. love. letters.

lost. love. letters.

black and white black and white branches cloudy
Photo by icon0.com on Pexels.com

“if once more
I would hold your hand
in, with both of mine,
cradled.
as, the most precious, the most delicate
of all that was ever created,
was gifted,
was mine to have,
if only,
once more,
to feel the presence of your warmth
thaw these cradled lands
my hands would illuminate
in that moment
be overrun
overwhelmed
damns burst river flow forth
with love, of joy,
filling up my heart
saturating my bones
if only,
for once more –
my love.”

notes… the letters are in runes, all of their various meanings, I leave to you… (musical choice for the eve)

(written originally 6.12.2019, quite forgotten about in one of my journals, rewrote a few times since today, mostly just word positions and such, and by the way, thanks for the look and your time, I appreciate anything outside of mine, thanks)

thoughts from my porch, on the eve of holiday…

thoughts from my porch, on the eve of holiday…

light painting at night
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

(music to read by, soft acoustic, trust me, and part 2)

be a cliche, today was that summer day, hot, sun bearing down, blacktop hot enough to burn bare feet, I think my plants have adjusted too well to this year’s heavy rains, they have become accustomed to what seemed always available @ immediate now, so we share that weakness of assumption in the snapshot, so, just a mere two days without storm and they all look thirsty, sagging in the swelter, not wishing to see them suffer further, and quite proud of my shiny green thumb, I unreel the hose, and let loose the valve, left squeak, left full turn – squeak, left full circle – stop, I hear the flow rush of the water filling up the coils, I reach down to grab the the iron spray-head, forgetting it was sitting in the blistering sun all day, and damn it’s blazing hot, I juggle and fumble just to squeeze the thing to get the cold water going, I spray my hands immediately, sweet relief, I shower my bamboo, my pride and joy plant wise, my personal banzai, really, each year as it grows into a bigger ball, some of the water hits the driveway, and turns to steam immediately, and there is that smell, not of water, of the chemicals and minerals in the water, escaping as gases in the steam, definitely metallic in nature, one of those smells that remains utterly distinct in life, lake water, charcoal on a fired up grill, the first cut into a ripe pineapple, technology does not seem to touch these things, they were the same and are the same for a hundred years, to generations of summer culture.
So, this is a holiday, seems like another day to me, admittedly I expected much more noise outside than this, it is rather quite calm, maybe the heavy weight of the sun has beaten the starch out of life a little today, and the world is in resting phase, but I am sure, on the night, will come the fireworks, to light the sky, mark the occasion, scare my dog, overtures and songs, a holiday throng when fireworks are certainly foreign born.
For me, nothing is different tonight, just sitting here contemplating life, fate, the past, the future, what it all means as if I have the means to solve this puzzle in the first place, as the sun sits between the V of two branches, I understand how holidays can isolate, make you feel lonely, all the joyous sounding around, and you are not part of it, of course some of that is by choice, yes I must confess I am not the social butterfly I once never was, has this past year been better, yes, by slow standards, although change happens all around us all the time, inner, personal change does not seem up to speed, the relics of the past, deeds, memories, they are bindings much stronger in comfort than landing first foot in the new world, landing, with wonder, and fear, will that new land be as “good” as the old I left (or should have fled), the fear, even if home was built on the cold stone face of misery, misery loves comfort, for even the walls of a prison can become familiar horizons, to the point where beyond those walls no longer matters, this is why I struggle to construct pillars of reminder, the truth is rather easy and consistent in most things, we know what is right, what must or should be done, in our deepest well lurks the truth, what we know, that our days are quite literally numbered, there is a countdown as to which we are bound but not allowed to witness, but we know of it’s existence, do we all live in the moment, as if this may be our last minute? do I? maybe this is my reminder, my map, my guide, taking the time to let the “important” world slide away and just consider thoughts in writing, and maybe the rest will arrive, in it’s own time, trust not in despair, you know what is there, trust in the fact, that you are alive, you have a choice, choose the nuptials of love and hope, whenever you can, fail, more than succeed, likely, but it is apparent, that for most of us, this was never meant to be easy…

oh yeah, this is part of my ongoing porch project thing… just me, sitting out there, playing guitar more lately but also with my little notebook scribbling all this, I wonder what my neighbors think….

a simple thought, on passing snake hill…

a simple thought, on passing snake hill…

c m heart embossed on three
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

“a profession of love
initials coupled on a rock
an ad hoc memorial
to love so temporal
or with hope
anniversaries immemorial”

written on my daily drive up the NJ Turnpike, passing Snake Hill (as it is locally known), graffiti is sometimes… sometimes… a bit more.  as you pass over snake hill on the left the entire NYC skyline is on your right… clear as a bell…

>>>musical accompaniment : Warrior Soul – The Losers and Lullaby

kind of anthems for me from back in the day… they were a rebel rock band when hair bands were dominating the scene, well, they had hair, but not that hair

and I would be remiss, if I did not say thanks for all the reads, eyeballs and all the such… now, my american friends, do not go blowing off your fingers tomorrow, hard to do here in jersey, the only thing legal fireworks wise is basically sparklers… yech… I could tell you stories about m-80s and m-90s and pool filters… but nah, not today… did I mention I write off the cuff pretty much all the time ? yeah… pretty much…

the vacillation of hope… (a poem)

the vacillation of hope… (a poem)

blur close up focus ground
Photo by Gelgas on Pexels.com

“my hope resides
in the chalice of the unborn
silent the heart
that has no song
for the word love
has not long passed this tongue
I count in years
as numbers less drawn,
might I gather dew
from that morning leaf
and renew my spring
from the gift of dawn,
yes, the sun rises
but no chariot awaits me there
I dwell here low
in hours drawn late,
I wonder,
how did I get here?
where can I go?
but this light of hope
grows dim, and slow
dim, and, slow
dissipates.”

notes… I would love to tell you I am a bulwark against pessimism, and generally I usually am, but I have my moments of weakness, I am human, I embrace them, I see my shortcomings, so is it OK to despair? I think it is for a time, what are the mountains without the valleys ?  the point is to see the valley, when you are in it, and gather to climb the mountain again, you never win, you always fall down, just keep up the trail, is it logical, no, but either that or just lay down and let the world run over you, you have a choice, a loss, a setback, they happen, dust yourself off and give fate the stink eye… walk the path, I am trying, and failing mostly, but I will get up and push that rock back up the hill, even with a bunion

music

>>> Eric Johnson – When the Sun Meets the Sky (live)

c’mon, sweet tone… a soft song, great on a summer night such as this…