tense shun…

tense shun…

selective focus photography of hour glass
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there are these moments, tiny flakes of time space, hours of days, one of these, these times when I feel like I am living in past tense, moments that have happened before seem intensely ‘now’, or directly directing the now, overwhelmingly, a feeling floods me as if I have been running in place for years waiting for the past to change, or worse yet sitting in place as the world spins around me, past me, passing by, waiting for something, something that will never come, and the ability to rewrite – a wrong…

 

agriculture blooming blossom blue sky
Photo by K Zoltan on Pexels.com

the day started out so nicely, with the starch definitely taken out of summer, a cool morning, barely 70 degrees, mail order blue sky, someone must have paid to have all the clouds removed for there are none, at least for now, the sun is warming instead of broiling, a  barely noticeable ball playing hide and seek in between the full taller trees behind the house, everything is green, with a little tired at the edges brown, I take a moment to look around, take it all in as it were, mornings like these, makes you want to be rich beyond your wildest dreams so you could just stop, stay in place and experience every ounce, then, with your hands squeeze-twist the very confines of time to get every last drop out, but, like most of us, most of any who have ever walked this earth, I have to take what I can take, in this fleeting passing moment, with a shallow deep breath I take in what I can, trying to commit to memory this little slice of near perfection for later recall, knowing soon enough I will be back in the reality of the race, the pace, cars lining up like ants in an artery, all with our destinations and routines, all under the umbrella of such a perfect day, bills to pay, obligations to meet.

architecture auto automobiles bridge
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

so I am driving, the traffic is a bit lighter today, you never know when a holiday approaches how said holiday will encroach on your day, so perhaps my mind is off in another place, not distracted by the constant foot race to my brakes and then go stop go stop base routine, I wonder about things, the circumstances of a life, if they would have changed, would I be right here now wondering the same? these are times I wish my memories were not so vivid or clear, or perhaps to be so vapid as to not care, maybe ignorance is bliss, but I can not know of this, I wish for amnesia, will I be happy… or just unaware? I try and tell myself, comfort myself, convince myself, that I would rather have full awareness, to have clarion clarity, but at once I might still want to be an ostrich, and bury my head in the sands of time, how my life might have been different if this or that, the mental exercise, the gymnastics of a foolish mind and lost heart, and her, would we have changed our opinion on having children, and where has all the time gone as that decision now seems past any comprehension or contemplation… from where I am situated I do not remember the sand escaping my palms, slipping from my grasp if I grasped at all, blown scattered by the winds to the four corners of no recompense, and my hands feel empty, youth is fullness, youth is an overgrown garden of possibility inculcated with weeds, and as the years go, some flowers die, others are planted, some bushes manicured, others upgraded to fancier exotics, and not so suddenly the once wild jungle of opportunity has been whittled down quite nicely, quite on purpose, with purpose, at least at the time, no longer allowed to grow wild, everything has order now, the paving stones, the path all neatly appointed, and I look back, am I satisfied with what I have? or who I am? but there is no magic elixir in the face of time, no amount of thought or determination can catch even a second in a bottle, or snare a minute in a net, my thoughts seem shackled by the past, tension on the chains, my own doing, but there is no instructions how to steer this ship, how to set the sails of life into the headwinds of success, for as I cross the trade-routes and circumnavigate, like the great explorers, I come to know, to sail around, this earthly globe, I arrive back here, in past tense, all the same, but years now spent.

Music to read by… (when will you just trust me and click the links?)

>>> Paradise Lost – Ordinary Days

 

lost. love. letters.

lost. love. letters.

person standing on pathway
Photo by Andrew Neel on Pexels.com

(1) death is for us
forever
at last
this is the color of my endearment
the light of perpetual machinery
for within
let all that remains
let this purify
my thoughts
my enduring
my love
of you
for you

low angle photography of full moon under silhouette of tall trees
Photo by Tom Fisk on Pexels.com

(2) I vacillate
in this occupied space
between
wanting to never
and begging forever
if I had not known
I would still be alone
if I had not been
I could not know
tip toe
on the edge
of this black hole
this close to light
one step slight
to all’s end
this is the line on which I lay

notes… I have endless poems about her, the one, maybe the only one, I tell myself many things, I indulge in many things,  I have fantasies, and dreams, and yet time just keeps passing, but I feel no difference, at times there is reprieve but always the return to the baseline… of her. I feel broken with no way to heal, I don’t want pity, or even sympathy, this is all for me, to work out, I imagine some people are the same, or at least I rationalize…

(for more lost love letters visit my collection page)

music… double shot of harsh love tonight, hope you like punk infused energy rock, if not … well…

>>>> Warrior Soul – I Love You

>>>> Warrior Soul – Love Destruction

Thoughts, from my porch, yeah, that porch, the same old one, but yet…

Thoughts, from my porch, yeah, that porch, the same old one, but yet…

closeup photo of seashore during golden hour
Photo by Frans Van Heerden on Pexels.com

the clouds are like a perfectly aligned photograph of a still fire bloom set upon the dazzling supreme aqua of a pristine tropical ocean, maybe a cliche, maybe not, I’ll take it any day of the week, and three times today or tonight as the sun is slipping under the horizon, even though this is really just the earth’s rotation, such a large but understood concept, but do we stand here and admire that fact? or feel the spin, feel the ground whipping around at dizzying speeds, all with our terra firma feet planted well on this ground, the dirt, the thin skin layer of the molten apple we call earth, a seething ocean of fire just a few miles, under where we feel so safe, a thin layer of air all that separates us from space, how precarious we are, but do we perceive it, we worry more about the local buzzing about, unaware of some outer calamity that could end our little love affair with ourselves, the action of every breath of every being, an orchestra of the absurd chances of just being, being here, writing this, or reading these words, I am truly amazed in moments like this, I think nature is sneaky, or wise, or both quite combined, to show us glimpses, here and there, drops of reminders, breath taking visions, thundering falls, tiny bugs of imaginable stripe and scope, unimaginable combinations of dna in humans alone, the colors, of eyes, of hair, heights, and smiles, the buffet of laughter shared across global realms, all revealed in an evening sky, the signs are all there, they describe locations, the mile markers, more subtle than neon flashing colors but no less informative, all around, so train the mind, use your eyes, take in that precious breath, hold a loved one for just a moment to feel that warmth, that is the miracle of life, this is bounty, this is our corner of the universe, the only one we can possibly know but we are here in the face of impossibility, that rare bloom of existence, for a short while, stars have formed your very core, for once twilight is now your veins, once heavenly bodies are your precious thoughts, take a moment, absorb the world’s wonder, feel the universe in your bones as we are one, we all come from the most basic of elements, a recipe of those touched by a spark, and here you are.

A tell in tails…

A tell in tails…

black goose flying
Photo by Skitterphoto on Pexels.com

sitting at a light, a familiar one, a common one, route one and nine, or maybe just route one at this point, a typical late summer afternoon, the sky bragging and flashing an amazing spectrum of colors, if you care to stop by, and I do, for a moment, collect up my consciousness off the floor, and look up to that sky, something I hope I never tire of, or at least remind myself to remember the sky by, on days that are more or mere gray, or perhaps when my outlook is under the weather, to remember, days such as this, windows down, sounds of my choosing caressing my ears, staring out into that sky, getting lost but not enough to piss off, those in traffic with me, waiting to make a left, and then – a burst across that sky, a flock of geese, candian probably, some other type, your guess, immediately I think to myself, for who else am I going to think to, that I enjoy geese more than other flocks, the lines, the patterns, the organization, the ultimate arrow point, perhaps this says more about me, on a psychological level, than I might care to admit, but in flight, the precision, the dynamic of coordination, the collaboration of individuals, appeals to me, at some base level, my base level, rather than the flocks that look like schools of fish darting in swirls back and forth like a whirlwind, no, I much prefer the geese, and there is a honk, not from them, for the light has turned green…

The Silent Houses…

The Silent Houses…

brown concrete wall
Photo by Dids on Pexels.com

I did not even notice a light go out, sometimes whole lives are lived in the smallest of details, you expect things to happen, you know they will happen, but just the same they do not feel right when they do, beyond your control, maybe not even anything residing in your little orbit of daily life, but right there on the perimeter all the time, this is one of those nights, oddly, the temperature is much cooler tonight than it has been, coincidence? I don’t believe in them, a long time neighbor of mine, has passed away, he was not young, it was not sudden, perhaps expected, but neighbors can be a strange relationship at times, someone you see almost every day and almost always at certain times, I remember the ritual so well, rolling the garbage can to the street every sunday night, there are other assigned garbage nights, but sunday is more singular as most of us are not working, and certainly not my neighbor who was retired for years now, but seemingly we had the same routine, on sundays at least, roughly the same time to deploy the garbage to the route, as the years went by I noticed he was hunched over more, perhaps a bit more labored up and down his driveway, there was always the knowing nod, like “howdy neighbor”, how odd to be two houses away and yet know so little, but be totally comfortable with someone, such is the nature of familiarity and ritual, and a neighborhood such as this, I would see his kids visit with their kids, almost every sunday, I would rarely see his wife, on occasion he would get the mail for other neighbors directly across, well, at least before they moved, that is years ago now, the cars of his children are staying later this evening, later than most, at some point they will go home, and then all that will be left, a silent house, haunted by the one remnant left, a widowed spouse.

Thoughts from the porch…

Thoughts from the porch…

person sky silhouette night
Photo by Snapwire on Pexels.com

the script is flip’t, the tide has turned, cliches rue the day as the day is long, or actually not, anymore, the summer is losing some heat, quite literally, this was the first night that the driveway was actually cool on my bare feet, that magic number, like when the thermometer is clawing out of the doldrums of winter, that sweet seventy degrees mark, has been met, tonight, and now after not seeing that number for a spell, it has returned as if to say “so, you had your fun, time to get back to things”, everything in the world seems just a bit cooled off, the sun was not as punishing, and did not deliver as much heat to disperse after dark, no more lingering simmering in the dark hours, everything has a mild comfortable chill to it, right in the bulls-eye of comfortable, like all things inevitable and subject to the yoke of time, the season marches on hardly looking for my approval or nod, even the bugs seem to be taking it easy tonight, I can sit outside and wiggle my toes in all delight without the constant swat of my horse tail hands chasing mosquitoes about, maybe they are tired of the game as well, resting somewhere to enjoy the night, even the usual summer din is dialed back… just a touch, does heat magnify sound or just a biological hitch, I suppose, but either way I am swept away into this lull, nothing changed in my life today, no circumstance worsened or lightened, but yet somehow life seems a bit lighter this night, I can close my eyes, take a more abnormally deep breath than I might, to capture as much of this moment internally I think, as I breathe it all in, capture it, harness it, even in just the moments, pen it into memory, store it away for that proverbial rainy day or better yet on one of those brutally cold january nights when I need a fire from an internal source… to remind of this day, to remember late august, the calm, the just warm… enough, that line of seventy degrees, a breeze flowing about the trees in good nature, the last of a day’s light transitioning into a pillow to lay down, on a cloud, now illuminated by moonlight, and let the gentle wind wash, bend, send, blend you unto the night, into the night, into the sleep of content dreams…

(part of my porch series, of course)

something silly…

something silly…

flower arrangement on top of table with chairs
Photo by Agung Pandit Wiguna on Pexels.com

let me recall for you
a tale
a tale of
two tongs
a mated pair
paired as long
as tongs recall
a romance, until.
walked… by… thong
“this is splitsville baby
I’m gone!
time to dig
into something new!”
so he splits, in two,
and after much
inner weaving
she decides
the very next evening
to grab on her grip
and find something new, too
two tongs

notes… just one of those that sprung up one me, just amusement, something simple, silly and silly… no idea why this popped in my head, ask the muse, it is not my business man I just work here. leave space in the world for the silly, man is not satisfied on philosophical doldrums alone…. sounds like a good tag line, maybe I could use it on a blog…

a slice of beautiful New Jersey…

a slice of beautiful New Jersey…

Oyster Creek Restaurant and Boat Bar, Galloway NJ (Leeds Point), two weeks since I was peering out onto the salt marshes, and then dinner, this is the real jersey shore (for me), some raw top neck clams, some oysters, fresh local line caught tuna steak, all in a packed house, every generation from 2 months old to 100 years, parties of two to sixteen, kids first jobs of the summer, red and white checker table cloths, all Jersey…. am I biased ? sure… but I’m OK with that… The spider? I don’t know why but there is always huge spiders at these shore places, ok, well, I do know, big bugs = big spiders, duh, I will always remember the crazy amount of huge spiders @ Two Mile Landing in Wildwood, another iconic spot if you are in that area (further south), cracking crabs with a wood mallet is oddly satisfying… and time consuming… and generally worth it…

just a little poem…

just a little poem…

grayscale photography of baby holding finger
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

compassion
the better half
as decreed
maps the path
from wounded knee,
is sin a birth mark
not removed
in forgiveness wash
still imbued

notes… as usual sometimes I poke through my unpublished stuff and see if anything hits me, I sort of always liked this in the back of my mind, but time passes and you forget about things (I wrote this back in dec 2018), I thought it very lyrical at the time, and now… one minor tweak (the first line was one line with the second line but the cadence in my head read it as two after I wrote it).. so, there you have it… and there it is…

music: let’s rock, it’s the summer man, roll down the windows and get…

>>>>> Unchained – Van Halen

and don’t forget I also write Media reviews (TV, film and the like… and I would like to think I am good… or at least decent, come on now people I do work 6 days a week…)