dearest Miranda;
might I reside in your tides for a time
to bathe in your other-worldly light
to concede the life outside of mine
might I float-
upon your swollen plains
to the hypnotic din of alien waves
and breath-
whatever air has developed there
to become
a member of life unseen
from our distant peeking sphere
the inspiration… ‘Study shows Uranus Moon Could Harbor Alien Life in Subterranean Sea‘ (nerd poetry, go with it eh?)
these waking hours, into the dawn, I drive, not such a noble thought, or experience I might share online, but so, as the days draw smaller, my alarms do not falter, and there I am, between a car ride, traffic, and working man, left to see the sunrise, not as a joy, but as to where to aim my visor’s eye, maybe I should pause, and admire, even for a glimpse, the sun peeking out, over the snake bridge, behind the city that towers over the landscape in that direction, and maybe those sun’s rays come beneath my skin, my eyes, my mind, and bathe them in the eternal medicine of a rising sky… for many days may be grey and glum, so inhale in deeply from your souls the days of blue and sun, like today.
if you have been with me for a long time, I opine, on many things, I also regret, more now less, about not posting sometimes, as if the world might end if I don’t post in a certain time period, I have, of course, tried to free myself of such bonds, so you might see larger breaks, or quakes and lots of posts in the wake, this is to be true to form, I don’t want to force anything anymore, even if certain things seem to draw more eyes, I aim to not bend to such will, will I? I am human, and can not ditch all base desire, no matter how much I try, and I am, to be pure, because … what’s the point not to be? a crucible of me is what this should be, I am gainfully employed, in fact, probably over employed to the point you might be amazed I can post at all, but such as my inspiration is, these are moments, literally, like now, I am writing this direct after posting the above, I hope that genuine aspect comes through, these are all drafts really, but so is life… or at least that is my take, and well, this is my take even if I am talking to you.
we all fall down
life leaves unto the ground
once the green vigor of youth did thrive
now colors burst then lost and fade,
in a flash of a blink of days
the skin frails now to brown;
we all fall down.
any excuse to post some Toad is a good excuse… somewhat popular I suppose, super stars to me and my ears… catchy but not crap, amazing vocals, great arrangements, simple yet complex enough to chew on… damn… loved these guys… and about the poem, one of those that came to me on the drive home, which is sometimes a pain in the ass, I literally have to repeat the lines to myself so when I pull over I can scribble them down, I was, of course you might have guessed, in my head hearing “pocket full of posies” in my head… strange how the world works…
the sun forever on my back
for I am a lucky seed
trapped, here on this sphere
for might I be
thrown into a big red eye
a maelstrom of unending mayhem
or other places – none
ah the sweeping life
of atmospheric phenomena
so I have been, this past week, and the week before that week. Sure, I wonder, what if I did not have to work… would I ? Could I ? do this… indulgence, not in a bad way. Did I milk every mile and every smile this week? no… but I feel different after being here, and there, than I am at home. In fact I am much healthier and happier to know, I have to bet my life is a psychosomatic mess, at best, I am breathing easy now, a balcony door open to the ocean, literally, the hum of the pool system is there, to be sure, but so is the ocean, probably a good football field away, I can see the spray, so I am lucky, to be here, to pay the fare, to have busted my ass all year, to stay here for a few days, and god has graced those days with painted rays, and days… full of sun, and possibility, each day, I did much better than times in the past, at getting out there and trying to make it last… not 100% you can say, that is true, but I am just a man, but yet… it is true I could have made that number, not for you, for me, well, also for you to push yourself off the couch, to do, and get out in your purview, I don’t say this as a prophet or to inspire… it is just the fact that we should aspire to… give it our all.
the crown, the bell of the ball renowned
drown, in those eddies of expectations
temptation, for much resound
a burden, like a murdering yolk
the folk, are told to gaze up and hope
for those on placed above
a symbol, a facade, cloven be two
same heart, same blood, same breath
diverging destiny determines the rest
is there eternal loss…
among the stars
for there are
lights that have gone out
so long ago
but still-
ring out, for those of now
not echoes, no
reality of the past in tow
so yes, eternity exists
as long as a perspective, persists.
2 things my friends and readers… this album, Riddle is something other… worldly… truly… at least for me, and is this not my little space to expound on things me? surely… and the other thing, the poem, well how can it be that we are seeing the past… literally… but we are, there are stars out there we see, that have been dead longer than humanity has existed… but the light persists… so. when we die does our light also go on for someone or something else to see? seems logical… does not assuage my fear of death but maybe shines a “light” on it…
the fall-in
this slow slide
as leaves shuffle by
again, my friend
so here we are
like parting dolls
at a bus stop set
sewn mouths to witness
the world as she went
glass eyes to record and surmise
another chapter written
another goodbye
my friend,
I will see you again
on the other side-
just something that popped in my head
the eyes are not a window
the eyes are the truth
and I see
in hers
what I know
from body movement
from a smile
the ease of time spent
and lament
but rejoice
wandering in the forest of my mind
for so long
you forget in moments
memories seem like a movie you saw in the 80s
or someone else’s life
not your own
a spectator
in my own skin
for too long
and in an instant
in her eyes, I see what I know, what I lost
my pulse quickens
the subtle hum of joy trembles below
not trepidation as once might have informed
no, I just want to hold her
head to my heart
to feel her particular warmth
and sit there as one
for a time,
cherish the moments, write them down on your skins.
(and a note to any and all… just a reminder I write and post, very rarely do I edit, not that agonizing over every word was not my thing ages ago, but as things go now, this is just my bulletin board, if it comes out great, great, if not, also great, that’s just me, throwing out bottles into the sea, some have messages of worth.. some might sink into the sand… so be it, in a happy way…)
things change, even in a small lifetime, I can only imagine the ripples of time over long periods, like eons, not here, in this urban town, the burbs, the typical jersey suburb, parcels of land measured out, a lawn, a driveway, the american dream, it seems, with gusto and plows, concrete and asphalt, light poles strung like christmas decorations lining the parade route of the daily back and forth, I heard this was once farmland or even a chicken coop, but that was a different lifetime, before mine, but in my short observation, I have seen a shift in some and none, most of the birds remain the same, cardinals, jays, robins and the like, the rabbits of jack in spades have been a main stay, nervous little critters, then there are those canadians who really love to stay here year round these days, you would think they might explore the further south, and move to florida in waves, but perhaps compared to nova scotia this is like miami down, maybe they were there when I was younger, but I did not much notice the curious minions of northern parkway dogs like I do now, little watch towers looking about but oddly they seem smart enough (unlike a chicken) to cross the road as I can safely say I have not seen a flattened one, and least I forget the slyest of them all, the slinky foxes that skate along the hedge rows and meander in the shadows, to think all this life swirling about in just this tamed space, all it would take is a blink, and nature would roll into place.
Shades of My Garden 