not all thieves are honest
not all burglars are noble
the taxman is a shadow
the senator a shade
let a king be chosen
from dishonest kin
wonder-wonder-wonder
how this web did spin
(and capture such insects…)
Author: David Koblentz
Inspiration is a fickle muse. Sometimes empty, sometimes overwhelming. These words I write are my own but they seem driven by something else (perhaps?).
a promise to return.
a promise to return
“fools believe in such”
the fairy whispers directly
into my jaw, and under my pillow;
a judgmental gift-giver-
is resident in my chimney;
pray not that the flames of hope
burn through the flue of expectations.
darkness- and light
to-what can fend off darkness
but light?
for what can defeat the demons
but light?
so let the tales take flight in lieu of this-
and reside in places of honor, in our psyche to preserve the child’s eye
across the sky…
from sky to mile
like a solar wind in trip
gliding across the fingertips
of galaxies for my own;
I pray for the lesser-
for soon to will I bear
the destruction of a star
smoldering-
until there is no light
and only memory
a candle in a corner
washed past by the tides of time
notes… I wonder about self awareness, would I be better served not knowing anything? well… honestly the point is moot, because I am… too aware? perhaps. And maybe that is the function of religion for the masses, to alleviate this distraction. I am not dissing religion, who knows what is true, none of you can say for sure… neither can I … or anyone, and all else is hubris of the human mind. If you have your savior I am happy for your personal acceptance, it just does not work for me, it makes no sense, again… I do not hold myself above or as the arbiter of such things… I do believe in more than chaos creating all things.. there is some sense of order there… but it is so beyond us on this little orb orbiting one little star in an ocean we can not even conceive of in size in our minds, and that it fine, it does not provide me solace, but god does not owe me anything, no the universe… for the one thing I know I am alive… and that is the universe saying I was meant to be, so here I am… does it address all my concerns (death?)… no, of course not, but there is no way I did NOT exist… so there is always the chance I always exist… even in past tense.. if that makes sense, so that is where I am…
ultimate.
let me die tomorrow
for I have loved
and that is enough.
my apologies to her. I finally understand and value that purity, it hit me, so justly… but I have had the taste of pure love, and that love bestowed upon me, many people can not say or claim the same… I hope to obtain even a glimpse of that again… but it has been many years now, nothing is the same, and I think of her, and our perfection of circumstance, if that is not god, I care not to exist… but I do, and I persist… until that end which is nearer than the begin, I still imagine our life together, as it was and never was… but I feel, complete, knowing my defeat but … I do not want to die alone but I feel at peace with being me…
sometimes happiness is a photo
Unnamed pond I have passed thousands of times in my life… decided, what the heck, I am going to stop in today… technically this is a private pond in the estate section of Colonia NJ, something no one outside the area would ever know about, but one side road has just enough public space to take some pics… and I got this… I wasn’t sure in the moment if I got it all… but I did… a fish jumping out of the water… 3 turtles in the foreground (one is a head only just north of the obvious two, like a turtle triangle), the cool island in the far end of the lake which is a haven for ducks, and other turtles sunning themselves on downed trees to the right… I can not take credit here… I can only thank the powers that be for putting me here at this moment… and being able to share it with you… so, again… I implore you, get out there, show the world the local beauty of your piece if the world… there has to be some… This is New Jersey… where I grew up and reside… just a slice…
the three joys
the joy of emptiness-
for you can be fulfilled
the joy of failure-
for you can succeed again
life provides many chances
you will be surprised
just accept them,
the joy of breath-
for you are alive
and your voice
is carried
into your love’s ear
and so to the last wall
falls
before a kiss-
so is joy
upon your lips.
notes… so those who might not know, I am a primal writer mostly, I just write and post, in real life I am a tech nerd, this is just my art, love it or leave it, I post for me and by chance some people dig it, so be it… not dismissive, I do appreciate your views, comments and likes… but I would be doing this in the wilderness screaming from a mountain if I could do that cool Ricola thing…
and feel the spring.
ripples be still-
and mesmerize the heart
the gentle river speaking
I know the science of this
the motion
but the magic
the hypnosis
perhaps I feel life in this
the exposed veins
as equally happy as I
to bathe in this spring sun
Shake-me-ku times
the clouds took no note
as humans clutched at their pearls
all while the ground shook
shake rattle and roll
in the moment unaware
the ground, she rumbles
so we had a little royal rumble here, nothing I have experienced in my life, for once California was laughing at us… tough NYers and NJers… hah… shake them up for 15 sec and watch them lose their minds… I might imagine the reaction… it was a strange sensation, I must admit I thought it was just a semi parking to close to the building at first. So… somehow I survived the terrible ride… and here I am on the other side… earthquake badge stoutly sewn on my exterior, now I go about the daily business reminded with just a subtle tap on the shoulder, should she choose to end it… mother nature… well, so she shall have our heads, and there is nothing we can do… but smile and be glad… that this was not that day.
and there has been rain…
and so the rain for days
for sleep I may come and lay
upon my bed ridden with neglect
for no sun is seen
cruel nimbus clouds that steal these hours
and the darkness then with swift devour
for memory serves the rites of spring
I must remember the way
the gate
the path
on that will be another end
where all the rain will dry
and the grasses will bend, upwards, again
and my heart will sing
and fill with the songs of birds
as equally gladness fills the air and will intoxicate my mind with wings
bifurcated…
I wish to be a river
that coalesces
into the great sea
rather than kerosene
that burns into the interior-
a continent
bifurcates into the unseen-
a desert.
for dryness is death
as water is life-
but can I alone alter the course-
of raging waters?
Shades of My Garden 