a window into a life, a conversation with a soul, a gateway to a heart
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?).
I couldn’t imagine posting this under some cool topic where I could blather on and on about this that and the other thing… but I liked it so… here it is. I do not feel like explaining the first couple of lines in an American context right now.
Semi-haiku I suppose (well, it feels like one to me). I personally don’t like to be bound to form but it is like anything else in life (you want to wear a comfortable pair of pants that suits you when possible). Haiku is like watercolor to oil or acrylics in the painting world. Or maybe I am too lazy to count syllables and I am certainly not Japanese…
So science (at this time.. because real science changes all the time) tells us by observation that space is actually pretty empty (that’s why the little voyager probes will probably outlive our civilization… 70s tech will last a billion years! oh the power of hot stuff!). Of course there is the new grease in between the creases thing (see what I mean about science evolving). So there is immense space in between things but we feel so … connected in our tiny tiny corner of one galaxy in the vast immense insanely large universe… hard to wrap a primitive mind around… so that is what I was thinking about… the space within our space and how we fill our space within that space. Heady stuff… but… we only have one life, why not contemplate it all, even if it is much easier to just eat work sleep… I am no different, I’m trying to be, to focus on being a phoenix because I know I am, we all are (well, honestly not every one, I am talking to you, those reading this who have that spark), we choose normal (even our normal) because it takes constant effort to be the pinnacle… but we do owe it to ourselves, even though we will fail… but at least we can get some stuff done… my opinion.
music. super chill ambient. Seti “Pharos”, of course SETI is the project to try and detect alien life using the world’s best radio telescopes (like the amazing Arecibo array). This album is a total trip through the cosmos, you can almost imagine the stars as you travel past them (well, at least I can). draw the shades or curtains, lay back, turn up the bass a little and imagine flying through space passing stars, asteroids and planets… and contemplate what Frank Drake was trying to quantify… definitely some super food for thought. I appreciate all comments and feedback.. and criticism.. man I love complaints because how the hell am I supposed to see this through your eyes? hint: I can’t!
A very NJ-centric poem (links to explain for those out of state), a place I drive by all the time, but never took the time… to notice. The jets feel like they are on top of you as they land/take off on this little airstrip tucked into the folds of strip malls and all – in the cross hairs of the highways 46 and 17.
Some thoughts…. Firstly I am afraid of heights.. so I would never do this in a million years or for a million bucks (besides you really do NOT want to see me in a speedo – and no, that is not me in case you are asking, thankfully I am not that hairy). Secondly there is the idea (well, fact) that if you do not time your dive jump correctly you go splat (not so nice). Thirdly I just liked this one when I wrote it (not a single edit, it came out of me just as it is written above, first take)… I think (I don’t want to assume) that most people reading this are fellow travelers in the arts (hello fellow practitioners of words!) or of the creative realms… and whether we would like to admit it or not we have favorite children, for whatever reason, there is that spark that blinds us and makes us proud in the same light (inspiration)… so this is one of those, for better or worse I just enjoyed writing this one… satisfaction.
So, sometimes I am lazy…um, I mean topical ! So here is some cool music to read my blog by.. Tycho “Dive”, if this doesn’t make you groove, check your pulse… open your mind to the electronic divine… this tune sold me on Tycho (not Tyketto… totally a Jersey thing…), if you get a chance go see him live, he tours often
So, being the consummate dork I am a huge fan… not of the books (they are a bit of a mess in my opinion.. I am a Tolkien boy after all, he makes more sense) but the show. So for the hell of it I wrote some GoT inspired stuff… because… why not. I love watching the reaction to the show here, I don’t know why, but I find it fascinating. I’ve entertained in my mind flying out there to watch the final episodes… whenever the hell those come out.. come to think of it the show is now matching the output crawl of the books. Life imitates art imitates art… or something?
“Jon Snow” 7.2.18
wolf of the north
born of ice
blood of fire
descendant of the first men
crossed upon the mantle of tri-fire Targaryen
can the balance tame
a dragon’s ire
Daenerys’ desires
can this bond
shield the world
bend all men
into one will
to repel
the ever coming march
of the dead.
upon the wall
and through
O’ Jon Snow
show us the light of the north
the heart that beats flame
and stand before
the gates of doom
to battle upon
where the night king looms;
we look to you
O’ Jon Snow
7.2.18
in the crypts of Winterfell
rests the ages
the sages of generations
wardens of these northern lands
keepers of the sevens’ grant
in the bottom of my bath basin. I do not imagine most Americans call it that. But the word “tub”… is just.. well, ugh. I think of a tub of lard… or a tub that you throw stuff into (utilitarian but not exactly a thing of beauty). I mean, even a Tuba sounds like… a Tub+A. Guitar has a much cooler ring to it. Anyway, back to the dead moth. So this thing flew into my shower and I watched it fly into the beating stream (I have one of those adjustable showers and I like the sado setting like raining ball bearings of hot water pelting my back like a good snowball fight). I thought about scooping up the guy and letting him back out…. but then I figured.. it’s just a damn moth, how long do they live anyway? Which set off a philosophical conundrum in the foundry of my mind. We do not live that long relatively speaking. A Redwood would probably look at me and scoff… and then a Joshua tree (not the U2 album) would comment about the Redwood “oh those silly kids”. I kind of like the Buddhist idea of reincarnation but what if there is no remembrance of your former thing? And what if you were reincarnated as the same thing 10 times… or 1000… So anyway, the moth took about 2 days to finally go down the drain, it kind of hung out in the tide of my showers… taunting or haunting me, not sure. Just some food for thought.. or some words to digest.. or some other lame gastronomical appropriation… So here is something vaguely related…
…to post anything profound or mindblowing… heck, I’m just a dude sometimes. I figure I would post a puppy photo and let the hits roll in (I don’t like cats so much so that wasn’t an option, and well, if you are into that youtube has plenty of pussy… cats for you to ogle). So puppies and flowers… and er, candy, chocolate and whatever… Pretend I wrote the coolest thing you ever read, I probably will, just not tonight…
I have been battling a sinus infection for some days… wrapped up in my room, like a tomb just trying to get back to myself. Sinus infections are like migraines inside your face, you can literally touch the pain and push it around inside the spaces behind and around the eyes. Not complaining, just explaining. Just something I deal with… people have it much worse than me… although I must admit I am waiting for the day when lack of breath will kill me.. it almost did a few times when I was a teen, asthma attacks where they had to jack me full of adrenaline…. where I was pacing about for 2 days unable to sleep. I have nightmares of drowning and it is odd always knowing what most likely will be my ultimate end… lack of breath.
I wrote these today out on the porch, in conjunction. In fact I wrote the second poem in the middle of the first and then finished the first. The older couple interrupted my mojo but then inspired it… life is indeed strange these days, I hope it remains that way.
“coming of the rain” 7.4.2018
among all this bounty
how can I feel such sorrow
so hollow;
the coming of the rain
far off rumbling
tremors in the air
the birds feel cautious
quiet, huddling
not the usual songs of summer
perhaps it is the fireworks
non rhythmic throngs
of bursts of bombs
leaves, here and there, begin to twitch
singular drops
seem to have met their marks
as my country celebrates
I sit here
waiting
for the coming of the rain
7.4.18
an older couple walking down the street
speaking in a foreign language
(russian I think)
they seem content
as much as body language presents
their forms
reflections on the side of my car
as they pass
in conversation
might I know their story
and be distracted from my own
DMK Note… I used the term “older couple” on purpose… I had to help my father do something the other day and he remarked that the client we were meeting is a strange young guy. That guy had to be at least 20 years my elder… so I wanted to have the reader of this poem use their own idea of “older”… it is so relative, I will not reveal how old the couple walking actually was, it does not matter.
Shades of My Garden 