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 often ponder the comfort of things… I am eminently guilty of this as most of us most be. I look at what once had great personal value and now seems worthless. I suppose moments (thoughts, feelings, emotions) are harder to warehouse than hardware… but why do we cling to things? Comfort, familiarity… should we chase her? spontaneity…
I am a creature of habit (not a nun), but a creature of the pun… I like to keep it light on days off and hell… it’s summer baby ! so why not just have some fun.
so… Carvel ice cream was a big thing here in the north east US when I was a kid.. Cookie Puss (which sounds like a bad porn name) and Fudgie (OK, I’ll leave that one alone) were huge! The chipwhich was like an earth changing thing man! and the klondike bars .. ! I must be in the swoon of summer. So, about the woodchucks… I must have not noticed them as a kid, they seem legion now along the GSP… every day driving home I look for their forecast .. (woodchucks are also called groundhogs and well.. I am not explaining the rest). And about the McDonalds commercial.. I can’t tell you how popular that thing was… and the shared experience of day camp.
That is the view from the parking lot of Wegmans supermarket in Woodbridge NJ… cmon! what isn’t inspiring about that… I am remiss to keep posting instant material but.. posting something new is just so much more … um… “new” feeling, boy am I profound! I want to get to stuff I wrote the past month or so (stuff I really like)… I will but I have been overwhelmed by instant lately and it makes some of my other stuff seem stale when you are birthing work directly, almost immediately. In the same car trip (my ultra cool exciting ride home from work) I wrote this about an hour earlier…
6.28.18
on the golden shores
of my dreams
the sea glistens
tides rise and fall
of shimmering sequins
the sun bathes healing light
malice is an unheard rumor
spite a harmless shadow upon the ground
I take
a deep breath
on the golden shores, of my dreams
Once again I was writing this in my head while driving (muttering to myself like a madman)… and that is what sucks about cell phones/ear buds by the way.. in NYC you used to be able to pick out the truly crazy people who were talking to themselves… now they are in disguise! anyhoo…. so I was at my fave rest area penning the above. Maybe after I become a renowned poet (after I am dead 200 years) they will name this rest stop in my honor… oh, the immortality of it all. I would be honored if families stopped to pee in my honor… I probably won’t actually be honored as I will most certainly be dead.
music? I am going with a more recent fave of mine… tycho, he is also an artist (beside music)… I have to say his tshirt I bought is like the damn softest thing ever… but forget all that and enjoy the music (electronic, not dance… thoughtful ambient ?) wait for the moment @ 4:34 …. brilliance… tycho “epoch” (his latest work)
My “process” is pretty much one and done, it is just what I do, how I write. So, as much as I would like to think (or promise myself internally) that I will get back to these.. I probably won’t (if I am honest about it).. so here are just some lines I scribbled, sort of orphans of mine. Maybe it will inspire out there in the wordpress-verse some other mind.
5.25.18
rumors ride a whisper
innuendo grows into a roar
5.23.18
the wind is the devil
before the storm
to stir the brew
5.4.18
winter sunlight
summer sunlight
all depends on the angle of your altitude
5.4.18
tales of wonder
no, tales of horror
buried in fathoms
depths below
*this was specifically written thinking about the Andrea Gail (the boat from “the perfect storm“), in my head I want to write an epic poem about that, I am fascinated by the sea.. but I guess not enough !
5.7.18
I started counting
the pattern on the guardrails
three, one, three, one
some would see four
*This was written sitting in brutal traffic on the NJ turnpike… looking at the guardrail
music? I play guitar (well, I aim to be better at it…) one of my faves is Eric Johnson, here he is live “Song for George“, just a man and his acoustic guitar.. so damn pure.. and so damn good.
that is the open to Anthony Bourdain’s show “Parts Unknown” (which just came on now)… and you know what, that is a poem. How quick the media moves on. Anthony killed himself just last week but it seems like years ago. But those words I quote are just full of everything if you think about it. We eat, we work , we travel… through this life.
We eat
we work
we travel
through this life
complete live thought, posted, I think I will try to sleep now.
So I had an absolutely brutal install on monday night. I install computer systems in supermarkets which generally we have to do after hours as to not interrupt the business. Needless to say I didn’t arrive home until dawn was just creeping up on the world (ok, just New Jersey) around 5am… have you ever worked through the night ? A strange experience to try and fight off tired but not OD on coffee. But enough about my job (it is decidedly boring to talk about, I much imagine I am like a butterfly in a blank box). So working like that screws you all up (hey, we all have our routines) so my phone started to rumble around 4pm and my blood responded by starting to boil (I was literally exhausted and not wanting to deal with work).. so of course my mind starts in like a sneaky suggestion “screw this job, I should tell my boss off, I should quit”… and then, a moment, of zen I suppose, I said to myself “self, stop!”. I walked outside (lovely day) and thought “dead people would kill to have your life”… and that is right. So I sat down on my porch, took a deep breath, and wrote this…
“peeking” 6.26.18
little rays of sunlight
sneaking past the trees
illuminates corridors
in the gaps between the leaves
late afternoon
the light summer breeze
carries refreshment
a caress
just like yours
but not quite the same
little rays of sunlight
diffused by the setting day
does this poem succeed ? I wonder. I was sitting there and there was like this lens flare in-between the leaves across the street. I could feel the warmth of the sun and just relax…. and realize I don’t have it so bad. I think perspective is important. Should that be taught in schools ? Instead of just 12 times 13 ? Should we teach kids skills to cope with life not just readin’, writin’, and ‘rithmatic ? Just something I was kicking around the ole tin can that is my head. I don’t know if it is because I am older now and more thoughtful or am I just a slow learner when it comes to the philosophical trough.
music? sure, I always think about it… I play guitar (not as well as a I could after all these years)… so I gravitate to guitar playing… so here is some slick playing in a swing setting Eric Gales – Double Dippin
“I insist”
so, I sat down for a cup of coffee with Fate
actually, I am sitting by myself because she is late
(so typical of her)
been a long time since we caught up
so long I can’t even remember how we first met
I really shouldn’t be surprised
I’ve known her for basically my entire life
I really don’t think she does it to be rude
I know she has a lot to do and lots of other people to see
I remember how she would tell me about work
and she felt like she had been there “forever”
how every time she got through a pile of work
there would magically appear another
so, I get it
but I must admit (between me and you) it is still a touch annoying
I guess I just have great anticipation
she always has something interesting to say
and the stories…
man! the stories, she has the best stories
I always tell her she should write a book
but of course she would say
“you know my stories do not work that way,
I have to tell them in person, person to person”
so then I suggest she should do some stand up comedy
(she is very funny you know, a bit dry but very clever once you get used to her twists and turns)
so she would reply
“ugh, knowing me, and you know me, I would have to come up with a new act every night, and that is just exhausting”
of course I agree on reflection
but you always want your friends to ride their talent to full potential
I know she does great at her job,
so I really shouldn’t worry,
human nature I guess
is that her car?
no, I think she has a newer model
(maple latte please)
oh, here she comes
(finally…)
I wave
oh no
she has brought a guest…
…
death!
My notes are usually up front but I wanted to flip the script…. because, why not? I wrote this while digging in the middle of a brook for fossils today… must have been a strange (amusing) view, I am up to my boots in muck and the idea hits, so I had to scramble to the bank in thick schwup (sound) steps through muddy sand, dry my hands, pull my journal out of the plastic bag, and scramble these words, the whole time cursing the dumb pen I packed (because damn it sucks but I can’t bring my Mont Blanc or Cross into the woods). The idea of treating abstract ideas as people is of course not new but I don’t recall if I have done this before. My personal favorite at this is Neil Gaiman, to say he is a master story teller is under selling. Check out this video with him and Stephen Fry, I found it utterly entertaining. So, back to my post. Fate? Pre-destination ? What do you think of fate? I vacillate.. we think we know so much, but in a universe defined by billions of years how can our intellect really grasp how this all works given our blink of an existence? We all want to believe we have free will.. but how can we actually prove that … … … ?
I am a wordsmith, truly my trade, a pen is my hammer, paper is my forge, I love to play with language in any form, so another week has passed and as is my habit with sharing my refrains, time for some lighter things, I am feeling a strain of Twain, I say that not to boast but with deference and irreverence to old man Clemens, so enjoy, these are just for pun, go out into the world and blow her a kiss, she deserves it…
I call this series animal crackers… and as usual I wrote these all at the same time, enjoy my cornball goofball sideswipes (hopefully, I don’t know, you tell me)
rats have long tales
but do not write books
the possum was the life of the party
until he passed out
fish are quite mischievous
they always skinny dip
song birds fill the air with music
but don’t take them to a Karaoke bar
worms, like children
sometimes eat dirt
amphibious scenery
newt beach
triceratops did not spin
killer whales
only have black tie affairs
although penguins are invited
pandas, skunks and zebras
all feel slighted
snakes? complainers
constant belly aches
and scrapes
a kangaroo’s preferred drink?
served on the rocks
hop scotch
a dog stops and stares
dramatic paws
the same dog joined the navy
and became a sub woofer
a lion’s residence ?
main street
snails love westerns
“happy trails”
an elephant’s car
has two trunks
the octopus
has eight cats
the starfish
is surprisingly dim
bats tend to hang out
to all hours
but they make great air traffic controllers
Musical selection ? Let’s go amusing… to assimilate the mood, a little strange funk to accommodate the junk I thunk above… Mr. Bungle “Squeeze Me Macaroni”… a band fronted by Michael Patton (Faith No More, a damn interesting guy) mixing funk, metal.. and well just about everything. oh, and please tell me you get why I linked bats to air traffic control.. hello out there? is anybody out there? (pink floyd) damn, sometimes I feel like the Dennis Miller of blogs with my references…
sometimes I won’t have something clever to say, it happens.
sometimes I just want to post some stuff, it happens (below)
5.20.18
driving around my hometown
in all the corners
shadows and streets
memories
creep and speak
I no longer listen
I block them out
my own eminent domain
5.22.18
fishing hole
fishes home
fishing pole
I cast my line
time and time
a nibble perhaps a bite
to reel in my catch
a simple delight
childhood
5.27.18
rain drops
lives lost
lights turned out
endless clock
5.31.18
if there is wind
let it fill my sails
transport me to foreign shores
to unknown lands
where I might
begin again
music? OK, I can get back into that. King’s X “Thinking and Wondering (what I’m gonna do)” (live, acoustic), so yeah, King’s X is a band I love and will post about them until the world puts me 6 feet under. King’s X is a gay black front man from Illinois, a slick guitar player from Mississippi (southern drawl), and a drummer from New Jersey (who is an interesting writer).. and they can all sing.. so yeah, they were diversity before diversity was cool… because it wasn’t a thing, they just “were”.. like we all should be.
I must be in a mood today… the only way I could have posted this faster is with my brain… I must admit this experiment is intriguing.
edit 6/21 12:51am… just cleaning this up for looks, that is my actual scribble there, I was in a supermarket working on a self checkout (I’m a NCR certified tech, you know, to pay the bills)… I think people must have found me weird scribbling away on paper and then furiously trying to learn the wordpress app in the maelstrom of a busy market.
I must be in a mood today… the only way I could have posted this faster is with my brain… I must admit this experiment is intriguing.
