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?).
“unremarkable sky guardian your exquisiteness is my breath a time capsule from within I will pass all my own the thin blue horizon which protects this very breath held tightly against this earth by means we understand by eons we can not comprehend”
notes… semi related to my last post, kind of a reminder that wonder is all around us (and I don’t just mean the bread), I wrote this in my head on the way to work in the car, which is annoying, I really get anxiety trying to recite lines back to myself and hope I remember them when I get to the office (if traffic is not murder I can not scribble things down at 75 mph you know), and I am just not good at dictating to my phone, it just.. I don’t know, the pen is my friend and is the one I take to the dance…
so much of what we are told is what we are told, I ponder about that castle up on the hill, that was my dream, once all seemingly within my reach, it was what I was supposed to be, the prince, the crown, the queen, then king, the life laid out before I knew anything of this life, down the hill, from that great mount, but, upon rainbow’s end, it was not real, just an ideal of what I was supposed to want, to aspire to be, in the image planned, of those who raised this vessel and chose what might fill the same, the directions I might start out upon, which roads I should follow, and how the other choices were trails that led to nothingness from their experience or opinion, but for yet those before had never laid their own eyes beyond those walls either, and rather engender the dreams I might have gathered, pointed me in the direction of their own, not by malice, or ill intentions, of the hope of granting that castle dream to a future generation, dreams, as such, are best kept to those asleep, for it is better to sit under these stars than to pretend I belong among them, but, do not interpret this the wrong way, but for this is not despair or the death of dreams, this is forthright ground, dirt I can clasp in my hand and sprinkle out on the earth in front of me, this is not despair, to understand the common life, a human life, for there is plenty to wonder at there…
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this is quitean unremarkable night, as most are, the sunset is not particularly grand, the clouds are just swabs of gray against a not even blue sky, but here I lie, here I am, breathing in such breath, creating words from the fruit of the universe filtered down through my hand, and this pen, I could despair, I could dwell on all the wrong, out there in the world, or know, and truly feel, alive, untouched, at the moment, by the great miseries, that stalk us down, but tonight, this night, that dark finger has not crossed me, not pointed me out, not tapped on my shoulder and gave me that nod, for this is my time, my dream, an unremarkable life perhaps in the scheme, of things, not a castle on a hill, not a cache of riches, not the adoration of faceless masses, just the sheer miracle and joy of this existence, even if this, is just for a minute, let this by my tale so others may know it… (part of my porch project)
thoughts, comments, war strategies, ways to fold your legs in interesting ways… are all appreciated, c’mon now people what are your thoughts on the matter?
I like to take things lighter on the weekend (hey it is summer, India Day coming here in Edison NJ and the Yankees are playing the Red Sox, summer indeed), time to relax and let the week… end, and start anew on Sunday, so here are some quick things I might not post otherwise, lest they hang on the vine and rot away in the shadows of my journals (these range in age from May until, well, now-ish)…
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cherry blossoms greet you at spring’s door in a twist they are gone may day all fall down
birds in a yard conducting business or covert intentions how am I to interpret their intricacies
refrain rejoice even in the rain
on my lawn upon my yard robins do a two step a young jack nimbles and is quick buttercups add a touch of color of bright yellow candor
for cardinals are the bane of bulls to small to gore to red to ignore
we live upon the southern edge at that precipice of storm for we look beyond our shores
All your thoughts, comments, likes, hates, opinions, critiques, and eyes on any of my writing are with thanks… so, thanks. feel free to comment, lament, foment, ferment and any other lent you can think of, the floor is yours… because I prefer the bed….
“as we reach for the sun we burn our tongues as we can not know the words to the song take me to… take me to… where the night has begun west of the moon and east of the sun”
copyright… me… just because of the pause and the simplicity of it all, at the end of the day… if I could post in black and white perhaps I would, perhaps I should, for at least these occasions…
back to my regularly scheduled programming… Thursdays are for the lachrymose, those moments when I reflect on her…
Photo by Vincent Albos on Pexels.com
“a slow pour, in a bar in paradise islamorada, florida sitting on a stool of course, by myself top shelf surprised they have basil’s, a slow pour some would describe this exquisite a perfect sunset light slides along the gulf like all those postcards I suppose I could just buy a bottle and some pills and end this right now as there is something missing in the midst of all this glory, a slow pour – the rattle of melting cubes the sharp sting of bourbon punctures my tongue the view, massages like a familiar tune the hum of gentle conversation I am not involved in, a. slow. pour. … the deck overlooks overlaps the water lapping the pylons sips count the minutes here in locked distant beauty in a bar, in paradise on the water I contemplate life – without you”
notes… this is totally a mental picture for me, and my link to Islamorada above shows… even in the midst of what most would consider paradise…. I remain, on those warm nights, ocean breeze, wishing you were there next to me, I still have hope, down there, somewhere, for new love or the kindling of old (for her, I love you)…
and in the interest of being honest, I was disappointed that my last post got no love… maybe the way I tagged it ? not sure.. but either way I stand by it with pride….
…perhaps the problem is in the name itself, the name is a supposition, meaning that we are calling this life, and then ‘something‘ after, maybe the real answer is that this is just a phase of overall life not the end all be all .
for most of this phase of life, I must admit I have been focused on the possibility that there is nothingness after conventional death, that my life has zero significance and it will be as if I never existed forever after this – gone… – forever…, at times this has given me what feels like a panic attack, my breathing shortens, my chest seizes, a get a bit dizzy, it feels real and paralyzing, to combat this over the years I have tried to rationalize the options, I’ve looked at a myriad of religions, none fit (for me, if they work for you, I have no problem with that and am happy for you, genuinely), there was a time I settled on just knowing a few things:
-I do/have actually existed -all humans great or garbage have gone down the same path -matter is not created or destroyed so regardless some part of me goes on, in some form -we know very little of the universe as smart as we think we are, so there is volumes of knowledge out there to explore
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Sometimes this has been enough, sometimes not, because even if I, my atoms, my molecules, my materials become something else (or more perhaps… or less more likely), even if I become something else my consciousness, the ‘me’ is gone, and that is what rattles me to the core, it always has, and I don’t understand how most people are not the same, afraid of this dire outcome, this inevitable end, for all time, perhaps it is better that way.
Photo by Ali Arapoğlu on Pexels.com
So that brings me to tonight, and the term ‘afterlife’, and it made me realize that yes, vast nothingness is a possible outcome, but so is a phase of life we just do not understand, call it a vision if you like, I call it a picture in a dream I had, I imagined that upon my death, my body opened up like an egg, and a form of myself burst forth like a blue phoenix (I can not explain the particulars, I am just reporting them), a blue phoenix with a long tail like cosmic dust, as if you grabbed a nebula and pulled the cosmic cloud around back and forth, and the phoenix raced forth to explore the universe, no longer what we consider human, a higher form, I felt that is what we are meant to do, to discover the universe, in all the corners, in a different dimension, soaring among the stars, it felt calming and reassuring as if it came from some other source than my brain, is that likely? my logical self says no, but my logical self also can say that I do not have the knowledge to really make the call, there are many things we don’t understand in this life, we don’t remember being in the womb, but certainly were there for almost a year residency, then we had this phase of life which we are living in now, perhaps the next phase is the same way, this may be just another gestation period, different than the previous but no less real, and then the next birth happens, or evolution of our being, into something else, would we look back to the previous phase and look to talk to it ? perhaps, perhaps not, based on looking at this experience of life.
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Is this an answer? no. Just something that occurred to me tonight, something floating through my mind (as it is always working on the puzzle of this life). My fate will be the same either way, but sometimes there is an outcome we may not have considered… and I surely will still ponder on the subject, well, until the answer is quite apparent, and I am quite gone, either moving on or moving never lost to forever. I prefer to hope for the next phase of life, not afterlife, the next-life, the next phase…
As usual, all feedback is appreciated…. this one is a little out there, but, so are we, floating on this little blue marble at the edge of a galaxy among countless, beyond countless others…
“the life I wear wear on myself and worn familiar broken in no longer comfortable in this skin and may be never was what I was sold to believe”
notes… ok, had to be a word nerd (I am an unabashed dork of vocabulary), accouterments is just one of those little, ok, big words I adore (*gush*) , I wrote this back in may, totally forgotten by none other than me, until today (obviously), I went back and looked through pages and pages of material (my mess of journals)… I wrote new stuff today but… somehow this hit me to post after I got home from work tonight (now, I was doing an install in Fort George NYC), I had to move equipment that was in place for 10+ years… and it has done my allergies no favors… dust bunnies are not cute, or furry, and damn they mess me up… in other news I got lost a bit in the neighborhood (I don’t know this particular part of Manhattan that well) and I wound up in Fort Tryon Park… damn I wish I had the time to share the views… you bet your ass I will be revisiting and getting some photos and video up there…
“wildflower grown in your own soil grown at your own pace I wonder how you chose, the colors of your house and your brothers, sisters there all of the same house entwined with your neighbors burst forth this short season thrive in the warming light reach up to the warming light”
music tonight ? OK, gonna be obvious, and simple, and I love this song due to the simplicity, I can imagine reading/writing to it… and maybe I did…
all thanks, likes and musical suggestions are welcome, come on people, turn me on to some stuff I don’t know, I doubt you know someone with the musical pallet of me, electronic, death metal, classical, ambient.. and that’s just tuesday… as always, thanks for looking…
“across the way, there- four squirrels on the lawn I have never seen so many gathered and get so well along they must be plotting scheming I can feel it in my bones four squirrels over yon what are they waiting for I know what they seek they are trying to lull my senses lower my defenses into, sleep “not this day! not on my watch!” four squirrels taunt and shake their tails I know they look to this now a bounty untouched but fierce resistance I shall muster as long as fallen ramparts allow so I watch and pace the trunk about and pace I await four squirrels looking to plunder”
(the thoughts of a worried chipmunk)
notes… sometimes just a visual triggers my art, this is that, I found it silly, but also there is metaphors there, everything is scale, we think we are on top of all the world, but we are left to the same devices, but at least, we can smile, and realize our status.
as usual, all thoughts, likes, questions, odd stares, stink eye moments and genuine love… is all appreciated, if you made it this far, you have my thanks, and I would buy you a drink if you were two stools down, a virgin mary? sure, whatever you desire…
honestly I forgot to post this all the other day (and I have back there two times since!)… the location ? (good question) American Veterans Memorial Pier (Bay Ridge NY), really a great place where the belt parkway meets the BQE, tucked under there next to Dyker Heights (cobble stone streets and brownstones… damn it is nice), the view of Manhattan is just amazing, from Lady Liberty all the way down to the UN Building (which off the top of my head is on 43rd, I used to have an account there)… so here are some photos….
Shades of My Garden 