life moments… waking…

life moments… waking…

sunset love lake resort
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Sometimes feelings sweep over me, I can not explain, it is like revelation burst, just something changes, a realization, this is not always a pleasant experience, today, I stepped out into the sun soaked summer day, for the utterly mundane task of putting out the garbage, the sun felt great on my back, my bare feet warmed on the driveway, I avoided stepping on sharp pebbles, all seemed OK, but I then just felt a wave, who the hell am I? how the hell did I get here right now? surely this is not the be-end of my dreams of years ago, am I even recognizable from that? externally? in my mind I am the same person all this time, I think, but how did I get here, I feel lost, I feel out of place, I feel I have no place, logically I know I am living a life far greater than many in this world, I know this intellectually but can not get it to sing in my bones, like I think it should, how did I get here? I feel like foreigner in my own land, walking the garbage bin out to the curb I feel out of place in a place I have known so well and so long, as if I was sitting on a train, speeding past my life, a decade spent, gone, a decade gone, spent, just riding along watching the landscapes blur by, nothing of consequence happens, just time passes, and here I am, off the train, at this stop, barely recognizing the universal familiar, I feel lost, adrift, knowing who I am but not how I fit, how did I get here?

change is a fickle thing, I have made progress this year from here to there, I’m just not back yet, I can not say I have lived in the lands of despair but I surely indulged in the rituals of same, denial of the self, finding it easier to retreat into a shell, to autopilot, to become a passenger to my own life, in all I must remember that the way up and out is not a straight line, it never will, but sometimes I am reminded how far I have not gone, the failures, the lure and comfort of normalcy, of conformity, of base expectation when I am capable of much more, but only the internal knows the true potential, it is draining, at times the energy is not there, I must retain to summon the cost, for it is worth every moment here on this earth, I struggle to find the strength, on this night, at least, I must find the missing ingredient.

(music, sort of gothic depressing, with violins… just my mood today)

I wrote this out on the porch tonight, not as cheery as some of the other posts, but it was just not in me tonight, I will not pretend or cover things up, this blog is who I am, mostly bright and optimistic but my mind does wander and wonder as there are horrors in this world, and the ultimate horror of our demise, my mind gnaws on things, it is my design, so I am consumed with trying to figure things out, no matter how futile… at times it will dull my blade, maybe even break it… but I will not quit until it quite literally kills me…

Thanks to any and all of you “ones” that read this, comment, think about it etc.  I consider you all Ones… individuals, so cheers to you, and thanks again…

Narrows Botanical Gardens (Quick Walk Through)…

Narrows Botanical Gardens (Quick Walk Through)…

Just a quick look @ the Narrows Botanical Gardens in Bay Ridge Brooklyn on an absolutely wonderful evening… a hidden gem to hide yourself in the middle of the bustle, or have a picnic in shade, good place for a date (put away the phones…)…

FYI: I do NOT claim to be a good photographer, these are all with my phone, I have a nice SLR but I do not carry it around with me in my work car for obvious reasons… so when I find a place it is usually a spontaneous thing.  Thanks for the looks and the likes, I am happy to answer any questions if anyone has any.

sometimes a scene tells you a story…

sometimes a scene tells you a story…

 

“I remember when grandpa would take us to the pier that stuck way out in the water, he seemed to know everyone with a smile, there was always our spot waiting, he said he owned the spot, he taught us all about fishing and mostly that you don’t catch fish, but he always had a smile in his salt beard, and loved telling us stories about his time in the navy and all about the ocean, we didn’t mind hearing the same stories, we always got a nutty buddy or push pop or if we were really lucky a bomb pop! from the ice cream truck all the way over there, mom would always be mad because we got sunburn or forgot something on the pier, but with grandpa the world was like our carousel.”

(fictional, made up in my head when I saw the scene laid out before me, photos from the 69th street pier in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn, Friday night, I was there again today… amazing place tucked in almost hidden right off a major highway and Brooklyn… seriously insane views of Manhattan which I will be posting soon)

minimal.

minimal.

red and gray seesaw in the playground
Photo by Mike Anderson on Pexels.com

they
see – saw
she – saw
their – love
balanced
each – other

notes: visual and minimal was my goal, you decide if I met the mark, just one of those little poems that came to me for no reason I can ascertain… and I will leave you with that, I have some cool stuff to post this weekend, I went out of my way today to find some local beauty (find beauty wherever it may be is one of my guiding functions these days), I have some cool photos to post from a little excursion I made, oddly no words came to me, I wrote nothing although I brought my journal and got some looks…. “why is this business dressed guy holding a leather bound book/journal thing, smiling and walking out on the pier in the middle of this heat??” – yeah, I imagine I illicit that mental conversation… I stick out, but I try really to not care anymore and just do my thing… I am getting there… one day I will shake hands with myself and sigh “finally…”

perception…

perception…

art blur close up fidget spinner
Photo by Jordan on Pexels.com

the sound of my
bathroom exhaust fan rattling
from years of revolutions,
outside
I put my ear to the ground
to listen for that very sound
but to the surface dwellers
this is imperceptible
or on a frequency
not given
this is a frequency
for which
I am not equipped.

notes… I call this observational poetry, something catches my eye (or ear) with a hook of metaphor, what for ? I don’t know, ask the muse, I just work here.

And I looked out upon the day…

And I looked out upon the day…

desert under yellow sunset
Photo by Fabio Partenheimer on Pexels.com

(music to read this by, let it load and start, trust me on this one…)

the heat, the weight of a summer day yoke
the intense concentration to hallucinate
the air above
the asphalt groves
a belly dancer, undulating
a snake charmer, hypnotizing
the air
like a stagnant pool
shade retreats
looking for itself
the air
so damn still
a pin could drop and never hit the ground
statues sweat without pigeon feet
the silence of the wild
is the sound of retreat
as night, sweet quench-cold drink, approaches…
lies just out of reach
fierce the brave thunderstorm
would be a most welcome site
I consider melting
into a puddle
instead of the sweltering
boiling in my own skin
even a lemon ice
is a blink reprieve
how I wish and beg for
the night to draw
the earth to yaw
how I yearn for that sweet refrain
oh, the coming of the night
if only for the time
so I might close my eyes
and delve into that sleep
to gather back my rivers
for the coming day
and flow into an endless ocean
carried on a dream
on the calm cool ocean
a feathered kiss
a breeze…

notes… I wrote this out on the porch tonight, it is what I do, or have been doing for a year now, damn, it is so much better in the summer, sitting out on my perch… er, porch, just riffing with words, this is all off the cuff stuff, some slight word changes but all written in a blink tonight, in the moment, could I perfect it ? hone it? hell yeah. but that is not the point, the point is raw, deliverance, me, my thoughts, you dig it ? great? not… well I still wake up in the morning… I think…

and if you did not get fair warning, shame on you… van halen was once the king of the damn world for a time… there was something about the maelstrom, the collection of those guys at that one time and the times at hand… all I can tell you it was a thing, I imagine that is why the Stones still tour even though I think they are completely droll…

a poem, of a lyrical nature…

a poem, of a lyrical nature…

houses near mountain
Photo by Flora Westbrook on Pexels.com

“and the water runs dry“
when the water is gone
and the roots dry crack
when the rain is gone
and the wells wide gasp
when the sea is gone
bones pluck will lie
when the river runs stop
damns ditched run dry
when the last blood drop
mirrors fade paint bend
pick past last crop
we are at our end.

notes… just one of those gifted to me by the muse, I wrote it as is, from scratch, it made me think musically, lyrically.

Thoughts from my porch…

Thoughts from my porch…

night fire burning sparks
Photo by Miriam Espacio on Pexels.com

I decided to mix things up a touch, I was in the mood to listen to some music while I sat out here, contemplating my little world and all the whole thing, strange to see the world moving around but not hearing all the usual sounds, just the ones I chose, melody, the beats almost mold my experience, my butt perched in the same old spot, watching much the same scenes, I imagine myself as those clouds, over there, the last warmth, the last rays of the day upon my face, much more comforting than the sun of noon, a warming palm upon my cheek, as the temperature casually calms into a more comfortable zone…
have you ever really watched fireflies? they make no sense, like a top, they spin around in all directions until they stop, their wings are the illusion of spin, little bells hanging and bobbing in the wind, it all seems so random, there must be some purpose I think, it just eludes me, irony, irony would be that the secret of life resides in the dancing chaos of this common summer insect in my yard, why not? maybe it is them not eye, that has a case on the pulse of the universe, light without electricity, I can only imagine what ancient people thought of these things, magic? or something else? but, we, are so much more evolved, our cars, houses, computers, et al… but in the end we are all doing the same things, living, loving, telling stories to each other by the fire, my fire happens to be this blog, irony, like a log, sitting on a log, in front of a fire, seeing embers crackle up into the night sky like starry travelers, telling stories of wonder, of the future, of the past, of things mystical, wonderful, and true, or that hold some truth, for truly, how much have we changed, aside from all the extra layers of technology, are we just the same?

music… Room for Me (Ty Tabor),  how this is not something tons of people have not heard is beyond me… check out the album “Safety” it was all about his divorce, most of it crushes me.

Always the sky inspires…

Always the sky inspires…

atmosphere blue sky clouds cloudscape
Photo by melchor gama on Pexels.com

“sky draft“
the sky is a story, right now
a beginning, and an end
the script reads left to right
I can not say what language this is
but the design, I recognize
over there is the fight scene
or the love scene
hard to tell, at times,
a dark cloud brooding
about halfway through
skip ahead
a bulb laid on blue
some pages appear blank
perhaps a spot for improvisation
weather or not
the story holds
or is being written
with an unseen pen
changing, shifting
but always a beginning,
always an end.

notes… we all look up (every version of humanity has), I wonder for many reasons, the fact that our sky is actually so thin and is all that separates us from what ancients used to call heaven, a little layer of air is all the separates us from space, and suffocation, and all that happens in that little layer is amazing, a whole system of intertwined water vapor, truly a wonder as it swirls asunder and not so much under, swirling clouds of water vapor, patterns in the sky, braille for the gods I suppose or just those that can fly above…

music… let me introduce you to another genre…electronic, more upbeat than ambient but still… chill… enjoy…

>>>Chillwave/Synthwave/Retrowave

silly thought for the day…

silly thought for the day…

assorted color sequins
Photo by Sharon McCutcheon on Pexels.com

this is the weekend, I need to take off my serious hat for a moment, I drive past this one mega church all the time, they have various signs they change on a regular basis, and I must admit some are amusing, today, for whatever reason I thought of something for myself…

If was to own a church, I would call it “The House of the Rising Son“

struck me as funny, so I will probably be struck down by the powers that be shortly…

Housekeeping!  I did a bunch today, totally updated my Collections and Series page, and also got my Porch page up to date (it has been a year… holy shit!)… man, it is hard work but worth it, screw the king’s men, they don’t know how to put me back together again… it is up to me to eat the elmer’s and piece things back together, thanks for being around to check it out… and the rest who aren’t…. ah, you’re missing out…