waiting at the last train
stop.
I never quite paid attention
to schedules
now
but-
I notice the light
fashioned as a fired old lantern
but
not
how is this
the last light
I might
Category: aging
see, wall
on the old sea wall…
standing in the light rain
bait fish shimmer the surface
gulls dive in to catch their prey
alone I witness, all this
not another, in long sights
the tell tale signs-
concrete, battered barrier wood
some lush green sea-grass revealed
from the tide out at sea from home
even with all the metal
and asphalt
miles of paven path in both directions long
I feel more surrounded
and humbled by the mother here
knowing, all this is a temporary dream
as wonderous as this may be, this rampart.
in my travels I endeavor to find little nooks of peace in this crazy loud mixed up wonderful world… sometimes this succeeds even beyond my expectations, a lone stretch of sea wall, not another person around, no sounds but birds and the surf, the occasional plane of course, this is New Jersey… but a light rain seems to have broken all comers but yet the sunset of light purples and pinks hints off in the distance.. yeah, I would say this was worth it. (for videos of my various excursions please check out my Youtube station, thanks for reading and spending some time here).
note.
can I capture the picture of a sound?
with these words.
a shared memory
a specific moment in time
I am not asking for me
I am asking for-
who might ever find this note
some years from now
like some abandoned float
a message, a bottle
albeit digital I suppose
floating in the ether
of thoughts
and mine
long gone.
haiku/staccato style I suppose, not prose, that much I know, not much else though.
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…
rubric cubicle
…this is certainly a pendulum I postulate, and much like the afore mentioned swinger I too sway back and forth at times, having a sharp memory is both an anchor and an anchor, swift to hold me in harbor and swifter to hold me from other ports of call, usually I post a song after my little missives, today, tonight, all depending on your lati and longi, I posted above the fold, as for many, a song can transport you to a single moment of time, and no einstein-rosen bridge needed, truly a wonder of the human mind, if this were a happy memory…
I had just bought my first i-pod mini, up until then I was too cool for the apple school, such a maverick (rolls eyes at old self)… how could I just give in and ingest the evil fruit of the serpent Job’s tongue, no, I had to find every off brand thing I could, Zune… and some others I can’t even recall (and perhaps history will not either), one of the first albums I loaded into this wonderful little player was the album “Menos El Eso” which translated means “Minus the Bear” which is also the name of the band, how clever, of course I did not look that up for some time, so the irony of the album name was lost on me for a while at least…
so I find myself in Islamorada, the Florida keys, my first time back in the state since I left her, even if I almost feel like I never did in some ways (I am sure she would disagree), the moments, the week, seemed as if the whole world was meant for me to screen -like an exclusive movie premier, the hotel was nearly empty, one family besides me, oddly enough they were from my home state and town (what were the chances?), this particular hotel is a collection of suites (think condos) so even at capacity there is only eight rentals in this part of the resort, right on the water, Atlantic ocean staring at me in yards, a beach with a wall drop off at the end, I suppose due to tides the sand would just get swept away constantly, luckily, or by design more likely, there was a private dock, the dock stretched out about thirty feet give or take in a “T” formation, on the right portion of the T there was a rock circle or just a natural feature where you could dip your feet in while sitting on your duff on the dock, I called this little corner home most nights, looking out on the shimmering pure azure allure of tropical water, glistening like magic should, even just a hint of moonlight lit up the shallow ocean floor like an aquarium, even the thought of this memory washes over me right now with utter relaxation, the waves gently riding up against my feet and shins, the palm tree fronds above casting tiger stripes along the boards next to me, that soft tropical breeze stops by to whisper in my ear, caress my lobes as the song weaves a soundtrack that befits all I am inhaling with all my senses… god, I think, I could die here…
on some nights storms would roll in, like their own city-states floating islands, isolated and violent, lightning nit-picking and licking only portions of the sky where the certain collectives of clouds were comprised, like armies marching in abandoned rows, passing all around me but none above me as my toes wave back and forth in water with no effort, enjoying the little fish here to go and fro, wishing she was here, to forget the whole, and just be together with no words, no reason, just to pass into eternity with her by my side, no forgiveness given, just so she would know my heart once more.
I go back and forth, memory or none, anchor or moor, but regardless, I can not escape who I am, was or will become, sitting alone on a dock waiting for a miracle to come even with all the wonders of the world surrounding me, numb, wondering and knowing all I have done wrong, but somehow not judged except by my own thoughts, and there is no escape from that verdict, even in this space, but somehow, somewhere in there, a non speaking voice let’s me know all will be well, but I strain to hear it… in the din of my own mind, if I could only be as quiet as this godly tide…
stargazer…
conundrum, my ear
flummoxed, my dear
for I do not know how I got to- this place
so far from our start (so long ago)
but close like a star –
in perception, of course
seeing the old light
as if new to my oldborn eyes
a trick of the mind-
but indelible creatures laid out
in that procession (of imagination)
so I may still look up at night
in wonder, with wonder
in the glaring love of that light
and see you there
or what once was
but does that matter
when you still shine above (after all these years)
note… for anyone not familiar with my thing… I write, maybe it is not all great, that’s fine, I write what I write and post it, rarely is there editing, the point? just being me… and that is no indication on anything, I just decided as such, my thoughts, here, period, as best I can with no filter or such, by no means do I think to tell anyone else what to do, how to write, or how to express themselves, save this… be you… find you… damn, I have been on this globe for fifty years already and I barely have a clue, just be you… as much as you can, first stick a toe in the water, listen to yourself, you know who you are, if not, have patience to figure it out… none of us get out alive, so be you, coming from someone who knows better now but should have found that path long ago…
the sounds.
obvious, I suppose, but somehow we just live with them in the background, white noise since our birth and before, maybe we even ignore them at times, the sounds, the natural sounds of nature around us, a reminder, because at the end we are as helpless to the end of sound, I was walking my trash bin out to the curb, a romance I have to engage in a few times a week, which is a luxury compared to some parts of the world, and certainly paid for through my local taxes at 13K a year or more, things are relative and all, but I heard the sound of the rain on my car hood, such a unique sound, the pound of the drops like ball bearings on a tin roof, such a sound, you can close your eyes and your imagination conjures one thousand images to match the sound, I want to run my hand across the surface to feel the sound on my hand, I want to pause, and stand there, maybe I am, frozen in time as I try and absorb the experience, like a photograph still, a capture, or something as cool slo-mo like the matrix but of course I am not dressed as chic, but I think you get the exposition, so I walk inside, the rain quite drumming harder now, and so my lobes shift to suit the environment shift, the focus is now the sound on the windows, the pelting, quite different than the pounding on metal sound, more like a gentle or not so, tapping, a gentle rapping at my window to the world, as the drops merge and shape out like ovals until they are just miniature mock-ups of streams and rivers running down the glass, gathering more followers as summer storm intensity dictates, but the sound, the quiet barrage, rising and falling with intensity, waves on wind, so I suppose this theme, this sound, is echoed in the global tides, and in some ways us all, an innate beat to the planet herself, a rise and fall, sun to set, life to death, every day… this song… these sounds, the heart beat of the universe, the true pure-pious pied piper.
Notes… I have been experimenting with various things to listen to for relaxation/sleep. Once you get going there is so much out there… I find the Schuman Resonance fascinating as it is the literal sound of the earth, the heartbeat, well, at least that is what I read on the internet… so it must be true ! Something to think about… the sounds.. the music.. that is just inherit in the natural world…
WIKI on Schuman Resonance… listen to the earth, or at least try.
sky womb
what if this is our second birth, put here in this womb, by divine providence, or the universe’s countenance, who can say, who would know, how can we know, this collective womb, a subtle shell, a fragile home, to grow to a certain age, and then move on, into another realm, as we all must do, but matter is never gone, just reconfigured, transferred, so perhaps, in our passing, we pass out from this vessel, this mother, onto the next life in some other.
Meaning? well… what if this is just a bus stop? a training station? a jumping off point for our electrical being? could that explain our isolation (aside from the incredible size of the universe)… so, if we think of our birth in a more metaphysical way… we are in a womb, we are alive, we emerge… maybe into the same… ?
the sun, the winter, days off (thoughts of an over worked soul, admittedly my fault).
P…erhaps a paradigm shift in my thinking is needed, for my future mental health, it seems obvious of course, but aren’t some of the simplest things the hardest to implement to get them un-entangled from the pernicious layers we create as buffers or boundaries, I had two days off this weekend, which, may seem crazy to some, is a rarity for me, and has been for 20+ years now, both days this weekend were nearly flawless, I can’t say I indulged them fully, I love to lounge in lucid dreams, truly, and once you have learned to drive such things the temptation to relax and watch a movie in your mind of your own making is… divine, but I did manage to drag my ass out of bed with enough time to at least enjoy the days, but my favorite time? sitting on my deck, buttressed all about by my bamboo children, all of them sprouting now like mad from a sort of late spring boost (not much rain), there is always that tipping point of panic when I don’t see them growing like mad but they always pull through, so far so good, just sitting on my deck taking the world in, a deer and a tiny babe waltzed on through, paying me no mind, I’m sure they were aware, listening to the breeze play through the towers of trees, I do not have some huge backyard, just enough I suppose where I only see the outcrops of urban-ity creeping in on the edges if I so choose to look, instead I like to focus on the shadows thrown by a single candle thread, dancing in the breeze, even the urban sounds make for a good backdrop, the hum of my A/C unit in my right ear, the hum of my neighbors pool apparatus in my left, the occasional, or pretty usual plane slight-screaming over head, that time of night where it is past sunset, but barely, and there is still enough light to see whatever clouds are still hanging around, no exotic colors, just a nice deep indigo with white whisps around, this is my charging station.
So this morning, after the usual drive in, with the usual jack-assery of many drivers which might illicit rage some days, today just a laugh at the ridiculousness of said jack-assery, I realized a few things… take more days off, a simple enough one. perhaps take my 2 day weekends in the winter months as to maximize the daylight, and conversely try to perhaps schedule earlier days in the more daylight months to take advantage of the longer days and longer sunsets, I think at the pace I am going I am more like burning my batteries out over the winter in both physical and an emotional sense, and then over-charging or over compensating in the warmer months… sure there is also vitamins involved and such (like vitamin D etc.) but this is not that blog, I am talking generally for me, of northern stock here in the USA, I wonder if the constant and yearly fluctuation is the erosion that ages this rock? So maybe I should be more conscious of such simple things, not taking time off for times off sake, or maybe so, but also to align more with the patterns of the seasons to benefit the most of the resources available from mother Earth. Of course I could just win the Powerball and move to an island… I could do that too… but just in case that does not happen, perhaps I need to schedule my schedule into 4 seasons…
the evenstar.
“Let us not be overthrown at the final test…
In sorrow we must go, but not in despair” *
and so passed the great king-
in the wake left broken, Arwen
who alone could not bear the grief
who gave all the gift of her kin and kind
to escape out the days into the undying lands
beyond the seeming reach of death; for a time;
but trade all, for this brief time of immaculate love-
above all;
now, with nothing left in this path
she departed out to her once splendid land
forlorn by time, deprived of the elven light, the evenstar – gone,
for some ages now-
for lothlorien had fallen into decay
and her, the last vestige of the place-
she lay down to die, as common folk do
just as Aragorn passed by choice, so she did too
in this far land, now of mortal men-
capable of the darkest plights
the darkest dooms
and yet the also-
the grandest heights, in the true light of love
and now, sacrifice, for the two have chosen, long ago
her eyes close,
knowing this day would come, one last thought
“goodbye my love, my last and only kiss- is yours”
*the last words of Aragon (before he chose to die), from JRR Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings. Sometimes I am inspired by such great works to write something, this particular scene actually does show up in the movie as Elrond reveals his daughter’s fate to her in a vision, one thing though, perhaps overlooked by some, Elves are not actually immortal, they are tied to the land, they can live an instant or millennia, the undying lands will sustain them for all time as the land exists, but at such a time that the earth ceases, so they too will perish as all things must.
Shades of My Garden 