a mental exercise, why? just popped in my mind (as most silly things do)…
what if I was cake?
would that not be a wonderous thing, the joy, the trees of light, a forest of a number, a name in script applied with sugary frosting ink across my brow, like those temporary tattoos you can get for two quarters, the smiles, the songs, the merriment of it all, the gathering of friends and family around-
but then, that first cut, then some more, the once flowing name now smeared on lips and napkins, mere crumbs of your own reflection, your body doled out among the ravenous minion, candles blown out, a quick rise in the sun but now you are devoured, lost to a gut, the only remains a photo on a social post.
perhaps you are lucky and were born a wedding cake, with sentimental figurines adorned, not completely torn apart like most, you survive like some white ghost, in a freezer perhaps, like some ted’s head, hoping with all frigid hope, for no divorce.
upon the found
“upon the found”
for what ever we might know
from that first moment
with literal life line cut-
eyes wide open cried
to that light of experience-
crawled,
for now upon what we have found
we always knew
we were always bound-
upon that fate does ride our book
words written, time to took
to this journey now
upon the found-
we have always known
what to do-
sheathed in this shroud
of the world abound-
naked in a mirror then
such is now, should we look?
the complications of age
just make shores seem distant
but we have the means
to ever cover the distance,
so may I lay my temples down
in this foundry spent
ah, the forgery of the now
for ever we have not changed a single beat
removed from that bathing hollow
to eyes wide open cry
inner counsel does indeed
sew our truths from our own seed
betrays to trust to quick ends
while stark facts lurk in our descent.
musing on Miranda
dearest Miranda;
might I reside in your tides for a time
to bathe in your other-worldly light
to concede the life outside of mine
might I float-
upon your swollen plains
to the hypnotic din of alien waves
and breath-
whatever air has developed there
to become
a member of life unseen
from our distant peeking sphere
the inspiration… ‘Study shows Uranus Moon Could Harbor Alien Life in Subterranean Sea‘ (nerd poetry, go with it eh?)
these waking hours…
these waking hours, into the dawn, I drive, not such a noble thought, or experience I might share online, but so, as the days draw smaller, my alarms do not falter, and there I am, between a car ride, traffic, and working man, left to see the sunrise, not as a joy, but as to where to aim my visor’s eye, maybe I should pause, and admire, even for a glimpse, the sun peeking out, over the snake bridge, behind the city that towers over the landscape in that direction, and maybe those sun’s rays come beneath my skin, my eyes, my mind, and bathe them in the eternal medicine of a rising sky… for many days may be grey and glum, so inhale in deeply from your souls the days of blue and sun, like today.
if you have been with me for a long time, I opine, on many things, I also regret, more now less, about not posting sometimes, as if the world might end if I don’t post in a certain time period, I have, of course, tried to free myself of such bonds, so you might see larger breaks, or quakes and lots of posts in the wake, this is to be true to form, I don’t want to force anything anymore, even if certain things seem to draw more eyes, I aim to not bend to such will, will I? I am human, and can not ditch all base desire, no matter how much I try, and I am, to be pure, because … what’s the point not to be? a crucible of me is what this should be, I am gainfully employed, in fact, probably over employed to the point you might be amazed I can post at all, but such as my inspiration is, these are moments, literally, like now, I am writing this direct after posting the above, I hope that genuine aspect comes through, these are all drafts really, but so is life… or at least that is my take, and well, this is my take even if I am talking to you.
the fall, of course…
we all fall down
life leaves unto the ground
once the green vigor of youth did thrive
now colors burst then lost and fade,
in a flash of a blink of days
the skin frails now to brown;
we all fall down.
any excuse to post some Toad is a good excuse… somewhat popular I suppose, super stars to me and my ears… catchy but not crap, amazing vocals, great arrangements, simple yet complex enough to chew on… damn… loved these guys… and about the poem, one of those that came to me on the drive home, which is sometimes a pain in the ass, I literally have to repeat the lines to myself so when I pull over I can scribble them down, I was, of course you might have guessed, in my head hearing “pocket full of posies” in my head… strange how the world works…
floating dreams
the sun forever on my back
for I am a lucky seed
trapped, here on this sphere
for might I be
thrown into a big red eye
a maelstrom of unending mayhem
or other places – none
ah the sweeping life
of atmospheric phenomena




in god’s moment
so I have been, this past week, and the week before that week. Sure, I wonder, what if I did not have to work… would I ? Could I ? do this… indulgence, not in a bad way. Did I milk every mile and every smile this week? no… but I feel different after being here, and there, than I am at home. In fact I am much healthier and happier to know, I have to bet my life is a psychosomatic mess, at best, I am breathing easy now, a balcony door open to the ocean, literally, the hum of the pool system is there, to be sure, but so is the ocean, probably a good football field away, I can see the spray, so I am lucky, to be here, to pay the fare, to have busted my ass all year, to stay here for a few days, and god has graced those days with painted rays, and days… full of sun, and possibility, each day, I did much better than times in the past, at getting out there and trying to make it last… not 100% you can say, that is true, but I am just a man, but yet… it is true I could have made that number, not for you, for me, well, also for you to push yourself off the couch, to do, and get out in your purview, I don’t say this as a prophet or to inspire… it is just the fact that we should aspire to… give it our all.










mantle
the crown, the bell of the ball renowned
drown, in those eddies of expectations
temptation, for much resound
a burden, like a murdering yolk
the folk, are told to gaze up and hope
for those on placed above
a symbol, a facade, cloven be two
same heart, same blood, same breath
diverging destiny determines the rest
lights.
is there eternal loss…
among the stars
for there are
lights that have gone out
so long ago
but still-
ring out, for those of now
not echoes, no
reality of the past in tow
so yes, eternity exists
as long as a perspective, persists.
2 things my friends and readers… this album, Riddle is something other… worldly… truly… at least for me, and is this not my little space to expound on things me? surely… and the other thing, the poem, well how can it be that we are seeing the past… literally… but we are, there are stars out there we see, that have been dead longer than humanity has existed… but the light persists… so. when we die does our light also go on for someone or something else to see? seems logical… does not assuage my fear of death but maybe shines a “light” on it…
life goes by.
the fall-in
this slow slide
as leaves shuffle by
again, my friend
so here we are
like parting dolls
at a bus stop set
sewn mouths to witness
the world as she went
glass eyes to record and surmise
another chapter written
another goodbye
my friend,
I will see you again
on the other side-
just something that popped in my head