a couple of simpler works (or even unfinished), they can’t all be war and peace people!
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arriving home
end of day
i cast off
my belt, like a snake
slithers off the bed corner
onto the floor
with a clang
i kick off my shoes
and my heels exhale
free of their tombs
shed the daily shell (12.2.18)
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riders on the storm
charged with electrical force
we feel their downpour cries
we hear their voices roar
for chariots on fire
masters of our sky
so onward must they ride
riders on the storm
the long morning shadows
raise majesty in the mundane
winter sun reveals
as the world begs for more
unfulfilled (12.29.18) total writer comment, I loved second line when I wrote it, it felt like revelation
I was pondering some things (as I am known to do) and I never really thought of Frankenstein as a direct comment on our actual literal being, our actual existence, meaning we are basically these masses of flesh imbued with an electrical driving mechanism/nervous system (I am leaving out the metaphysical soul conversation, that is another topic entirely), but in essence we are frankenstein (or franniestein, or fran-stein, don’t want to be gender myopic these days as I might be carried off into the night to never be heard from again), we are this mass of cells co-opting a host from two separate organisms ///THEN… something jolts us into the life we are now (engaged in blogging, not sure if the the big G had this in mind but I guess omniscience would have anticipated this endeavor), so that is thrust of this piece (which I wrote yesterday), or at least that is my claim, the flag I am planting willfully…
miracle monster
dr frankenstein. was more right than I would like to know electrical charge transferred to this vessel catching lightning in a birth canal
I imagine I see the pitchforks and torches the rages – glowing in the distance inevitably they will come the outcome has been written and surely will not be undone
note: for those unfamiliar with my blog (um, most of the planet…) I post things as they are, I do not torture myself over things and rewrite stuff, these are almost always first takes (I am just horrid about working on things and write in the moment – just my way, not a comment on other (awesome) writers, it is just not me). perfection is not my thing, because I am so far from it and life is way to short to obsess, maybe I am wrong, probably, but hey, I can only do my thing and steer this ship (even if into rocks).
hey! thoughts, comments and super hot chili recipes are all appreciated !!! thanks for the eyes.
Intro: Some of the names/details may have been changed to protect the reputation of the participants but the core facts remain in this tale of utter woe and suffering (relative to the situation, which I found myself within just the other day).
So in my workly travels I might stop at a local watering hole (read coffee shop), I quite like strong and bitter coffee, so I was off on my way to Hempstead NY and stopped at the local, well, let’s call it “Starbox” coffee establishment (do not want to infringe on any copyrights after all, savy?), nothing seemed amiss in the LED light-washed down faces sucked into local vortexes, or at least this is not a miss if not the main in this day and age (maybe I am showing my age?), but more to the meat of the matter, I approached the counter, which can always be a puzzle in itself, which side do I go to? is this the line? is this person nose dove into their phone in line? what came first the coffee bean or the egg? I managed to find my way to the ordering type area, almost unaware of the signs (oh the signs) up on the registers, quite hand written (is that still legal), announcing that (warning: if you have small children please have them leave the room) the fancy coffee maker thing-a-majobber (or barista enabler mechanism) is quite broken, how could I not notice this semi natural disaster in the wake, this tsunami of disappointment brewing on the horizon, as I blythely ordered a large dark roast, I only noticed these harrowing words of torment as I awaited my hot cup of goodness (read: caffeine delivery system), the situation was brought more to a dancing bear under my nose by the next in line (poor soul), as he tried (in earnest and with great seriousness) to order some sort of latte, or frappucino, or hell-if-I-know, but whatever it was, it sounded impressive, but only to be shot down like a burning angel cinder, like Icarus himself so close to touching the fiery ball that rules this corner of the great milky way (boy I am glad our galaxy is not named whatchamacallit), I stood amazed, for a moment, at the spectacle, and how deeply felt the blow of the non latte was felled upon my fellow coffee house traveler, and on cried the fraught lad, lacrimonious roar throughout mocha frappa-land, and then as if guided birdboxly into yet another pit of iron rusty spikes he asks “does that (pointing to some perfection looking sandwich thing) come with vegan bacon?”, almost with a quiver in the delivery knowing his hopes are crumbling like so much a mountain in end times exploding, and then with another cold rebuke the answer comes handed down with ultimate thunder “no” (it seemed to echo forever and more)…
immediately the air seemed to escape from the room, surely the temperature dropped precipitously, all light now eschewed by utter doom, what is that poor lad to do in such withering circumstance? (not to mention those gathered in the twitter unison circle)
I felt the recoil, the urge, the itch, first corners turning, “I can not laugh” I think for a moment… but surely my growing, glowing cheshire grin revealing my burgeoning delight, amid the wash of this assumed morass of perceived category 5 dilemma, so with that, before I spilled guffaw right there all over the floor, I routed my route to the escape door, large dark roast in hand content with a spritz of stevia, a dash of cinnamon and the subtle kiss of non fat milk (from a cow of consent), grinning in all the splendor of wading through the casualties of this coffee house disaster. I will not look back and become a pillar.
(exit, stage door, enter car, back onto the belt parkway for work, take a sip, enjoy)
Thoughts, comments and all else is always appreciated, I bow to you O reader with thanks and commons.
I wonder. I am not in the artic, nor do I pretend to compare myself to people who live in such climates (hello my canadian friends!), but I found myself creatively lethargic during this recent POLAR VORTEX!!!! (sorry had to give it the due such a rad name implies), when did all this happen ? When did every storm need… a name? When did “wind chill” become the official temperature (for dire effect over the actual temperature) ? Well, much like news weather is now a monetized football and there is an arms race to the top of the mountain (with a social media kicker). We have tons more information than we have ever had but yet… we still get it horribly wrong sometimes (but things just move on and no one notices), like the last snowstorm we had here in New Jersey, it was a complete breakdown, I have never seen anything like that in my life here (and we have had plenty of blizzards), and also notice that there is no more official predictions about the amount/intensity of hurricanes (dr gray made this famous) because they were so wrong, so often, good life lesson here, as advanced as we think we are we still don’t have all the answers, apply that locally (I mean to yourself, you know, the local – you, and I will do the same)
the only sound the hollow scrape the husk of a dried-out leaf working across the way and the walk the cold has clamped and tightened wound life relents to hunker down days of hibernation pass just a lone streak of sunlight some singular hope of warmth suspended animation wakes the fore a rustle, a chirp life still is bound
notes… happy weekend folks! be well, be true, be you !
the beach is my refuge
my retreat
to see infinite hope and the inevitable end
where else to expect
all things converged a beginning and an end
for I might seem strong
to those looking in
but inside
broken pieces strewn about this shore
I wish for a united front
but humpty has more hands than I
from king’s men or passer’s by
I can not even remember the sight
from up upon the wall
I wish to be whole some time once again
but I am used to this, broken
notes… eventually we all just become atoms for reformation of other living things. this was written 1.2 of this new year, I am commenting on perspective and many other things, I think most are obvious so I am not going to explain this one to death (of course the temptation is there, it is my nature)
can you guess what this is ? well… this is runoff from my sink (or splash-off ?) while I washed up this morning, so this is tiny… but caught my eye, I just immediately thought “schnauzer” … much like clouds, do you see it ? (or am I just nuts…)
Another time to take a step back and marvel at this world, something so simple as being out on my deck, walking the dog (or letting her loose on the neighborhood at large), the spotlight on, not quite snow falling in the light blazing from behind my right ear, something between rain and snow but definitely visible coming down straight, I wish I could snapshot my mind sometimes (like this one), pure joy in simple weather, these simple things after a day of fixing all sorts of complications with computers and their machinations (and users…), so here I am just standing in awe, and I let out a breath, and see it set in full form, and try to blow those cool smoke “O” rings, I can not of course, but then I think about the formation of my exhale itself, the very life exiting my body at that very moment, one of the breaths less in the count, for surely there is a count, sadly down, or rejoiced for how long compared to some, but there it is, my breath, a life, something of me breathed back out into the world, maybe recycled one hundred fold, maybe this was once snow on everest, or just dew upon the newest born leaf (or the exhaust of a 72 veedub), all I know is this frozen time, my breath billows out into this surreal, and I am fascinated in all this living dream, as the precipitation still falls in unison as if commissioned (I am mesmerized)… … … and then the jangle of samantha’s tags (the dog, after all), brings me back from this dreamy plane, but those sweetest eyes that look up fuel other dreams, so I slide the door and let her in, taking one look back at the falling precipitation … and breathe out one deep last breath…
notes.. I was going to post a poem about breath that tonight reminded me of, and then this came rambling out of me first as I was thinking about how I felt out on the deck, consider this part of my porch series I suppose… definitely in that vibe
Ambient masterpiece imo, very calming, a song a month composed for sleep/relaxation… I listened to this all day at work often. And I would be remiss if I did miss, the opportunity to say thanks to… you.
This tune just carries me away in the airy feel it allays… plus when it came out I was in the Florida Keys (specifically Islamorada – I will move there in 4 seconds flat if I ever won the lottery, no offense to Key West, no, actually screw Key West, total tourist hole, which can be nice but not my speed at all). Islamorada has it all, great lodging, amazing everything nature wise (preserves and rescue centers), fishing (some of the best in the world), hand feeding huge tarpon @ robbies (by the way have breakfast there), and the water… one of my most indelible memories was watching thunderstorms roll in off the Atlantic, in the tropics thunderstorms are very local, so I could watch the individual pods coming in with lightning lighting up the clear azure water lapping at my feet, it was like islands of thunder approaching the shore all around me, like city states floating in for battle or invasion, all of them missed my particular location, I wish I had a video to share but at the time I was only armed with my memory and flip phones were the norm, but imagine all these floating castles showering thunder and light down from their perch, in different columns approaching your position, but all around you, never towards you, as you sat in the moonlight with your feet in the clearest water you might ever see… yeah, that unreal, like a movie reel but real.
sometimes it is your heart that plays tricks, which is truly the vessel with which you see things ? or is it a symposium of the mind, heart and eyes… or a want for that perfect grail, that simple carpenter’s cup that can heal all? (I wrote this poem originally 6.18.18)
Shades of My Garden 