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.
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
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.
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…
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
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.
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
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…
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-
the eyes are not a window the eyes are the truth and I see in hers what I know from body movement from a smile the ease of time spent and lament but rejoice wandering in the forest of my mind for so long you forget in moments memories seem like a movie you saw in the 80s or someone else’s life not your own a spectator in my own skin for too long and in an instant in her eyes, I see what I know, what I lost my pulse quickens the subtle hum of joy trembles below not trepidation as once might have informed no, I just want to hold her head to my heart to feel her particular warmth and sit there as one for a time, cherish the moments, write them down on your skins.
(and a note to any and all… just a reminder I write and post, very rarely do I edit, not that agonizing over every word was not my thing ages ago, but as things go now, this is just my bulletin board, if it comes out great, great, if not, also great, that’s just me, throwing out bottles into the sea, some have messages of worth.. some might sink into the sand… so be it, in a happy way…)