…to post anything profound or mindblowing… heck, I’m just a dude sometimes. I figure I would post a puppy photo and let the hits roll in (I don’t like cats so much so that wasn’t an option, and well, if you are into that youtube has plenty of pussy… cats for you to ogle). So puppies and flowers… and er, candy, chocolate and whatever… Pretend I wrote the coolest thing you ever read, I probably will, just not tonight…
I have been battling a sinus infection for some days… wrapped up in my room, like a tomb just trying to get back to myself. Sinus infections are like migraines inside your face, you can literally touch the pain and push it around inside the spaces behind and around the eyes. Not complaining, just explaining. Just something I deal with… people have it much worse than me… although I must admit I am waiting for the day when lack of breath will kill me.. it almost did a few times when I was a teen, asthma attacks where they had to jack me full of adrenaline…. where I was pacing about for 2 days unable to sleep. I have nightmares of drowning and it is odd always knowing what most likely will be my ultimate end… lack of breath.
I wrote these today out on the porch, in conjunction. In fact I wrote the second poem in the middle of the first and then finished the first. The older couple interrupted my mojo but then inspired it… life is indeed strange these days, I hope it remains that way.
“coming of the rain” 7.4.2018
among all this bounty
how can I feel such sorrow
so hollow;
the coming of the rain
far off rumbling
tremors in the air
the birds feel cautious
quiet, huddling
not the usual songs of summer
perhaps it is the fireworks
non rhythmic throngs
of bursts of bombs
leaves, here and there, begin to twitch
singular drops
seem to have met their marks
as my country celebrates
I sit here
waiting
for the coming of the rain
7.4.18
an older couple walking down the street
speaking in a foreign language
(russian I think)
they seem content
as much as body language presents
their forms
reflections on the side of my car
as they pass
in conversation
might I know their story
and be distracted from my own
DMK Note… I used the term “older couple” on purpose… I had to help my father do something the other day and he remarked that the client we were meeting is a strange young guy. That guy had to be at least 20 years my elder… so I wanted to have the reader of this poem use their own idea of “older”… it is so relative, I will not reveal how old the couple walking actually was, it does not matter.
So, I suppose you were expecting something about July 4th, nope (I do love my country but I can post about that any old day). I was thinking about personal independence as we age. My folks are in their 80s/70s so things are starting to go the way things go for mostly everyone that age. Over the past year or so their herd has been thinning at an alarming rate. Various friends lose a husband and then they also walk off into the after not so long after. My parents (I do not know if it is a generational thing) have close bonds with friends going all the way back to high school… sort of the golden age of USA high school like you would see idolized in the movies… My father in his ray-bans with a pack of smokes rolled up in his white shirt sleeve… My mother part of one of those clubs The Dungaree Dolls (or something like that, I always screw that up .. but it was literally just like out of the movie Grease) with the matching jackets. To think what they have seen in their lifetime alone is astounding (and now they have trouble seeing, period). A whole life’s collection of events, experience and footsteps.. and now even that simple step comes with peril. I used to laugh at those “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up” commercials…OK, and I still do… BUT think about the reality of that happening, the helplessness, the sheer realization that you might not be able to take care of yourself anymore… after an entire lifetime of doing so (and raising seemingly ungrateful kids at times). And I worry about what people might think of my blog ? Totally moronic in that context… I suppose it is all perspective and I need to carry that around like a reminder, truly.
Slowly but surely life robs you of the simplest of things… your ability to move around freely now that you know more about the world than you surely did 40 years ago. I can not imagine what a cage that must feel like. I doubt most of us can even if we can get a handle on it philosophically/empathically. Only now are some of my razor sharp skills starting to just fail me on occasion… but I imagine this is just how it is… slowly the walls closing in to where you don’t notice until you are bed ridden… wondering what happened.
Just some background on me. I am adopted. Somehow when I say that to a bunch of faces there is a reaction like “we didn’t know”, that there should be some crimson letter pulsating on my forehead when in fact being adopted is just something I have always known to be (kudos to my folks for never hiding it, in fact I can only remember that I only ever remember knowing). The only odd part, I guess, is that the adoption was arranged by my mother’s OBGYN with one of his other clients (in vitro was not an option in the early 70s)… so I was literally born in my hometown (JFK Hospital, Edison NJ)… so… I could have literally run into my “birth” mother at the local Starbucks 1000 times and would have never known. I assume that it was some young woman out of wedlock who did not want an abortion. I really don’t know the circumstances.. I honestly never cared. Note that I did not use the term my “real” mother, because my real mother will always be Beverly Lynn Koblentz, she raised me, she gets the credit (or blame as it were…).
So… what does it all mean? I don’t honestly know. I am open for review. I think we just need to remember we will all be weak at some point. What do we do about that? I suppose that is what defines us. Maybe it doesn’t really mean anything in the long run, because the long run ends the same for all of us. But if someone finds the document of my life many years from now… I would like to think I did my best even if I failed many times.
“once” 6.15.18
I have to live
I have to thrive
I must
because I am alive
just this once
damn it all
I must
ignite the world
This will be an odd musical choice… but what the hell, I am an odd person in an even world… Screaming Trees “Nearly Lost You”
“alarm” 6.25.18
my alarm clock is blinking “12:05”
immediate panic, late for work
but then I realize
we had a power outage
besides
there is no way it is five past noon or midnight
who uses an alarm clock anyway
these days
I don’t, I use my phone
honestly, why do I still have the thing?
nostalgia I suppose…
“routine” 4/23/18
routine routine
all the same
change the routine
to change
the sun rises to dawn
another day comes
another day gone
and now back the same
routine routine
I often ponder the comfort of things… I am eminently guilty of this as most of us most be. I look at what once had great personal value and now seems worthless. I suppose moments (thoughts, feelings, emotions) are harder to warehouse than hardware… but why do we cling to things? Comfort, familiarity… should we chase her? spontaneity…
I am a creature of habit (not a nun), but a creature of the pun… I like to keep it light on days off and hell… it’s summer baby ! so why not just have some fun.
6.8.18
fat little woodchuck
bumbling about
side of the parkway
you do not even hide
where were you
when I was a child
I would have marveled
at your silly ways
you go about your day
“turnabout” 6.8.18
this time
it was Jonah
who swallowed
so… Carvel ice cream was a big thing here in the north east US when I was a kid.. Cookie Puss (which sounds like a bad porn name) and Fudgie (OK, I’ll leave that one alone) were huge! The chipwhich was like an earth changing thing man! and the klondike bars .. ! I must be in the swoon of summer. So, about the woodchucks… I must have not noticed them as a kid, they seem legion now along the GSP… every day driving home I look for their forecast .. (woodchucks are also called groundhogs and well.. I am not explaining the rest). And about the McDonalds commercial.. I can’t tell you how popular that thing was… and the shared experience of day camp.
6.28.18
pastels formed as clouds
pressed up against the sky
late summer afternoon
spring like storms rolling through
watercolors
portend the approaching moon
That is the view from the parking lot of Wegmans supermarket in Woodbridge NJ… cmon! what isn’t inspiring about that… I am remiss to keep posting instant material but.. posting something new is just so much more … um… “new” feeling, boy am I profound! I want to get to stuff I wrote the past month or so (stuff I really like)… I will but I have been overwhelmed by instant lately and it makes some of my other stuff seem stale when you are birthing work directly, almost immediately. In the same car trip (my ultra cool exciting ride home from work) I wrote this about an hour earlier…
6.28.18
on the golden shores
of my dreams
the sea glistens
tides rise and fall
of shimmering sequins
the sun bathes healing light
malice is an unheard rumor
spite a harmless shadow upon the ground
I take
a deep breath
on the golden shores, of my dreams
Once again I was writing this in my head while driving (muttering to myself like a madman)… and that is what sucks about cell phones/ear buds by the way.. in NYC you used to be able to pick out the truly crazy people who were talking to themselves… now they are in disguise! anyhoo…. so I was at my fave rest area penning the above. Maybe after I become a renowned poet (after I am dead 200 years) they will name this rest stop in my honor… oh, the immortality of it all. I would be honored if families stopped to pee in my honor… I probably won’t actually be honored as I will most certainly be dead.
music? I am going with a more recent fave of mine… tycho, he is also an artist (beside music)… I have to say his tshirt I bought is like the damn softest thing ever… but forget all that and enjoy the music (electronic, not dance… thoughtful ambient ?) wait for the moment @ 4:34 …. brilliance… tycho “epoch” (his latest work)
My “process” is pretty much one and done, it is just what I do, how I write. So, as much as I would like to think (or promise myself internally) that I will get back to these.. I probably won’t (if I am honest about it).. so here are just some lines I scribbled, sort of orphans of mine. Maybe it will inspire out there in the wordpress-verse some other mind.
5.25.18
rumors ride a whisper
innuendo grows into a roar
5.23.18
the wind is the devil
before the storm
to stir the brew
5.4.18
winter sunlight
summer sunlight
all depends on the angle of your altitude
5.4.18
tales of wonder
no, tales of horror
buried in fathoms
depths below
*this was specifically written thinking about the Andrea Gail (the boat from “the perfect storm“), in my head I want to write an epic poem about that, I am fascinated by the sea.. but I guess not enough !
5.7.18
I started counting
the pattern on the guardrails
three, one, three, one
some would see four
*This was written sitting in brutal traffic on the NJ turnpike… looking at the guardrail
music? I play guitar (well, I aim to be better at it…) one of my faves is Eric Johnson, here he is live “Song for George“, just a man and his acoustic guitar.. so damn pure.. and so damn good.
“I eat, I write and I travel”
that is the open to Anthony Bourdain’s show “Parts Unknown” (which just came on now)… and you know what, that is a poem. How quick the media moves on. Anthony killed himself just last week but it seems like years ago. But those words I quote are just full of everything if you think about it. We eat, we work , we travel… through this life.
We eat
we work
we travel
through this life
complete live thought, posted, I think I will try to sleep now.
So I had an absolutely brutal install on monday night. I install computer systems in supermarkets which generally we have to do after hours as to not interrupt the business. Needless to say I didn’t arrive home until dawn was just creeping up on the world (ok, just New Jersey) around 5am… have you ever worked through the night ? A strange experience to try and fight off tired but not OD on coffee. But enough about my job (it is decidedly boring to talk about, I much imagine I am like a butterfly in a blank box). So working like that screws you all up (hey, we all have our routines) so my phone started to rumble around 4pm and my blood responded by starting to boil (I was literally exhausted and not wanting to deal with work).. so of course my mind starts in like a sneaky suggestion “screw this job, I should tell my boss off, I should quit”… and then, a moment, of zen I suppose, I said to myself “self, stop!”. I walked outside (lovely day) and thought “dead people would kill to have your life”… and that is right. So I sat down on my porch, took a deep breath, and wrote this…
“peeking” 6.26.18
little rays of sunlight
sneaking past the trees
illuminates corridors
in the gaps between the leaves
late afternoon
the light summer breeze
carries refreshment
a caress
just like yours
but not quite the same
little rays of sunlight
diffused by the setting day
does this poem succeed ? I wonder. I was sitting there and there was like this lens flare in-between the leaves across the street. I could feel the warmth of the sun and just relax…. and realize I don’t have it so bad. I think perspective is important. Should that be taught in schools ? Instead of just 12 times 13 ? Should we teach kids skills to cope with life not just readin’, writin’, and ‘rithmatic ? Just something I was kicking around the ole tin can that is my head. I don’t know if it is because I am older now and more thoughtful or am I just a slow learner when it comes to the philosophical trough.
music? sure, I always think about it… I play guitar (not as well as a I could after all these years)… so I gravitate to guitar playing… so here is some slick playing in a swing setting Eric Gales – Double Dippin
“I insist”
so, I sat down for a cup of coffee with Fate
actually, I am sitting by myself because she is late
(so typical of her)
been a long time since we caught up
so long I can’t even remember how we first met
I really shouldn’t be surprised
I’ve known her for basically my entire life
I really don’t think she does it to be rude
I know she has a lot to do and lots of other people to see
I remember how she would tell me about work
and she felt like she had been there “forever”
how every time she got through a pile of work
there would magically appear another
so, I get it
but I must admit (between me and you) it is still a touch annoying
I guess I just have great anticipation
she always has something interesting to say
and the stories…
man! the stories, she has the best stories
I always tell her she should write a book
but of course she would say
“you know my stories do not work that way,
I have to tell them in person, person to person”
so then I suggest she should do some stand up comedy
(she is very funny you know, a bit dry but very clever once you get used to her twists and turns)
so she would reply
“ugh, knowing me, and you know me, I would have to come up with a new act every night, and that is just exhausting”
of course I agree on reflection
but you always want your friends to ride their talent to full potential
I know she does great at her job,
so I really shouldn’t worry,
human nature I guess
is that her car?
no, I think she has a newer model
(maple latte please)
oh, here she comes
(finally…)
I wave
oh no
she has brought a guest…
…
death!
My notes are usually up front but I wanted to flip the script…. because, why not? I wrote this while digging in the middle of a brook for fossils today… must have been a strange (amusing) view, I am up to my boots in muck and the idea hits, so I had to scramble to the bank in thick schwup (sound) steps through muddy sand, dry my hands, pull my journal out of the plastic bag, and scramble these words, the whole time cursing the dumb pen I packed (because damn it sucks but I can’t bring my Mont Blanc or Cross into the woods). The idea of treating abstract ideas as people is of course not new but I don’t recall if I have done this before. My personal favorite at this is Neil Gaiman, to say he is a master story teller is under selling. Check out this video with him and Stephen Fry, I found it utterly entertaining. So, back to my post. Fate? Pre-destination ? What do you think of fate? I vacillate.. we think we know so much, but in a universe defined by billions of years how can our intellect really grasp how this all works given our blink of an existence? We all want to believe we have free will.. but how can we actually prove that … … … ?
