flesh and butter
might I
if given the choice
to baste my own skin
or drown my best friend
if given the chance
nature is outside
the arena of humanity resides
inside;
inside these binds of tooth and claw
to respond, in circumstance,
the rational would fall
but would all?
just one to chew on… mentally of course.
maybe the flesh of animals
is that which sates us
after all, we too are animals
albeit
well dressed and behaved-
but so are those in the wild
in their home
their habitats
across the world,
perhaps across all worlds,
but yet we feast
upon the lesser forms
with no defense
there is no honor in this
but then,
there might be no honor in survival
the perception of holding the clock’s hand
a thought
of control
when there is none,
instinct above demand
and so
we are,
bon appetit my friends.
so the serpent sheds the sin
as belies a belly that travels
so close to the earth
to transverse into a tree
a scapegoat
if there ever were
I am just a man, of one, but all these thoughts, will it all be gone and for naught? by some simple analogy, an apple, a sin, the real sin is living, and knowing, but how you deal with that knowledge, that hit Newton on the noggin, well, that is the thing, even is this all has no meaning, why not go for it all… even if I also fall short, with you, take my hand, and let’s go.
good-night, my sweet beasts-
for surely ancient demons
have gathered more wisdom
than this man-
notes… just something that popped into my noggin… a strange thought, I mean, a real thought, we all have “our” demons… but if demons are so ancient they would be pretty wise by now, at least by my thinking… or maybe we have some relation with the past.. all worth exploring in your mind for a time.. so maybe that is the crux of this piece, to think about where our demons come from… I am asking you to think…
as surely wind weathered down by human sounds
truly though I am but the same as all surround;
I have traveled so far in my own small time
yet feel the draw of a straight line path, that pulls back
and out on that string-
you were here, with me, always
and never- sincerely;
if you are the same person at all, anymore (am I?)
how can I pen fantasy from a dream, tell me
or reality from a memory past, please (tell me)
how the years have eroded me
or I suppose, brought me bone to core
all the more-
my hope lies on these exposed insides
the façade worn off long ago, the shine, gone in elements
if only I could trace the words over again
with sorrowed fringes, fingers, then again, and rebuild
but for erosion-
for those who don’t know, my job has me all over the tri-state area, for those who grew up in this area this means NJ.NJ,PA… so when I am out and about I try to seek out various parks and beaches near my work location to “find” in my lunch break (or after hours)… I try to record at least 10 minutes at every location on my Youtube page. My Youtube page has other things as well but I thought, for inspiration you should just check out the nature stuff, if you want to check out the other stuff, fine enough… but I want to provide scenes for inspiration that you can see… like this…
with west warming winds
the whole of my yard- alive
robins have arrived
for those who stayed here
the sun is a bit brighter
like you, my cardinals
but each of you feast
a seed buffet on a line
the squirrels are aware
and of course they try
the professional acrobats
spin, fall, leap- repeat
spoils on the ground
the mourners pay their respects
the sparrows up next
all gone in a blink
tempest leaves an empty husk
sundown, all to sleep
(and there is no sound, for now)
I used to be all against form, like why bother, it’s the construct holding you down! no… the more you learn about the world is sometimes working within the form is as anti form as just being chaos for the sake of it… form can produce excellent results if you are feeling it, being a slave to form ? ok, maybe not so much, but perhaps Basho and others might disagree, and their work stands as the evidence in that trial… there is also a really interesting tradition of japanese death poems, I was into that for awhile, before I was posting… maybe I will explore that again, it is worth putting on another’s skin to walk around time and again… everything is experience and is instrumental in understanding, sometimes it results in nothing, but at least you tried that road, turned around at the dead end, and then got back on the main one… there is lessons there in going off the map…
time, everything we experience seems in the spell, in the capsule, in the bubble, in the cell, within our cells, there seems to be no escape aside from the obviously marked exit, but then? our short lives, comparatively speaking, to a star, or perhaps a cat should I be granted nine, aside from mine, by the divine force or whatever course brought all this to be, me, right here and now, a strange realization to realize your own self actualization, the sensation, I am born to be now, of all the tragedy and comedy and malady and joy that has abounded in this universal box, beyond our grasp of understanding but still a container no doubt, I swear I can almost hear the tick tock if I listen hard enough, or perhaps that is just my heart, how can I know when you are hearing a feeling? and why do I think of dali and clocks melting, or perhaps they are wilting from the pressure to hold up this entire thing… like the restless mind that will not rest, but set to contemplate, shuffling the rubik’s cube around except there is no solution known, or is there, how can I be different than the billions before me, but I am not, but somehow that instinct is sewn into my soul, just the evolution of the survival mechanism or something deeper, taken from the grains of creation itself, how will I ever know, until I cross that great rubric, that bridge, as we all go, but by then, far too late an hour, to find the answer and let my mind rest upon the ultimate knowledge, the understanding of time, if only I could grab the ear for a millimeter, exist in a moment without time, even for a second, maybe that is what the end is truly like, but we are left to wonder, wander and ponder, until the time arrives (and allows you outside).
what can I say, I would love to tell you can think outside the box.. me as well, but get used to it, no, we are in a box, the box of time, there is no escape, but there is also no experience of now without that constraint… my mind is a puzzle eater, maybe not your typical diet, I wish I could forget and just enjoy the ride, but I just am not wired that way, regardless of the pathways I try… all I know is what I know, I am here now… for a blink I think but to a second that is an eternity, but then… is there such thing as eternity ? or just perpetuality… all things existing and folding back on themselves in motion… ? thoughts?
the binding of a cloud, a framed sky, ‘how odd’ I think, as I plod through the mundane, a sunday night (technically monday morning), a must have for dragging out the garbage bin to the curb, the convenience we forget, the mechanisms we set, all the same by scale I suppose, I imagine an ancestor had to rake the coals to keep the fire going, or other such droll tasks as were needed, we just have upgraded versions now that separate us in levels from the land I suppose, I wonder if the lot of us was required with our plot of land to produce a certain level of edible vegetation, would that lead to more appreciation? there is a level there of making, instead of taking, and humility might be in the soil somewhere, the ground, the earth, quite literally as we work, the literal dirt under the nails, and I wonder why this is going through my mind in mere footsteps to the curb, and I look up again, the same cloud, framed there, as if bound, strange, there is a steady breeze, the new buds on the trees are vibrating, the tall ministers of the forest towering over my house are swaying, but yet this cloud just hangs there, job done, garbage can on street, back into the house – to sleep.
note… yes, sometimes I think things when doing mundane things, is that my thing? I dunno.. I just write, it is what I do, good, bad or indifferent, I breathe
just a guitar and a song
a strum, nothing more
a simple melody
to speak to your mind
filter down to your soul
a simple melody
to transport your world
might the voice tend
all of your earthly needs
for a time
a simple melody
a best friend to stop on by
the comfort in a tune
played just for you
a simple remedy
for all that ails
morning, night, and noon
notes… sometimes simplicity is the best ability we can convey and absorb…
Shades of My Garden 