dark invitation;
your wispy shadow (salvation)
coils w’round me like a storm cloud (damnation)-
my eyes not blind
just short, bereft of sight
robbery, is not a crime
with a willing participant;
follow, (I do) the lantern of your voice
a guide
through this night
and I trust
like a child in hand
where’o’ever you might lead
for in this
for all these
at least you will not, for the moment,
leave (me).
notes: the things we do for love, the things I would do to get her back… if I could.
let you not lose
that which what you brought into this world
a collaboration of souls
a miraculous combination of two;
let you not see them in the grave
before your time has come
let the natural order
of parent to child overcome
please, god, love
note: have I said to much? nah… I am not religious perse but there is all the time we pray for something, call me a fool for belief, that’s cool, I don’t care anymore, I have to believe there is something more, if my belief offends anyone.. who cares, it won’t matter and does not matter in the hundreds of thousands of years of our species, such as it is, a blink in the universe, I want to believe I have a part to play in it all, delusion ? perhaps, but who does it harm if I keep that fire lit for myself?
Absence of evidence is not evidence of absence.
Just a wonderful juxtapose to propose to your mind for a tumble, a rumble, a thought bubble, how to explain this axiom, this conundrum, this wonderful proposition, how to explain to the layman, the everyday man, the lap dog or his friend, simply put, you eat a peanut, and nothing happens, so therfore you are well put to think this is a harmless treat (could use a dash of salt perhaps), so your evidence is of no ill effect, because of the absence of said non effect, but this conclusion, while correct (for you) might not hold true, for another, with an allergy, who’s evidence, upon encounterance (of said nut) might lead to a dire circumstance, of sorts, so, if someone approached you, after you ingested (said nut) and said “that might kill you”, you might scoff, because of the evidence of your hand, but then you might consider the absence of another’s hand in the same matter.
so. does life exist out there? amongst the vast unending ocean of stars? for me I think certainly so. we have no evidence of this but the absence of evidence does not preclude the truth… or the persistence of life on our little cube… or … hope itself, perhaps the biggest foil to evidence itself.
notes… files this under word food for thought… your thoughts ? or food thoughts? I still think orange habaneros are the tastiest hot peppers flavor wise but I do love trinidad scorpion peppers…
each street light
like a pulse, throbbing sides
blazes!
like a hostile sun
to burn out my sockets dry
as I swing, perch to perch
pole to pole
on the drive home
after a languid day
of work
notes… sometimes work grinds you down, regardless of your outlook and good intent… I was driving home the other night and every street light felt like a sun burning into my tired eyes, light by light, almost like I was traveling on air but ready to fall, I just wanted to get home, pull in my driveway, dive into my bed, melt into my pillows and… rest from the world for awhile…
the ocean
nearly as old as time can tell
perhaps
on a scale
that is why
I am drawn here
to the subtle simplicity
of the waves on the shore
much disregard
to the politics of man
notes… I have always felt drawn to the ocean, maybe it is the imprint of my youth and fair times spent there, the exploration, the boardwalk, the wildlife, the white noise of the earthen tides… but I do not need to distill it, or understand it even… that is the shade of age, you can just accept things as they are without having to understand the blueprints or plans…
doorways
gateways
windows;
all around us
surounds’us
in the all, this house;
cities, towns;
paths that lead in all directions
paths forgotten
paths remembered, paths in backwards, paths tempered;
stone steps into a water
ethereal steps into a plane, the same;
lately, I have been more akin
to sitting and staring
out a window, plain
to give my travel, my heart
a rest- a break-
and just watch, for a time.
and I know in my reaction, a fraction… words.. music.. thoughts.. all of it…
flying. no, more terrestrial, have you ever really sat in your car and thought about the sensation, of what is actually happening, such a mundane activity would be incomprehensible to most generations of humanity, only the dare few, he flew, but now, as a rite of passage of some version of your teens, you drive, your body, strapped into a machine, essentially becomes one, as the miles per hour go up, your body is travelling at this speed, but you do not have a true sense of this, unless you pause to pay attention, your body is off the ground, moving at speeds you can not understand, if by foot you would be cooked, but with a pulse of your toes you are blowing by cheetahs at a pose, but do you take in this truth, this sensation, like flying, for indeed you really are, in a car, but your feet are not on the ground, you are cruising on a surrogate, zipping around at speeds unimaginable just a corner past a century ago.
so try this. next time you are driving, embrace the feeling of flying, the sensation of covering ground at pace with ease, even easier than a bird gliding on a thermal, you are whisked along full throttle, take notice, and you will feel, the sensation of flying.
notes… just what the camera captured… magic? I would argue so… but then again; what separates magic from reality… or nature from miracle ?
notes… this place is tucked in behind a neighborhood over looking the bay. it is very well kept though and although I have never seen anyone there it is clearly visited often. A nice quiet spot next to some beautiful houses. There is a compass on the ground as well so you can see the direction the statue is facing “looking out into”… it gave me a feeling of being at the end of the world looking out into the cast ocean… we rarely think about how more vast the ocean is than our little parcel of land (comfort breeds complacency)
proximity… and time…
these are all that is needed to slowly melt your guard, your natural attenuation, that gut feeling on an initial meeting, certainly you don’t want to be judgmental, books and covers and all that, plus past misreads and failures, but sometimes, these primal lines, these inklings, the eye test of I, are right, but you let things slide, perhaps for the benefit of loved ones, you ignore your basic base instincts of initial apprehension or suspicion, and over time, a threat, a beast, lingers, lurks, at a subconscious level you are aware, but time, the sands, the mirage, after all, takes hold, slowly melting away your portcullis, exposing your inner courtyard for siege, and a threat prowls, circles, but accustomed to the menace you have become, and perhaps the trap will never be sprung, inner dialog confirms as such, the lies we tell ourselves are the most damaging to the self, then that day comes, smiles become fangs unsheathed in the darkness, just slightly provoked ill will comes toward you with brutal force from your clear blind spot, the robe is lifted to reveal the truth, a truth you knew but denied, to be kind, or accommodating, to give a chance when you knew where this path will lead, indeed, the bite, at first feels unexpected, the shock, the awe, how could this happen, but the sting does not lay long before the admission, you are the victim of your own attrition, letting your walls mortared with experience fall, your inner sense infected to no defense, yes, perhaps next go ’round you’ll learn the lesson, and trust your self, your instincts, what you know in a sniff, a listen, an examination, yes, worse than that bite is this (realization).
Shades of My Garden 