I wonder of the running machinations
processing in those memory banks
that still dream in DOS
connections soldered
into the past
by their own regard
notes, I wanted the lines to have flow – but not perfect flow, like a machine that is input in / output out…
your eyes uphold me
like a lotus blossom
upon a pad
upon a pond
a path I have walked
into that beyond
I wonder if I will find you there
when you are right here
surely I am lost
in this moment
in your stare
in your eyes
for your love
is my compass
and my guide
the commonality of dust
the fragility of man
but my soul longs for the coast
even though I rose from the land
my heart yearns to be part of the sea
if eternity so blesses, this transformation
may I slip into that deep
my blood to water
forever as my keep
seconds are the hardest to hold,
I imagine-
I recall the summer now
how soon, how soon the world returns
to cold, and how soon this becomes
the now,
pied’ down the road
by the song of blinding time
sunset, sunrise
routine and more breaths spell towards my end
I inhale all the life
that was before me
and exhale just,
time and again
my heart beats
the particles of time march, march, march on
I can not discern the flow
as much as drown
even with my head above the water
matters not
I am no captain here
no stowaway
no cavalier
a passenger or a cog perhaps
nothing more
but aware
notes… I was just looking out the window at work and wrote this as is… a few mods here and there but pretty much this, I consider this kind of observational poetry or even stream I suppose, it ain’t prose.. that’s for sure, but this is the way my mind shaves hairs.. so… here it is… for all to bare…
no, quite literally
just moments ago
or an hour, who can be sure
the skies were black with rage
and blazing flash
rain highway sideways, pelting the windows
so temporal, all this
so trapped in moments, we become
for oh sun, now shines
how light is cast against darkness
in contrast
I feel the despair leeching out of very my skin
as if being pulled out string by string
by an invisible, palpable, force of hand – yes
and quite suddenly
I am transformed
long forgotten, the storm
So… Monday I was up @ Wawayanda State Park in Sussex NJ (for those unfamiliar that is extreme north/west New Jersey… also known as NJ Bear Country), New Jersey gets a bad rap, OK, we deserve some of it, but my mission the past few years has been to show off some of what makes this little old state so great (it is I tell ya!), so I got my ass up to Wawayanda, it’s a huge area and I only got to maybe 50% of it at best, I was setting up my tripod to film this nice stream at the very open of the Laurel Pond trail area… and got surprised… I had no zoom set up so the footage is not perfect but you can see what is going on… a mama bear and her 2 pretty sizeable cubs, I kept my distance (obviously) but they did eye me up, I saw their faces, it is a quite a moment when you lock eyes with a wild animal than can take you out, I was in no real danger as I was on a bridge and near my car, but it was very surreal.
a perception, the air feels desperate
maybe this is the season
the radiance of the summer sun
bleeding out through the leaves
spilled upon the ground
in sudden ponds
thrown about by the wind
browned to decay
by the rain
the growing nights
the advancing cold
yes, I know you
yes – I know
the mother
and her dying children
yearning to be born
so I am sold this is a circle
but what if this is
nothing-more,
than a line?
So, I have crested oe’r the gateway
into the dawning of my greying age
a fading age
held in the palm
of the scales of time
in counted breathes
and a beating heart
for within this vessel of godly constraint
grows and dies, expands and retracts,
a life, my life
notes… why this song? it always makes me thinky … yeah, not exactly a technical term, I know… but accurate just the same. Angel or a Rat ? or the same ? in the same domain ? so… I was thinking…
A Spicy Story…The Photo: Seafood (diver scallops and shrimp) Jambalaya @ Oyster Bay (Cape May NJ), a couple of years ago I challenged the chef to spice it to the max, the bartender leans in “are you sure about that buddy” (with an inviting yet menacing grin), being over confident and also a chili head, (and cornered into dumb testosterone driven male bravado mode)… I said “bring it on”… the bartender departed to deliver the news, and then the chef peaked out from the kitchen doors, eyed me up and down, “are you sure” (both warning me but I could see he was also charged up to meet the challenge)… I gave him the nod (how could I not, it’s like being all in and poker and then trying to pull your chips, you can’t do that!), the minutes stretched to hours… no, just minutes but it felt longer… and then the doors swing open, angels on harps played and light rained down from heaven, or not… dish delivered, looked just like the one below, but I knew it held a terrible secret of hellfire… and boy, talk about performance anxiety, now I knew how those guys on those Food network shows feel, the whole bar had apparently gotten the memo and an an entire room of eyes was set on me and my um.. prize? so… I make sure my beverages are full, all the accoutrements are set, and I dive in, ahhh, no problem, the first carriage of food passes through my mouth gate with no problem, sure, there is some warmth there, a nice tidy warmth, and the overall flavor is so delicious that maybe I did not see, or feel, the trojan fire-steed being wheeled slowly beyond my doors, to unleash the hellfire in my innards like a precisely timed demolition, but I am not there yet, the crowd, waiting for me to sweat, waiting for me to bow out, no way, no how, I can take this, after all I grow habaneros fer crissake, I take some more bites, I pause to gloat a bit perhaps, and to pace myself just in case, I have been down these roads to hell before, and performed well, so, but man, the problem is the enticing flavor, the roux was dark brown, sweet and savory, sure, spicy but the flavor was so round I kept digging in, then I noticed, a few traitors, a few beads of sweat growing on my brow, what is this ? in my exuberance I had let the flavors lead to a trap, and then I began to feel it, both in mouth and lower regions, a complete rebellion, or at least a wildfire threating the calm beauty of my inner forest, I can now picture the grin of the chef, knowing his plan has a chance to succeed, but no, I will not go gently into that spice night, I push on, I enjoy the burn but not the piling on, halfway done now, pausing a bit more often to check my brow and to have a drink, and thankfully some bread that they bake on site, a delight but more a lifeline this night, I can feel the grit of extra cayenne powder in the roux, this is not ultra level heat mind you, this is sustained abrasion, an invasion and an occupation, where as a ghost pepper can make you gag, properly applied cayenne can coat your insides with building layers of fire, but again… the flavor is so good I can’t help but delve more in, the eyes of the bar are not as trained on me anymore, I am hiding my semi-struggle well I suppose, but the bartenders, no, I am the entertainment for the night, they are watching me like hawks and jesters, I imagine not many people are dumb… I mean bold! enough to challenge the chef in this regard, but I am, and damn he knows his audience, the scallops are almost like butter, my fork slices them , no it actually gets near them and they part like the red sea, effortlessly, the shrimp ? huge fat things, with that snap when you bite into them, which makes you forget about the pepper powder keg packages you are bringing gladly into your own house…
Sorry to say… I won the day, did I suffer a but ? sure, but I loved every moment of it. To this day I go there and since it is a family place many of the faces remain the same. They all remember me, not immediately, but when I mention the story there is total recall there. Have I done it since? What do you think ? No.. Way… I just want to sit down and have a meal, leave the battles to someone else, I may have won but I certainly learned a lesson…
notes.. you people will never know what you will get here… because I don’t care about the audience…I mean, I do… but you know what I mean, you either get it or not… and I am cool with that, this is an outlet for me, a place for you to plug in and draw power out, gee, what a clever outlet analogy, or not…
Shades of My Garden 