.the inevitability of sand.

.the inevitability of sand.

by David Koblentz ♥ 2 Comments
blog blogger blogging cup
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often, ok, probably nightly I like to put on ocean sounds, not as good as the real thing but I not quite gotten to the point where I can afford an on the beach locale of my own for escape, so I take the next best thing, youtube that is, why the sea is a lullaby for me is a mystery, but it is, and I am not alone apparently if I look at clicks and hits, sorry, “views” in the youtube vernacular, so my mind was drifting, listening to a true recording translated into a faux ocean tide…

 

 

calm cliffs clouds coast
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…and I began to think of my hands, inside, trying to see the actual cells connected, to realize everything to scale, how I am truly a sum of parts, miniscule bits, all working as one, might I rival an ant farm, but hopefully not sitting on someone’s dresser for amusement or curiosity, to contemplate that there is actually space in between everything even our skin, although we do not perceive it, at some level it would be like looking at the solar system and-or our galaxy, so much space in between bodies and stars depending on from where you are observing, things are passing through me right now, yet I don’t feel violated, I wonder if I could ever perceive the situation or did we not develop this unneeded sensation for survival, I imagine the intersections, the traffic controls of flow, the plethora of little car wrecks that must go on in the millions, all the while I might be doing something utterly useless like playing a game on my phone, as the mini universe inside my hands explodes with activity, a boiling cauldron of possibility oddly – out of reach but certainly there, and then I think of the future, or the past, really the same in this case, one day the great tide of god will break me down to just molecules, and I will just become part of the shore once more, sand scattered on a line or in a form, until such time as I am gathered up again by the will of the same, my unique consciousness summoned again, the trillions of combinations that came before, all tallied up into this particular form, and soon, way sooner than I may like, broken back down to transform into other life as life will go on – without me.

about observing aging of those you love.

about observing aging of those you love.

by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment
candle with light
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“the exodus of light”

for I am forced to observe
my future, my fortune unfold, to post
age-ed vessel
in rush grey and white
all colors have faded
the exodus of light
as the source grows dimmer
a once blazing beacon now meagerly flickers
cracks, wrinkles, crooked bent
words repeated, forgotten,
thoughts at a loss.
to the memory of my dear mother
or what is left
I dare not to grasp too hard
to break what remains to ash
and yet a memory
is all I will soon there have

with love, and thank you mom, your son.

notes… this was totally and utterly inspired by this post @ another blog, it was instant, it was done, it made sense, and also cut like a gun. age is a wonderful thing, time is a bastard robbing everything, do not confuse them as twins, understand them as best you can…

a quick morning thought.

a quick morning thought.

by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment
white ceramic mug with coffee
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I must admit, I find a touch of solace (or wonder?) watching the milk bloom in my morning coffee, almost like experiencing the genesis of clouds in my own privately owned weather globe, until of course it becomes amorphous, which is only merely a few moments, but then stage two, caffeine kicks in… the phone is ringing, there goes the moment, back to ‘important‘ matters… (sigh)

thoughts from the porch…

thoughts from the porch…

by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment
building metal house architecture
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escaping the indoor sounds

for I am not truly escaping all human sounds, there is the occasional car, or neighbor walking their dog yammering on their phone, but much better than the din within the walls, of TVs with sports, a washing machine sanitizing dishes already clean, a dryer tumbling more coins than clothes, a phone ringing out loud with scams, for some reason, just tonight, an avalanche fell on the roadside of my mind, it all just became too much, too loud, maybe salvation resides in the mundane, taking out the sunday night garbage to the curb for pickup, a ritual that keeps you in line in your time frame prescribed, that even keel, how after days and nights of pouring 90s, how 70 degrees feels, so slight, the night crickets are not as loud as on those humid horrors, the swarming mosquito lions of this savanna are not as blood-thirsty, they even ask for reservations to dine, or so I imagine their disposition, there is a steady silent breeze, everything, everything is in motion, but calm, subtle undulation, as if receiving a gentle neck massage from ethereal unseen fingers, this is one of those moments I wish I could wrap up and hide, save for a more dire time, is this perfection? surely not, but much closer in that direction than the bulk of my days so far…
this scene, a trigger, to make me breathe in deeper to capacity and past, to smell and taste and tap the very essence of now, all the plants seem relaxed in this bath, a return from a desert to a meadow, from far pendulum swing to the middle, I wish I could transfer all humanity into my now, the sweeping deep calm of this moment, like being held afloat by a warm loving ocean without any worry, worldly concerns left at the door behind me, just listening, listening, escaping the indoor sounds, for now.

 

part of my porch series that will continue as long as I do…

and superman is dead…

and superman is dead…

by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment
antique book close up handwriting
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a hand written note found on scene:

“for have I traded honor in for fame
even an ounce
what I thought was binding my life was actually blinding
for have I renounced honor for fame
the adulation
the kiss
the instant opinion on the lips of those who do not know me
the adoration
the adulation
a drug, the addiction
but a tool I might have used
to carve a statue
instead of a tomb.

(and so I leave you, gifted all of a life’s single bounty, cashed in  – with regret, so I leave you early now without that kiss)“

notes… I will be tight lipped on this one, there is a lot going on and a lot of inferences (catch them? show me)… but the original thrust was just the crown of fame be that as it may… who among us is better than the highest or the lowest?

lost.love.letters.

lost.love.letters.

by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment
young woman near window in living hall
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the lady in waiting, trade in a life for the dream, so clear, a portrayal of all love inside a movie scene, i always thought it would be you, a quiet painted green wooden porch, the type of porch that encompasses all around the house, peeling paint on all the edges of door and window frames, buckled from years of the seasons beatings, a backdrop to all the reasons, the creaking rocker swing, and there we are, looking out at a long field of green grasses, something like a farm, harmonized by the subtle magic of the grass swaying, for a jersey boy a strange thought perhaps, maybe this is some sort of rockwell archetype (or hummel) etched in me somewhere at my core, a typical apple pie american bucolic scene, and my mind shifts…
maybe the shore, the ocean, the beach with no one else around, the gulls sounds across the dunes, I suppose miles of swaying grass resembles the sea after all, the same calming feeling ensues, wind waves undulating on, perhaps she waits there for me, or am I waiting for her to arrive, here at, the sunset of our lives, a sun sinks below into the depths, seagulls become just black angle angels hovering against the glow, tired and quiet now, there is just the sound of the waves break, the pulse, the true deep heartbeat of the earth herself, and your hand, I can feel the warmth from what blood is left, our eyes locked out to the seascape, as if we are one, and we are, because that is what I wish this to be, my lady in waiting, my love, I will come for thee, if I have to cross the face of god or the scour the body of the universe – for you, I will, I will come, to spend those last moments with you – as one, I will walk barefoot across the surface of the sun, burn all that remains save my soul for the return, for I will journey on, until, I am once more with you, my love, my lady in waiting.

always there. (a poem)

always there. (a poem)

by David Koblentz ♥ 2 Comments
turned on pendant lamp
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reliable light switch,
always in reach
on and off,
like the sun’s daily ride,
always in reach
on and off,
one day the bulb flickers
causes a moment pause,
always in reach
on and off,
some years later flickers again
and then just off,
reliable light switch
forever gone.

notes: I was on my exercise bike and this came to me as one of my basement lights went out, sure, it was flickering, it was on for so many years, and flickered on occasion, and then was out completely… you do the math, if you know what I mean, there is more to this poem internally as well if you unpack it visually…

not moving the DNA forward.

not moving the DNA forward.

by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment
person in brown coat and black hat standing near white and black floral wall
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childless
lifeless
stuck on this rock alone
with none of my likeness

notes: often said, probably by me to make myself feel ok, “you need a license to drive a car but not have a kid”… true enough, there is truth in there, but in a way it is also a shield, there are days I wonder about such things, kids, that I might never have them, I have such a hyper tense apprehension that I need to provide perfection that there is trepidation in that arena, the burden of bringing a life into being is so daunting, that I want to be prepared, maybe too much so, and then I see those that have kids almost haphazard, even in my immediate circle, and just wonder, I just have such a deep respect for life and the creation of same that I would want to be ready as possible to support that choice… and maybe that has bottled me up some, regardless of where you are, having kids is a walk on the tight rope, there is no book (sorry Dr Spock), there are no rules, or easy path… like all things rewarding I imagine it is quite hard, and should be, but I do see those who kind of just have kids without any thoughts like I am laying out… and wonder if I am wrong, because having a kid early on, all those years you can be parallels, I am not quite past the parental age, especially these days, and perhaps I must admit, maybe I have been wrong, or would be wrong, and there is also the selfish imposition to further my DNA position down the line, that is part of it right? at some level (baseline mammal) we want to survive, even at the base level of genetic code that itch exposed, so some future search will find a feather (or whatever) and see my name, great great grandpa Dave, I am an adopted child, my dearest ex came from a bad family mix… we never considered it when we were both in our early twenties… was it a mistake? she was the only woman I ever considered as the mother of my children and the subject was off topic… so strange to boil this what if, so damn strange.

on the dread, tired, summer night stretched (a poem)

on the dread, tired, summer night stretched (a poem)

by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment
dust tree outback fog
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slow the moon
slumber the night
summer night
august swoon
the air is sweating out from under my skin
the mosquitoes are quite in love,
enamored in mood, feasting on blood
drinking up the night fill on through
an uncaring host
no tail to swat
no care to move
for my backyard is no bayou
no beasts are lurking there,
parched lips
brown bottle
cold sip of beer nearly satisfies,
baking on the other side of the sun
direction under the moon’s eye
kept from sleep and dream
invisible mist heavy surrounds
gravity in shackles
down to the ground
I melt into my chair
into the scene
bring me rest, being me sleep
my flesh weeps into the air

capsized mind, shipwrecked at heart

capsized mind, shipwrecked at heart

by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment
beautiful boat daylight foggy
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the romance of being lost at sea
this seems almost un-conceivable these days, but it still happens, a little vessel out there with a lone inhabitant, far from any home or harbor, and aside from the starvation I might admire, or envy such a ride, at least in my mind, drifting, in no general direction, or at least the perception, at the whim of nature completely, as we pretend not to be here on terra firma, but truly adrift, to admire the marine life that might approach, I wonder if I could, or should, start a company that promotes such travel, a shipwreck in style, the capsized life for a boatload of dough, of course sans the starvation and wilson ball (and perhaps the extra facial hair – maybe that is negotiable), there would have to be some ground rules though of course, no internet, nope, no way, no cell phone, GPS phone just for emergencies, some sort of solar power array for lights at night and storage of foodstuffs, no grey poupon, fishing gear yes, I wonder if currents can be planned out upon, like certain times of the year for a near perfect route, now this sounds more like a headache the more I think about it, but to make it safe, maybe that would draw the allure out of it all anyway, the fear, the danger, the chance that you are not found at all, how could you capture that all? hmmm… a desert island might be a better control option, but there is just something mesmerizing to me, to be out to sea, just drifting, no control, hoping for a chat with a dolphin, or the moon laddered toward me across the water at night, of course avoiding the teeth and fury of any storm, just floating along like a kite where the wind may take you pulling that string of yarn… there is peace in that lack of control, if only you can let go…

white and black moon with black skies and body of water photography during night time
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…but imagine the pageantry, lying on your back, a conjured perfect pillow propping up  your noggin, just you, your mind and the night sky, not a soul in sight, stars almost close enough to pluck right out like buttons, you have the time to count and name them all if you wish, concoct your own constellations, draft your own lines between, drifting along in the vast swell like you are your own little galaxy, riding – the subtle waves up and down in inches, the calming sound as each beat gently raps your vessel, and your hand which is dangling just breaking the water surface, nothing to control, nothing around, nothing to worry about, nothing but everything to contemplate, perhaps the sound of deep distant dreaming whales singing a song your subconscious can sing along and also answer, exhale, just a dot on the great wide water of the earth, for me this is truly an intoxicating dream… but aren’t nearly all impossible things… ? … ?