dear, my dear born again? must be september but I can not seem to remember musket balls to remote controls I will not swear fealty to cross that moat nor believe the stories you untold over brook and crooked back banish me then from your impossible lands where to tell time I had to face the dire clock’s of dali laced no, no mad hatter for me then I’d rather fare the lion’s den so I might now exit stage right (to all a bow to all a good night)
notes… my notes, have this as “jumble” because… well, if you are privy to me I would say it is obvious… but I always am speaking on many levels… well, ok, often is a better description of assumption, this one has levels to it, I am referencing things in nearly every line, I do that often but not always, see how I can weave a maze of my own post? that’s fun for me, words, thoughts, a playground in which I bound about like a kangaroo hopped up on speed, g’day mate let me kick you in the face like a joey in rage… man I need to cut back the caffeine … or not…
sometimes I won’t have something clever to say, it happens.
sometimes I just want to post some stuff, it happens (below)
5.20.18
driving around my hometown
in all the corners
shadows and streets
memories
creep and speak
I no longer listen
I block them out
my own eminent domain
5.22.18
fishing hole
fishes home
fishing pole
I cast my line
time and time
a nibble perhaps a bite
to reel in my catch
a simple delight
childhood
5.27.18
rain drops
lives lost
lights turned out
endless clock
5.31.18
if there is wind
let it fill my sails
transport me to foreign shores
to unknown lands
where I might
begin again
music? OK, I can get back into that. King’s X “Thinking and Wondering (what I’m gonna do)” (live, acoustic), so yeah, King’s X is a band I love and will post about them until the world puts me 6 feet under. King’s X is a gay black front man from Illinois, a slick guitar player from Mississippi (southern drawl), and a drummer from New Jersey (who is an interesting writer).. and they can all sing.. so yeah, they were diversity before diversity was cool… because it wasn’t a thing, they just “were”.. like we all should be.
I must be in a mood today… the only way I could have posted this faster is with my brain… I must admit this experiment is intriguing.
edit 6/21 12:51am… just cleaning this up for looks, that is my actual scribble there, I was in a supermarket working on a self checkout (I’m a NCR certified tech, you know, to pay the bills)… I think people must have found me weird scribbling away on paper and then furiously trying to learn the wordpress app in the maelstrom of a busy market.
Live poetry, i would say the ink is still drying but i use a modern pen not a cool antique… which reminds me i might quite like one of those… posting from my car and phone for the first time…
edit 6/21 1:02am… just cleaning this up for aesthetics, I also want to note that I think it is important to capture moments and try to convey them. Robins are ultra common here.. but not so in other places, I think we get familiar and forget things like that. Robins are very much land dwellers and territorial little maniacs (with bright blue eggs).. anyway, their behavior is so distinct, look around, pay attention, tell me about your reality.
Sometimes less is more (or so I have heard). I have a busy mind which runs and races. There was a time I tried to subdue this engine and be “like everyone else”… but I am tired of that and willing to release the reins to see where it goes. I used to have strict things in mind when it came to poetry… what exactly is it ? Is there a pure definition? I imagine it is alive, like people, and diverse, like the community of minds here (and throughout the known world). So even a simple form of simple words can hold the spark of imagination, the fire of inspiration, and capture the heart or light a thought… I wonder.
whimsy. I have two whole days off (a rarity) so I will be out and about here in New Jersey digging for fossils… yes, you can do that here. One of the best kept secrets of NJ (ahem, besides myself) is Big Brook Park. You are allowed to just hop in and dig (so I do). But anyway here is a silly little thing I threw together the other day while looking at my stat page (as most of us surely do here on wordpress). Surely this is an inside joke for wordpress folks only… so, find art wherever you may roam (or blog).
“login” 6.8.18
wordpress
my domain
free with a plan
upgrade
menu
view site stats plan
manage
pages and posts
counting visitors
coveting followers
as close as I come to “commercial” music… R.I.P. Shannon, saw these guys at woodstock 94 (maybe I will tell you about that sometime, I wonder where Jodi is…hope you are well out there!), they were great… “No Rain” – Blind Melon
Of course I am saying “sexy time” in my Borat voice…. makes more sense that way (and amuses me). I don’t write about sex or sexual innuendo often, certainly not as often as I think about it (as if I have that much free time). Nothing pornographic… which is odd because I could care less about suggestive or out right lewd language. So here is 2 poems that just kind of happened .. the equivalent of a one night stand in terms of my poetry given what usually gets my pen to stand on end. (and I quite liked these poems as I wrote them or maybe it was dictated to me by the universe in one full sweaty stroke of my hand)
“room for 2” 4/4/18
as I stand there
as I bathe in you
the woman of my dreams
every contour and every seam
tailored for my hands
small of back
I place my hands
a burst of sweat
as fingers rise to shoulders
I pull you in
closer, closer.
“we meet” 6/1/18
our skin meets
I know your temperature
I know your scent
lips pressed
firm, wet
body lines
hands glide
slide
inside
you shudder
soft moan
drawn close
nibbled lobe
whispers exchanged
desires, explode
dmk note: I hope you caught all the double entendres in my intro… if not, shame on you.
musical selection, one of the goddamn sexiest song I have ever heard… “Minus the Bear: White Mystery”, no mystery, turn up the volume and be with the one you desire
Not sure if there is such a thing. I am trying though for what it is worth. I think deep down (or not really at depth) we all know what we should do but we actually do moment to moment varies. If everyone moved in a certain way the world would surely be better… but is that the way everyone thinks? or stops to think? or should think ? Sometimes I look around and think everyone here is dead, more or less true.. so what does it matter? I guess I am searching for the answers also. Smarter and wiser people than I have pondered these questions and will… for ages. Maybe words are my sanctuary or at least a temporary refuge.
“unfamiliar” 4/1/18
I saw a creek I do not know
I have driven this stretch
of the parkway
a thousand fold
a body of water
a basin of life
flows into a forge
becomes a river
and the sea
begins
off mile-marker 131b
dmk Note: Mile markers or more specifically exits on the garden state parkway (GSP) are a very new jersey thing. For us there is a common occurrence “hey, where are you from? what exit?”. I do not claim to know if other states are like this. The GSP runs like a spine and in a way is the spine of the state from tip to toe or point to cape (as it were).. it is a part of being from this state as much as being New York’s little brother.
“easterly” 4/1/18
my neighbor’s easter chatter
in their backyard
a letter to another neighbor
washed up on my lawn
from these late spring storms
I return the lost parcel to the plastic mailbox
filled with mail already
how odd (for a sunday)
I’ve known this place
my whole life
familiar
a woman
walking her dog
whom I do not know
easter is letting out
as my neighbor’s family disperses
to travel to their homes
“goodbye grandma” a little voice
followed by the heightened whine
of the minivan pulling up the block
the sun is almost set now
peeking behind fifteen lynnwood
I guess I had not noticed
the buds on the trees
ready to burst and transform this tract
once and again
from pale green slumber
to lush with leaves
soon we’ll have summer
there is always hope
I tell myself.
“poison” 4/3/18
a toxic house is poisonous to all inhabitants
walls pulsing seething
membrane
throbbing beating
even in the calm still of night
labored – breathing
constant – pounding
never – sleeping
doors closed, air stifles
cripples motion
throats crack
strangles the air
choking choking
4/3/18
are you a wolf?
no
but yet you hunt
are you prey?
no
but yet you are stalked
As is my custom (and my burning desire to spread good tunes) here is some music to enjoy… “Steve Morse – Modoc” … known well in musical circles (one of my favorite guitar players) but outside those circles probably not so much.
A truly American spirit. I wanted to lighten the mood a bit today (lovely day in the northeast USA). So here is some amusing musings on Bourbon. Why? I recently scoped out a cool documentary about the drink: “Neat: The Story of Bourbon“. Like a good documentary should you wind up having a good time and learning a thing or two. So with that in mind here are some booze inspired numbers for your consumption (and mental inebriation). Live life, love life people.
6.7.18
Bourbon
makes great friends
but a poor alarm clock
6.8.18
Bourbon
straight and neat
and the while later
crooked crossed feet
6.8.18
Bourbon
screams and kicks
fiery
and down the hatch
time plays
one eye opens
who is this person in my bed?
6.8.18
Bourbon
straight and slick
burns the tongue
for only quick
tap on the shoulder
from you know who
temptation bout reach for more
but one more knock
you’re on the floor
The universe has a way of sending words into my mind and then to my pen (quite literally I scrawl in journals I have stashed every which where). The inspiration today is not so inspiring (Anthony Bourdain, a fellow New Jersey traveler). Sure, we all will buy the farm at some point but somehow the prospect (and specter) of suicide deadens even a beautiful spring day. Spring should be the time of blossoms not burial.
6.8.2018
suicide
the right to die
on your own time
but what about those
you leave behind
6.8.2018
springtime
for blossoms not burials
but for you my friend
you decided
this is the end
so hope at least
the peace you seek
is yours to grasp
to ever last
6.8.2018
demons in the rear view mirror
much closer
than they appear
I must be in a mood today… the only way I could have posted this faster is with my brain… I must admit this experiment is intriguing.
Shades of My Garden 