where you find yourself, at times.

where you find yourself, at times.

Photo by Irina Iriser on Pexels.com

fallen
the skylight is round, I’m not sure how long I have been down here, seems like a lifetime, and I’m told by the suit behind the booth that is all I am allotted anyway, choice or by chance? I’m not sure frankly, these parts are not friendly, not deadly, just keep to your personal space sort of place, a pale place, there is enough light to survive, thrive? perhaps not, when moving about you lose sight of planes of existence, this all seems normal until you catch a beam for a dream to ride up on, what is beyond? and why do they look at me with such disdain, shadow faces sneer, canines glean, do they not see? the up there? monochromatic shirts, brown shoes, unisex doors and signs adorn the shoals of this box, everything is a box if you are contained, only if you see the walls, why did I have to look up? what evil impulse and seven years bad luck cause me to break the mirror in pieces so willfully, on the floor, there has to be one, a floor, but just a blurred mist where my feet should be, with a solid form, I am walking on something I pronounce, a dervish whirling, spinning about, the dos-si-do I do with my fellow captives, although they seem to have the arrogance of freedom about them (they never look up, really upward), and I do not have shackles per se, where did this seed of thought sprout, instantaneous? subcutaneous? every thing has an origin, that much I am almost mostly sure, did this come from out there? or in here? and how will I ever know?
sincerely,
searching for meaning
(unknown who found this note or who may have written it)

notes… one of those that just popped in my head, as if I was thrown down a hole and muddling about with fellow unawares but yet I was aware of whence I came, sort of a vision, faceless faces except for the mouths, rounded features, almost like animated stick figures but more like mannequins… that was what was rattling around my brow in this piece… as usual, all comments, thoughts, eyes and what not are appreciated. you could be watching law and order or something instead of browsing my page (because somewhere, at all times law and order is on… I tell you…)

window musings (part 2)…

window musings (part 2)…

“for if this is all I have
’tis more than some will ever know”

a window into the world
defined by frames
defined by shape
much like our own

words try to clarify a picture
quantify a fraction
symbols drawn together
and agreed upon among others
language –
like an ancient tree
the high branches so far removed from root
reaching up
as if to escape
or grasp the stars – themselves
for we know to well
not bound to this earth
for we know not long – enough
as the spirit thrives to live on

Resisting the Poison (a return from the land of lucid dreaming) (@)}(@)

Resisting the Poison (a return from the land of lucid dreaming) (@)}(@)

Photo by Jess Vide on Pexels.com

is it possible? I feel different today (and yes my coffee has settled in), I mean, I always feel different after a few days off, but something, something has shifted, I feel it, I swear it from the bottom up, toes up spine down, is it days of optimism (ahem, and rest) welled up? perhaps, has not the usual office grime whiped off on me enough, yet? the dreary drive through driving rain (check), am I different from just a few days ago? what has changed? not much, really, something about perception versus reality I suppose, but … I just don’t know, I feel different, hopeful, even downhill among these moguls thrown out in front of me like field mines in all our lives these days, all is well, hell, not anything has changed really but a sunrise in my mind, I spent a few days dreaming, now, you might think I am joshing, no, I literally spent a few days involved in lucid dreaming, an experiment, to the best I could manage, or drive, I visited Hawaii I tell you, certainly not but my mind touched that spot, surely, I can not describe how I did thrive in that environ, especially since it was the whole cloth creation of my imagination, never been to the real place, regardless of the weather outside, the actual weather, there I resided, for a time, snuggly warm inside the real, closed my eyes with a purpose, guidebook in hand mind, as to where I might go, my own ship to steer, and so I did, some of this was mundane, arguments over meals, details about rooms, the usual insane things in our normal day to day even on vacay, but other times, I was indulged, to see friends and former, others and lovers, the never hads and the used to be familiars, it was all there at the fingertips of instant writing memory, as I went and experienced, and so real, what makes it less real? I woke from excitement, anger, passion, and rolled over for more, as the hours went, a day spent, in another world, somewhere I had not been before but could populate so easily with my mind, a charm, the shore, the breeze, the personal interactions, conversations happened, all of the recall, I could quote chapter and verse although, I wrote this journey as I went and came in REM worlds, as real as spent, and today, back in that chair, that desk, that office, I look out my window, birds traveling from rooftop to rooftop… (as have I)

“…in pieces slide, pieces slide out, we are a puzzle with nothing to solve but ourselves.” – some guy aka me

I stand at the gate and the song my heart sings is of the moonlight
I stand and I wait
for the grace of your hand
to cover the moon
the roses are blushing, a moonlight seranade

the stars, how they glow,
and tonight how their light guides my dreaming,
to you, my love,
do you know? of course you know,
my whispers in your ear streaming,
like the meteor shower above
this earth, and these heavens combined,
has brought this;
a moonlight serenade

let us stay here, as long as time
in this place of mind,
a valley of shared dreams
you and I,
our hands the circle of space and mind
all else remains frozen but our waltzing eyes

so let me not wait to drift to sleep,
come to me in that tender dream
meet me at the gate,
so to sing a sweet lullaby,
a moonlight serenade
the song of my love,
as dreams are only life as made
my darling, my love;
a moonlight
serenade.

(now you tell me, how and where I went, and I might flash you a postcard, if only you can see it)

arboreal dreams.

arboreal dreams.

brown leaf
Photo by hiwa talaei on Pexels.com

for in the spring
I dared to dream
unfolded to soaking in
the light that fuels the green

the daring leaf
for I could be a ballerina
toe to tip pirouette a spin
a dizzying mood

the ardent explorer
a ship riding the tide
the temporary waterways
of august thundershowers

the lazy slouch
content to not much else
sunbathe all the hours on
sleep till noon or dawn the day star

and once a tempest passed
I remember well, the fear, shaking
such force upon my lap
and others fled or ripped, and gone

visited by birds
maybe I might fly among them
carried by the wind
onto some mysterious foreign lands

I can feel the drying in my veins
the light remains but how the warmth has faded
for all these I might have been
my last grasp, to grass, browned and spent

notes… just something that popped into my head today, I could have expanded it I suppose, worked the clay, worked the mold, but it is not my way, ole ‘one draft dave’ they call me, well, ok, no one calls me that, in fact that is a terrible nickname, forget I mentioned it, let’s just keep that between us, shall we?  anyway, can’t a leaf dream? who knows? why not? this work was about that thought and the weird cadence in my mind today (do you grab it?), maybe it works, maybe not, either way here it is…

capsized mind, shipwrecked at heart

capsized mind, shipwrecked at heart

beautiful boat daylight foggy
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

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
Photo by GEORGE DESIPRIS on Pexels.com

…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… ? … ?

 

continuation. hope. seed.

continuation. hope. seed.

white clouds
Photo by Luis Quintero on Pexels.com

bury with me
one day
bury with me
these dreams
that never came to be
and may be in the dawning of my death
they shall spring to life
as I may never be
so I ask you
bury these, bury them, with me.

notes: for me this is a circular poem, I am comparing ideas to themselves, in circles… unfulfilled dreams (seeds)… your thoughts on the topic are welcome…

a dream when called for.

a dream when called for.

brown bear lying on green lawn grass
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

might I be a bear
called to hibernate
and have a dream that lasts a season,
during that long slumber
might I wish for something more
to transform
to emerge from that cocoon
a butterfly
and take flight
lighter than air
above the common ground
travel boundless
under basking glow,
but alas, I will awake
as yet still just a bear
and onward call
to river’s edge
on forest tall


writing notes idea class
Photo by Startup Stock Photos on Pexels.com

notes… I will from time to time write things about being things/animals, trying to find perspective as it were, this is one of those times, hope you enjoy, and throw me a like or nine…

music… one of my faves… ambient with a bit more purpose, I don’t like pegging music like that, this is electronic and more upbeat than the term “ambient” may suggest… I suggest you dig it… and groove my friends…

>>>Tycho – Jetty

Thinking again… perched on my porch

Thinking again… perched on my porch

(a continuing series I call the “porch project”)

animal avian beak beautiful
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

I sit out upon my porch, my usual place, do I wish to write about the birds, the coming spring, the buds on trees? I’m simply not in the mood, while all of those things are certainly true, instead, I close my eyes and imagine everything is slowly fading into nothing – revealing, phasing back to the way the world was, before this land was torn about and put upon, all to meet our needs as a species,  assigning and asserting our assumptions upon the landscape, but now, in this dream, I am sitting on a rock, viewing out upon a chain-o-never ending hills, golden grasses swaying in unison in the breeze, local fauna in all manners of splendor, maples and oaks left to roost in their own glory, a world certainly alive with the madness of squirrels and chipmunks, tides of birds flowing in and out of frame, deer in packs like herds roaming in thousands, lynx on the prowl in the shadows, and bears the kings of all they may see emerging from their winter burrows.

creek brook stream nature
Photo by Creative Vix on Pexels.com

I was digging once as a child, in the backyard, as children do, well, at least before smart phones, and came across what now I realize was clearly a river bed, perhaps river is a bit strong, but surely this was the work of water, perfectly smoothed rocks aligned in a basin, a sorted bed, harsh rock edges worn away by the constant water flowing over time, I even found a fossilized fish inside one of these rocks, so perhaps my (this) projection will not be historically accurate but no matter, this is a mental exercise not science or archaeology, I can put them away for today and dream, such as this, so I imagine this brook running through what was once (or now) my fence line, how the water must be clean and clear like the finest crystal in liquid form gleaming in the warming sun, yet ever cool fed by a natural spring, and this dream, there are no sounds here, for whatever reason I can only hear the visuals, the calming water, hypnotizing me, in this dream…
and with that, shatters, in comes actual sound to break this meditation, the gravely churn of a big wheel approaching, a car screaming down the street at speed for no reason, and the quibbling of the robin who was patrolling my lawn but had to run off across the way to avoid human interaction, sigh, at least for a moment, at least for a time, I lived in a dream of what once was, not that I mind the now but I certainly didn’t mind the escape. so I withdraw back inside and bid you a good night, my world, thank you.

hubris.

hubris.

brown concrete cathedral
Photo by Abdallah Maqboul on Pexels.com

reflection

you warned me
but I came anyway
still unprepared
and by the furies
down the phoenix rain
molten bullets perforate
penetrate my mental armor
leaving searing, smoking, holes
and I thought myself ready
to bear out my soul
false bravado is a fire of cold
fear would have been a sharper advisor
but the time has passed for that
as an empire is in ruins
littered, broken doric plumes, in uneven piles
with no fiddle to play
or gambit to last
I’ve lost, in pyres reflect
here in the hopeless corners
of the darkest men

the simple tradition (weekend post)

the simple tradition (weekend post)

cat lying on cloth
Photo by Jenna Hamra on Pexels.com

Surely this is a time to unwind, one of the big American holidays leading (and perhaps the actual door) to winter, christmas and what not around the corner (do I need to be PC and mention every single holiday? nah, not me.), since the weekend is the time to relax, curl up on the couch and watch some TV (like a parade no one really cares about but we watch anyway), I like to post some simply digested pieces (get it, turkey day humor), maybe even just one line thoughts, or orphans as it were… so without further delay (I know, you must be waiting with such baited breath)…

animal bright bunny chamomile
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

5/16/18

robins and rabbits

do not seem to mind

each-other’s company

on this little patch of mine


lightning photo
Photo by Johannes Plenio on Pexels.com

5/18/18

can you feel the sky breaking

cracking at the dawn

I can no longer hide my disgrace

within the passing storm


beautiful blue eyes close up dhyamis kleber
Photo by Dhyamis Kleber on Pexels.com

5/20/18

your eyes

are the only ones

I have ever

truly, looked into


heart love sand
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

5/22/18

to know her

is a song,

stanzas upon my heart.

for eternity

I knew, right from the start.

these notes

they spare my soul

from the looming dark.


6/6/18

humanity, these days

souls on a billboard

on a road to nowhere


glacier snow mountains sunny
Photo by Markus Spiske temporausch.com on Pexels.com

6/14/18

sunlight

moonlight

fraternal twins;

 

sunlight bathes

illuminates

light of day;

 

moonlight owns

the night

in the phases;

 

the rise on tides

waxes and wane and disappear

crimson high, chasing the dawn of genesis light

 

eternal dance

partners three


notes… just on the last one, by partners three I was referencing the earth, moon and sun which is what the universe was for those just a few or so hundred years ago, kind of a play on perspective and science (and poor Galileo) , I thought about referring to all celestial movement but since I was being local (in a solar system sense) I thought this was the way to go.  although most of these poems are dated 6 months back (their birth), I did alter them here and there today… maybe I am getting better at that ?  I don’t know, I can only post and hope it connects with you, the reader.  And in this time of thanks, well… thanks.  I am not one to fish for compliments, it may sound arrogant but I don’t care (if you know me in the ‘real’ world as especially my coworkers can attest), I do not do things for others behest, I do them to do them, to do the right thing, which is not always rewarding in the outward sense, but fulfillment should be an inner strength, something that feeds your soul at some level, not some exercise in how many likes I can generate, would that be nice?  I am a realist, and not a bullshit artist, so yeah, sure I look at the likes, but that is exactly the hook I have to avoid… to enjoy the process, it is almost like dangling a shiny thing in front of the real prize, the real prize being real praise and admiration without prostrating myself in front of strangers behind a keyboard (ahem, you, reading this)… in summation I give thanks to whatever is out there, to you, to anyone I connect with, we are here in a blink and it seems that time has gone so fast, maybe I can share my value with my posts and enlighten just a few folks, isn’t that better than most ?


music… when I am contemplative I tend to go ambient (or classical), today I bend ambient…

Tycho – Hours

Tycho rules, he has a pretty high profile and tours often, check out his art as well, I have several of his prints