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)…
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5/16/18
robins and rabbits
do not seem to mind
each-other’s company
on this little patch of mine
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5/18/18
can you feel the sky breaking
cracking at the dawn
I can no longer hide my disgrace
within the passing storm
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5/20/18
your eyes
are the only ones
I have ever
truly, looked into
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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
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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…
Are we always engaged in life… at our full ? potential? That is my goal (not that I am near reaching it), why not shoot for the moon, you can miss and only hit some random satellite, but you would still be in space, above the earth… but sometimes I feel like I am running in place. I try to remember I am fueled by optimism… and gifted with this life and this forum to share. but sometimes…
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“misting” 6.1.18
I’m alive
breathing
– misting.
I wake
I work
I sleep, some nights
floating
days flip
patterns hold
seasons pass
winding
clock forward chiming
haunting in this
simply existence
– misting.
music… one of my all time faves… (a 2fer tonight!)
I can pretty much guaranty you never heard anything like this, canadian pop/prog, this album was a total curve-ball, so I totally dug it, stick with the songs, listen to the chorus and lyrics… from a guitar perspective Piggy (RIP) always had his own thing going on, I regret not seeing them 4000 times more than I did, at least I did see them live though in my live.
And thanks to you, if you read any of this. because… there is value in throwing yourself out there into the world, you never know what she will return…
I wish
like a bee
that with your sting
you had died
perhaps then
I might be satisfied
but your venom remains
poison in these veins
for all time.
notes… not sure why these words came to me (but they surely did), I was stuck in horrendous traffic this morning to work (2 hours to go 26 miles), so maybe that was the venom, the title is a play on the phrase anaphylactic shock which occurs if you are allergic to bee stings, sure, I could have just hidden that and let a few people catch it… maybe if I had 50,000 followers I might do that, but at this point I am the flower, and you are my pollen spreader, so in the interest of well… interest, I post as such.
winter is certainly more than a visitor now, the last heroes of the fall have succumb (even the stubborn ones), so many familiar things, I’m noticing, more these days, paying attention to the details (always the details), wading through piles of leaves, kicking up my feet, much like traipsing through the surf as I churn, that distinct sound – of the dry death in dry leaves, the sweet breath of decay suspended in the cold air, such a unique scent, like the blooming of flowers in spring, this is the signature of the fall, held so still around my ghostly breath, the flashes of red and yellow now turning into brown, and then near nothingness, dormant stars to hide in the earth, burying luminescence, life is retreating into a cocoon, we, the overseers, as it were, pursue – the vast importance of our daily lives, but at least the coming of the cranberry holiday can give us pause, to say thanks, and pause to look on the world’s comings and goings as a lesson, to hold on to the remains of a dying year, to remain to hold those we hold dear, and to remember above all, love is life – and we are alive, give thanks.
all sight lost in whirling dervish delights, for now
until we awake into the next morn
branches sparse, the snare of cold breath
a frost
we retreat to our dens and hearths
and wait.
notes… we just had a Nor’easter here so it is almost the last cruel insult to the leaves… they are clinging for dear life knowing they will all be stripped bare dead and here comes this horizontal rain fall and ripping wind to take away their spark, the aftermath is all these leaves, some even green, strewn about like a total mess, so I was commenting on all that and larger themes of the season.
This is part of my “from the porch” series where I am writing from my, um, porch, just channeling whatever comes in on the antennae, so without further delay…
10.24.2018
long gone are the soft summer nights
on this night full moon high
the august sun, is faded words on bristled pages now
Think about it. No, REALLY think about it. Every person you run into (ouch) or meet is a complete happenstance of a confluence of a great everything, a mass of variables so vast as to ache even the most agile human mind – the time you are born, when, where, how, parents, grandparents, that great great great great aunt that crossed some river for a flower way back when, all of these possibilities became you… or someone, there will never be anything the same as you @ this exact moment, or the next, think about that the next time you get mad… can you possibly know everything that baked the cake you are mad at ?
so on that subject… I wrote this @ my desk today, it was something bouncing around my head for a few days now, mostly I need to be (or am) immediate or I lose the lines, this one flowed out without doubt at my lovely inspiring cubicle…
thoughts and comments (on anything) are appreciated as are million dollar donations as alas.. I did not win the powerball drawing the other night (I was so damn sure too…), anyhoo… this blog is my thoughts (all this verbose blathering) and poetry, so onto that part of the exercise…
the bridge 10.24.2018
there is a man crossing
the bridge, across the road
I am driving on
I do not know
his destination
merely the other side
I assume,
a moving snapshot, a video clip
of memory now
so much in a time stamp
a story untold
or what I may imagine
a life, an entire life
there in a moving picture
an entire existence
passed on by
on a bridge
across the road
I was driving by.
Music ? sure, being I am a creature of the habit note…
Eric was lauded as a kid as being a guitar prodigy but got sort of forgotten for some years. I first got into him in 1993… and he is making a real name for himself now (rightfully so). He is right handed but plays upside down left handed (that is just the way he learned so it is natural to him). Great player, check him out if you get the chance.
Shades of My Garden 