Again, I have been trying to make a point about just sitting outside my humble abode and writing whatever comes to me, sometimes it is what can be called poetry, other times I have just deemed it free-form, but what’s the difference ?  I don’t know, I am merely a conduit, of madam inspiration, how inflating, what persuasion?  who knows, I don’t know what I am doing, even after all these years, I’m just some guy, with a calling I suppose, it all comes so naturally so why fight it, even these little notes and things are totally off the cuff, stream of consciousness even though I have such a scheming mind I can not lie that I do not plan what I talk about, just not…. always, how it comes out, but isn’t that life?  should I agonize over every syllable ? seems silly when people are dealing the sheer horror life can bring and the sheer joy…  how can my words stand up to the loss of a loved one… or the birth of a new one? I guess, I do not know, I am searching, for answers, for stories.. for words. and perhaps emotions and connections.  Truly the more I learn the less I know, how many years this has guided my philosophy, maybe all life is like this, the better you get the more you suck (not a great bumper sticker, I must admit)… but…  isn’t that what life is, just a learning curve that never ends…

“from the porch” 8.26.2018

I look up at the sky tonight

not sure if I want to scream, or just sigh

sort of in-between

I wouldn’t much mind the rain

but it seems, late for that

as those clouds, earlier there, have left the scene

gone to else

where, I wonder

I guess it does not matter,

summer is fading

as soon the waking

for another turn

around the track of seasons

we churn along

everything circular

everything gone

over and over this sameness

has this what has become?

of my days

I strain to see each filament in the spectrum of light,

I imagine every drop of moisture that collects

and defines the clouds I observe,

this night, all days, all times.

where is my place in all this?

do the clouds look down and ask questions –

or are they just clouds

as is what I am?

struggle, as I may never know the right questions to ask,

or to whom,

or am I not to understand

but not in this stubborn grinding mind

of mine, drives this vessel

for all I know,

I wish I could stop the clouds,

poll them,

but of course they pay me no mind –

a photograph (you ask) ?

just a reflection of the past

something I can collate and collect

but never really capture

a moment,

every moment I would like to remember

maybe my mind is just a common squirrel

hiding these acorns of warming

for what is known to surely come,

I can feel a chill – already.

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I was also gifted the following article as I wrote this post..  just by chance:

What does it mean to be human? Don’t ask.

Now I do not agree with the outcome or more clearly the conclusion, but that is what real free speech is about, letting others speak with whom you disagree, see something in what they say, or at least listen, and think about it.

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Music… can you handle it ?  can you deal with some real?  how about a sick performance by one of my faves, come on in closer, click the link, close your eyes… and enjoy…

Eric Gales – Don’t Fear the Reaper (and more)

on a side note I also edited a previous post. a pretty big edit.. well, edition to be totally true.

and have I said … thank you, to anyone who reads this, I throw this stuff against a wall, expecting nothing, and I have been granted with more than that, so… thanks, to you.