“there are those
that have dignity and grace
and then there are others
who think they know the meaning of the words” -me
Tag: ideas
the act of creation…
I would like to think I am the genesis of the wellspring of everything that flows through me, an independent force unseen in this ancient universe, but am I? is the act of creation, of this writing, a whisper in my ear from some nearby spirit, when I dream of sailing upon the sea is that some ancient mariner’s lingering energy passing through me, a temporary vessel for a ribbon of life’s energy crossing the branched rivers of time and crossing me, does science yet tell us things are so, creation as a bang, that sudden instant of inspiration that bursts on the scene like a never ending inferno, except this inferno, this heat, builds rather than consumes, the only thing destroyed is the once empty space the fire now occupies with thought of mind, what if I am simply a conduit, but yet a pen with own purpose, for even liquid poured through different devices produces different results, surely these molecules were part of some other part of the universe, tracing back to the beginning, my origin, your origin, was within the big bang and we have been recombining in mysterious a million ways ever since, matter can not be destroyed or created, we are told, but thought ? endless combinations to our minds, but there is no endless information, an event horizon of knowledge, is there an edge to all this, a cliff that keeps running outward but still exists, a dive off into the before that was utter nothingness but something has to be there, sense says so, but how will we ever know, that land exists outside of all we know, touch, feel, once we expire in our combination in this time we are broken back down and recombined into something else, a kite, a comet, a frog, a goblet, who knows, maybe we have been all these things and they inform our dreams, whispers in our ear of all the things we have been, down to the molecules we hold together in these bodies, run by electricity and plumbing to temporarily give us this human vehicle to interact with the everything, the everything from which we all sprang, those billions of years ago, every spin of every star, every nova and black hole far, those billions of years, the result is you and I…
thoughts from the porch…
just cleaning up the yard, gathering up the victims of the wind that whipped through here the other day, they say 50 mph gusts, I don’t know, I just know it was windy and my bamboo was thwacking against the bedroom window, bamboo is great for privacy, tall, thick, elegant, and a whipping knock knocker during a storm, who knew, plants don’t come with a guide book, but I suppose a little forethought could have prevented this, but visually I love the darn plant, so in it stays and my sleep will went… I wheel the old trash can out to the designated curb spot area, and something grabs fishhook my eye… so I look down, bend the knee, and examine…
‘winter clovers’, well, that might not be the scientific name, probably is not, but anyway, that is what these little very green clumps in a mulch mound looked like, with all the trees bare, and a nice warm winter sun out there, these types of things tend to jump out to the eye, I bend over to try and find a four leafer, shouldn’t I, don’t we all look for that lotto ticket or magic moment regardless of odds or logic, that wellspring of hope just tingles your soul, we all do it, dna? instinct? fool’s gold? perhaps, perhaps all these, to witness how life fights to break in regardless of season, terrain, the odds, the same odds that made me possible, a contemporary to these little plants, sometimes called weeds, not to me, not today at least, I wonder if I have that same innate desire to survive, breed and keep the whole assembly line moving along at pace, or do worldly distractions shield me from the most basic of things, perhaps, my friend, I should recall you, and the lesson spent, from a little patch, of seemingly insignificant plant-life, life, I must remember the humble nature of the winter clovers, they sure are braver than me, at least this day… but at least I noticed so I must remember…
(part of my porch series, it is not as advantageous during the winter, but today, today was OK, 45 degrees seems like summer with a breeze compared to 20 degrees just the other day), music… well, Yvette is insanely talented… I bow to her talent.
erosion.
…and the river rages, at times calm as a picture perfect glass pond, but always moving, erosion, time, the invisible taskmaster, ever pulling, ever moving, ever forward, the river carves, the wind bares down, edges begin to dull regardless of their noble origin, time bends all wills all walls, the longer you survive the more experience you accumulate, to navigate within this flow, the change happens cosmically in a blink, but for you this is a slow tide rising, a lifetime, you do not notice, or maybe do, rough edges invariably fade, hair runs grey or runs completely, slowly you are rounded out, becoming grains of sand, for you will, but in the midst of all, erosion of the body and the mind, until… until you are just a soul outside of time…
I wait, I pause, close my eyes, I can’t feel it, I think I can picture it… my consciousness glowing pulsing inside the shell.
origins and perceptions… dreams and conscious thought…
“origins
cruel perception
the trick of life
am I the culmination
of thought of dream
my parents decision
cosmic reconciliation
into being”
sometimes I have a strange view on life. is this all a dream? how would I know, how would I really perceive it, and conversely are dreams real, are they reality, we think of something so it does and did exist because of that thought, it did happen, at least somewhere, in some space, in our mind, but yet we may dismiss this as not reality, what is reality, what brought us forth, a thought? perhaps, it is all a circular firing squad from there, a never ending loop, are we in the act of creating merely by imagination, or is imagination the cauldron of truth, of life, all determined by perception, a house looks much different from the inside than from the out, a mountain looks different when staring at the base than when peering from the summit, and that is a matter of feet, not a cosmic mile like looking at earth from the moon or taking a ride on neptune’s 165 year orbit to look around the solar system from another view, these are the things swirling around my brain this day…
dating mrs. universe…
so, we are getting ready to go out, where? I forget, it seems like we have been everywhere but then again, there is always something new to explore out there, and then she asks me “do I look fat in this?”, geez, even after all these years, how many years has it been actually? I get lost a bit in my own thoughts thinking about how it seems like a lifetime, no, more like all time since we were together, almost like there was nothing before and I imagine nothing after, as this is all I know, and she notices my stargazing look and interjects again, “I asked you a question!”, oh so you know how these things go, awoken from my momentary haze I utter ‘you look absolutely amazing for your age babe’, then realize, even a bright comet that nears a star still melts, as this quickly lost orbit comes back around as a perceived insult, “what do you mean my age?!?!?!” her steely blue wolf-rayet eyes blazing, she looks like she might go supernova at this point, I try and salvage my position trying to read the sudden gravity of the situation, ‘c’mon honey, we are not in the cradle nebulae anymore, youth is totally wasted on the young, you have the experience to pull it all off, there wouldn’t be anything without you, you know that’, she seems satisfied enough with my response, off the hook for a moment I suppose, the solar winds can shift so suddenly you know, even with all these years navigating the expanse of her character is like mapping the stars and trying to track all the other celestial bodies flying around out there, then I remember where we are going, to her father’s, always the same, a sunday, after all, even after all these years that seem like forever, he works six days a week, still, six days in and out, have to admire the old man, still letting the creative juices flow even at his age, although he is not as touchy about it as the old ball and constellations over there, glad she can’t read thoughts as surely she can turn as cold as the darkest black hole, and who wants to deal with that on a day off? ah, to be fair, when she is on there is nothing brighter in the sky to guide by, but boy does she takes her time getting things ready, like she is building civilizations from the ground up starting with amino acids and the like, at this rate we will have to travel at the speed of light to get there on time, such is life, such is the routine, you think I would be used to it by now, you think I would, I guess standing still is not in my nature, like an electrical impulse just pushing my molecules all around, apart and together, all the time, anyway, who am I ? you may ask, I would say it does not matter…
notes... just one of those that popped into my noggin, an idea, a conversation, so here it is… raw in form but from this form as is….
keeping a mental image…
as I sit here huddled in a hotel room in Elmsford, NY (for work), I try to be positive, well, I must admit the hotel is nice, no complaints there, the weather outside? eh, we were supposed to get this crazy storm, turned out to be a normal one, it’s cold to be sure, snow on the ground, that heavy wet snow that can’t decide if it wants to melt away or just fall into your car in heavy avalanche sheets the second you open the door (happened), I don’t hate the winter, there are times the snow hangs out on the tree frames like a perfect frozen gallery, it catches the light, and is quite beautiful, but not to drive in, not with people up here bearing down up my rear end as they are much more accustomed to driving these parts, man the anxiety builds, being stalked followed so closely when the two lane road becomes one, and one with ice, crunching under my tires seeking the dashed lines mostly obscured, I talk to myself as if the two bright lights behind me can hear me, “what are you doing? where would you like me to go?”, I have all wheel drive but I still would rather not pretend this is some sunny perfect day, I contemplate pulling over and over and over (is that a good spot?), I do not understand pressuring drivers in this sort of weather, but I only had five scant miles to travel from the store I was at to my temporary slumber chamber, I was counting, ticking off the tenth miles on my GPS, trying to balance (tame) my mania about pulling over to let this jerk-off pass, and finally I come up on the hotel, on my left, I signal, there is only one real lane by plow, so Big Mr. Pressure behind me all of a sudden becomes a shrinking Lilly and slows down, what a dick, and they pass freeze frame slo mo as I make my left, range rover… now going slow as a sloth, slower than I was when I was the lead dog, man that is typical, but at least I am ‘home’ for the night, at least tonight, just have to find a spot, why the hell is a hotel in this area so busy on a December night ? All the well, I find an adequate spot, I debate the old ‘should I prop my wipers up’, I don’t, I just want to take a shower and crash, thankfully this place has good water pressure, ahhh, damn that is nice, relaxed, and here I am… the photo? Cape May from a couple weeks ago, it reminds me to relax, that’s all…
a simple poem, a simple thought…
am I the brick in line so perfectly laid
or the tuft of grass
that has found a way
in that space
in between
and which on now would I rather be?
notes… I was driving to my local supermarket, and the median before the main road was so manicured just a few years ago, it still is nice, but I noticed the bricks all in line, and these lines just came to me, so I wrote them, as I am known to do, in one of my scribble journals that I always keep close by, I suggest you do the same, you never know when the muse or inspiration will tap you on the shoulder, so, be prepared as much as you can, without ruining the moment, let it happen…
music? ok, here is something from a band that gets no due, I tend to specialize in such things…. punk post rock anthem… unique sound, great vocals, garage honed sound…
hey ! all thoughts, comments, critiques and such… are all appreciated, let me hear from you peeps! Honestly this blog is for me, no guts and glory or fame, I do pretty OK in the real so this is just me throwin my art out there, if one person is helped or likes it… I’m good. I am on vacay next week so no idea what might happen here… probably a bunch of beach shots of south jersey and places no one goes to (but should)… we’ll see, Cape May baby…. Cape May!
Shades of My Garden 