Blue Sky

Blue Sky

(stream of consciousness post, meaning I wrote it in one sitting, maybe five minutes, so here it is…)

I might appreciate the application of wonder, for a blue sky, what is it? why does it hold such sway and magical spell upon my mind, is this an ideal planted as a seed long ago from when I was a mere sapling? for today is nearly one of those, and I suppose it has some effect on me, regardless of the now blighted snow, jammed, packed down, browned, kind of sad lumps as adjuncts abutting the sidewalks and roads, the only pretty perfect parts remain framed hanging in trees, on branches, on leaves, well, at least on my bean pole bamboo stalks or the evergreens, what is it about a blue sky? even in this seasonally frozen tundra where I am currently marooned, kind of a reminder, a marker, a beacon, a little pat on the back from mother nature, like a giant exhale that makes everything feel right, a release of sorts, I could dwell on the science, the cold, the reality and measurements of the actual, but that is bereft of emotion, of this feeling at least, I know the why, intellectually at least, but I would rather cuddle up and snuggle with the old cozy afghan of hand-knitted-human wonder, to close my eyes, and remember-recall-relive-revive those perfect days of past time, clear blue sky, maybe a cloud visiting once and by, but that shining-inviting-hypnotizing clear blue sky, like the world smiling, a cover, a mask, a solid illusion bolstered up against the sheer vast darkness just beyond, our fragile bubble just spinning along in such, invisible forces all at work that create a cradle of our daily harmony and ability for life, the miracle of just to be, and that little reminder, the flag up on a mailbox, a squirrel’s pause to look at you and still chew in puffy cheeks, your dog’s jaw resting on your leg with a beg for the simple pleasure of a scratch around the ear, a hug where the warmth of another becomes your own together shared, yes, the clear blue sky, reminds – and informs.

beach musings part two…

beach musings part two…

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the road to purity (that is the term that popped into my head and inspired this post), or the better version (or best) of one’s self, is this just a path to destruction or salvation, or is it a matter of perspective, I spent the whole of the week walking along a beach, cradled in a spider web hammock of self introspection, I mean what else do you do on the beach, oh yeah, normal people, swimming, tanning, a touch of volleyball perhaps (I was a bit more into kadima ball and kites I must confess, back in the day), not me, well, not anymore, somehow the shore has become my temple, my church, my place to unpack the world and move in with just me for a time, an extended sunday morning as sunday is the traditional day of rest so I’m told, the sound of the surf becomes a lullaby for an overactive mind, a drug administered by mother nature in kind, just as intoxicating as any chemical otherwise known by mankind, I am truly moved to a different plane of existence, everything just sheds, or is washed away, glaciers sheer off so easily, alone with my thoughts, conversations I should have had long ago, or did and forgot them, or they have been obscured in the so called real world, no shiny distractions here, no plethora of channels of niche information to browse, the reality of life, the cycle, birds, fish, insects and plants – your breath, all engaged in being what they are or what they were born to be, so odd, us humans, we have the right to decide what version of ourselves in which we reside, and I guess I know, at moments like this, I am not living up to my end of the bargain, the bargain of life that I have been gifted in this limited, there is only so many things you can do with this realization, be better, get better or just accept that perhaps you are not quite the lion on the golden hill you might have thought or were told, but am I shorting the world…? and myself, for not going all out, and where down the road does that mate with actuality indeed, as I walk here among all the broken shells, some seem familiar, a pattern of at once perfect forms of life laid now in tatters, all these thoughts flood my matter, no one will ever know, except this inner-verse that I am conversing with now, I suppose it is this way with everyone, even those we think have the perfect life, from the outside, who knows who they really are unless you walk in their skin for awhile, along a beach, see what washes up, hearing their thoughts, wearing their feet.

a thought on ‘harmony’…

a thought on ‘harmony’…

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I ponder such things, musing perhaps, what is the nature of harmony, how to achieve it, how to recognize it, how to capture it for even a time, how to recognize when you are off key – in life that is, I surely would not want to torture you with my singing voice, just trust me on that score, our lives have so very many congruent threads being pulled in all directions, fed by emotion and a flood of other stimuli, so what is this elusive elixir I seek? and the words just popped in there…

harmony is the reduction of variables

maybe that is the crux of my rain walks or stands as it were, just unplugging my self from the usual-verse and reconnecting with the most basic primal instinct mind, letting the wind whisk my worry, the rain wash my burdens, the night sky the blank slate to write dreams upon, to close my eyes and see nothing and listen to the subtle song of the earth moving through time, enjoying the ride, at least for a time, this time I have been allowed to be, in this harmony.

.beacon.

.beacon.

gray scale photography of lighthouse
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there is a deep rooted romantic notion, a call, an ancient instinct, at least felt in the ancestral bones of the northeast here, the coast, the ghosts of mariners and those lost to the great open maw of the ocean lapping, tapping, rapping at our doors for eons, the idea of a singular light, stranded purposefully on an outcrop, a rock, a place of no softness, like an iron anvil itself placed in the corner common of waves, forever to spend days piercing out, a beam of light, into deep dreary days and summoned blackest nights, crashing, thrashing, lashing winds, salty air to breathe, leather skin to dry, the ultimate test of man against nature even if nature always wins, we plant our flag there anyway, as a monument to defiance incarnate, can I summon the same strength and fortitude, and brave out toward that known view, to battle even the stars themselves, to scream my name into the heavens and be known for a time, to stand up to what can not be stopped, to grin in the face of grasping eternal teeth wrought, for our ends are the same, but can I be that beacon upon the land, calling others from the sea, with sacrifice and scars stand above the spray, guide to divinity, hope, and safety, rather than to call a flock for worship but light the way, to inspire the lowest thread of humanity to find the path, might I muster up from the earth, the strength to grasp onto that mantle, and spend my soul as a beam of light, a way, a path, a vigil, one thousand candles focused onto one, that may catch the eye of the troubled, and bring them home to those they love, throw comfort over a tempest, guided to a cove, hear my horn and heed my light, I will bring you home, for may I be a lighthouse, let that be my call.

/drive

/drive

dog on concrete road
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the random photo
in the bathroom
the frame is a bit crooked
or is the line of white tile beneath
something is off
someone is wrong

running into the sunrise
a neighbor
directly
black suit
neon shoes

the sun looks more like a gestating star
with all the gases orbiting round
converging into the core

a pure black cat
sitting on a lawn
like a silhouette
prone, ears up
back to me
my luck
I suppose

an accident
on the southbound side
tarp over the car, meaning
mile marker 96 I notice
no, more distance has passed since
I am supposed to feel something
aren’t I?
should I meet such an end
at any time
not the fairy tale sleep I promise myself
traffic is backed up for miles south

over the snake mountain bridge
the sun has burned through now
a jewel nestled in swirls of mist
the empire state building stands the middle piece
the land between
quite unremarkable
but the skyline –
as you might imagine
on a day like this

notes… this was an experiment of sorts, kind of stream of my consciousness in shorts, literally the bombardment of rampart in my mind as I woke and drove to work this am… I don’t record myself I write these in my mind as I drive and repeat them like a mantra, I lose some lines here and there, sure, but I really hate my voice on recordings, it does not match the voice in my mind, the voice I speak to myself always in is not what I hear in there, if you know what I mean…

lost day of lucid dreaming…

lost day of lucid dreaming…

clear light bulb
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today was one of those near prefect days, I always tell people (that from my experience living in Florida) that when a hurricane (or remnants) pass through they generally, like some strange weather magnet, clear the table of all ill, the day after a hurricane is usually spectacular, today, was one of those days, I could feel it coming, did I take full advantage? I would love to lie to you and tell you so, I set my alarm, prepped my pack, but when the morning moment came, my get up and go left me flat, I routinely get up around 7am for work most days, six days a week with nary an exception outside of vacation, but damn my blood is cement in the confines of my bed, softest pillows man can buy, curled up in a blanket like a seaweed encircled rock in tide, the lullaby of a 15 hour ocean channel on my laptop, and knowing these are days I can control my dreams, to some extent, lucid dreaming, a form of meditation for my buck, sometimes I can embark on great adventures, sometimes the past is relived with a different twist, and yet sometimes the feel is so real it becomes like a memory, making me blur what was dreamed and what was past, today, not so much luck, just redundant thoughts of having my pocket picked and my wallet gone, I must admit I am a bit paranoid of such things, the panic in my dream quite gripped me and stole away my breath, not that much unlike that feeling of falling when dreaming, you would swear the real and the experience’s merit, so, when I finally did rouse my lazy bones from their perch, time to go to the store and gather up some essentials to make dinner perhaps but definitely my lunches to have at work, my wallet was not in the usual position, I make a point to put things in the same place, as to avoid such situations, my mind immediately went to where it might be, where was I last? when did I last have it out? who could have taken it? clearly I was being influenced by my dreams, or did I influence them subconsciously it seems,
it is ALWAYS there next to my keys, and try to conjure the rare situations it might dwell elsewhere, like by my computer if I ordered something, nope, not there, I check the car, perhaps it fell out of pocket, I find a receipt from november 2019 and nothing else, where the hell could it be? I start to think the restaurant I picked up from last night surely would have called… wouldn’t they? shouldn’t they? I imagine someone rifling through the bills, excited to find a good score, and also taking my ID and more, just like my damn dream, that was on repeat and I could not shake, I check all the places I just checked once more, still not there, I suppose I was hoping for magic, a quick look in my hamper, I don’t see any pants, what the hell did I wear yesterday? I dig further, and the delightful weight hits as I pull out a pair of trousers, there it is, I run through the contents anyway to make sure all is there, panic fades, my own mind is it’s own carnival some days… bring in the clowns…

/angel

/angel

shallow focus architectural photography of angel statue
Photo by Archie Binamira on Pexels.com

/angel
as for days marked as these
I was not meant to see
but there she was anyway
a lamenting angel
a casualty of war

just in her eyes –
read like history
so far down
forlorn skies gather clouds
as my mind crosses hers
o’ ancient one, accursed
how long should you be punished
how long to be trapped
to dwell here
between death and dawn
knowing neither
knowing you were wrong

notes… so something caught my eye, the corner, like a fish hooked I suppose, I saw into the soul of an angel, a fallen one of course, I have to be dramatic right? but in all seriousness this is a blink, a wink, something that flicked the switch in my mind, there is a bunch of themes in there for you to digest, so… enjoy (and feel free to discuss, because you know, I encourage such things)… and I did see something… didn’t I??

thoughts from the porch… (the night is swamp)

thoughts from the porch… (the night is swamp)

photo of body of water under black clouds
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the night chorus is deafening, a competition? no, more like a party, a rave, perhaps to woo the parting season out the door, is september really up the block? hard to believe the speed of such things, and yet the plague remains making this all one strange stretch of life, will 2020 (with hindsight) become, in all memory, ‘the lost year of covid-19’, finding it’s way into global history like things ‘the dust bowl’ or ‘the great depression’, hard to tell when you are living the thing that will become a historical mark, back to the night outside, or more precisely surround, as loud as the din is (and it is) I find silence in the solemn solace slow march of the clouds, the half moon provides just enough light to watch the gentle behemoths sail on by, stars peek-a-boo, all covered with this loud blanket of bug noise on the ground level, I imagine this is what a hot swamp sounds like all the time, I can not say this is a pure lullaby but the longer I stay to listen, the sneak sooner this seems soothing, the world lays wet from a fresh storm just past moments ago, sparks, flashes of distant others occasionally light the corners of my visible box of sky, but always the sound, like an old coach’s silver neck whistle blown gently but every second without fail rhythmic, waves of this sound, in and out, up and down, tidal sound, I am gladly drowning in the aural sensation, only to be awakened, damn them, the damn devil mosquitoes, their minions making sure I am bound to not dull or not dwell in the symphony, or maybe they are the surrogates or the forward tentacles of the sirens, drawing me in so they may feed on my literal life blood, and I succumb as much as I can bear to endure the performance sung, the odd moth crashes into my hair, stopping there but with wings still flapping, so close to my ear as to hint at invasion into the my inner sanctum, sending skin bumps up and down my spine electric, hairs on end, discomfort, I twitch like a mare, and buck like a bull with a rider, I shake the stowaway loose, I try to again focus on the sky and sound combined, the inverted river flowing above in moonlight, but damn these blood-thirsty beasts, for at this party, no, for at this feast, I have presented myself as the main course, the last engorged orgy before the sleeping season, my legs like stalks of blood sausage presented, pulsing pods of insatiable distraction, and to prove an axiom I slap some flat, there are no free lunches here ya’ bums, and with that I retreat to my sweet air conditioned bubble… calgon, take me away

reminders of my own lack of evolution… or?

reminders of my own lack of evolution… or?

IMG_5182 (2)

a long winding day of work, not the worst day, not the best day, lying in that somewhere in between, not exhausted but might remark so if asked, and it was if the world were to tap me on the shoulder and say “hey stupid, look over here”, and so I did, among the quite unremarkable semi-industrial human-scape of hackensack nj, my own little Manhattanhenge of sorts, well, the effect of the sun at least it seems, and in popped the words “crested dawn”, not sure what it means but that is certainly the words that painted the scene for me, even if it was a sunset, in between two semi run down industrial buildings to the left of my office, and I must admit, I felt a sense of peace, a sly little smile crept in, the tank did not fill completely but there was some ponce de leon in there, that little slice of a moment to pause, I smiled and moved on carrying a bit with me…

photo of moon during night
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had to stop by the local market for a few essentials before they close, and yes, sorbet (raspberry) is an essential if you must ask, back to my car, parked socially distant in the far part of the lot, I look up, there is a hazy fat crescent moon, hazy for one because of the humidity, fat crescent? well, when I think of a crescent moon, I think of a thin sliver, a cat’s eye glimmer, this was more on it’s way to a half moon, but not quite there, I guess this is 38.5% moon, doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue romantically now does it? but either way, not the moon we catch most often, or at least that I see or look up at with dreaming eyes most nights, sort of this hazy aberration, the aftermath of a very unsatisfying thunderstorm, summer thunderstorms can be wonders of relief, breaking open the humid grip and letting the night slide into comfort, not this one, all that was accomplished was making the street and ways wet, still the night is hot with summer sweat, the kind you can feel just enough like you are wading through as you walk, relishing the instant you can enter your car shell and flick the AC on, so I traverse back the usual way, slowing down where the cop always sits in that school lot, setting up for the one left I have to make before home, a green arrow lane also, bonus, or so I thought, there are cars in front of me, the light turns green, nothing motion, and then after what seemed like an eternal less than ten seconds, the guy in front goes straight, no signal, why bother when you are upsetting the apple cart of the world, and immediately my mind melted and screamed in a thousand tongues “A-hole” as I felt the rage build volcano strong, and then a pause, clarity, that same sly smile from before, slid back in, I remembered the little light show afforded me and grin from just an hour ago, and silly me, silly me, why fly into such a dumb rage, the whole ‘incident’ cost me not an age but a relative instant, I drove the rest of the way home quite amused at myself, the seriousness and the doubt, how easily I was led down a path of twist and shout, over the littlest of things, when I am surrounded daily by the most miraculous of things…