guaranteed a seat at the table however, with this game of poker the odds are stacked the player never wins the question is who is the house? (and who let you in)
just a quick one that popped in my head… so what do you think? about a rigged game? but the house exists so…
if I could live my life over again would I be the only one or given a new life an empty page or might I prefer to hold the knowledge I have gained, to start in soil as a sprout without the memory of the tree that spawned me and set me free upon this earth as a plotting acorn a cloud of dandelion seed a coconut carried to a different shore on an indifferent sea, or spirit energy transformed back to light and reborn from forth a celestial womb to begin the cycle all-together and all anew (on the universe’s cue)
notes… now that I have been birthed, and know my worth (the universe decided I was ok to be born, I am here), should I trust that to be reborn again- or in some other form. thoughts ?
that, so hear! riding on the wind, the cry of the wolf rises up on the moonlit night piercing all forward and all behind crests effortlessly over my ramparts and walls directly into my soul directly to my heart;
for the grey that inhabits my crown for the once saplings now laid down with leaf for seasons past and lives have cross’t, that pierce of hers- the cost does haunt;
still, might I lie mostly wake thoughts can hardly break the lure of that call of the earthen core herself- nor noble sword for which I held nor conquered foe for which I thought I felled upon my knees can not relent spine down my soul can not repent;
for she shall always be my queen;- in times of youth when all was the golden eternity was upon and nothing spent the perfection of lying together in our bed at night, until the soft light morn the supple fit of our perfect form, how insidious human works did invade that space worldly words n’ deeds the insurrection led by my disgrace;
a guise, so easy to see with hind so easily remembered, twice fold in kind a fool’s errand to decide by one the best for two rather than raze the building to see again the gleaming foundation; (abandoned dream) a fate of two disparate streams that became a river spilled into an endless ocean of the unity of love dried up in a short sighted season of my famine the destruction of a singular decision is more than a scar heavier than an anchor of the base most stone a crushed trachea trained under heavy breath, like a collapsed tunnel under a grand mountain’s ground;
sometimes there is the air of escape, from miles, from towns, in the arms of others, but when, that call hears out, and reaches these ears I can not bear to wonder what else, and despair.
notes… I shall never forget, I want to, I want to find that next love, but it has not materialized so far… I feel I am wired different, time and years feel like nothing to me, although not everyone is wired the same way, today could be yesterday or the day I left her, it all feels the same, regardless of time and space…
am I just a gallant buffoon or a stark raving prancing baboon shaking my glowing red ass under the auspice of a harvest moon without the pride earned by rudolph nor the purpose with which to lead except into a tail spin speed corkscrew map points to the ground round ‘d’ round ‘d’ round the night a carousel, a bumblebee in flight for one passenger though my bags packed with thoughts all they might find, in a crash in the dark compacted into this little black box that lies, in abject presentation and so I will dance, which for the diminish, succumbs the coma of night is comfort the comfort of numb.
sometimes we all act the fool, in jest I must accept not reject this abject part of my humanity… for at best I am my worst and my best is met beyond my expectations my pet, but I bet I do not know anything yet, with four decades under belt I have felt many things and still stumble like a child learning first steps, because there are always more first steps, there is always first steps unless you live life standing still, but then you would be a dummy, both figuratively and literally… or maybe just a man named quinn…
time to put away the winter things sleds in sheds boots in darkness closet corners full less dress car packed full an adventure to take under the summer sun
notes… went back in my time machine, well, not really, of course, I WOULD share that with you, if I could, of course… but I pulled up an old snippet from the year 2019 and it spoke to me, I guess, sub-consciously, and so this came about, of it, that union of my own old thought, and now, how things change, and will, always, move forward, so I should, I am trying… how hard, depends who you ask, who wants to be honest in all that, who wants to push, even if we know the cliff could be right there, I should get busy, have more urgency, but I wrap myself in the every day race and tail, reflecting on it does not move the needle, which I need to do before I am quite dead, literally.
so- should I? marry you death- now or then why wait? why the rush? inevitable- the perfect mate; fate- so let the courtship begin and never end. unless I should begin again; reincarnation or resurrection- so let the lantern be lit so I may follow into the path of light.
soak up the sun when you can, no, no, no, not for a tan lest your vanity replace such absolute gravity soak up the sun for when else can your truly bathe in starlight not at night- not from the moon- for that is just a hiding reflection a pale excuse while you snooze.
and sometimes, you think, you clink, your tool, you fool, just love it, bring it in, the sunshine, ya feel me ? (oh and by the way I call this staccato poetry, so that is on purpose, it is the way I hear it in my mind when I write it)… as always your thoughts are appreciated, if you think I am a putz, that’s ok, I might disagree even, on most days…
wake wash rinse- repeat dress dash dapper- neat; the norm is clocks do wane race racing the norm is- death
notes… am I above the fray? the race? the rush? no… I am awash in it just the same as most, this does not mean I am unaware, I would love a world where I (and we) were all free to just do as we please, but that is not reality. there is no easy answer, I would say my advice to you (and me) is to find your refuge where you can, when you can, find a place either real or virtual or in your mind that is only yours (or those you choose to share with).
delivered from the ether birthed onto this blessed vessel celestial gestation, my ordained time to grow seed to sapling in this world- of- bones; the very light of the only heaven we know projected onto our sacred ground the giver of life our only sun so might I have this chance this moment a miracle – in this- world of bones.
notes: revelation today… the words popped into my head for the past few days “this world of bones”… because that is all that is left, it is not a good record of the amazing life that has spread here, just in my short lifetime, or any time, the earth will be just a graveyard one day, even more than it already is with the dinosaurs and previous life forms… but for us… the bones will not just be our bodies but our buildings and thrivings, it will all end, and that is OK, that is the way of things, I fear for myself, of course, I don’t know how to square that peg, but I am not alone, we all have to meet that end, and so we will, I fear I will be lost to the ether, absorbed back into the universe that has no need for the meaning of me, and I will never know, I will just be gone, I hope, and pray that my spirit finds a place, but even the universe must end, and maybe that is what death is about, even the oldest thing, the only thing, must have a start and an end, this existence, my life, is no exception, but that does not make it easier to comprehend…the end.