“has sprung“ my eyes are alight in this may day light so celebrate, and rejoice, my heart bursts blooming in this time of spring so celebrate, the rebirth, my soul is awash in promise planted whispers now call forth from budding branch so celebrate, this time of renewal of growth, of possibility the tide of optimism carried on the wind in the calls of the woods on the grasses of the plains, joyous exposition from within to bear down all walls the explosion of hope upon this earth for this – is spring.
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notes… I am generally a giddy optimist, this would be one of those times, for whatever reason the sun hit my eye the right way, and these words came, as they are, I have been writing more as of late but I don’t have the time to post it all, I’ll get to it, but the funny thing, something I wrote last month seems dated like old milk, maybe because it was in my head fridge for so long it seems mold… life is interesting.
music… going weird on you as usual… this artist is a mix of NIN, techno, chip tunes, metal, and well, all sorts of stuff… so here is a link to the you tube channel:
at this moment the sun is veiled behind a mass of pulled cotton and slowly revealed, in setting an everlasting bulb, I might wish a night wish to witness the super nova that will end all, here at least for at least in that end I will have one more moment to share with you, my love before that great end, with you.
notes… I think we all have fantasies about such, maybe not, but probably, or at least us artistic types, or those of us that live in our head, it is probably better to be an automaton, maybe, I vacillate between wanting to be ignorant and the knowing… but I really don’t have a choice anyway, unless someone bashes me in the head with the proverbial frying pan or age robs me of my rapier whit… I just need to breathe in deep and accept everything, not surrender mind you, but just accept things as they are and concentrate on what I actually have control over… and let go of which I do not.
talk about evolution, I imagine many fans of this band are like WTF? but… they are so good musically and show it here, I like that they have evolved completely away from the start, static is boring, I hate boring…
I saw a black cat cross the path but not the one in front of me a side street still in my view, but I wonder I pause, will my luck fare just the same
notes… I would love to say I am …so… above the odd superstition, but I would be lying, I try to be logical about it but sometimes that is just a scratch you have to itch, perhaps going to lane 12 instead of 13 for EZ-Pass… guilty ! even though I am not a triskaidekaphobiac (truly one of the greatest words in the english vernacular), so this is really a true story in poem form, just me driving home the other night and out of my right eye I spied a black cat (or did I? hmmm?), and somehow this little troll of suspicion of apprehension… of superstition whispered in my ear…
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Music… going with a classic here (and sort of obvious!)
Some Housekeeping notes… I updated my Collections & Series page, linking to my Essays and such, so if you think my poems suck (that’s cool) you can skip to what you like (I am damn accommodating). Also I am in full on Game of Thrones mode on my media page, I tend to write copiously when I am passionate about things. Plus I will review movies/shows you probably never heard of. I have diverse tastes to say the least. So shameless plug #2 (media page!!!). and for the hell of it… more SRV, damn he made that guitar sing, I hope to pull up a chair at his table and have a drink with him when this is all done.
written in traffic this morning, this week has been, ahem, arduous in terms of that, just simple things I saw in front of me, it brought me hope in a sense, I hope to share that with you…
(1)
driving, on the fore – the only tree alight with green is not a pine spring has arrived
(2)
“expectation” might I forgive the architect for placing a pigeon atop a highway light post distinct profile hitchcock but not as impressive as a falcon or a hawk
notes… the second one is very ME specific, for some reason I am fixated on birds on lamp posts, I have noticed some birds of prey on them in recent years (and not previously), most birds of prey are super impressive animals really, they are much larger than common birds, at least in these parts, so the contrast is what I was going for here, pigeons are quite common, and not as regal as the top predator, sort of like comparing mullet to a great white, sure, at some level both have aesthetic beauty, but the whites are more impressive as they have barely any fear (besides killer whales, not to go all off tangent on you), anyway, pay attention to the world around, things are there to confound…
Started as a “side band” that wanted to experiment with “Tool” like music (treating Tool’s sound as a genre, interesting). This is off the new album… and man it rules, well, at least to me. Melodic and heavy… I would like to think I hit those notes as a person, probably not… but heck, why not dream while I’m still alive… let me know what you think, I can’t read minds you know (although I pretend)
work was getting to me, my usual brick and mortar exterior was showing cracks, is this Monday? which is even a worse thought when it is not, but then you think “well, one day closer to the end of the week then”, which holds your hope over for about four seconds before returning to the pounding pace, the check in stamping work clock ticking just above your right shoulder, ever closer, sure, you flick your head around and it retreats to where it actually is, but that sneaky bastard just keeps ticking and mocking you just the same, the phone, I swear they work in tandem, tick – ringinging – tick – ringinging – tick – ringinging, is anyone going to answer that goddamn phone? and half the time it is one of my technicians calling. I believe it was jesus who said that you if you teach a man to fish he will eat all year, or something to that effect, well, I have taught some of my technicians to fish… but they wind up casting their lines in parking lot puddles, and I assure you the catch there is certainly not edible, nor is their ineptitude understandable or put-able on a day like today, in between thunderclaps of the boss’ pages, I decide to dash for the door, even a dreary wannabe rain day beats the inside of this joint today, I think of braveheart as my inner soul screams “F R E E D O M!!!!!”
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Ah, lovely suburbanHackensack New Jersey, a collection of non de-script homes nestled ‘tween aged industrial buildings of little or none architectural flair (a true monument to utilitarianism boredom), the gleaming, bustling highway route 80 off to my left (scene of the morning crawl), the effervescent Hackensack river one block behind me (nothing can live in the water it is so utterly polluted), the once black mulch adorning the sides of the walkway with lovely petals of newport and marlboro scattered about, ah, this is my refuge from that cubicle of torture (even though it is a not a cubicle, I might actually prefer the semi-privacy granted by such walls), I need to catch my breath and shake off the ox plow of the day, what better way than to amuse myself with the viciousness of local traffic, I swear I saw fangs bared (I could be mistaken), but the strict adherence to subtle traffic common law does bring out the beast in people, take more than two seconds at a light? you will get a rather subtle reminder from the courteous traveler behind you, sometimes even shouting encouraging words such as “move it moron” or “what the f’ is wrong with you, you stupid piece of s*!”, who on god’s good green earth would dare question the civility and harmony of humanity in times such as these? I was also unaware that the stretch of local road outside was an honorary speed race track (I think it is christened Chuck Yeager memorial or something), and off they go in all sorts of various vehicles gunning it down the street to some unknown checkered flag, all to my amusement, there are lights every 100 or so feet as you approach downtown, and the courthouse as well, oh well, these brave pioneers know better than I, I am not sure if I witness the death of courtesy or both sides being, well, complete friggin jerkoffs, my neighbor across the way, this sort of blair witch house thing, that has been through (barely) many floods, and certainly even more occupants, not sure which has done more damage but both wind up leaving various furniture and objects at the curb in their wake, but back to the traffic at hand, my neighbor whom I do not know (we office types do not mix with the ‘residentials’, it is forbidden or to say it with more panache – ‘verboten’), he decides to just back right up into the street with nary a pause, well, Mr J Lexus was having none of that I tell you, I mean I get it, I truly do, being the first to sit at a red light is quite the high honor, but it was hard for me to decide who was more in the wrong here, technically ‘we-be-jammin-can’t-see-through-the-night-tinted-glass-Lexus-man’ had the right of way, he clearly demonstrated this with a light tap on his horn that lasted nearly ten seconds, I could not hear the verbal gems he hurled at my poor lonely neighbor, who incidentally took this verbal assault to simply back up right into the road and force a sudden stop of a different car (one of lower standard in the caste system than Sir Lexus the Great), I can’t tell you how much this whole scene amused me, and I think I got a couple of death stares in my general direction, but I felt safe with the door to my office within grasping distance of my big white rear in case a hasty retreat was needed, so I filled my lungs with the filthy air of industry, racing cars for no reason, the highway fumes floating down like smog mana from heaven, and I was revived…can I get an Amen (cough * cough *)… but I must admit I felt refreshed, revitalized, ready to put on my invisible armor and march back in there to the battle that can not be won, but I struggle on, with renewed vigor, renewed belief in the goodness of man!
Epilogue: As fate laughs, down at me, as fate would have it, this very night, driving home (as I tend to do), I get off my normal exit on the GSP, no biggie, I make the usual turn onto Magnolia (glad there is no train arriving @ Metropark), and WHAM… a livery vehicle in front of me (that’s a fancy taxi to the uninitiated), said livery vehicle proceeds to race ahead at 10-15 mph in front of me… honestly at this point I could have turned into a traffic madman like I expounded about in this post, but alas, I just laughed at the utter irony of it all (being I wrote all this today), and let the jackass behind me do all the road rage-y stuff for me, you know, the swerving, the lights, the horn, this just amused me more and more, local street, double yellow line (no passing), so I just bided my time and livery guy made a left, “good luck” I thought to those behind, poor bastards. (and heck, it doesn’t hurt to have some good tunes to take the old edge off, I must admit).
silly but performed so well, can you recognize all the songs and riffs (so many classics in there) ? ? ? ? and with that I sign off my friends, as always, all eyes, loose eyeballs, looks, half looks, stink eyes, and other none such… are… well appreciated. tell your friends, ego has a blog, and this is it…
I sit here in that little nook of my porch, the corner where the porch meets the wall, kind of tucked behind the Japanese maple I planted so many years ago, after so many failures, after the birch was gone, the one I grew up with, that now seems like lore, captured only in old photographs, but here I am behind the tree once more, yesterday was a day of beating rain, the type that assaults and holds you prisoner, the storm has passed and moved on, out into the ocean now, along with the wild winds that carried, this makes the sun, even at this late hour, quite welcome to my skin, the sky is quite blue, just a couple of strange cloud formations here and there, more like disembodied puffs of smoke, I find myself mesmerized by how the breeze waves and sways the upper branches of the trees in the fading light, illuminates every crack and cranny in between, there must be a party across the street, a child’s birthday should I guess, they have a whole array of blow up landscapes, slides, and a castle, I think, but their fence is rather quite tall, so I can only enter a suppose of the all, better to yet, let my imagination earn it’s rent in this old head, I never saw such wonders at a local birthday party in my day, not to complain, I realize it is all quite relative of course, I am sure kids of today would not be so enamored by a roller rink, the ground round, or a crown from some fast food joint, the kids across the way are very loud, but honestly I don’t mind the sound, a reminder of where we all once were, living among pure wonder of the world, free of daily encumberment, I pause, can we ever put that good genie back in the bottle? And what of our three wishes, would they be even remotely the same?
“Captain Underpants! Captain Underpants!”
one of the little girls exclaims, I have no idea what it means but she is certainly enthusiastic about it, and there is an impromptu chorus sung of “We Are The Champions”, it strikes me as amazing to consider that children of that age (9-12 perhaps?) know this song, but I must pinch myself and realize they are grown in the internet age, where discovery is merely an instant away, sharing of art and song is merely a question of getting the suggestion, something 40 years old can be as relevant as something 40 minutes old, with both gone and wiped in another moment, or preserved, or forgotten.
This makes me wonder ,or perhaps more truthfully regret, this scene, will never be mine, I am nearly past the point where children might become a foregone non-conclusion, like everything else I do, maybe I have thought too much into it, planning, worrying, fearing, circumstance building, rather than seizing the living of my life, of course my logical mind can always rationalize, what is the point? They will all die, just as everything does, but I argue with myself, does that mean we simply give up? Or surely try to extract every ounce from this life we possibly can, until the canister of effort is driven empty or fate decides to drop in for that ultimate visit, I think, well, I want to will myself to be, to grab such fruit that I can, from that wisest tree, oh such, in this shortest span, I search for the strength and will of man immortal. (and I lay down my pen).
the master of ambient of my generation, this is pretty minimal but not too artsy minimal, it reminds me of sitting outside and letting the breeze wash over me, trying to become one with the landscape I am provided, and the life I am granted.
All likes, comments, recipes for chicken are all appreciated… as is your view now, I bow to you, the reader, thanks.
I contemplate the beautiful fragility of butterfly wings upon such gale stain glass beats oscillate with silence only spectacle the dance of survival spiral pageantry of these so easily broken, I think of the single snowflake winding journey to the ground to dissipate surely into vapor and once more rise then gather then fall to travel the world over in many forms, I stare at these last rays bleeding bronze out from this day’s ending I pause, for all these things and the miracles contained of bearing witness in these soft moments of my existence.
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notes… written 4.18, last night was the first real spring rain, no, not technically but it was 70 degrees and the rain was a relief, almost clean, seemingly a hint of bleach as it gently made overlapping circles on the deck as I watched, the dog sniffing around her domain in the backyard, life is good, it beats the alternative, take a minute and breath, there is something wonderful within eye’s reach, the idea is to reach for it, I am guilty as any for forgetting this, trying to re-calibrate my noggin to ground myself in reality, I am here now, trying to enjoy the ride.
music… going soft acoustic instrumental (thanks to my bud Chris all those years ago for turning me on to this and Tori…)
the sun must rise again. for belief is life in the blood as loving hearts contend this perpetual motion resists against the gears of night, for -the sun -must -rise. to breathe life into that good hope the singular line of light to spark in the stirring of the being, of the living for again, the sun -must -rise, comfort to the children of men generations seek wisdom the good will to bend up against that death for there within is strength resident in that good light, and the Sun. Shall. Rise. Again!
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notes… I wrote this on saturday actually, it did not dawn (hah hah pun) on me until later that it could be taken in the context of Easter, this was not intentional, perhaps the muse felt she had to guide my hand, as I say often inspiration is a strange sensation, it feels like possession (in good way, not in a head spinning vomit way), this one wrote itself, this final version is barely edited from my original scribbling, one of those that you write an just immediately feel good about, which means I will probably get zero to three likes on it… lol, anyhoo, this was really (to me) about optimism, sure I could quote Annie “the sun will come out… tomorrow”, ok, that is pretty much the same sentiment, and I am not half as cute, or a ginger…
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music, I make no bones about it, my favorite band ever is King’s X, a band that was ground breaking before anyone knew anything about anything, that’s all, in this PC world of today they would be heralded as lions and pioneers for so many reasons… enough preaching, here is a song of their first album from back in 1988… damn, I was 15… the vocals, the rock/metal edge, it made me pick up a guitar for the first time, and want to sing (which I most certainly can’t)…
this brings me back to days of my youth, my father had a “provisions” route back in the day, and when I was off from school I went to work with him, in essence a provision route worked thusly, my dad (with me in tow) would travel to the meat processing plants and supply warehouses in Elizabeth and Newark NJ, pick up the raw product (whole briskets, fresh chop meat, huge wheels of cheese, snack products, fries, deli salads, condiments, you name it), and then deliver them to local bars, taverns, restaurants, and yes, the occasional strip club (we’ll get to that detail), remember there was no Costco or Restaurant Depot, it was a good business from the turn of the century forward but of course it was phased out by progress like many things, my dad had this big yellow truck, it was like driving around with the mayor of every town, I swear he knew everybody, smiling and waving like we were in a parade as he drove, he knew all the cops, all the weird locals in all the bars, “Hey Freddie K!” was just this accepted mantra, what did I know, I was a kid, I wish I was more astute or paid more attention, the amount of inspiration for character study was astounding then, some of the experiences seem so strange now that I recall them to write in these words, the smell of bars as the sunlight first hits the witness wood floors, a sort of mix of barf, beer, mold and pine cleaner evaporating, you could see dust particles floating upwards in the light, questioning drunk eyes watching, walking into a strip club before they open as an eleven year old and my only want was a quarter to play the latest video game, I am not sure why but strip clubs and bars always had the latest/newest video game cabinets back in the day, we are talking early 80’s so video games were new, hell I remember Street Fighter coming out and freaking out over it (although I am admittedly a Mr. Do man), seeing the help (ahem, strippers) getting ready (into their outfits), pinching my cheeks as I was so darn cute, but I paid it no mind, it just was, I remember Cheeques in Linden had the best damn hamburgers ever, well, they should as my dad was delivering fresh chop meat direct from Magnolia Beef, where I would see things made, you know, meat parts literally being ground down in front of me, half dead whole animals on hooks being pushed around to the various processing stations, I still remember the cold smell of dead meat, the places were cold, really cold, my dad and the workers had these white coats, and then there was the sound of the hamburger patty machine, ka thunk ka thunk ka thunk ka thunk, and then paper slapped between the patties, then a case is made, rolled to the bottom and this crazy wire tie machine thing would seal the box with two ties, and then we would pack them in the truck for delivery that day, learning to use a hand truck was second nature, a wonder all these memories, someone might look at me now and see none of this, a poet, a writer, a philosopher, a nerd, who cut his teeth in the bowels of urban central new jersey’s blue collar belly, I wonder how it shaped me, or was I already there…. hum?!?
Lyrics to the song, poetry if you ask me…
“I stand at your gate and the song that I sing is of moonlight I stand and I wait for the touch of your hand in the June night The roses are sighing a Moonlight Serenade The stars are aglow and tonight how their light sets me dreaming My love, do you know that your eyes are like stars brightly beaming? I bring you and I sing you a moonlight serenade Let us stray till break of day in love’s valley of dreams Just you…“
forgive the reiteration, this disclaimer is for those unfamiliar (hello) with my particular iterations, I don’t like to write in form but I like the idea/feel of haiku as it were, so here are a couple of little observations (sort of) I wrote today, sometimes I just am in the mood to write this way, and so I do…
(1) moon, phase shadow, fog night owl who who
(2) the calming sound of my april bamboo as the wind works through and plays each leaf
Shades of My Garden 