“greeting card” 9.21.2018
(insert name), I love you,
you are the sum of everything
the life
the blood
the sun
all that runs through my veins
all that is pure to make me whole
the inspiration
to aspire more
more of the same
more I know
more to attain, to be
strong
for you, my love
I didn’t work my usual marathon today (I didn’t exactly have an easy day mind you) but, I met back up with someone I trained (at a store) two years ago, it was like a time machine, she had that on me, total surprise, she’s young, it is not a thing like that, but sometimes you just run into someone who reminds you of the fire of life, this was one of those moments, in Harlem of all places (when we previously met in Valley Cottage), life is strange, and all circles, maybe I should be more… observant and active in it. Sometimes you just connect with a certain person, for whatever reason, enjoy the moment, they are special, we had that fun and now the universe brought us back together… so damn strange…
That said.. here is some simple thoughts…
8/13/2018
where were you
when you were gone
but more to the heart –
where are you now?
8/13/2018
you are
all the more
I could ever
ask for
NOTE: sort of my groove on Haiku… feel wise.
I have posted this one before, but so what, this is what I am jamming to, you’ll get over it..
continuing my series of just parking my big white butt outside and looking at the small window of the world I can see here in new jersey suburbia. I am a little behind so I am posting two posts that represent two weeks, I am posting tonight’s first (and last week’s just under) because if feels more vital to me, I am trying to carve out the time to post on time, in my head I have a plan but the world seems to disagree with me… often, but I will endeavor to keep doing this project, sort of like the “picture a day” thing people do online, it is revealing, I hope this experiment turns out worth it, if not, well, then it doesn’t… but I am certainly more optimist than not so, with that all said…
9.16.18 (porch series)
this is one of those fall nights
where everything seems the way described in books
the temperature has fallen into comfort
into just cool enough
especially on the back of the memory of an angry blistering summer
(but that even now seems so faraway
weeks wipe memories faster than time can build candles on a cake);
leaves have two lives now
clinging to branches or littering the floor
all from verdant green move to vivid spectrum now
swatches of the dead adorn
but no rebirth can occur without the purge, I know,
this same hour in which I write, is much later now
the ancients association of death with night
the night that approaches and slowly suffocates the daylight
day by day swallowed night by night longer into winter, a descent,
all life is strangled to slumber
each phase of the passing days
subtracts a piece of the orchestra
summer full bloom is certainly a symphony
(or cacophony for some)
but now the year moves to loom on ever still
the lights burn out from the peak fire of life
leaves fall, insects lose their songs
the rain will become hard blocks
but – I should remain in now
not dwell on such dire things
even if I might be quite used to them
why faster should I wish their arrival
for now – enjoy, this nearly flawless night
something of which I might wish I could capture
in a moving minute moment picture
wrapped up in ball of cloth, stuffed in my pocket,
so I might take it out and wrap around
to block out
the whatever “importance” is swirling about,
and come back, to now
sitting here under the hazy crescent moon
drawing deep breaths
exhaling –
to become a component of this night
under the hazy tender glow
of a crescent moon.
9.10.2018 (porch series)
in an instant, seemingly
the summer has given way
already the silent stalk of winter
inhabits the shadows
the rain, once soothing, once relief
now speaks of longer nights
and trades in the rumors of the coming cold
fall it seems is just a balance beam
between, walking along artfully to an inevitable end
the cycle which began will but start again
as is all things
but this is a different matter
to try and capture the unfolding
to observe the obvious march
towards winter’s holding
do I delight? or mourn?
but as yet I know reborn
but there must be, that firstlast kiss of death –
the step that must come before the stairs
before we can resurrect.
Music… dramatic, with classical instruments and modern ones… you might notice patterns, I might call them taste…
not that I ever have a full weekend (rarely), I work 6 days a week (my choice I am not complaining…. ok, a little…), but I still like to think of the relief of the idea of a weekend… the idea sounds so damn nice… but if you follow me you see that I like to post some simpler things on the weekend, or funny things, not everything I post has to be an exposition to impress you or anyone, I aim to entertain to those who like my particular brand of thought (I post almost all my work, good, bad or indifferent), that’s all, as I usually say “with that said…”… so with that said…
“untitled” 4/26/18
hello day moon
I’m told you must signify something
just another thursday
I might imagine
if clouds are mountain tops
you are the king
but not mine
“untitled” 4/26/18
amber ember remember
blazing fire burning hotter,
forget,
why do I keep locked back
to ponder wonder hover,
the past is ash
yet I still grasp
the soot, stains my fingers
the scent, of expired fire
that once was
where now – there is none
“struggle” 4/28/18
cherry blossoms fallen
first line of defense
dandelions spawned
infantry
buds bustle and deploy
out on limbs
but winter always loses
so why try?
like all else
struggle
for every ounce of life
“untitled” 4/28/18
a sunset
how many more sunsets
will I see
how many more
alone
all around
this world is sprouting green
but yet my heart remains mourning
in winter’s captivity
musical amusical a musical, going really classic (legendary imo) on you all…
The oppressive ire of a humid summer broke in a big way yesterday, the temperature dropped to the point of going from summer shorts to a fall jacket overnight, I can’t say today was one of those miserable gray days you might think of, but it did rain all day, kind of off and on, never to hard never gone, I was going to go out and try to write out on my porch, but it is raining man… so I didn’t, but my mind did start up the writing engine as I was taking out the garbage (ah yes the regal authority of suburban life) and I thought about the rain (and as usual things we take for granted). I love the way rain sounds, I am one of those people who listens to “white noise” at night to sleep, usually ocean waves (my fave) or rain storms (especially with rolling thunder)… but then a little gnome of realization grabbed my ear and whispered… “rain is silent you fool”, after a little soul searching about listening to a figment of imagination I had to tend to agree…
Rain does not make noise. Rain is the percussion section of nature’s orchestra. All the sounds we associate with rain or storms is certainly “not rain”. Wind ? Thunder? The trees whipping, cars whipping down the street whoosh as they go by, jumping in a puddle splash, the ground rumbling from thunder claps… all not rain. Rain is the sound of impact. Think about that, something that only makes sound upon impact… and everything it impacts makes a different sound… but we process that as “rain” but it is surely not. Rain is a silent lot, as it hits your earlobe, your car hood, your driveway, a thousand leaves, all of these… so remarkably different in all aspects. Rain is not like a voice, a voice is the sound of you, it may have a different impact on the intended target but the sound.. the sound is not impact, the perception is, quite different from rain. So then…
I thought further, about water, in general… do waves make a sound? or is it their impetus movement against the shore ? Do ice cubes make a rap or is it the impact with your glass? or the crack as they dissipate ? Waterfalls, where is the sound found ?
I guess, remember to look at all things and think, observe how the world really works.
so after my philosophy blathering… “philosophy is the talk on a cereal box, religion is a smile on a dog”
Edie Brickell & NewBohemians – What I Am
one of my all time favorites… enjoy, smile, smile at the world, because a scowl doesn’t help anything. do I do that all the time ? nah… but I am trying.
When 6pm rolled around I didn’t think I had any thoughts in me, well, I had thoughts but they seemed to want to crawl back into a comfy bed and curl up with my mypillow and just… not create – nap but I could not (I was on call today for work.. and in short, it sucked for hours), so then after those facts I had dinner (as I usually do) and sat outside for awhile, just hanging out listening to the summer sounds (decompressing), distant kid voices, the occasional roar of an airliner (I am not too far from Newark airport after all), the din of insects, the chatter of the neighborhood walkers (mostly foreign languages), some dogs barking… I have to say it is cathartic, I recommend taking the appointment time (if you can) and just observe the space around you, especially for creative types, you can develop stories just based on what you see, so after all my blathering what I am trying to say is I did write… whether it is good or not ? meh… not important, I was in the moment, so like it or not, here was my shot…
9.3.2018
the summer seems to have lost some breath, some steam
as if she knows she is in the final stretch,
after just mere hours yesterday as I declared her death
she reared up in full form, regalia, glory,
with mighty vengeance
unleashing a torrent of gripping heat
and concentrated lens,
the type of day that makes waves
in the sight of asphalt,
the type of day barefoot burns,
necks bare red in a seeming instant,
no, this is not convection
she set this all the way to broil,
but here I sit in lovely aftermath
now that the sun has faded down
quickly drains out the wrath.
summer seems she is spent
but she will not go willingly –
as is all things.
“sunlight, because we see you” 9.3.2018
we perceive the sunlight as pulling back
when we are really spinning away, tethered to the land
we perceive the sun as rising up
when we are really hurtling toward, hidden forces,
those who do not believe
in something you can not see
take you for granted
every waking moment
Gravity and Time
they go about being
paying no attention to
us. the dust, the wind, the rain, evolution, airplanes, messaging –
all the same, to them
they were here, before the human show
they will see the epilogue, and a thousand more,
I wonder if there are forces out there
that they yet fear ?
music.. hmm, I love to post my damn opinionated musical selections 🙂
EJ… I don’t know what to say, either you get him or don’t, too me he plays with “joy”, it is so apparent, just.. go see him in person, you will thank me, no ego, no hubris, the guy is just the baddest ass player but plays with joy, hard to explain, even with my damn vocabulary.
I finally made a page for this “series” or whatever it may be, my attempt at just creating my art as it is on the fly, on spot, on my porch. But here is what I wrote tonight (well, last night since I am schedule posting this for the morning , remember I will never tell you something is new if I post it if it is not, I will always post my dates of writing same, that is just me because I am really trying to post me, or at least the best approximation thereof), when I post older stuff, you will know, does it matter in the long run ? probably not, but I am me and I will be Mr. Me all the damn time.
9.2.2018 “from the porch” (series)
so here I am once again
the hour is late august
no, early september
(although they speak a version of the same language)
ambitious leaves
are now beginning to fall
either precocious –
or tired of the season summer
and her beating heat,
I find myself staring
at the leaves of my japanese maple
knowing, but yet wondering
if they are even alive
in this still non breeze
this quiet of not quite night
I don’t even see any tremble,
trees barely seem alive
unless they are pushed and persuaded
their growth, seems to happen
in a different time
quit different, than the flow of mine,
hard to comprehend, understand
or wrap around my head, my mind,
I try to think of some clever metaphor
for trees,
my roots welling up, bolstering the pillar, of my trunk
branching out
the leaves, how ever do they fulfill
the sun, driving the hunger
burning the oil of chlorophyll,
but I wonder, what are my leaves?
obviously I am the core, the tree itself
trunk and branch
always there, in all seasons, even winter bare,
so what are my leaves?
are they feelings? people?
but what in my life do I have all
and then – none more,
so I suppose this is a failed metaphor,
failure, we’ve all worn the shawl
failure, even in words sounds so dire
but yet, should be as natural as the breathing air,
all the many species
that have come to past
and those that survived
not by a straight line
with a dollop of luck
or just a plain old long shot,
so flip failure on heads
on tails
you might just find
hope, even on summer’s end.
“on the eve of labor day” (porch series) 9.2.2018
I witness the world sleep walking
even the clouds seem crawling across skyward dreams
only one cricket seems to care with lonely declare
the once raging blaze of the fireflies in peak – is dying out
only a few embers remain here and about
the temperature has not yet quite broken
but soon enough will
yet in a way I still mourn
yet knowing you will return once more
but for me, this means one less,
a few leaves have already leapt to begin their slumber
once high above, now they are grounded
and I know it is more than mere gravity –
Newton my friend
who can think of the “g” word
without picturing an apple striking your head,
just a month ago
a rumor of snow would smack absurd
but now –
an inevitable sound
the rusty old plows
scraping down the street,
huddled inside
as our hemisphere
tilts from the sun
good bye my summer
may I be here for your return.
so, my friend inspiration, well, my guide I suppose, or maybe my muse, how should I know, even after 2 score on this earth I am learning I know more every day but with that I realize how much less I know of the world, so I am trying to “go with it”, ugh, sounds like a slug line… but I am trying to look at all the little cracks in the world and find words to describe and spackle the little spaces, so, with all this verbosity what I am getting at is I saw a cool photo (on a blog I follow) and words jumped into my head:
9.1.2018
ghost fence
your timber and frame
of shadow and rumor
memories
both sharp and faded,
spelling your stories
up upon the wall
how far you go back
depends on the hour
the tilt of your perspective
depends on the angle
or is this night?
an apparition ?
a ghost created by light
a photo negative
in my earthly sight.
musical cloak :
a sweet acoustic number from my favorite album of all time.
I have lots to post, but being a weekend and a holiday, I am in the mood to be a bit lazy, forgive me (or don’t).
“just” 6.8.18
whatever roads I have taken
whichever turns I have made
these long miles
of my life
my thoughts
always return to you
I thought I was sure
I thought I knew
we would grow old together
but as it turns out
I’m just a fool
notes: and in all honesty … this poem is true. How things change… how they change… and I do miss her so.
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.
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.
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.
Shades of My Garden 