prayer from a distance does not carry on the air nor land or on the back of a feather the ocean may rise to engulf the poles but not even a voice of thunder can span the globe in one full jump
but the voice of many may be the boat of hope to sail so, I pray, still.
there is hope, and hopelessness… and yes, none of this may matter in this matter, but you have a choice, I choose to live in the sun, as best I can (and I fail more than not, but my choice is not the reason for my failure, my humanity is, such as it is).
your thoughts and comments are always appreciated, my friends.
out-water on the er’ly the first slip o’r the dawn no time to downtown, Boys no time to downtown, Boys until thy work ‘st done
so man the eye, spy the cape let rigs be jigs and let the soul ‘s be damn’d for might the blessed sea- provide the bounty such we seek for skill and pride, for on luck ‘n shuck with silent words and surl’y looks pray! fill these hooks might we crown ‘t-day no time for downtown, Boys no time for downtown, Boys until soaked ‘nd milked to the full on day
toil into that twilight- under bark and bare and shipward slight a reward of’ta whiskey might ‘et prepare life in a shot (or two or three to spare) if mig’t please the mistress of the sea with her bounty bless’d one day next no time to downtown, Boys no time to downtown, Boys ’till paid is the toll the toll in full t’ rest.
notes… sometimes things just pop in my head, I love the ocean, and fishing, and the almost romantic version of the history of such just offshore from here, people don’t think of New Jersey that way but we are, as usual this was scribbled into a pizza box of all things as I was driving home tonight, maybe it was the music, I am not sure, but I stopped really worrying about all that long ago, I just post the flow of what is going down this river powered by the universe, for I am just a channel, brought to life for a reason… at least that is the hope, and why not.
bound to the ground even with the occasional lift off we were born with arms not wings but even the fine feather are bound to this air-o-sphere; unless, perhaps this is truly a heaven and the rest of life in the universe wish to escape to here.
rattling;; If I am so impervious if my armor so impeccable the unmitigated gate of my plate the glimmer blinds others in the sun, then the words of said others shall have no quarter here; whisper mills- gin mills- water talk, should then not bother me like this at all- rattling;;
notes: I am generally one to not care about the words of others, I pride myself that way, I present myself that way, but I suppose not the most stout fort has a fault, or a weakness, sometimes, the words seep in, like poison, like reason, and I am as much as human as all… even if I pretend to hold myself above it all…
out upon the silky sea a voyage be’ond discovery for out in that unforgiving grave a rock an outcrop once the roiling cauldron heap to melt the earth herself molten dreams roll conjured up from the continental shelf herself and here now cooled and tam’d these days spared the steam ‘don cleared the haze a seeking flock found peace and stayed without a fang ‘r tooth long in sight decided they were done with flight for why bother with a pilot’s trial on cliffs and yonder tuck’n’tail
notes… nah, I am not explaining this one… let it be mystery and fodder for imagination as this was a loose interpretation, of language and creation, on my part, in other news I finally reorganized my YouTube Channel a bit, so check it out if you please, and on Facebook I post things so, all that, if you like what I do, thank you, no, truly, I broadcast out my frequency and hope there are at least a few ears in tune, even if not, at least I am here to do it.. and that is truly enough, remember that.
the stretching- beautiful blue sky out- as I drive, the span over the meadowlands, tree tops, now budding, in this spring my mind wanders- dreams- drifts- as it should and then inward; there is that moment of inner inspection reflection; looking for that place where my mind will rest and my heart might forget, (her) all these years- and still- no one compares to you, my love for each replaced thread, so abandoned I am reminded- and so long, even the fear has long since departed the familiar denial has settled in the submission to the cold acceptance with only your memory to keep me warm until I go. (there)
(and I pray someday to see you again- for sometimes the hope, the dream is all I have)
sometimes I am mysterious, or arcane, or sometimes I am a merchant of simplicity… depends on the world and how my mind drifts, this was today… (I wrote this piece listening to this song, why? who knows… it was what made me think, made me muse, so I am tried to bring you to the same place, where I put the song on repeat and my mind on repeat until a mantra bubbled up to understand, so it did, profound? loud? soft? correct? righteous? nah… just me.. and maybe you, these days it is what it is, and sometimes I am OK with that even if I wish for the bliss, I realize I had a time in the sun, would I like another? yes…)
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.
a conjuration- I am- suddenly found ‘midst an unusual sun shower a downpour of cherry blossom petals a shame, for they will never feel the real kiss of the true summer sun so I must for them
notes… this is what haiku is to me, not the form, the beauty. I was going to my car after work in the blah industrial section of Hackensack , NJ where I work, there are cherry blossoms lining the side street, warehouses line both sides, but yet… cherry blossoms are the there, in line, that attract the wild birds of the area, such as they are, we even get quaker parrots from time to time, so, there I was, in the middle of a storm, of petals… and I took a moment to inhale and observe, beauty is there in daily things.. just take a second and look for it…
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.
descent; soaking in the last breaths of the smoky slumber sun sets.
Notes… just a quick glance at the sky while driving home, even after some forty odd years on this globe I can still be amazed, the days are nearly never the same, sometimes the paint up there is just different, all just moments, snap shots, moving pictures, shorts really, all stitched together in the feature that is our life, so sometimes you have to sit back and watch the dailies to see how the whole project is going…
Shades of My Garden 