lost.love.letters.

lost.love.letters.

there is nothing to compare
to what the feeling would be
to hold you-
in my arms-
right now,
my love.
and to hold you close then-
forever
and never question
anything
ever again.
(oh for just the chance I would trade my soul)

notes… and yes, I would trade it all sometimes to reverse the past, to reverse the shame, the mistakes, damn I hate my memory, I see people, most people just can move on and forget, but I am wired the way I am because of the dna I was given, the brain I was given, I can not lament – or I can but what difference does it make, the struggle, damn, I don’t know what to do even if everyone looks at me like that dude who knows it all.. I know so little, feel so much, I think I know more than the average joe, but who knows? we all wind up the same, the fuel for a star or the remains… damn sometimes I hate awareness, I might rather be a cactus just hoping for rain… but that would rob me of my faculties… damn, I just don’t know.

a quick wink.

a quick wink.

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…

moonlit drive…

moonlit drive…

“might I walk you to the moon tonight?”
and whom am I talking to?
myself, that inner voice, speaking right now actually
but to what audience?
just the inner auditorium made for one? perhaps
often right, there is ecstasy in the ordinary
driving home, typical highway
night has been looming sooner, as she does in fall
how soon we forget, and then just accept
so distraction can be a slide into the dreaming world
“may I describe the moon tonight?”
or more simply the sky, more a scene
like flying over a silent desert,
after a day of scorching infernos downward, blinds eye
now resting, under the gracious umbrella of night
as the lamp lens intense set

the landscape can sigh
as majestic purples multiply
and mate, with curtains of magenta
forming layers, like tourist sand in bottles
the colors inhabit the boundary
impregnating the horizon with splendor
until full surrender, inhabits
my focus is trained only on that above the horizon
not the wheel in my hand, the artificial lighting,
the concrete cells and paved grounds
the reality that surrounds, softens as I fly above into the night
I imagine laying prone, only to peer upwards now
the moon, but a quicksilver-sliver, a wink,
not a quarter full, just a peeking-boo
a november moon
as cold as the
waning light
there to bear witness, through the night
and I feel I can hang a hammock there
from star to star
under that silent tide
on this ride
and so I might.

notes… I found this on my desktop temp folder, forgot to post it when I wrote it back in November… so strange, these things are almost like children to me and I would have sworn I posted it… but I looked back and had not (but soooo recall the creation)… one of those I wrote driving home at night, the muse sweeps in, sweeps away the banal, plants a seed, I try to be the good farmer and raise the idea as my own… that’s all I know… does it work? I suppose you are the last word on that. Do you dream of flying off into the moon when stuck in traffic? (and should I tell people to play the song before reading the post? hmmm… I am willing to take suggestions on that one, I always thought it was obvious.. which it isn’t I guess, the rule is not always a rule, savy ?) … and your time, thoughts and likes are greatly appreciated, have something you want me to check out ? say it… I’m not a mind reader…

in the know (the crows)…

in the know (the crows)…

crows on the rooftop there-
what are they trying to tell me?
(light signals switch, black eyes twitch- looking)
they are not permanent residents
at least not in this noisy cloister murder contingent;
occupying whole oak tree and surround
what is so special about this house (now)
what draws them so here and near
why do they understand better than I
they possess any land, under, the flown sky

notes… sometimes, OK, often I look out the window… and wonder, what draws a crowd, what is the call, what am I missing? something? or nothing more than a dinner bell? or deeper?

a distilled thought…

a distilled thought…

every inch of my body says yes
every instinct of my mind says no
and yet,
there you are…
is this love or addiction?

notes… file this under simplicity posts… mine mostly, driving to work these words just popped into my head (and I had to repeat them over and over to myself until I got to work), I do find I am more inspired… or more prone to write depending on the songs playing, maybe that is why sometimes I feel like I am writing lyrics to a song, sometimes… the muse is fickle, but I am glad I have a ticket for the ride… thanks universe, I owe you one (+1Up sound here)

orphans…

orphans…

a thing I do from time to time… just snippets or things I never finished, I always intended to finish, but I am a creature of the moment usually so I do not go back, maybe I will… nah, probably not, so here is some snippets, do with them what you will.. my orphans, take care of them in your head…

Photo by BARBARA RIBEIRO on Pexels.com

(1)
erotic patterns

curves
sultry lines drawn in sand
a back, a palm
by the hands of wind
sliding across the mounds
silently caressing grain by grain

(2)
the psalms of wind
and the homilies of wings

I really like (2)… now, I have to admit it has nothing to do with (1) except me posting them together, and in a weird way it makes sense together… but they were just scraps, but who knows? maybe this is what the universe wanted to impose, and so it is.. because it has happened, am I getting to vague ?

the nature of nature…

the nature of nature…

by luizclas

Birds chatter of Wisdom

birds chatter of wisdom
and sing unto that praise

onto that human ear
which what might capture
the image-a-glimpse caught in the sounds of their clamor,
the leaves bend and sway choruses in that speaking breeze
and drop fruit with what to consume knowledge
to raise up creation for a caravan of local nomads,
the seed holds and germinates within new-form hands
delivered, is enlightened in the new birth, (from that attachment)
the words of speech empower the subtleties of voice
saving from that mire that which doth spurn,
and lay down the foundation in may
build yet a union to be spoken of and carried
out far upon sailed that common wave
out into the world as the prosperous evolution
freedom of expression
freedom of expiration,
and so are we
as the birds chatter of wisdom.

notes… this is a re-work of an old work, something I don’t generally do… but there are no steadfast rules here, so this transformed, in my mind, to something else… this.

a quick reflection… {()}

a quick reflection… {()}

Photo by Julia Sakelli on Pexels.com

now you have gone and done –
well, you are gone
I sip my tea
yes, I am known more for quaffing coffee, as you know
but a sip or two, of you, I’m thinking of
just now, a gentle pause, a smile
a wish on lips, to you being here
but at least I had a glimpse
and you are so very far now, by miles
but not knitted up my smile
as I think of you now
a sip or two, a cup of tea

notes… a kind of in the moment thing as I was having a cup of tea this morning @ my desk, looking out at the very non inspiring industrial tinged streets of Hackensack NJ…