compassion the better half as decreed maps the path from wounded knee, is sin a birth mark not removed in forgiveness wash still imbued
notes… as usual sometimes I poke through my unpublished stuff and see if anything hits me, I sort of always liked this in the back of my mind, but time passes and you forget about things (I wrote this back in dec 2018), I thought it very lyrical at the time, and now… one minor tweak (the first line was one line with the second line but the cadence in my head read it as two after I wrote it).. so, there you have it… and there it is…
music: let’s rock, it’s the summer man, roll down the windows and get…
and don’t forget I also write Media reviews (TV, film and the like… and I would like to think I am good… or at least decent, come on now people I do work 6 days a week…)
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I place my hand upon the trunk run my fingers along so I might read a story above under thumb the bumps of history I do not remember how long since I lost my worldly sight for I am the known wise man and those seek me out
but for that which wisdom I have gained was paid for with which I left behind so perhaps that is my lesson to teach those still with vision
notes… written back in June, revised just now, one of those that sprang from a single thought, me just running my hand down a tree trunk, when I was walking my dog, and thinking what so many have thought, what has this tree seen ? and could I ever tap into that knowledge ? and if I could…
“H2one“ bodies of water so we are holding our ocean within, internal gravity we capture moisture from the outer-world, internal irrigation so our inner fauna can stave off extinction all that flows in our rivers and channels not just rafts of cells or the pulse of marrow but bolts of electric information memories, thoughts joys, pain the self, the self contained eco system one the only ocean we are masters of and yet still do not know nor have mapped all the depths and fathoms of our own.
music ? as usual my parade of under rated bands as I scream their names in the blog wind…
notes…. wrote this back in July (with a couple of tweaks tonight), man that feels like a long time ago… the summer is nearing an end, I feel like I missed something, but I do love the fall, not like face planting, I mean the season in general, it is when I vacation, when people go back to school I usually shoot off to somewhere for a couple of weeks… tomorrow? off to dig for fossils here in new jersey, yes, I typed that right… if all goes well I might report, and you can retort, or be a sport… and leave me a like, a comment, a question, a new and interesting way to deal with super hot chiles… I could write a blog on just that, but that would not be my voice alone, so I will let others handle that… but damn I love hot chiles….
Sometimes I see something and it is just a trigger for some lines, this would be one of those times, a simple thought, just spilled out of my gut, onto this page, how um, romantic, if not gross… but seriously this was just inspiration from a frame, some old wooden power lines stretched across the vast salt marshes of southern new jersey… which made me write this…
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wooden power lines make me think of the plains and open spaces stretching prairies golden rolling fields wide winding roads that inevitably lead to the feet of mountains and the gateway of the west
notes… tonight I was at my cousin’s house, one block from the beach in Monmouth Beach NJ… seemingly I was watching a life I left, or was supposed to have, it isn’t that I am unhappy, but it is strange to observe the changing of generations, the “kids” I knew are now all young 20 something party animals, my cool cousins are now almost the older generation, my uncles and aunts are all 80 plus… life is strange, I am glad to observe it, I must have looked like a weirdo to them, just kind of kicking back and taking it all in, a watcher, no need to fit in, comfortable in my own skin but content to stand by myself, I must admit that I thought about her… how she would have been right next to me and I would have brought the bell to the ball in my mind and heart, I would gladly have had the most beautiful girl in the room, because she always was, to me, but I am happy for the others, my brother who is on wife three, my cousin from philly who has gotten back with a great guy (as far as I could always tell, and I am a good judge of character), a cousin with a new beau, her older sister with the same old who seems a new man when wall street leads to ocean views, and my uncle who’s birthday this was all for, let me be that when I am 80 and I will claim victory, but to look out, and see three generations of your family…. that must be something, I saw it, but I am not of it… but somehow I do embrace it even if I feel outside it at times…
“if words could fare thee well I would write them if words could bridge that gap I would find them if words could relay my love I would deliver them”
notes… thursday, the arbitrary day I choose to muse on her, my love, wherever she may be at the moment, I hope the world holds her well, all I can do is hope for her
for I am witness to cleopatra’s tear to the mighty sword of genghis khan raindrops a map to the stars the night provides a canvas to the past of lives that are now ours and let the hours pass and eons slide from up upon plymouth rock and armstrong’s stride from the very emergence of humanity come forth african savanna a culmination a cauldron for we are all these children of the mother divine interpretation the mark of the father
notes… sometimes I ponder if the air I am breathing is the same air breathed by someone else, so long ago, we all have shared this space, this earth, our only home, as far as we know, so a single raindrop hit my windshield the other day, and as I like to say…. the words wrote themselves…
“she knows every trick trigger and measure to get under my skin and at my pleasure awash in my thick vanity adored by the mob fawning flattery a crop of golden laurels blind surrender the crisp apple bears twice bitten”
notes… for she is my weakness and my strength, my triumph and my tragedy, my love and my loss, lost. I wrote this back in may but revised it this day, so…. here it is or was, or, now, or… something. (oh yeah, and I am making lost. love. letters like a thing now… just visit my collections page to see all the posts if you dig this particular vibe, then you can skip my other stuff if you so choose)
music (I wonder if anyone checks these out, ah, if it is any one of you that’s cool)…
“I feel like a lost traveler a wanderer holding a lantern up against the darkness stumbling toward the cliff I can only see with which the light I was given only through these eyes piloted through my perception I hear the rumors of others I happen upon their remains, their works, their names even then there is no clear path ahead laid out before me in this wilderness so I must trust in the light that something is out there worth this endless search from foot falls foot to own I travel on forward upon my road”
tonight’s musical extravaganza ? funny you should ask..
sometimes I need me some goth/doom/metal stuff… but really is this that different from some David Bowie stuff ? nah… open your mind, and ears, I have vast tastes and intend to share them regardless of futility, damn the borg, they got nothing on me…
“unremarkable sky guardian your exquisiteness is my breath a time capsule from within I will pass all my own the thin blue horizon which protects this very breath held tightly against this earth by means we understand by eons we can not comprehend”
notes… semi related to my last post, kind of a reminder that wonder is all around us (and I don’t just mean the bread), I wrote this in my head on the way to work in the car, which is annoying, I really get anxiety trying to recite lines back to myself and hope I remember them when I get to the office (if traffic is not murder I can not scribble things down at 75 mph you know), and I am just not good at dictating to my phone, it just.. I don’t know, the pen is my friend and is the one I take to the dance…
I like to take things lighter on the weekend (hey it is summer, India Day coming here in Edison NJ and the Yankees are playing the Red Sox, summer indeed), time to relax and let the week… end, and start anew on Sunday, so here are some quick things I might not post otherwise, lest they hang on the vine and rot away in the shadows of my journals (these range in age from May until, well, now-ish)…
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cherry blossoms greet you at spring’s door in a twist they are gone may day all fall down
birds in a yard conducting business or covert intentions how am I to interpret their intricacies
refrain rejoice even in the rain
on my lawn upon my yard robins do a two step a young jack nimbles and is quick buttercups add a touch of color of bright yellow candor
for cardinals are the bane of bulls to small to gore to red to ignore
we live upon the southern edge at that precipice of storm for we look beyond our shores
All your thoughts, comments, likes, hates, opinions, critiques, and eyes on any of my writing are with thanks… so, thanks. feel free to comment, lament, foment, ferment and any other lent you can think of, the floor is yours… because I prefer the bed….
Shades of My Garden 