“as we reach for the sun we burn our tongues as we can not know the words to the song take me to… take me to… where the night has begun west of the moon and east of the sun”
copyright… me… just because of the pause and the simplicity of it all, at the end of the day… if I could post in black and white perhaps I would, perhaps I should, for at least these occasions…
back to my regularly scheduled programming… Thursdays are for the lachrymose, those moments when I reflect on her…
Photo by Vincent Albos on Pexels.com
“a slow pour, in a bar in paradise islamorada, florida sitting on a stool of course, by myself top shelf surprised they have basil’s, a slow pour some would describe this exquisite a perfect sunset light slides along the gulf like all those postcards I suppose I could just buy a bottle and some pills and end this right now as there is something missing in the midst of all this glory, a slow pour – the rattle of melting cubes the sharp sting of bourbon punctures my tongue the view, massages like a familiar tune the hum of gentle conversation I am not involved in, a. slow. pour. … the deck overlooks overlaps the water lapping the pylons sips count the minutes here in locked distant beauty in a bar, in paradise on the water I contemplate life – without you”
notes… this is totally a mental picture for me, and my link to Islamorada above shows… even in the midst of what most would consider paradise…. I remain, on those warm nights, ocean breeze, wishing you were there next to me, I still have hope, down there, somewhere, for new love or the kindling of old (for her, I love you)…
and in the interest of being honest, I was disappointed that my last post got no love… maybe the way I tagged it ? not sure.. but either way I stand by it with pride….
“the life I wear wear on myself and worn familiar broken in no longer comfortable in this skin and may be never was what I was sold to believe”
notes… ok, had to be a word nerd (I am an unabashed dork of vocabulary), accouterments is just one of those little, ok, big words I adore (*gush*) , I wrote this back in may, totally forgotten by none other than me, until today (obviously), I went back and looked through pages and pages of material (my mess of journals)… I wrote new stuff today but… somehow this hit me to post after I got home from work tonight (now, I was doing an install in Fort George NYC), I had to move equipment that was in place for 10+ years… and it has done my allergies no favors… dust bunnies are not cute, or furry, and damn they mess me up… in other news I got lost a bit in the neighborhood (I don’t know this particular part of Manhattan that well) and I wound up in Fort Tryon Park… damn I wish I had the time to share the views… you bet your ass I will be revisiting and getting some photos and video up there…
“wildflower grown in your own soil grown at your own pace I wonder how you chose, the colors of your house and your brothers, sisters there all of the same house entwined with your neighbors burst forth this short season thrive in the warming light reach up to the warming light”
music tonight ? OK, gonna be obvious, and simple, and I love this song due to the simplicity, I can imagine reading/writing to it… and maybe I did…
all thanks, likes and musical suggestions are welcome, come on people, turn me on to some stuff I don’t know, I doubt you know someone with the musical pallet of me, electronic, death metal, classical, ambient.. and that’s just tuesday… as always, thanks for looking…
“across the way, there- four squirrels on the lawn I have never seen so many gathered and get so well along they must be plotting scheming I can feel it in my bones four squirrels over yon what are they waiting for I know what they seek they are trying to lull my senses lower my defenses into, sleep “not this day! not on my watch!” four squirrels taunt and shake their tails I know they look to this now a bounty untouched but fierce resistance I shall muster as long as fallen ramparts allow so I watch and pace the trunk about and pace I await four squirrels looking to plunder”
(the thoughts of a worried chipmunk)
notes… sometimes just a visual triggers my art, this is that, I found it silly, but also there is metaphors there, everything is scale, we think we are on top of all the world, but we are left to the same devices, but at least, we can smile, and realize our status.
as usual, all thoughts, likes, questions, odd stares, stink eye moments and genuine love… is all appreciated, if you made it this far, you have my thanks, and I would buy you a drink if you were two stools down, a virgin mary? sure, whatever you desire…
“contrast and choice“ a bird with a broken wing falling unforgiving ground silence
a bird with a broken wing flailing the sounds of suffering but surviving, no longer able to reach up and touch the sky must learn how to walk content up on the land imbued with the joy of life of grounded sound
music… something you have never heard probably, introduced to me in college back in the early 90s, sort of euro indie, thanks to liv from iceland who popped this on me back in the day, I miss those times and a couple of the people… I remember the signed sugarcubes album in the window of the local vinyl store… so here you go…
all thoughts, recipes (seriously I love cooking, I could do a whole blog on that alone but I stick to this nonsense as it is more personal), likes, hates, comments, vicious take downs of my posts…. I welcome any eye glow, I can handle it, I am who I am and I am glad to be examined, after all my time here is quite limited, so, what’s the difference…. thanks.
“clouds, like still tide lines of fire riding up on the blue by the watchful eye of the hazy crescent moon how might this be just a random combination no plan in the spectrum a show that lasts as long as light the light retreats into this calming night as I now await as come they are – the stars”
just my interpretation of a setting day, after some rain, the colors make me feel alive, like I belong… in this world, somewhat…
I turn, in a flash I see things that do not exist memories and flashbacks of this from when you were alive as if standing right there by my side can not feel more real as these thoughts are mine not tangible with hands or reason stretched inside it curls and throes the emptiness your absence exposed
“fertile” with free will to burrow in your harvest our limbs entwined as I enter your forest to fertilize within for the land shall bloom and from that union gift forth that womb will emerge, a child hope, is renewed.
notes… sometimes I have to admit I just don’t know where the inspiration comes from (or words), which makes me ponder the nature of the universe, I mean we are this incalculable chance of billions to the billions chance of being right now, right here, right at this moment (you reading this!), it is mind boggling, that in all the universe language was created and I am here to have it germinate in my mind, and share, as art, as life… it is utterly mind numbing, humbling, wondersome (my word!), and just… an affirmation of life as we have it right now, in our hands, hearts and minds…
musical choice of the evening… “Power of Love” – King’s X, because the greatest of these is love… I am a child of the 80’s so excuse my proclivities… or don’t, I’ll still be here…
and as always I would be remiss to not say thanks for the read, the likes, the eyeballs, the seafood lasagna recipes, and everything else, I am glad to enlighten at least anyone past my door, thanks.
they see – saw she – saw their – love balanced each – other
notes: visual and minimal was my goal, you decide if I met the mark, just one of those little poems that came to me for no reason I can ascertain… and I will leave you with that, I have some cool stuff to post this weekend, I went out of my way today to find some local beauty (find beauty wherever it may be is one of my guiding functions these days), I have some cool photos to post from a little excursion I made, oddly no words came to me, I wrote nothing although I brought my journal and got some looks…. “why is this business dressed guy holding a leather bound book/journal thing, smiling and walking out on the pier in the middle of this heat??” – yeah, I imagine I illicit that mental conversation… I stick out, but I try really to not care anymore and just do my thing… I am getting there… one day I will shake hands with myself and sigh “finally…”
Shades of My Garden 