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.
delivered from the ether birthed onto this blessed vessel celestial gestation, my ordained time to grow seed to sapling in this world- of- bones; the very light of the only heaven we know projected onto our sacred ground the giver of life our only sun so might I have this chance this moment a miracle – in this- world of bones.
notes: revelation today… the words popped into my head for the past few days “this world of bones”… because that is all that is left, it is not a good record of the amazing life that has spread here, just in my short lifetime, or any time, the earth will be just a graveyard one day, even more than it already is with the dinosaurs and previous life forms… but for us… the bones will not just be our bodies but our buildings and thrivings, it will all end, and that is OK, that is the way of things, I fear for myself, of course, I don’t know how to square that peg, but I am not alone, we all have to meet that end, and so we will, I fear I will be lost to the ether, absorbed back into the universe that has no need for the meaning of me, and I will never know, I will just be gone, I hope, and pray that my spirit finds a place, but even the universe must end, and maybe that is what death is about, even the oldest thing, the only thing, must have a start and an end, this existence, my life, is no exception, but that does not make it easier to comprehend…the end.
why is my inner voice not my own? but I hear so clear this voice, my mind, my thoughts a direct action network crossed the sound of my voice seems foreign to me not from another land but definitely from another person so that is what people hear? a different intonation in their ear and that is me- ? but I can not hear myself (truly) this filter is biased there is no doubt or all doubt how can I be sure might I borrow yours (ears) for a moment like headphones or ear buds so I might hear myself, as you do, as you might but that is not the point I point out the doubt can anyone else hear me, as I truly am in my own head in this theater I have led, all these years my stage, my soapbox, my podium will the technological trick ever exist to link my voice to this?
notes.. my point? have you ever listened to yourself? on a recording? damn… I suppose yes, I think everyone must these days, not so much when I was growing up (or not), but now it is an inevitable thought… is that REALLY what I sound like? and how do I converse with myself with a different voice in my head? surely it is not nearly the same that projects out for others to ingest.. so strange, I hear a voice in my head so different than the sound what is released to the masses, that out of balance seems baked into my cake… but who knows? your thoughts I ask ? or should I not impose? as I can only hear your voice in word which is not the voice to which I refer, but yet… which do you prefer?
t-hr..e-a-d..b-ar…e: I might imagine the fright, and the hindsight, upon looking back, at gomora, mysins were cast against only myself and her, but targets do not matter, had I struggled this long, so long, to not look back, perhaps, I would have spared miles upon my back and feet, only to come to this precipice gazing point, that all I cared for is back there, regardless of the infestation and decay of years, and here I wind up wandered, squandered- threadbare, so, do I dare?
left alone in the desert at night with no stars no moon to guide only thoughts those memories no oasis left to lie quite awake alone- for all of night
left alone in the forest at night not even an owl but a full moon above reach above the trees all surround pikes like walls staked to the ground shadows bend and tuck the bars around not a sound I curl in forever night
I remember a campfire tended to the warmth rising like a spire a canopy a bio-dome down to embers now gone flickers linger and succumb chasing into the sky like stars long gone- cocoon of death transforms as the one absorbed by the universe once more to sleep in other beings dreams dispersed from our-self-forming seed absorbed into the atoms of others- eternity?
notes… a musing in my status, even if surrounded we all die alone, we are not born alone, we are guided into this life, brought along with a mother’s hand in the womb, travel a path to our own existence, and then ? who knows… but it is there, always there, most of us live as if this will go on, but even the best and worst of us are gone, can this all be for naught? a cosmic tease? or is their more? and the only way to know… is down that path we all must go… does it pay to waist my mental wealth on these questions ? probably not… but for the life of me (pun intended) I can not ignore them… we die alone but I do not wish to die alone, is there a difference?
and as a reminder or a tip to newbies to my blog… these works are off the cuff, I wrote this within minutes, all of it, no torture of words, no wringing my ends, just my thoughts spitfire onto the page, that is what is what the muse so chooses me to do, so is this literary perfection ? no… or even my best expression ? perhaps not… but so it is, the cauldron that has consumed me since birth, even this little swirl of words… there are people out there who will not get it, and some who do, I send good will to all of you as we are here stewarding this world at this same time… for a short time… our time, we are together, as different or as same as we are… because.. we ARE….
how I miss you, the taste of your lips – my, my only love, for you are, this(thought)
sometimes I wake trembled in the corner I made myself where none had yet to exist
I have painted my own portrait determined, my own fate my inner demons the mask, now is my face
years, and I am still here staring, looking out at the world sometimes I dance along most times I walk alone and so-
I can not escape, this box not by will or by smarts just the end, determined by none if only I could really know, someone- inside through and inside out like I do, this house
gathering storm clouds come the wood floor planks speak with age my hands shake, with anticipation or perhaps, just age again so here I am locked in this made hollowed cage, sometimes, sometimes my mind escapes a hand turns the knob of the door up into the sky, from the earth into the stars, then I go eternal, as light from fusion flows forth; may I burn, like our sun and provide that warm feeling, once more on a child’s cheek or provide the power to raise the truly weak- or fall, to split a glimmer, of a tear and may I find glory in the unfold transform into all the colors as rhymes are told- for a moment
but so returns the astral dreamer back locked into, into my cold dark corner; hope is stoked by both sides in this dreams may be the epitome- of murder
notes… I wrote this from the cuff, all tonight, raw, maybe could be more polished… I went over it maybe three times… but it makes sense to me, if it does for you, please comment, I am curious if my thoughts make sense to anyone, I post to make my art public, and my inner life public, because we are all alive right now, we owe it to each other as artists… maybe that sounds like bullshit or lofty, sure, but we are alive right now, together, for we truly are… and one day, one day too soon, we will all go away, my friends, we will all go away… why do we not live every minute of every day as such… we are caught up in the game… because, we are human… and I wonder how to express that and share that… with you…
under the harvest moon upon my common harbor for I embark unto that vessel of sleep the voyage to the portal of dawn for I awake unaware of the miles spent that certainly lay behind me now onward to a new world on the morn with time, a hunt, in the yarn let the first light confirm again the miracle of first breathes and tell the joy of open eyes the sound of life of my beating heart like the ever waves the sounds of life awake