to close my eyes, and bathe in the myths of my age, walk through the rows, the pillars of truth that hold, arise this sweet tent, with pinholes to the sky, pathways to stories, just a passer by am I, or through, I will not know until destination met, how confident and prideful we are, the content of common knowledge, the hubris of assumption, ten or twenty or one hundred million pass, and where is the meaning written, species reigned for millions, the remains of king’s of various ages, just vestiges, baubles, curiosities, collectibles, will our mass be the same, bones in the mass grave that is this land, the fairest arbiter of all, to produce all life and then swallow said whole, to endure another run, I wonder what is worth more, a recipe for perfect chicken soup or the entire lexicon of the english language.
Tag: poetry of life
palaces in plain sight.
within the salt’on sea
the sky is slates of ice
cracks ‘cross of bended light
the sun’s but a dream far night
for the warmth is the warp of gravity
deep inside the core
of that, the salt’on sea
in a frozen landscape, or a floating sea of ice, is there land, is there hope, is there life, the physics still exists in the gymnasts in such realms so let it be… imagination…
(as always your thoughts and comments are welcome and appreciated, even if you think I suck, that’s cool too, I do this as a posting of art, nothing more, I do not expect everyone to get it, love it, or even care… just putting a little piece of the me out there into the ether, and hey, maybe you dig the tunes.. I have a lot of thoughts about that… and I also write media reviews, so check them out, I am funnier than you think… well, at least I tell myself that.)
the gamble.
guaranteed a seat at the table
however,
with this game of poker
the odds are stacked
the player never wins
the question is
who is the house?
(and who let you in)
just a quick one that popped in my head… so what do you think? about a rigged game? but the house exists so…
the strangeness of inspiration, so muse
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.
our world, in the end, is bones…
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.
proof of life…
proof of life
I see the words
I recognize the form
but can I ?
(actually show this)
am I this
am I here
and who will know
the voice we hear in our heads.
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?
threadbare…
t-hr..e-a-d..b-ar…e: I might imagine the fright, and the hindsight, upon looking back, at gomora, my sins 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….
lost.love.letters.
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…
confirmation./of life.
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
Shades of My Garden 