the beach is my refuge
my retreat
to see infinite hope and the inevitable end
where else to expect
all things converged a beginning and an end
for I might seem strong
to those looking in
but inside
broken pieces strewn about this shore
I wish for a united front
but humpty has more hands than I
from king’s men or passer’s by
I can not even remember the sight
from up upon the wall
I wish to be whole some time once again
but I am used to this, broken
notes… eventually we all just become atoms for reformation of other living things. this was written 1.2 of this new year, I am commenting on perspective and many other things, I think most are obvious so I am not going to explain this one to death (of course the temptation is there, it is my nature)
sometimes it is your heart that plays tricks, which is truly the vessel with which you see things ? or is it a symposium of the mind, heart and eyes… or a want for that perfect grail, that simple carpenter’s cup that can heal all? (I wrote this poem originally 6.18.18)
notes… how do you re-wire yourself? Or fix your own wiring? Is it even possible? I know the love I speak of I destroyed by my own hands but have always felt it was still there, even if nascent, am I right that she was the “one” (probably not), so many things had to happen for us to meet, so many variables, different lifestyles (me moving 1000 miles from home), my soul feels instructed but my mind feels obstructed by the same thoughts, logic is a great thing but is by definition counter-intuitive and I remain (here). If you are looking for answers from me, don’t, I can only provide my experience for you to process. If that is what you are looking for to inform your world, than, welcome, and take a chair, can I offer you a drink? sit back, enjoy. (I wrote this poem 8.31.2018 but it only hit me now to post it).
not even sure if these are complete, but admittedly I have an awful track record of going back and finishing things (I write in the moment best), so I consider these my orphans as it were, just thoughts, a capture in time, a brief idea (maybe the ideas will catch fire in someone else’s sphere), so without further blathering fanfare here they are… (cue curtain pulling back, lights fading)
struggling to describe the scene a man of words hides in verse
the past is written in stone engraved upon my soul
I close my eyes to see the dawn of my dreams as I drift to sleep I walk upon the gate
team picks in a pitch of reeds taller domain
notes… this last one was a play on how back in the day we were picked for teams in games (ahem on a pitch) almost by height, and also had to line up by height when we were kids in school (does this still happen? I don’t know.) I was looking at the bay of reeds at the end of the street of my office which is now a construction site building a personal cube storage place… (these were written a few months ago, specifically 12.2 for the first one and 11.20 for the rest… out of my journals, man my handwriting still sucks, you think I would learn to write a little smoother, you would think…)
I totally dig it from a visual and aural sense, this is not all his stuff, plenty of call backs in there, but just relaxing (well, at least to me, for what it is worth), but check him out if he comes to your town, man I love his music.
and speaking of worth! thanks for reading, I ramble, I type, even if one person reads this all is cool but honestly I am just sharing, so if the art hits a heart I was not aiming, so… thanks. all likes, follows, comments, rhubarb pies, capezios, z-cavariccis are appreciated. feel free to quote me, just credit me, if you don’t well.. ah, maybe you will get a fungus on one of your toes or something… (wink, but seriously thanks to all who stumble upon my little corner of the world) I am off to replay Rygar…
as I look out beyond
just my reach of site, this pond
for this is all I may ever see
of the oceans and seven told of seas
even this common ground
upon a leaf that has found
upon my gaze in scales not bound
a body of water clear as glass
in the palm of a leafy frond
turned tan by age
and gravity down
for within this earthly confine
waves and a shore all but mine
the life and eternal in this space
a moment of infinity to embrace
volume means nothing to scale of meaning
atoms are the fabric of all things
from a galaxy down
in my hands I do hold
all and nothing of all ever told
notes… written 1.7, I was thinking about how things are perceived through the perception of our scale, meaning how we process things because we are a certain size (and exist in a certain space), if we were atoms surely a little water in a fallen leaf would be an ocean, if we were a galaxy our planetary oceans would be a tear drop by comparison, all about scale, so to me there is universes within universes in everything but we experience what we do because of where we are by sheer chance (or destiny depending on your belief), but either way the universe , all of time, conspired for you to read this at this moment in the time of all things, of all existence as we can perceive it, my head hurts… but contemplate that for a moment (pausing, waiting for you to contemplate, c’mon, I don’t have all day, well, ok, maybe I do, but that is none of your business)
music ? I have been into binaural beats lately for all sorts of things:
Do we take the moon for granted? Our little companion in perfect orbit (synced so close to ours that one side faces us all the time). Other planets have tons of moons (Saturn has 62!) but our little friend is out just in the right place where we can have full eclipses (that is actually super rare in our little solar system – but not here on water world!) So my last post was all about musings on the moon (in poem form), so for those with a little nerdy science streak l ask… did you get all the little references? granted some are obvious, I mean we have known this moon our whole lives right? just curious… so, if you don’t want spoilers read no further, here is all the little tidbits I was thinking about writing that poem…
seven seas ? OK, obvious… Pangea ? OK, not brilliant… master of all seasons ? I was trying to invoke how we take for granted our place in a hemisphere, so the moon could care less, it is the same when the southern hemisphere is in winter or the northern hemisphere is in winter… dead eye’s watch? the moon is quite dead, nothing there… blinks as slow ? I needed some vehicle to explain the phases, so I chose sound witch travels way slower than light, and we see moonlight… born of earthly rock ? I am referencing the theory that the moon is born of a cosmic collision (one of many but I think it makes the most sense, not 100% proven obviously – this is also referenced in the line “twin composition“)… millennia of collision ? pretty obvious, the moon has been bombed by asteroids or other bodies, the evidence is there of a violent past, there was all sorts of stuff flying around the solar system when it was forming, there is still tons of stuff out in the kuiper belt and the oort cloud waiting to make impact at some point… I think the rest of the piece is pretty clear
so anyway, if you made it this far? damn.. thanks for riding down the rabbit hole with me, I appreciate all reads and eyes, and any comments are gladly taken even if you think I am a dumb stump stuck in the mud, I am probably not, but how would I know if I was ?
clearly the phenom was cool (space.com site), that’s my photo from my deck sunday night when I was walking Samantha (a black lab mix rescue dog – she’s 10-ish), but it also inspired this…
1.22.2019 the night watcher
before the seven seas
before the age of pangea
master of all seasons
a dead eye’s watch
blinks as slow as sound
born of earthly rock
millennia of collisions tell
this barren face does watch
down upon creation
ever in the shadow
of the twin composition
not privy to the tidal lives
evolving below this stoic eye
left to turn and spin in cold
destined to observe and never hold
and how many human eyes have wandered
up at you on nights like these
wondered what has come and gone
as you bear witness back to sun
from the first step of life upon this earth
cursed to watch from orbit’s perch
notes… I have a bunch of science nods in this one, I won’t uncover them all now (hey man it is late here on the E C)… I’ll get to it though and re-post, there is a bunch of nerdy stuff in there with the literary flowers.
Music ? (for those adventurous in the electronic realm) :
notes… I was watching a documentary on minimalism last night, I might not agree with all of it, but it got me to thinking, maybe I need to be a minimalist of the heart, I carry baggage way more than I should (I think, I’m not sure, but pretty sure), like material things misery can be a thing of comfort after a while, I am not saying I am miserable but I have some emotional hummel’s on my shelf as reminders, maybe I shouldn’t. I can only try to be better and remind myself moment to moment life is better than the alternative by a long shot. (this particular poem is something I wrote originally on 5.5.18 but re-wrote a bit today as I might do)
This is minimalist ambient… and brilliant (if ya ask me), let it fall on you like rain on a summer day, relief and beauty in each drop, like slow motion hands of a visual clock, no harsh sounds, just the surround, of thought.
might I be the knife
to pierce that veil of night
walking through this daily life
lead others into that good light
Photo by Jacub Gomez on Pexels.com
“speculation”
is that you, in the next car?
or in another land
another shore
maybe just within my reach
or not near at all
but never far
from my thoughts
never far, my love
notes… sometimes I like simple, especially as I get older, I could get all weird and technical on you, or esoteric in my writing, but I am really enjoying the simple things more these days, be it the sun, the moon, the dance of a squirrel, there is the miracle of life all around us, I’m not saying be unaware of the dark corners of this world, just don’t forget the amazement around you in even the mundane, at least that is what I am trying to do and bring. (I wrote these poems on 1/18, Friday)
the adults have left the room
the logic and morals swoon
a fever sweeps the floor
criminality in personality untamed
raid the liquor cabinet they say
the freedom of a free pasture
the parents are away
invite everyone you know
you’re in control
they invite everyone they know
that control relents and runs
out of control
but you have never been this popular
amazing what you will take
to feel like the king
even if
you do not notice the fleeting
those who praise you now
and drop beer cans on the lawn
raid the drawers of your mom
leave stains on the floor
smoke indoors
but for a moment you are king
with your parent’s things.
notes… lighter fare for a weekend, a stormy one at that (well at least here!)… have we all done the house party thing when the parents went away? I did, just once, and it was enough, certainly bad planning as I had to call the cops on myself! yech… so many moons ago, but I do remember those times quite well. I wrote this one back on 12.8 because I saw a beer can on a lawn on the drive home… the randomness of the muse is amusing.
Shades of My Garden 