Sometimes I am just me, thinking about my failures, trying to be a better person, not some avatar for hopes and dreams, we all are peaks and valleys… even when we wish to be mountains observing it all… I want to be a mountain, but maybe that is why mountains are in a range, there is more, than just… one.
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musical thoughts… I was listening to the blues for most of the day, specifically BB King, I can not tell you why, just was in the mood, maybe the rain on my roof… not sure, I didn’t pick up one of my own guitars, I was letting others speak to me, so far…
So I was off today and I ventured down to my usual haunt, what I like to do in my free time (as little of it as there is when you work 6 days a week solid), Big Brook Park NJ to literally dig for fossils in a stream (well… a brook, but what’s the difference really), we have had some constant rain this season, not unheralded or unprecedented.. just pain-in-the-ass-ed, meaning it has been a good month since I was able to get out into my little nature spot and sow my wild oats (recharge the old battery by getting away from the everyday grind of work/life), it was not a particularly nice day but the rain held and I was able to be out among the wild, I even spotted a great blue heron (huge bird!) but did not manage to capture a photo of same (my bad), but man.. the wingspan of that thing is impressive, however it was quite skittish (and not photogenic apparently or it just didn’t like me, must not be a fan of this blog…), so you would think being in the middle of nature would trigger some inspiration ? nah… something popped in my head on the ride home, so as usual I was in the dim confines of a GSP rest area creating lines… ah, inspiration, you have a sense of humor second to none…
“spun” 8.20.2018
nefarious tongues weave insidious lies
naive babes on their backs
looming
on a bed of knives
spin
a cocoon of your death
the red hourglass
dangles, over your head
all in this late hour
your life is spent
petty change
not even a coin
for a river ride
you have been dealt
your fate.
Just wrote this now… speaking of inspiration…
8.21.2018
I am 45
so, I am 45
but I am really not
I spent 9 months in my mother’s womb
a mother I do not know
I have spoken in the past how I am adopted, I can not explain how these words came to me, they just did, I have never cared about my birth mother, ever, I still don’t but these words came just the same…
notes… why a lion on this day? Simply, it is the end of the sign, the cusp onto the next one, why would I care? because this day is mine… silly. This is one of those poems I just loved immediately when I wrote it, there was instant gratification, visceral reaction, I can not begin to explain it as I am… well, actually doing here with these searching words, these prodding thoughts, into the depths of what drives me to write, it is hard to explain something that was always in the room, always there, sometimes I managed to put it away in some corner (for whatever reason over the years) but lately it has been the shining chandelier lighting all things, my lens, my view master to inform my etch-a-sketch (and yes I owned both those toys as a child)…
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music… as you may have noticed, unless you are new (welcome), my musical appetite is all over the map, I am always looking for something new and exciting (whether I missed the boat on it or not), and genre does not color my ears in response to new stuff.. or old stuff… I think of music like emotions, I want, ok, I demand the full gamut, the full run… because what the hell… we aren’t just puppies and unicorns.. or fire and death.. or simple beings period… oh, so after all that ranting… check this out, sure, I don’t speak the language (maybe I should given my last name heritage)… but… listen…
Another week passed, another post after my last, this seems like a pattern but I am determined to make it all different, I am going to lay back and post some simple works, such as they are, the older I get the more I seem to want to boil things down to essence, if I can find it, I guess the grind of life has taught me that we don’t need all the ribbons, sashes, and long eyelashes , the goods that makes the cake is the goods in the bake people! we all know it.. do we all live it ? I am making an attempt and am certainly not above reproach, so approach these works with that thought, and thanks for even reading this.
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“bother” 4/23/18
why bother
when I know it is you
searching
searching
all the while
pretending
all the while
moving on, as they advise
but always to know
they are never you
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4/24/18
what is the difference
between a rock and a boulder
I guess I do not know
I suppose
how high you must go
a mountain, a moon
perspective
“for you” 6.1.18
I’m sorry
if you only knew
I would change everything
but only for you
6.3.18
I have conversations
with you in my mind
I wish you could hear them
I hope you understand
I should have been more honest
at the time
notes? nah… not this time.
music? eh… OK.. how about some classic metal/tribal stuff that doesn’t get the credit that say “walk this way” does in terms of style breaking…
notes… is there a person, that one, that can just melt you with their eyes? put you under that spell? that you just connect? I guess I should consider myself lucky that I did have that once for some years, and perhaps look forward to it again should fate shine her little light onto my tiny patch I’ve carved out of the universe’s darkness whole, I can only hope because the alternative is definitely not of hope. I posted a word with “middle english” origins because… some of my favorite works are of the time. Specifically I am referencing two things Heloise and Abelard and also Alexander Pope (I won’t say he is a hero of mine, who knows such things, but an inspiration ? and a fantastic poet ? yep). Note the last line of Pope’s poem (sheer brilliance imo):
Such if there be, who love so long, so well,
Let him our sad, our tender story tell;
The well-sung woes will soothe my pensive ghost;
He best can paint them who can feel them most.
music… yeah, I am big on the music, I am so…. currently obsessed with Anna Murphy, so this song fits…
her vocals are transcendent, it really makes you believe as an artist that talent is out there stalking and taking down prey (for all of us to consume)… all for us to enjoy, so go out there and look for it… additionally I am always looking for new music, so if ya got something ! tell me dammit! I only have so many hours of so many days to search on my own, while I am a great excavator a little help is always appreciated my friends ! Be well all!
it is easy to be complacent in your place… meaning, I wrote this poem, and then I look at where I get reads from – like all over the planet! (which is pretty damn cool when you think about it, side note)… and… I should be more cognizant of my (potential) audience, not how I write, but how I inform, things I take for granted or just common are not so for some of you, and vice versa… which is damn cool… so, about the Firefly… it is something I have always known, taken for granted (in my bio-zone) but… bioluminescence… how amazing, man has never accomplished that (well naturally I mean, we do have glow sticks)… but think of the wonder of nature making it’s own light with chemicals… we need fire for light, well, OK we have electricity now but… not that long ago these little bugs had us by miles…
“fireflies” 6.27.2018 (rewrote 7/8/18)
fireflies
adorn my sweaty lawn
humidity stalks
and lays thick
almost like a fog
fireflies
hover above the grass
sparkling like carbonation
in a glass
I look for a pattern
or to understand
the timing of their show
fireflies
the universe
up into the sky
I look for a pattern
in the stars
I can not surmise,
even here on earth
I can not even devise
the plan
the pattern, the why
the random dance
of the fireflies.
notes: one of the rarer times I did a rewrite (I will always be honest with you people because… I have nothing to lose anymore)… and hey, I do things my own way, haven’t you figured that out by now ? if you are new, well, read some back posts.
He recorded this all himself a while back, there is plenty of back story there for me personally but just… listen to the song, sort of southern rock with beatles influence… I love it (obviously).
Such a cool thing, drove through one today, and reminded me I wrote something last month, I raced through my notes and found the thing, I don’t have much to say tonight, I worked around 14 hours so… I’m beat but determined to post every day this month.. why? This is the lion’s month, the pinnacle, the heat, the roar, lions and kings… and well, me. We are a prideful bunch, even at work I have a pride… one, she is fierce, a summer lion, unbalanced early in the month, her claws are rarely hidden in her paws… the other? she is the cowardly lion, afraid of sharp things, quiet and repetitive… and then there is me, on the cusp, the end, the very last day, more balanced but still… a lion.
notes… this is very personal on many levels… although I listen to what ‘some’ would call horrendous/awful music or cookie monster stuff (death metal) but at an early age I was exposed to Big Band era tunes, specifically by my father who used to take us (me and my slightly older brother) to work with him running his provision route back in the day through central New Jersey. We would ride in his truck picking up the meats from the processing plants (ie slaughterhouses essentially) and deliver them to pubs, strip clubs and restaurants…. sort of the seedy side of life when you see a pub in daylight, I remember the musty smells, the sort of… wood gasping out the wounds of the night, sunlight hitting places it shouldn’t dare (much like a vampire’s lair)… it was all so surreal, and in neighborhoods that are now destitute unfortunately, but always we would be rolling down the road in that big yellow truck marked “Freddy Kay” (my last name is so easy to screw up my parents would always abbreviate it to make it easy for the rest of the world), just that big yellow truck rumbling down the road, so loud and creaky, making every bump known and holding on to the rails on turns (for dear life), so distinct, all the smells and sounds, and then there was the radio…
I had no idea about the music, but it was so… confident, so composed (and had that vintage feel because you could hear the flaws in the recordings). I loved it. And now it is just such a reminder of my father and our time together. You know that time in your life when you think your parents (or one of them) is a super hero ? This was that time. We were delivering these huge boxes of goods to all these places, sure, I knew my way around a hand truck but a huge cut of raw brisket? not so much. I was a small kid, an undeveloped kid… I was always in the “lower 10%” in terms of growth, and that freaks out parents, but as it turns out, I was normal in the end (well, at least growth wise, everything else is still up for debate).
So, this poem is more about my love for Mirsa, whom I left a long time ago now, everything was just easy with her, it just made sense, but sometimes things just don’t work, I am sure we are both to blame but I really hold myself responsible right or not, I visited her after I left… a couple of times (she lives way far away from me, literally 1000 miles)… and we still had “it”.. the chemistry, I guess that is the worst part, people could smell the connection on us even after a few years of being apart they thought we were together when I visited, that is the crux of this poem, we exchanged emails recently (april) and that was the spark for me to start this journey into blogging and sharing myself with you, anyone who reads this, it reminded me of life, of happiness, of love… it was so easy with her, and the world noticed and I failed her, or we failed each other… but I gained back something I had lost a long time ago.. a passion for life… even if I wish it was with her I have to bring forth that verve… and who knows, someday, maybe my love and I can be together again, I don’t think so, but at least I have some hope for the future, and what more can I ask… but hope, and love… and faith in the same.
Often, well, more often these days I am trying to look for the simple things, the little things, the beautiful things… all around us in everyday life. Nature brings us so many of these things (including ourselves / humanity itself). So this brings me to my toothy friend, the Lamprey (often improperly identified as an “eel” which is way more evolved…oddly). This strange little thing, a marvel of engineering really, has been around some 300 million years on good estimates (based on the fossil records). So… this strange little blood sucker with barely developed systems has been around longer than us by a long-shot… Humans.. the pinnacle of everything? hmmm ? Just some perspective (we have only been around an absolute fraction compared to these slimy little bastards). So I felt like posting just some of my simpler poems… to communicate a simple thought, or feeling, or moment… sometimes I am just a simple one minded thing latching on to something for dear life.. and other times I am matryoshka doll… life is like that, I am trying to unpack my dolls within dolls and just be my core for all the world to see… we’ll see…
5/31/18
I can not express
in these words
what life is
to be
without you
(*note: this is my version of haiku, I think it encompasses the feel of the form)
5/31/18
in length
I am a rope
bound together
in knots
frayed ends
holding on
tied
together
(*note: another haiku feel for me… at least but also I was kind of also calling EE Cummings)
5/31/18
runways
maps for planes
lights at night
to guide
lines of sight
grounded flight
(*note: haiku feel… damn I said that already… but this was specifically about Teterboro Airport which I pass all the time driving home or about the local town)
“stairs” 6.1.18
I am at the bottom of the stairs
no recollection
of getting there
I look up
spotlight shines down
sitting
do I attempt
to climb my way out?
(*note – I wrote this in my basement, here in the northeast US we have “finished basements“, essentially totally another level of the house underground, I was doing some sit ups and looked up the stairs… hence the thrust of the poem…)
6.1.18
happiness
you were once a confidant
a neighbor
a friend
a lover
and now
no longer
“simple line” 6.2.18
I point
there is life
there is death
your only disagreement
a single breath
“support” 6.3.18
bridges built
bridges lost
bridges burned
I drown so fast
6.18.18
you are my flower
to plant
to water
to love
my treasure
to love
forever
Notes… as always I appreciate all feedback… I welcome criticism.. in fact I invite it, I want to be beaten up because I do not have your eyes, your ears or your mind, I am not looking for acceptance or sycophants, I am confident in my own dome, this, my home of words, but I want to understand other people’s land that their voice is planted on… because how else can I grow… if I do not know what else is out there in this virtual planet?
I thought about not posting tonight.. I am pretty tired, I tallied my hours at work and I am about at 74 for the work week… and I am on call tomorrow from 11-10. Not complaining… just explaining, but inspiration does not rest… and really neither should I, I have to live it all because that is all I have (or any of us)… it seems weird to think about it that way but… that is the reality, I am trying to be the better me, the me I know is in there but I can’t say I am succeeding… I wonder about so many things, especially when I see documentaries about all these amazing places (like my last post)… am I meant to just be stuck here in the US due to circumstance ? but yet… I lead a comfy life compared to millions so does that make me greedy that I want the means to explore the nooks and crannies of this amazing planet ? (and yet not even having explored all the wonders of my own state, let alone country or my great Canadian friends to the north or our friends to the south in Mexico?) I suppose this is all rambling… but I wrote something tonight, on my exercise bike, which is annoying hopping off and on, I was watching more Ireland stuff and the words as such… came to me as they do…
“the song” 8.12.2018
might I come to know
the song of birdsong
filling the hills and valleys
all the warm season long
might I learn their politics
theories
and secrets
surely they have tales to tell
of wind
of wing
grazing on trails and tracts
some travel far and wide
yet while others are humble local guides
might I come
to know their tongue
speak the language
the song as sung
might I come to know
the song of birdsong
and take to the air
dare to listen closer more
to the notes
the composition
the hidden meaning
natural symphony
unfolding, informing
transforming
take flight
become
a part
of the ever living
listen to – the birdsong
Shades of My Garden 