life moments… waking…

life moments… waking…

sunset love lake resort
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Sometimes feelings sweep over me, I can not explain, it is like revelation burst, just something changes, a realization, this is not always a pleasant experience, today, I stepped out into the sun soaked summer day, for the utterly mundane task of putting out the garbage, the sun felt great on my back, my bare feet warmed on the driveway, I avoided stepping on sharp pebbles, all seemed OK, but I then just felt a wave, who the hell am I? how the hell did I get here right now? surely this is not the be-end of my dreams of years ago, am I even recognizable from that? externally? in my mind I am the same person all this time, I think, but how did I get here, I feel lost, I feel out of place, I feel I have no place, logically I know I am living a life far greater than many in this world, I know this intellectually but can not get it to sing in my bones, like I think it should, how did I get here? I feel like foreigner in my own land, walking the garbage bin out to the curb I feel out of place in a place I have known so well and so long, as if I was sitting on a train, speeding past my life, a decade spent, gone, a decade gone, spent, just riding along watching the landscapes blur by, nothing of consequence happens, just time passes, and here I am, off the train, at this stop, barely recognizing the universal familiar, I feel lost, adrift, knowing who I am but not how I fit, how did I get here?

change is a fickle thing, I have made progress this year from here to there, I’m just not back yet, I can not say I have lived in the lands of despair but I surely indulged in the rituals of same, denial of the self, finding it easier to retreat into a shell, to autopilot, to become a passenger to my own life, in all I must remember that the way up and out is not a straight line, it never will, but sometimes I am reminded how far I have not gone, the failures, the lure and comfort of normalcy, of conformity, of base expectation when I am capable of much more, but only the internal knows the true potential, it is draining, at times the energy is not there, I must retain to summon the cost, for it is worth every moment here on this earth, I struggle to find the strength, on this night, at least, I must find the missing ingredient.

(music, sort of gothic depressing, with violins… just my mood today)

I wrote this out on the porch tonight, not as cheery as some of the other posts, but it was just not in me tonight, I will not pretend or cover things up, this blog is who I am, mostly bright and optimistic but my mind does wander and wonder as there are horrors in this world, and the ultimate horror of our demise, my mind gnaws on things, it is my design, so I am consumed with trying to figure things out, no matter how futile… at times it will dull my blade, maybe even break it… but I will not quit until it quite literally kills me…

Thanks to any and all of you “ones” that read this, comment, think about it etc.  I consider you all Ones… individuals, so cheers to you, and thanks again…

sometimes a scene tells you a story…

sometimes a scene tells you a story…

 

“I remember when grandpa would take us to the pier that stuck way out in the water, he seemed to know everyone with a smile, there was always our spot waiting, he said he owned the spot, he taught us all about fishing and mostly that you don’t catch fish, but he always had a smile in his salt beard, and loved telling us stories about his time in the navy and all about the ocean, we didn’t mind hearing the same stories, we always got a nutty buddy or push pop or if we were really lucky a bomb pop! from the ice cream truck all the way over there, mom would always be mad because we got sunburn or forgot something on the pier, but with grandpa the world was like our carousel.”

(fictional, made up in my head when I saw the scene laid out before me, photos from the 69th street pier in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn, Friday night, I was there again today… amazing place tucked in almost hidden right off a major highway and Brooklyn… seriously insane views of Manhattan which I will be posting soon)

lost. love. letters.

lost. love. letters.

black and white black and white branches cloudy
Photo by icon0.com on Pexels.com

“if once more
I would hold your hand
in, with both of mine,
cradled.
as, the most precious, the most delicate
of all that was ever created,
was gifted,
was mine to have,
if only,
once more,
to feel the presence of your warmth
thaw these cradled lands
my hands would illuminate
in that moment
be overrun
overwhelmed
damns burst river flow forth
with love, of joy,
filling up my heart
saturating my bones
if only,
for once more –
my love.”

notes… the letters are in runes, all of their various meanings, I leave to you… (musical choice for the eve)

(written originally 6.12.2019, quite forgotten about in one of my journals, rewrote a few times since today, mostly just word positions and such, and by the way, thanks for the look and your time, I appreciate anything outside of mine, thanks)

thoughts from my porch, on the eve of holiday…

thoughts from my porch, on the eve of holiday…

light painting at night
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

(music to read by, soft acoustic, trust me, and part 2)

be a cliche, today was that summer day, hot, sun bearing down, blacktop hot enough to burn bare feet, I think my plants have adjusted too well to this year’s heavy rains, they have become accustomed to what seemed always available @ immediate now, so we share that weakness of assumption in the snapshot, so, just a mere two days without storm and they all look thirsty, sagging in the swelter, not wishing to see them suffer further, and quite proud of my shiny green thumb, I unreel the hose, and let loose the valve, left squeak, left full turn – squeak, left full circle – stop, I hear the flow rush of the water filling up the coils, I reach down to grab the the iron spray-head, forgetting it was sitting in the blistering sun all day, and damn it’s blazing hot, I juggle and fumble just to squeeze the thing to get the cold water going, I spray my hands immediately, sweet relief, I shower my bamboo, my pride and joy plant wise, my personal banzai, really, each year as it grows into a bigger ball, some of the water hits the driveway, and turns to steam immediately, and there is that smell, not of water, of the chemicals and minerals in the water, escaping as gases in the steam, definitely metallic in nature, one of those smells that remains utterly distinct in life, lake water, charcoal on a fired up grill, the first cut into a ripe pineapple, technology does not seem to touch these things, they were the same and are the same for a hundred years, to generations of summer culture.
So, this is a holiday, seems like another day to me, admittedly I expected much more noise outside than this, it is rather quite calm, maybe the heavy weight of the sun has beaten the starch out of life a little today, and the world is in resting phase, but I am sure, on the night, will come the fireworks, to light the sky, mark the occasion, scare my dog, overtures and songs, a holiday throng when fireworks are certainly foreign born.
For me, nothing is different tonight, just sitting here contemplating life, fate, the past, the future, what it all means as if I have the means to solve this puzzle in the first place, as the sun sits between the V of two branches, I understand how holidays can isolate, make you feel lonely, all the joyous sounding around, and you are not part of it, of course some of that is by choice, yes I must confess I am not the social butterfly I once never was, has this past year been better, yes, by slow standards, although change happens all around us all the time, inner, personal change does not seem up to speed, the relics of the past, deeds, memories, they are bindings much stronger in comfort than landing first foot in the new world, landing, with wonder, and fear, will that new land be as “good” as the old I left (or should have fled), the fear, even if home was built on the cold stone face of misery, misery loves comfort, for even the walls of a prison can become familiar horizons, to the point where beyond those walls no longer matters, this is why I struggle to construct pillars of reminder, the truth is rather easy and consistent in most things, we know what is right, what must or should be done, in our deepest well lurks the truth, what we know, that our days are quite literally numbered, there is a countdown as to which we are bound but not allowed to witness, but we know of it’s existence, do we all live in the moment, as if this may be our last minute? do I? maybe this is my reminder, my map, my guide, taking the time to let the “important” world slide away and just consider thoughts in writing, and maybe the rest will arrive, in it’s own time, trust not in despair, you know what is there, trust in the fact, that you are alive, you have a choice, choose the nuptials of love and hope, whenever you can, fail, more than succeed, likely, but it is apparent, that for most of us, this was never meant to be easy…

oh yeah, this is part of my ongoing porch project thing… just me, sitting out there, playing guitar more lately but also with my little notebook scribbling all this, I wonder what my neighbors think….

Porch n’ poem, so I write…

Porch n’ poem, so I write…

beach foam landscape nature
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

(sounds to read by)

maybe this is my beach, my refuge, after a long day of grinding, phones ringing beating on my drums, the same old problems at work wrapped up all new and presented, with even a different card and perfume, fading, the low discernible rumble of local traffic humming on the main road beyond sight and a treeline, much like the murmured roar of surf past the markers, strolling barefoot through the soft evening dew of the longer grass, like wading my toes in the small surf of flattened waves receding, splashing with my feet by standing and swinging my legs, as if on a hinge, swinging through the soft wet blades, if kicking up sand, deliberately, the birds, not the same calls, not the same flock, nor the same stock, but birds, none-the-less, sunset etching dunes upon the cloud lines, glowing, reflecting back on the passing day, fireflies like night time embers rising spiral from a log’s crossed flame, the hint of humidity on the tongue, in deep breaths from the nose, moisture hanging in the air, right now, right here, not beholden to any train or bus schedule, or alarm clock, or care, yes, I imagine this is my shore, as it were, a substitute perhaps, perhaps more, perhaps more.

“I council with the earth
read knowledge upon the leaves
reach down and grasp the dirt
to further my beliefs
learn patience from the sky
imagination from the clouds
the flowers teach me of beauty
of which we are all endowed.”

notes… this is a part and parcel (I love that term) of my porch project, get with it, I write these things off the cuff from my porch, maybe I should live stream the creation… one of these days I suppose

music ? linked earlier… 1993, yeah, that year, so this is what I was listening to at the time.. among other things mostly metal, but this was transcendent from a band that was legend… that’s all, enjoy… as usual all thoughts and whatnot are appreciated…

thoughts… from my porch tonight…

thoughts… from my porch tonight…

body of water across sunset
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the sounds of a summer night offer a certain melody maybe mistaken for cacophony, school is out, a holiday looms in a few, the sun has warmed the all and now it is beginning to cool, my neighbors to my left are having a pool party, loudly, but not obnoxiously, I used to want a pool myself, too much trouble now, to few days to use it properly in this climate zone, I would much rather prefer a jacuzzi to soak away the troubles of the day, the daily aches and pains of age, besides, I have no children, just a dog, and she seems fine with a water hose and the occasional ride to the beach, have you heard squirrel-speak? kind of a high pitch squeal, something you might imagine a little pig in the trees to make but more shrill, at first you surely would not think of a squirrel, but mostly the younger ones make this sound, the breeze is on double time tonight, lulling me as it creates a tangible rustle as it touches down through the branches and leaves, rising and falling in intensity, not quite as timely as a tide but much the same calling, much the same effect, at times it climbs higher in pitch and fierce force – for just a moment, ready, as if to crash down upon me like a giant wave, and then it relents returning back again to subtle flow, my neighbors are of vietnamese descent, well, they happen to be very american, but many of their relatives speak the native tongue, completely foreign to me only in the fact that I can recognize it is foreign, obviously, but some how… familiar, I mean it is a pool party after all, not a debate about world politics, more or less the same things that go on under the sun, by the grill, silly floating animals, splashing, dont do thats doing thats, the whole family component of people you only see on such occasions, the mourning doves are cooing, a very persistent dog is barking in the close distance, may be a street away, might as well be 100 miles, I look out into all the plants I have planted, great and small, how they come back every year, until they don’t, and how permanent it all seems, in this moment, but of course the only thing that is permanent is change, so I gladly admire my little space in suburbia, and continue to paint it with these words as it was, because was is all that ever is, was, I was sitting here tonight, listening, that dog is still barking, the party is settling out, an airliner rumbles out of view somewhere in the sky, the world is getting quieter, softer, as the day wears thin, so to does my mind, trying to ingest this as nourishment to fuel my being, this feeling, this now, this was.

oh by the way, listen to this…. Eric Johnson  – Stratagem….

morality is easy when no one is looking (a poem)

morality is easy when no one is looking (a poem)

silhouette of person
Photo by Raman deep on Pexels.com

star
into the sky
and I did catch a streaking star
I could not gauge how high how far
so frantically I searched
for a sacred wish
not wanting to indulge in the selfish
needs of immediate intent
but is that not the first instinct:
a wish for more wishes
a wish for fame
money beyond riches
eternal domain
the love of women
the lure of flesh
all manners and perversions
entwined in sex
the consummation of all sins
or-
will pure light come forth
and may that be my guide
let now the wish be
for the life
of another.

the transformative nature of nature (and clouds, at least this occasion)

the transformative nature of nature (and clouds, at least this occasion)

golden hour
Photo by Nur Andi Ravsanjani Gusma on Pexels.com

(music to read by…)

there are some nights where I can just watch the clouds, flowing by like a lazy, winding river through vast swaying grassy plains, slowly pushing – towards the east in procession, yet another part of the sky is more like a river of smoke, shadows of random forms of no form at all, the pace, the pace, the pace is hypnotic, slow but methodic, the only break, breaks are the occasional diamonds and triangles of a solitary bird flight off to some local destination, here and there, but mostly this is all encompassing one long lone exhale, I am gradually forgetting the day, the work, the traffic, it is all dropping off somewhere behind me, as I stare, and contemplate – the very air, the atmosphere itself, letting enough space in the space between my molecules, my atoms expanding and rising until I am that loose connection of clouds, slowly, calmly, meandering, wandering across that evening sky, sliding up over like a blanket being tucked for a child’s lullaby, before the sleep, I’m at ease, floating freely, loosely, high above the grandest trees, as a cloud, a river of gas of varying degrees, I’m at peace, I am part of the world no matter how small a piece, I am at peace.

this is part of my porch series… just sit out on the porch and let things flow… barefoot in shorts these days as the weather has been a friend… tonight’s musical selection (linked earlier) is Eric Johnson – Arithmetic,  a mellow tune, a nice sentiment, fit my mood…

as always, your thoughts, insults, barbs, thanks, likes, suggestions, they are all welcome, I take requests… whatever that means… (I guess I will hash that out when a request comes in….)

the revelation of a pop-up positive exhibit (short-read, positively)

the revelation of a pop-up positive exhibit (short-read, positively)

shallow focus photography of grass wit droplets of water
Photo by Free Nature Stock on Pexels.com

“the rain last night was steady, not readily heavy, just steady, and so I slept, with my window open, the subtle hum of white noise storms soothing, I suppose since the temperature dropped nicely there was no seething bath of humidity outside, this morning or otherwise, showered, dressed, I walked outside, as I usually might on my daily ritual jaunt to work, and
paused . . .
sometimes a myriad of consequence appears, you just have to take up notice, the rain had left remnants, droplets, on all the green surfaces from grass to bush to trees, the signs of the storm are everywhere and… the world is absolutely shimmering, the sun is hovering, revealing the quiet splendor of this morning’s exhibit, fields of greens and aquifer diamonds affixed, I imagine this is what Ireland is like, if I had ever gone, everything else seems to melt away into this microcosm of understanding, this standing moment, or movement of a moment passing through time and my eyes, the sky is truly blue, I know, it is not *really* blue, scientifically speaking, but does that matter? and should I be so clinical, I would rather take it in, or rather let it take me in, let the blue expanse wash over me like a tide-less ocean, perceived waves undulating with the current of positive energy, I close my eyes to internalize this power source gifted to me, to ride me through the normal tribulations of suburban life, today, and so invigorated I get in my car and drive…

…and here I am just a mere few hours later, having all this morning’s wonder quite chipped away by the grind of car fumes, traffic, road construction, acidic gossip water cooler conversation, irate customers assigning emergencies to minutia, and all the other toxic components life throws at you in the constant…
…so I step outside and reflect on that blue sky of unseen tides, this morning…
I must learn how to temper my steel to withstand such assaults or risk the abuse that my daily sharpening to cut through will produce diminishing returns, as at some point no base metal will remain on the blade, better yet might I just learn to reflect or side-step what I can, focus on the positive regardless of the position of the present, it all seems so tidy as I write it… I just have to live it…”

(deep in…hale… slow ex…hale…)

and with that, I say goodnight…. (music: humanmeshdance – giant clouds)

because it reminded me of my last post…

because it reminded me of my last post…

birds flying over body of water during golden hour
Photo by Johannes Plenio on Pexels.com

love is on a flight, on wing
what is this feeling
I had known to forget
all in the sudden
all possible seems to reveal
and in my heart revel
’tis true!
hearths know their purpose
tend the fire still
even from the silence of neglect
the bricks reflect coals
dancing again
pulsing
in radiance
pulsing
in the rekindling
of spirit


notes: I wrote this back in March, altered a little bit tonight I must admit (wink), my mind works strange, thanks for all reads and eyes, I only hope to light a light because I am only here so long, and can encourage others to thrive!