driving to work observation (an addendum to my last post) …

February 6, 2021 by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

and for all my bluster, and flowery language, inevitably the world reverses course, something about a bloom on a rose I suppose or colored glasses in the same pose, for today the world turned (as it always does), I guess I would call it a ‘heavy rain’, for it is, with weight, there is probably some technical term but I am certainly not a meteorologist, at least not in this life mix, the once lovely pure-‘gelic snow of a day or so ago is now reduced to sludge, and choppy dirty flotillas of mini-icebergs worthy of a titanic miniature collision, stark white has turned dull grey in best case, and worst case near chimney-innards-soot black, stained by the dirt of roads and travelers by of all ilk spilt upon the canvas, once gingerbread perfection has now fled, from roofs – swiped swaths of vanilla icing missing, stolen by wayward fingers of solar and wind, a receded white hairline revealing flaws and spent youth or the truth of time reality, the shelf life of pristine is a delicate phrase, and the rain, local buckets of spots, the kind of rain that always winds up with a huge lumbering drop in your eye socket as you walk out the door, because, because it just does, or a big slap of wet right on your bangs that bend and drips that branch forward down your face before you manage the escape scramble to the car, then the inaccurate art of getting the wipers at the right speed to match the pace of rain, they never are, so you settle some where in-between, such is life, the dance of compromise rather than the exact right, which makes perfection or sheer beauty that much more of a delight, since the visual has left the dream maybe my ears are more attuned, not the sweet soft calming silence mid storm swoon, now I hear every little thing, every drop, as I park to embark to my office confines, I hear the world siphon into the sewer drain, drain, I should not let the drab drain me of drive, for I am alive, just muddled in the middle of snow becoming dishwater soup in a cafe serving up grey, there will be better days, for there always are, and if not, memory serves, serves them up warm… if I just close my eyes, think on the sun, two dollar neon pail and tiny shovel in hand, molding castles to serve this little lord of the sand land, waves gently lapping at a moat’s door, far away from this, and I can feel the sun, I know I can feel the sun.

notes… as I go so mind my goes, dig it… dig it…

window musings (part 2)…

January 21, 2021 by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

“for if this is all I have
’tis more than some will ever know”

a window into the world
defined by frames
defined by shape
much like our own

words try to clarify a picture
quantify a fraction
symbols drawn together
and agreed upon among others
language –
like an ancient tree
the high branches so far removed from root
reaching up
as if to escape
or grasp the stars – themselves
for we know to well
not bound to this earth
for we know not long – enough
as the spirit thrives to live on

a reflection on the perfection of eleven… (stream of)

January 20, 2021January 20, 2021 by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

outside the norm, or the deca-box, a beginning step over such, just higher than the range of given usual merit, a singular number, a backwards forwards road, twins, towers bold by bold, the power of one number can equal two, so unassuming in elegance, not the first or last of the calendar, nor a remarkable time of any days to remember, outside of america, that is, the essence of being outside, the one, or twin ones, in the major arcana ruled by the sun, a lion’s pride, an ego’s ride, the enchantress begs the gifts, and quells the lion’s maw with her own paw, allowing for the spring of heaven to emerge and flow forth, an elven spring, even a broken clock chimes the gateway twice a day – so what call’s us to notice, and delve into eleven and the eleven realms… who knows?

my photo… my view from my desk… on a good day

file this under things you write as they hit you, sitting in my office (photo) peering through the blinds, the soft parade of bright red underbellies like child drawn crayon whales, of clouds passing just over the house across the street, providing a stark contrast to the black-barren limbs of a tree, to the left of me, from here I can not see the asphalt, or debris strewn about on the street, not even the empty bus stop or garbage drop, no my mind is free for a moment to flee to meander within the clouds slowly so slowly sliding south, darker now, darker still, the red has faded to a purple gray, in this space, I could dream to be as free from the every day, one day, floating in the resonance of silence, or so I imagine this to be.

Notes… I am playing with numbers here, look up 11, I am not going to link to everything this time out that I was riffing on, just go to your fave search engine and search “meaning of 11” you might be surprised, or not, or maybe learn a thing or 12….

the trojan horse, for therefore I am…

January 15, 2021 by David Koblentz ♥ 1 Comment

we are the masters of our own domain, we raise the walls, we setup the defenses, and yet we may be betrayed by our own voices and impulses, maybe this tale is true, men lying in wait inside a glorious now notorious gift, or perhaps it is one of the greatest metaphors of all, troy did not welcome the horse with open arms, so I’m told, or so is written, there were voices of dissent, and those who chose not to listen, so we are troy, perhaps easily repelling an overt invasion, but persuasion, the soft penetration of sophistry, seduction, the art of deception so you hang on your own noose, sounds preposterous, and so it is, on the face, but how many of our proclivities may overrun, maybe they do not open the gates all at once and let the enemy pounce on sudden corpse, but more like insipid poison, gladly taken in with wine filled glass-fulls, glad gulps of our own demise, all in the name of feast and compromise, for are we not beasts that reside in the cultivated fields of temptation, so far removed from plains and migrations, somewhere that lurks, we are not a patchwork of circuits, flesh and blood, no matter what we may think or elevate above the other species, flesh and blood begets the same, as virgil says (or so quoted) “Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes” translated to: ‘I fear greeks, even those bearing gifts’, for greeks are merely the name of that day for the malady lying at their own feet, for many years I have always thought of the story as a great tale of war and beware, but more these days I fear I may have written this chapter on my own lair many a time, eager to hold up a trophy minor victory or none, hold my name up to the sun, or worse boast to fly closer like an icarus run, this all seems so clear, so obvious now, how fallible and foolable this form can be, me, how can I be my brother’s keeper with my own loose gate, so maybe that is the avatar, the symbol, the meme to remind me of fate, a hollow horse or not so hollow horse, to keep me on course and remember that I control the comings and goings of my castle, there is the one enemy out there that will surely flatten my walls, pierce my defenses, steal, no silence my last breath, witness as death plows this whole effort under the ground, but until then, I shall think of the trojan horse and question what I let happen within my own domain as to maximize the health of my inner hearth, heart, sanctum and mind.

notes… and you thought there wasn’t a thrash version of the Beatles classic “Eleanor Rigby”, silly rabbit, thrash is for kids…

the banquet… {{B}}

December 9, 2020December 9, 2020 by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

how subtly we move down the long table, a feast with our family, different times of the year feel the same in here, time is somewhere peering in with jealous eyes. knowing at some point we will venture outside again, once small children (so I recall) are now here at the main table as adults grown up, their kids at the small one or running around, the parade of cousins, aunts, uncles and those married in moves on, the table has swelled all these years, I always knew, but never saw the subtraction coming as I do now, this soon, expected at some point, sure, but never on my side, in my direct row of chairs, a reckoning, for this is the way life is, I suppose we all hold onto untouchable belief, even in the sheer face of the inevitability, the reality, maybe we are fools but I would rather side on the side of belief against all and embrace that fool of myself, for what else can we do, pass the potatoes down and share a drink or two, a sliding moment of smiles, a flash of stories brought out like seasonal accouterments, as the actuality of the tales seem, and are, further off in the distance, for perhaps this is the time of my reckoning, at least as I slide chairs, as the elders inevitably become phantoms, one by one, some by some, so, all the more – stop and enjoy the spectacle, the pageant, the miracle, the banquet of life while the fruit is ripe, the buffet is vast and the glasses full, a moment to take in, as I approach the land of reckoning, not for myself, just yet, but I see, and feel, the coming of the sunset for the generation I am replacing in line next as I move toward the end of the table, may I carry such yoke with dignity and humanity – and love.

https://youtu.be/D-US0KDHzNc

Resisting the Poison (a return from the land of lucid dreaming) (@)}(@)

November 24, 2020 by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

is it possible? I feel different today (and yes my coffee has settled in), I mean, I always feel different after a few days off, but something, something has shifted, I feel it, I swear it from the bottom up, toes up spine down, is it days of optimism (ahem, and rest) welled up? perhaps, has not the usual office grime whiped off on me enough, yet? the dreary drive through driving rain (check), am I different from just a few days ago? what has changed? not much, really, something about perception versus reality I suppose, but … I just don’t know, I feel different, hopeful, even downhill among these moguls thrown out in front of me like field mines in all our lives these days, all is well, hell, not anything has changed really but a sunrise in my mind, I spent a few days dreaming, now, you might think I am joshing, no, I literally spent a few days involved in lucid dreaming, an experiment, to the best I could manage, or drive, I visited Hawaii I tell you, certainly not but my mind touched that spot, surely, I can not describe how I did thrive in that environ, especially since it was the whole cloth creation of my imagination, never been to the real place, regardless of the weather outside, the actual weather, there I resided, for a time, snuggly warm inside the real, closed my eyes with a purpose, guidebook in hand mind, as to where I might go, my own ship to steer, and so I did, some of this was mundane, arguments over meals, details about rooms, the usual insane things in our normal day to day even on vacay, but other times, I was indulged, to see friends and former, others and lovers, the never hads and the used to be familiars, it was all there at the fingertips of instant writing memory, as I went and experienced, and so real, what makes it less real? I woke from excitement, anger, passion, and rolled over for more, as the hours went, a day spent, in another world, somewhere I had not been before but could populate so easily with my mind, a charm, the shore, the breeze, the personal interactions, conversations happened, all of the recall, I could quote chapter and verse although, I wrote this journey as I went and came in REM worlds, as real as spent, and today, back in that chair, that desk, that office, I look out my window, birds traveling from rooftop to rooftop… (as have I)

“…in pieces slide, pieces slide out, we are a puzzle with nothing to solve but ourselves.” – some guy aka me

I stand at the gate and the song my heart sings is of the moonlight
I stand and I wait
for the grace of your hand
to cover the moon
the roses are blushing, a moonlight seranade

the stars, how they glow,
and tonight how their light guides my dreaming,
to you, my love,
do you know? of course you know,
my whispers in your ear streaming,
like the meteor shower above
this earth, and these heavens combined,
has brought this;
a moonlight serenade

let us stay here, as long as time
in this place of mind,
a valley of shared dreams
you and I,
our hands the circle of space and mind
all else remains frozen but our waltzing eyes

so let me not wait to drift to sleep,
come to me in that tender dream
meet me at the gate,
so to sing a sweet lullaby,
a moonlight serenade
the song of my love,
as dreams are only life as made
my darling, my love;
a moonlight serenade.

(now you tell me, how and where I went, and I might flash you a postcard, if only you can see it)

yes, the winter ”

November 18, 2020 by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

from minute to minute, I suppose, I can not track my mind to the finish line, I do enjoy the comfort of snuggling burying into bed, fetal form, to gather warmth, or throw on that old cape may sweatshirt, the elastics at the sleeves have seen better days flapping loose like old flagpole lines @ the shore, but of course this sweatshirt comes equipped with a joey pouch for my hands, I walk out to take out the trash to the assigned bins, ‘hello, mr. winter‘
for I feel his breath on any and all exposed flesh, after last night’s raging gale, there is really little doubt, perhaps a spring like day might mount here or there, but not for long, the trees are close to bare, the town has come and picked up all the leaves left out, the wind meets little resistance now, across this land, I pause, the late afternoon sun now matches what colors there are left around, a snapshot, it will seem like hours and all will be gone, barren, the steady march into soft sleep, hunker down, the days grow short as the sun is just that more out of reach, other sources of warmth become the key, hunker down, soon, the white age of morning captures the dew, clothing and rituals will change, a trade for hot soup from lemonade, the shore becomes still, silent, empty, how things seem so much more empty when the crowds are gone, I wonder what the gulls think, they vote with their feet and beaks, they have moved into the suburbs and the towns, I wonder if those strip mall birds think lowly of their beachbound herds, trading a parking lot for the roar of the sea, I suppose survival is the more preferred aesthetic, but what do I know of birds, only what I observe, tonight in tongues comes a frost, a blanket, an incantation, a charm of making, that white beard that conceals the color green until what is left of the sun warms just enough, you can never plug all the holes of inevitable, surely, all comes falling down if you try to stem the tide by self as a boy, better to gradually be seduced than to outright drown, I dream of the beach in winter, so here my dream walks.

Happiness is… .>.

November 2, 2020November 2, 2020 by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

walking the dog up the street tonight, sure, colder than I might like (she could care less, tallying tail wags as yes votes that is), the leaves make the landscape strange and interesting, the ground is all shades and shapes, mostly maple outlines (what is this, canada, eh?), lawn and sidewalk are alike, just one canvas laid out, soon this will just be leaf litter, but now? a world of cut out paper stars that have fallen to the ground, the dog’s paws create audible pitter patter on them due to the moisture left from the days weather, and there are puddles, black lakes, hard to see by the intermittent street lamps, like I am playing pitfall back in the day, I avoid most but, PLUNK, not all, as I feel the cold water sink slowly into my walking shoes I feel some angst, I laugh to myself for making such a big deal over it for a second there, ‘just some minor unpleasantness ya dope, get over it’, maybe I should be more like the dog, taking this all in stride, the temp is just cold enough to warrant a sweat shirt, one of those heavy hoodies you break out when you don’t want the formality of a jacket (and damn those broken in sweats are like a cozy familiar blanket), the cold has chased everyone away, so, just me, the dog, the leaves and the occasional car driving past, but mostly what I notice is the crisp air, so enjoyable to inhale, refreshing like a splash to the lungs, near intoxicating, of course I can not linger to long, someone, ahem, dog, is pulling on the leash in anticipation, there is always another patch to sniff, after all, there is a campaign sign on that lawn at the top of the street, good placement I think, and I remember the world feels like it wants to explode in a couple of days, I feel the proto-anxiety seeping in, but out here, just me and the dog, things seem like they will be alright. unplug. unplug.

the first of frost..*.

November 1, 2020 by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

so last night was not a dream (damn), this morning the wet sheen from the previous was quite white, well, opaque maybe, the lawn glossed over with a uniform one coat of ice, for once the lawn is one color, not a patchwork of the various greens of invasive grasses mated with the varieties I actually planted over these odd years, the uniformity and reflectivity of light is a sight to hold onto, if I didn’t have to get to work that is, so I soak in what I can for a minute, and hop in my car, that same loveliness adorning my lawn you ask? well, not so lovely anymore hanging on the windows of the car, damn I didn’t think of using the remote start thing on my phone, mantra: you don’t have a tube TV anymore, you don’t have a tube TV anymore, maybe that dates me… you don’t have a 56k modem anymore, you don’t have a 56k modem anymore, say it with me now folks, anyway, you get the gist, so, I flip on the heated seat (if you have the means, I highly recommend them), and the defroster, could life be any easier? I do find some amazement that time bends in these situations, I mean, not actually, but our perception might like a geller spoon, or is it the mind that bends, et tu neo? how easily my perfectly laid plans are thrown askew by a bit of frozen dew, inch by inch up from the bottom of the windshield retreating like ice sheets after an ice age, majestic too some, less majestic in this form, but much the same process, sans the boulders dragging out lake beds and the like, every inch is an eternity, I flick my wipers to hasten the process, why does the back window defrost so damn fast? I suppose I could drive backwards to work, maybe if I was a movie star, but I’m not (yet…), my stress is amp-ing up a touch (or two), I must admit, I hate being late even when it is of no consequence, this resides, in my wiring, in the code, the programming base, and then I chance look out to my right, my bum all warm and cozy now, look out the passenger window, and see that beautiful blanket on my lawn, stretching like a treaty across all my neighbors as well, and calm, I feel calm.

thoughts, from the porch…

October 31, 2020October 31, 2020 by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

the moon is in league

and so it descends, frozen invisible prison bars, a brisk cold, hints dropped like falling petals scattered earlier in these past weeks, the crisp bite of fall I called such, but now, full teeth bared gleaming white, the ring leader, the pied piper, reverse reflecting the sun’s light to dominate the sky of night, the stark dearth star, a cold dead desert hypnotizing our hemisphere into submission, sleep… a full moon, of course, conjured up’for hallow’s eve, just as the leaves have been stripped from many trees, that inescapable gaze blazes down on this landscape, no clouds, no shroud to hide in, no, open resistance, a brazen demonstration of barren isolation, Winter; that which slows life like a vice twisting in a thimble, at barely – a – pace, the feel has a beacon, a symbol, a scion, the brightest object in the sky as the world turns cold and colder, twist once more, snow, yes, snow, this morning there was snow, not the type to warm your heart on a christmas morning viewed from a cheery warm window sipping hot cocoa, no, dead falling, falling heavy wet white wolf pelts slapping on the windshield, letting you know the summer you once knew is quite gone, and certainly I did not outfit myself in the proper jacket to deal with this early assault, but no matter, I will not linger here, being stared at, examined, scrutinized, by that dead eye hanging in the sky, the cold isolation, the green of the world has peeled back in reflex, but I was watching, I swear I was watching this time, how did I miss this, the coming loud tide of the cold wave, my breath rises out up into space, drawn up by that nocturnal beaming thief, as I walk I feel the presence of being followed, stalked, tracked across the sky behind my shoulder, just over my shoulder, footstep by footstep by footstep, I notice my feet, the fallen, the fallen leaves are a patchwork quilt, in the day a beautiful sight, but night, now, wet and soaked, dank slippery wetness, the kind where you want to rush inside and peel off your drenched clothes, sit wrapped blanket by a fire, the brand of cold that turns skin blue, the body shrinks back into a shell, yes, the chills, run, run up the spine and through the teeth, chatter, I must devine that my ancestors were not of alpine stock, not if this is my evolved shock, even now, years worn down, years documented on my paycheck to this universe, still, some nights, the moon is a sinister beast, dead reveling in an earthly feast. (and so I retreat, cuddle up with my dog, and sleep)

Shades of My Garden

a window into a life, a conversation with a soul, a gateway to a heart

Tag: stream of conciousness