Tag: truth

sea glass… (a metaphor for us, for you, perhaps)

sea glass… (a metaphor for us, for you, perhaps)

by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment
frozen wave against sunlight
Photo by Hernan Pauccara on Pexels.com

“sea glass”

might I liken myself to sea glass, at once in the womb, a protected part of the greater whole, ejected out into the world, quite suddenly, my link to all I knew for those nine months, severed, cut, quite literally of course, not that I recall, but I am sure it had to happen that way, I mean, I took sex ed, I am here as well, as far as I can tell, I’m not the first, not the last, not even sure what number on the human bell curve I might grade out at, so here I am, cast, cast out into the vast ocean, rolling around in the surf, sometimes quite calm sitting on the bottom, perhaps buried in silt sleeping time away, tumbling around in the tide, slowly but quite surely the water and action are taking the edge of sharpness from my sides, grains of sand scrape across my eyes, blurring my vision over time, the pace at which these things happen feels like a slow fall, or feels like nothing at all, just perpetual tide working to grind me on down, smooth edges now, all these years down all these roads, paths in sand, driven by an unseen hand, preparing to deposit me on the shore, one day, to see the sun one last time, before I am left to disappear in that desert dune just beyond the tide, becoming just another particle of sand along with those of before and forward those I will never know.

the moment: so there was a fire in the warehouse next to ours, just a fire, lots of commotion, the fire chief actually backed into my car causing about a grand in damage, didn’t say a word at the time, but we have cameras trained on the back lot, in the process of containing the fire one fireman was walking along the building with a metal pike, the purpose? to break all the windows, I wonder how he got that sweet job, the other guys were up on the roof and what not battling the fire, this guy gets to play whack-a-mole with windows, anyway, off that tangent, I was walking past the boarded up mess today, and the glass was still there on the neglected lawn, shimmering in the sunlight, and the above metaphor type thing just populated my brain, so that is the genesis of this little sprite of inspiration…

hey !  all thoughts, aspersions, and comments are always appreciated… as are killer side dishes, seriously, I love to cook, especially with hot hot chilies…

spring his here, just ask the birds…

spring his here, just ask the birds…

by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment
silhouette of mountain and birds
Photo by Kunal Baroth on Pexels.com

pausing all my human being
I stopped –
to listen this morning
the birds tell me this is spring
and so tell me in their song

notes…  I do not need a calendar, or an app, or other some such thing, for the past three days I just paid attention, the birds are singing paying no mind of the utter panic playing out below them or around them due to a virus that effects us humans, nature has it’s own way, and goes about it the same, we’ll blink and all this will be in our past soon enough, but nature, this is her turf, she moves on regardless.

things you notice…

things you notice…

by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment
clouds dark moon moonlight
Photo by Vedad Colic on Pexels.com

“the moonlight frozen
written, on the wall
filtered, through the bathroom window
on an angle
noticeable now
when someone is gone”

notes… we get used to things, we surely do, the routine, I am the same, I frame things in the familiar, perhaps our minds work that way, they probably do, we compare and contrast constantly, we size things up, and when things change the change can manifest in so many ways, some we notice, some are subtle

Fiddler’s Green, do you know what I mean?

Fiddler’s Green, do you know what I mean?

by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment
stonehenge
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

first the poem, after, a bit more…

“the nights of twyner-by-lot
a land that time has not once forgot
for on this site many circle a stone
for on this ground sacrificed of bone
and all the more the landscape shed
grass and greens o’er the swept
torrents hath bent and snow that slept
moons on by and sunlight spent
the generations they came and went
all in the nights of twyner-by-lot”

notes… OK, I was thinking of stonehenge and also Fiddler’s Green, and also Danny the Street, c’mon now, are you keeping up folks? Mythical places, magical places, all the faces that have passed through them, the lives, the rituals, the stories, why not “twyner-by-lot”, now that I made that up, it exists just the same as any other plot of land, does transference occur? There is innumerable places on the earth of worship both old and new, has the actions of man changed the turn of the earthworm thus in such… just a consideration, and that is what I am asking with this work (and yes the name just came to me in pure thought, in case you were asking).

 

and let me be remiss to say, all thoughts, comments, likes, and hay bales are appreciated… I especially love hot chile recipes, if you know me, and if you read me, you know me probably more than you know… but thanks for the eyes, if any and all…

thoughts from the porch…

thoughts from the porch…

by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment
food city man person
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

“miserable faces“

under a strong full day moon, not sure what that is meant to mean, but surely something has been affixed to said phenomena, somewhere in the past, but it just does not grasp at me, just a curiosity, tonight, this time in between, a dark regal blue presides over the transition before utter night, faint outlines and ridges of clouds, still in sight, oddly there is no barking or chirping or any animal sounds for that matter, maybe the full moon has their collective tongue as well, my neighbor’s front door cracks open audibly, a neighbor I do not speak to, really, just a close stranger, five years or more, he used to have a little girl, and a smile, all that is a mystery now, history now, I see just deliveries from local grub stations at all manners of times, or at least as I have observed when sitting out here, different cars in and out of the driveway, but always just he remains, how strange, just across the street, some few hundred feet, a completely different realm of daily existence I know nothing about, a different world with different views and different rules, I can not say I have ever seen him smile in many long a time, I am sure he must have, so hard to gauge a story from what reads like miles away, his face reminds me of a thought, a thought that crossed my mind earlier as I drove home from the grocer, I am making that same left turn I have made a thousand times, and my lights struck pure in the eyes, the face of the driver in the other lane, just the sheer look of down, a complete crown of misery befallen, a hallow expression, depression
a miserable face
but why, there are plenty of reasons I suppose, I suspect, but how many are valid in true retrospect, and so I pay mind, and encounter more, dour and puss, the miserable faces are like a parade of intermittent misery, like gloomy potholes dotting the road back to my sanctuary, the why, I ponder the whys forever, is it easier to raise that foul flag and plant it smartly, like a shield, an outlier, a boundary marker, a warning against trespass, a way to wall off the world to exist in your own little version, at least for a while, so I must then ask, upon this observation…
do I myself don this mask?
and not even realize that I compromise a part in this charade of misery infecting the world, am I one of those miserable faces at times, I wish it not to be so, but I can not guaranty same, I wish not to be so, so I just remain vigilant as to what my face says to the world, as it also reflects the inner workings of my own, I hope I can bear hope out with my countenance, love with my eyes, joy with my words, understanding with my ears, knowing sometimes, we allow ourselves to slip into that night, that comforting solace, a familiar grimace, spines thrust out to all approach, but to recognize the time, the purple time, to see the line between, to fight our very nature, to hold back and remember, rebel against, the miserable faces, for dawn is always on the other side.

notes… part of a series, or my life, or both, something like that, I appreciate the read, yout thoughts, your life, and all that, I really do, why else am I stranded here on this marble .. but you ?

when a word triggers a flood…

when a word triggers a flood…

by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment
clear glass with red sand grainer
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

time is the filthy filch of legend
of course legends we are told
whispered to
written of
a coalescence of threads of memories
forming an ethereal tapestry
weaving vignettes into our minds
stamping indelibly
like a passer by
leaving a package on your doorstep
unable to ignore pandora
but to open horror or glory
or just a lesson learned on a recipe card
one never knows what grows in imagination’s garden
monsters that were, that never were
that will be only now
or a mighty hero to rise
and conquer that hill
a demon vanquished
or transform into a bird
and fly like magic
up into the stars
framed for all eyes
to touch down on humanity’s gaze
through the ages
once and many more

notes… I must admit, I get an email daily “word of the day” from Webster’s dictionary, I have a fabulous volume of words at my disposal, but I am a word nerd at heart, a word has to sing to me, it has to sound right, and tonight… the word was “filch” and it spawned this… which is cool because the muse loves to poke me with a stick and share my gift, words are my play things and I do love manipulating them, so much more these days, words are my playground so I play, sometimes it results in serious thought, sometimes in back and forth, but always, always banter, this much is such.

the real big bang theory…

the real big bang theory…

by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment
fire hell inferno flame
Photo by Skitterphoto on Pexels.com

at the once, the doorway, that first burst of light of the birth of the universe, the genesis of all galaxies and stars, the spark of all life as we know and will never, at that moment, through that needles eye of all existence so began a formation of a plan, a line forward, of all the equations, matter, laws, possibilities, variables, so it all began, a never ending single path, a destiny, an eventuality, the immense density and vastness of all the ever being, on a track, to coalesce into the most unlikely of forms in the now… you, and so you are, here, as you truly are, all of time and existence of the entire of everything has intersected into such perfection, such an unimaginable union, YOU, and so this brief miracle will exist through time, this time, and then shall be disassembled and dispersed, like all matter, into the corners of the universe, perhaps back down to a single point once more, so the cycle can renew again, as all things do, as far as we can tell, from our little view, our small glimpse, our small fraction of a memory, important enough to exist, have existed for all the universe saw fit to create, you.

tempo.

tempo.

by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment
woman s lips
Photo by Jessica Gaudioso on Pexels.com

his eyes follow her form
across the room
as she moved
my eyes
my eyes follow her from
from and to
my thoughts rampant
like wildfire
fueled by desire, fantasy
the idle mind rages in the cauldron of imagination
lurid possibilities
drowning in insinuation
her curves
to meet my hands
her mouth
to meet my lips
the sensation
that first kiss
obsession
fevered bliss

notes… so sometimes you look at someone at distance, wondering, fantasizing, living out all the possibilities in your mind in an instant, watching them stride, you imagine your life together in that moment you create a story, a movie and sensations…

a hot new jersey minute…

a hot new jersey minute…

by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment
people inside building
Photo by Naim Benjelloun on Pexels.com

I was driving to the local super market type place, right past the mall, and I will be damned, probably am, that the sucker’s parking lot is full, I don’t understand, to me these are like dinosaur bones propped up in a museum hall to be gawked at, well, apparently I am wrong, Jersey is a bastion of malls, apparently, to me they just remind me of the past, days gone by in another life, sort of the internet before there ever was one, one giant complex you could walk into and find everything you could possibly imagine, clothing, sure, that was always the first corridor and all the gateways, but then the big open space in the middle, shoes, electronics, the music store (remember those?), food, pottery and cookware, and inevitably a thousand more clothing places, pane windows filled with reflections of all the wide eyed consumer faces, spaces laced with escalators, little vendor carts with baubles, custom t shirts or hats, cheap jewelry, mobile massage parlors of sorts with water somehow, sometimes there would be a car on display, yes, very much like the internet, no Ebay, and then of course, the crowning jewel, the creme de la creme for me, the arcade, the shining city in the sky, the arcade, home game systems at the time just could not shine and mesmerize in those days like the live ones, Atari Tank against sit down Afterburner II? not even a contest my friend, the coin etiquette, placing that coin up on the ledge in line, pledging your intent, planting your flag as it were, “I’m next”, this quarter says so, and that was the law of the land, a true sugar rush as quarters or tokens hemorrhaged out of your grasp, Gauntlet? I probably paid off the programmers mortgage… TMNT 4 player, The Simpsons one too, learning all the tricks to trick the change machine, photocopied bills, bills with fishing lines attached, not saying I did those things, I just ‘heard’ about them, ahem, let’s move on… all before the internet, this was the gathering place we had, as strangers, the mall, so distant that all seems ago, I still can’t believe it is here, flanked by chain restaurants like guardhouses, also packed this eve, Olive Garden? with all the amazing or just above average Italian places in every nook and cranny, around every other corner, this is not the Olive Garden state people! I guess never ending pasta bowls are a panacea for ills, or just a place so generic it covers all the wills from the grumpy old to the fidgety new… back to the mall, I thought retail was dead, Jersey didn’t get the memo apparently, I honestly can not remember the last time I stepped into this place… but like many things my experience does not the truth make…