written in traffic this morning, this week has been, ahem, arduous in terms of that, just simple things I saw in front of me, it brought me hope in a sense, I hope to share that with you…
(1)
driving, on the fore – the only tree alight with green is not a pine spring has arrived
(2)
“expectation” might I forgive the architect for placing a pigeon atop a highway light post distinct profile hitchcock but not as impressive as a falcon or a hawk
notes… the second one is very ME specific, for some reason I am fixated on birds on lamp posts, I have noticed some birds of prey on them in recent years (and not previously), most birds of prey are super impressive animals really, they are much larger than common birds, at least in these parts, so the contrast is what I was going for here, pigeons are quite common, and not as regal as the top predator, sort of like comparing mullet to a great white, sure, at some level both have aesthetic beauty, but the whites are more impressive as they have barely any fear (besides killer whales, not to go all off tangent on you), anyway, pay attention to the world around, things are there to confound…
Started as a “side band” that wanted to experiment with “Tool” like music (treating Tool’s sound as a genre, interesting). This is off the new album… and man it rules, well, at least to me. Melodic and heavy… I would like to think I hit those notes as a person, probably not… but heck, why not dream while I’m still alive… let me know what you think, I can’t read minds you know (although I pretend)
work was getting to me, my usual brick and mortar exterior was showing cracks, is this Monday? which is even a worse thought when it is not, but then you think “well, one day closer to the end of the week then”, which holds your hope over for about four seconds before returning to the pounding pace, the check in stamping work clock ticking just above your right shoulder, ever closer, sure, you flick your head around and it retreats to where it actually is, but that sneaky bastard just keeps ticking and mocking you just the same, the phone, I swear they work in tandem, tick – ringinging – tick – ringinging – tick – ringinging, is anyone going to answer that goddamn phone? and half the time it is one of my technicians calling. I believe it was jesus who said that you if you teach a man to fish he will eat all year, or something to that effect, well, I have taught some of my technicians to fish… but they wind up casting their lines in parking lot puddles, and I assure you the catch there is certainly not edible, nor is their ineptitude understandable or put-able on a day like today, in between thunderclaps of the boss’ pages, I decide to dash for the door, even a dreary wannabe rain day beats the inside of this joint today, I think of braveheart as my inner soul screams “F R E E D O M!!!!!”
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
Ah, lovely suburbanHackensack New Jersey, a collection of non de-script homes nestled ‘tween aged industrial buildings of little or none architectural flair (a true monument to utilitarianism boredom), the gleaming, bustling highway route 80 off to my left (scene of the morning crawl), the effervescent Hackensack river one block behind me (nothing can live in the water it is so utterly polluted), the once black mulch adorning the sides of the walkway with lovely petals of newport and marlboro scattered about, ah, this is my refuge from that cubicle of torture (even though it is a not a cubicle, I might actually prefer the semi-privacy granted by such walls), I need to catch my breath and shake off the ox plow of the day, what better way than to amuse myself with the viciousness of local traffic, I swear I saw fangs bared (I could be mistaken), but the strict adherence to subtle traffic common law does bring out the beast in people, take more than two seconds at a light? you will get a rather subtle reminder from the courteous traveler behind you, sometimes even shouting encouraging words such as “move it moron” or “what the f’ is wrong with you, you stupid piece of s*!”, who on god’s good green earth would dare question the civility and harmony of humanity in times such as these? I was also unaware that the stretch of local road outside was an honorary speed race track (I think it is christened Chuck Yeager memorial or something), and off they go in all sorts of various vehicles gunning it down the street to some unknown checkered flag, all to my amusement, there are lights every 100 or so feet as you approach downtown, and the courthouse as well, oh well, these brave pioneers know better than I, I am not sure if I witness the death of courtesy or both sides being, well, complete friggin jerkoffs, my neighbor across the way, this sort of blair witch house thing, that has been through (barely) many floods, and certainly even more occupants, not sure which has done more damage but both wind up leaving various furniture and objects at the curb in their wake, but back to the traffic at hand, my neighbor whom I do not know (we office types do not mix with the ‘residentials’, it is forbidden or to say it with more panache – ‘verboten’), he decides to just back right up into the street with nary a pause, well, Mr J Lexus was having none of that I tell you, I mean I get it, I truly do, being the first to sit at a red light is quite the high honor, but it was hard for me to decide who was more in the wrong here, technically ‘we-be-jammin-can’t-see-through-the-night-tinted-glass-Lexus-man’ had the right of way, he clearly demonstrated this with a light tap on his horn that lasted nearly ten seconds, I could not hear the verbal gems he hurled at my poor lonely neighbor, who incidentally took this verbal assault to simply back up right into the road and force a sudden stop of a different car (one of lower standard in the caste system than Sir Lexus the Great), I can’t tell you how much this whole scene amused me, and I think I got a couple of death stares in my general direction, but I felt safe with the door to my office within grasping distance of my big white rear in case a hasty retreat was needed, so I filled my lungs with the filthy air of industry, racing cars for no reason, the highway fumes floating down like smog mana from heaven, and I was revived…can I get an Amen (cough * cough *)… but I must admit I felt refreshed, revitalized, ready to put on my invisible armor and march back in there to the battle that can not be won, but I struggle on, with renewed vigor, renewed belief in the goodness of man!
Epilogue: As fate laughs, down at me, as fate would have it, this very night, driving home (as I tend to do), I get off my normal exit on the GSP, no biggie, I make the usual turn onto Magnolia (glad there is no train arriving @ Metropark), and WHAM… a livery vehicle in front of me (that’s a fancy taxi to the uninitiated), said livery vehicle proceeds to race ahead at 10-15 mph in front of me… honestly at this point I could have turned into a traffic madman like I expounded about in this post, but alas, I just laughed at the utter irony of it all (being I wrote all this today), and let the jackass behind me do all the road rage-y stuff for me, you know, the swerving, the lights, the horn, this just amused me more and more, local street, double yellow line (no passing), so I just bided my time and livery guy made a left, “good luck” I thought to those behind, poor bastards. (and heck, it doesn’t hurt to have some good tunes to take the old edge off, I must admit).
silly but performed so well, can you recognize all the songs and riffs (so many classics in there) ? ? ? ? and with that I sign off my friends, as always, all eyes, loose eyeballs, looks, half looks, stink eyes, and other none such… are… well appreciated. tell your friends, ego has a blog, and this is it…
I sit here in that little nook of my porch, the corner where the porch meets the wall, kind of tucked behind the Japanese maple I planted so many years ago, after so many failures, after the birch was gone, the one I grew up with, that now seems like lore, captured only in old photographs, but here I am behind the tree once more, yesterday was a day of beating rain, the type that assaults and holds you prisoner, the storm has passed and moved on, out into the ocean now, along with the wild winds that carried, this makes the sun, even at this late hour, quite welcome to my skin, the sky is quite blue, just a couple of strange cloud formations here and there, more like disembodied puffs of smoke, I find myself mesmerized by how the breeze waves and sways the upper branches of the trees in the fading light, illuminates every crack and cranny in between, there must be a party across the street, a child’s birthday should I guess, they have a whole array of blow up landscapes, slides, and a castle, I think, but their fence is rather quite tall, so I can only enter a suppose of the all, better to yet, let my imagination earn it’s rent in this old head, I never saw such wonders at a local birthday party in my day, not to complain, I realize it is all quite relative of course, I am sure kids of today would not be so enamored by a roller rink, the ground round, or a crown from some fast food joint, the kids across the way are very loud, but honestly I don’t mind the sound, a reminder of where we all once were, living among pure wonder of the world, free of daily encumberment, I pause, can we ever put that good genie back in the bottle? And what of our three wishes, would they be even remotely the same?
“Captain Underpants! Captain Underpants!”
one of the little girls exclaims, I have no idea what it means but she is certainly enthusiastic about it, and there is an impromptu chorus sung of “We Are The Champions”, it strikes me as amazing to consider that children of that age (9-12 perhaps?) know this song, but I must pinch myself and realize they are grown in the internet age, where discovery is merely an instant away, sharing of art and song is merely a question of getting the suggestion, something 40 years old can be as relevant as something 40 minutes old, with both gone and wiped in another moment, or preserved, or forgotten.
This makes me wonder ,or perhaps more truthfully regret, this scene, will never be mine, I am nearly past the point where children might become a foregone non-conclusion, like everything else I do, maybe I have thought too much into it, planning, worrying, fearing, circumstance building, rather than seizing the living of my life, of course my logical mind can always rationalize, what is the point? They will all die, just as everything does, but I argue with myself, does that mean we simply give up? Or surely try to extract every ounce from this life we possibly can, until the canister of effort is driven empty or fate decides to drop in for that ultimate visit, I think, well, I want to will myself to be, to grab such fruit that I can, from that wisest tree, oh such, in this shortest span, I search for the strength and will of man immortal. (and I lay down my pen).
the master of ambient of my generation, this is pretty minimal but not too artsy minimal, it reminds me of sitting outside and letting the breeze wash over me, trying to become one with the landscape I am provided, and the life I am granted.
All likes, comments, recipes for chicken are all appreciated… as is your view now, I bow to you, the reader, thanks.
I contemplate the beautiful fragility of butterfly wings upon such gale stain glass beats oscillate with silence only spectacle the dance of survival spiral pageantry of these so easily broken, I think of the single snowflake winding journey to the ground to dissipate surely into vapor and once more rise then gather then fall to travel the world over in many forms, I stare at these last rays bleeding bronze out from this day’s ending I pause, for all these things and the miracles contained of bearing witness in these soft moments of my existence.
Photo by Kaboompics .com on Pexels.com
notes… written 4.18, last night was the first real spring rain, no, not technically but it was 70 degrees and the rain was a relief, almost clean, seemingly a hint of bleach as it gently made overlapping circles on the deck as I watched, the dog sniffing around her domain in the backyard, life is good, it beats the alternative, take a minute and breath, there is something wonderful within eye’s reach, the idea is to reach for it, I am guilty as any for forgetting this, trying to re-calibrate my noggin to ground myself in reality, I am here now, trying to enjoy the ride.
music… going soft acoustic instrumental (thanks to my bud Chris all those years ago for turning me on to this and Tori…)
the sun must rise again. for belief is life in the blood as loving hearts contend this perpetual motion resists against the gears of night, for -the sun -must -rise. to breathe life into that good hope the singular line of light to spark in the stirring of the being, of the living for again, the sun -must -rise, comfort to the children of men generations seek wisdom the good will to bend up against that death for there within is strength resident in that good light, and the Sun. Shall. Rise. Again!
Photo by picjumbo.com on Pexels.com
notes… I wrote this on saturday actually, it did not dawn (hah hah pun) on me until later that it could be taken in the context of Easter, this was not intentional, perhaps the muse felt she had to guide my hand, as I say often inspiration is a strange sensation, it feels like possession (in good way, not in a head spinning vomit way), this one wrote itself, this final version is barely edited from my original scribbling, one of those that you write an just immediately feel good about, which means I will probably get zero to three likes on it… lol, anyhoo, this was really (to me) about optimism, sure I could quote Annie “the sun will come out… tomorrow”, ok, that is pretty much the same sentiment, and I am not half as cute, or a ginger…
Photo by picjumbo.com on Pexels.com
music, I make no bones about it, my favorite band ever is King’s X, a band that was ground breaking before anyone knew anything about anything, that’s all, in this PC world of today they would be heralded as lions and pioneers for so many reasons… enough preaching, here is a song of their first album from back in 1988… damn, I was 15… the vocals, the rock/metal edge, it made me pick up a guitar for the first time, and want to sing (which I most certainly can’t)…
this brings me back to days of my youth, my father had a “provisions” route back in the day, and when I was off from school I went to work with him, in essence a provision route worked thusly, my dad (with me in tow) would travel to the meat processing plants and supply warehouses in Elizabeth and Newark NJ, pick up the raw product (whole briskets, fresh chop meat, huge wheels of cheese, snack products, fries, deli salads, condiments, you name it), and then deliver them to local bars, taverns, restaurants, and yes, the occasional strip club (we’ll get to that detail), remember there was no Costco or Restaurant Depot, it was a good business from the turn of the century forward but of course it was phased out by progress like many things, my dad had this big yellow truck, it was like driving around with the mayor of every town, I swear he knew everybody, smiling and waving like we were in a parade as he drove, he knew all the cops, all the weird locals in all the bars, “Hey Freddie K!” was just this accepted mantra, what did I know, I was a kid, I wish I was more astute or paid more attention, the amount of inspiration for character study was astounding then, some of the experiences seem so strange now that I recall them to write in these words, the smell of bars as the sunlight first hits the witness wood floors, a sort of mix of barf, beer, mold and pine cleaner evaporating, you could see dust particles floating upwards in the light, questioning drunk eyes watching, walking into a strip club before they open as an eleven year old and my only want was a quarter to play the latest video game, I am not sure why but strip clubs and bars always had the latest/newest video game cabinets back in the day, we are talking early 80’s so video games were new, hell I remember Street Fighter coming out and freaking out over it (although I am admittedly a Mr. Do man), seeing the help (ahem, strippers) getting ready (into their outfits), pinching my cheeks as I was so darn cute, but I paid it no mind, it just was, I remember Cheeques in Linden had the best damn hamburgers ever, well, they should as my dad was delivering fresh chop meat direct from Magnolia Beef, where I would see things made, you know, meat parts literally being ground down in front of me, half dead whole animals on hooks being pushed around to the various processing stations, I still remember the cold smell of dead meat, the places were cold, really cold, my dad and the workers had these white coats, and then there was the sound of the hamburger patty machine, ka thunk ka thunk ka thunk ka thunk, and then paper slapped between the patties, then a case is made, rolled to the bottom and this crazy wire tie machine thing would seal the box with two ties, and then we would pack them in the truck for delivery that day, learning to use a hand truck was second nature, a wonder all these memories, someone might look at me now and see none of this, a poet, a writer, a philosopher, a nerd, who cut his teeth in the bowels of urban central new jersey’s blue collar belly, I wonder how it shaped me, or was I already there…. hum?!?
Lyrics to the song, poetry if you ask me…
“I stand at your gate and the song that I sing is of moonlight I stand and I wait for the touch of your hand in the June night The roses are sighing a Moonlight Serenade The stars are aglow and tonight how their light sets me dreaming My love, do you know that your eyes are like stars brightly beaming? I bring you and I sing you a moonlight serenade Let us stray till break of day in love’s valley of dreams Just you…“
forgive the reiteration, this disclaimer is for those unfamiliar (hello) with my particular iterations, I don’t like to write in form but I like the idea/feel of haiku as it were, so here are a couple of little observations (sort of) I wrote today, sometimes I just am in the mood to write this way, and so I do…
(1) moon, phase shadow, fog night owl who who
(2) the calming sound of my april bamboo as the wind works through and plays each leaf
that first dandelion has appeared in my yard, sure enough to be followed by more, is this that produces the roar of the coming season with that golden mane? the transition of land, the prey shall inherit the earth from the predator, I quite see all the harbinger’s of spring in their many forms, the golden locks of golden rods, the marked pinks and purples of cherry blossoms, daffodils ranging on ‘scaped frontiers, even as I count these happenings the shift seems an instant, is the world a touch greener every minute, each moment, or are my eyes just adjusting.
I watched a cardinal below my window, in the bush, hurriedly and meticulously crafting a nest, flitting off like a bolt to gather more building materials, placing them with expert instinct feet and beak, then sitting upon them, shaking her tail furiously about to settle the lot down, shaking her whole body with decided fury, and settling down to check the foundation, over and over and over again, I watched the process, careful not to disclose my perch, or my intrusion into family work, and on I watch, wondering, wishing, wishing I had such singular devotion in my own daily pursuits.
Part of this post is from a poem I never finished, but this post and that poem have been rattling about my mind as of late these days, here is the unfinished work:
the harbingers of spring o’ soon upon the gate announcing the guests arrivals golden locks of golden rods rows on rows of cherry blooms sunlit hours stretch ’til moon the flowers of narcicus peak the boughs
I kind of like sharing the truth, or unfinished work, I am not some robot or perfectionist anymore, I want to let people in to see the inner workings, I do not have much free time so I write when I can and spur of the moment most of the time, it prevents me from posting everything I want but also holds me to the reality of what I got… any and all eyes on this post, thanks, that’s all for tonight folks.
Heck, I admit it, I am on Game of Thrones overload… I binge watched season 7 all day Sunday (man so much happened). I posted a review of the new season on my media review page (shameless plug here), I thought my brain would just shut off, but just when I think the well has dried up and I am the Sahara incarnate the muse lets me know she is not quite done with me yet (for good, for bad, for worse ? I don’t know)… so I literally wrote these tonight in a fever, well, OK not in a fever, they came to me, one when I was walking Samantha (the dog, I will post photos one of these days), to be fair, she walks herself, she is 10-ish, and the second as I was washing my face, seriously, I started the second poem in my bathroom scrubbing the old face, ah, the muse, she is her own thing and she owns me…
Photo by Free Nature Stock on Pexels.com
you are my constellation bright upon that sky even in the coming storm I know your coordinates your pulsar a string of light always close ever far from my touch but always there when I look, for I hope when I pass to transform to light and join you in that nightly retreat
(2)
tethered by a chord
into this world I did descend
lives and loves, my time is spent
so here I am at the end of such road
an appointment due with no one at all
for you have taken all my friends
I hope that with this single coin
might bear passage
to see them
once again
All looks, likes, comments and the such is greatly appreciated. Criticism is welcome, how else can one grow ? be well, spring is upon the land, at least mine, still waiting for the iron grip of this winter to relent… but there was a single dandelion on my lawn… a marker toward the march of summer’s dawn…
so, the wave has begun the first domino has fallen a generation to come – to an end. I have seen the wave coming for some time off on the horizon off in that inevitable ocean but so soon crashing upon the shore this is the way of things for we are mere pillars of rock hewn of sand drawn down and back into the surf from which we once rose in and out the flow of this life, we pretend to have some modicum of control ever looking at that horizon and the coming waves as they come for me surely, some day
notes: for a while now I know a certain portion of my family is at the cliff, at the precipice of that final step, it is a generational thing, I have been admittedly lucky that death has not visited my doorstep too often, my grandfathers both died before I was two, my grandmothers died at advanced ages not suddenly, that is pretty much it, but now… it is only a matter of time where I fear (know) they will be dropping like flies, I can not imagine what it is like for my parents who have lost friend after friend over the past couple of years, death is not a fickle beast, you can do all you want but she still comes for you whenever she wants, my folks are not in great shape, or of particularly long DNA stock but they are around to witness the deaths of all their friends, it is a strange thing, one we all do not want to imagine or even live in, but it is always there,the horizon seems far but is always approaching. So this poem is about that, my uncle who is gone now, some months, he was an intellectual in such a way that he ordered no funeral or even memorial, I understand that from a logical/scientific perspective, but maybe those things are more for the living than the dead… a moment in time to bring together a family to remember they are indeed family, maybe even if just for a moment, and perhaps bonds can be reborn, or remade, or started anew as the younger ones in the family are transitioning into the elders and having their own children, the conveyor belt runs better with connectivity, and that requires time set aside to be together… just a thought or thoughts…
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
I know, not my usual Saturday lighter musings, and the weekends are where posts go to die, I don’t care, I post what is on my mind, maybe it is because I had to wake up @ 5:30am today to go to work, Sam (the dog) gave me that look like “really dude? you are never up this early”, and of course she’s right, starbucks lasted until about 6pm then I passed out, back up again and writing this, so maybe my mind isn’t quite the same as usual, that’s ok, sometimes you gotta’ shake the tree and see what happens.
Music???? sure… not that you asked but damn I am a persistent mofo pushing what I love…
Simple and sweet, the vocals are just so friggin good, if you like 3 part harmonies and the Beatles.. well, this should be up your alley (except Doug has a better voice than any of the Beatles individually, I know blasphemy…). My cousin Renee worked in the city @ the time and sent me the CD with this track on it along with a signed poster, that had to be 1994, it made my year (thanks cuz!), and later I got to meet them many many times over the years, great peeps.
Shades of My Garden 