Fact and Fiction, whichever smiles,
Her own om not with standing,
this siren's song with mermaid's tail,
deserted but untroubled, speeding past problems,
where she holds true to me,
despite my albums of foibles,
small towns hold her little,
where a heart grew from somewhere bigger,
who flashed that obsidian mind candidly,
part what you feel, part what you don't,
a scarlet deep heart that pumps up, beyond
moxie face flushed, all kinship,
with language and grace and 'tude,
and to see it all begin, then to fly.
Friday, September 26, 2008
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
For It May Help A Lot
For It May Help A Lot
I've known you for the better part of a summer,
which for some of us is time enough for,
intuition to sink into understanding,
all the details you told me just now,
filled some missing pieces in and,
compelled, I'll share my well of love,
that's how it's done where I come from,
whether you're able to hear it, a lot or none.
It's up to you to hear these words,
a power beats in your heart,
to choose, let kind words sink in,
this message is wrapped in light,
as a gift for a special friend,
and when you read it again and again,
maybe you'll see where I come from,
my perspective is little, but it may help a lot.
You are whole.
You are your own.
You're made of all good.
And the promise of life lies within you,
like a spirit's carnival with streamers,
full rainbow colors star-bursting brightly,
each hue an aspect attractive alive,
floating in sight when looked for,
on the horizon, unweighted by gold.
Solemn yet silly are sad histories
which sometimes mask our identities
or tug our minds to tragedy, anxiety,
the truth though elusive is far brighter.
Your soul is a gift to the world,
as everyone's life is a gift,
and you bring light to so many,
Though too often we doubt it,
and fear rends feelings from us,
our hearts ache from overexposure,
the fact remains in the center of our being,
the power of life can't be stopped.
So much crap can get in the way,
with noise and broken glass, we think
it can't get fixed in time,
we can't help but put ourselves out,
where others can find us,
since that's what we're about,
damn that double edge we need,
vulnerable ability to heal or bleed.
You are whole, as you are,
on your own, and that feeling,
of pinched folded paper in your heart,
that's only where someone folded,
leaving a crease in your delicate art,
so getting used to it, plugging along,
means lots of loving self-talking to,
and releasing what anyone else may have told you.
Your eyes are alive little portholes,
I've learned to trust these windows,
into a person's soul they're a peek,
even when they well up with pain,
they also learn to watch for things,
to keep safe that precious soul,
your humor and kindness and wit and courage,
must be protected while allowed to flourish.
You are a complete person,
with everything you need,
the gifts that life gave you,
they're plenty, they're rare,
they're just what we needed,
even if some can't see it there,
you're part of what's bigger, beautiful,
and believe this now, though it prickles a lot.
Times can be scary and fear overwhelm,
when you hear someone tell you of,
how great you are and honestly,
we're taught to be humble,
and believe in our flaws,
but to let true love sink in,
to where we can feel it unfolded in our heart,
we have to let the pain of having heard otherwise out.
Crying is power.
Laughter is power.
As also a center of serenity is power.
Knowing yourself and loving that powerful soul,
you'll overcome all and time will see you take off,
you'll fly over bumps, see rough weather ahead,
you'll keep to your course, wings further you'll spread,
as you look far below you at that dizzying height,
you'll forget you are flying and begin to just glide,
take joy from the jet-stream, you cannot fail,
mistakes are just lessons with smiles in your trail,
learn to stay centered with focus and calm,
keep the best parts of your dad and your mom,
toss out left-overs, you have the choice,
the world will be happy to hear more of your voice.
I listened to my heart, it said no one told you,
I can't let you go on without having said so,
Our past has no power but that which we give it,
Our glass is more full as we imagine we fill it,
You're special, little one, I'm honored to say,
I've lived along side you, more brother each day,
Keep lots of warm-fuzzies right next to your heart,
Let your moments be eons and mimic your art.
I'd give you my past to convey what I mean
but life's different for you, my journey it's not,
through eyes to your soul, the diamonds I've seen,
and I don't mind telling you, for it may help a lot.
I've known you for the better part of a summer,
which for some of us is time enough for,
intuition to sink into understanding,
all the details you told me just now,
filled some missing pieces in and,
compelled, I'll share my well of love,
that's how it's done where I come from,
whether you're able to hear it, a lot or none.
It's up to you to hear these words,
a power beats in your heart,
to choose, let kind words sink in,
this message is wrapped in light,
as a gift for a special friend,
and when you read it again and again,
maybe you'll see where I come from,
my perspective is little, but it may help a lot.
You are whole.
You are your own.
You're made of all good.
And the promise of life lies within you,
like a spirit's carnival with streamers,
full rainbow colors star-bursting brightly,
each hue an aspect attractive alive,
floating in sight when looked for,
on the horizon, unweighted by gold.
Solemn yet silly are sad histories
which sometimes mask our identities
or tug our minds to tragedy, anxiety,
the truth though elusive is far brighter.
Your soul is a gift to the world,
as everyone's life is a gift,
and you bring light to so many,
Though too often we doubt it,
and fear rends feelings from us,
our hearts ache from overexposure,
the fact remains in the center of our being,
the power of life can't be stopped.
So much crap can get in the way,
with noise and broken glass, we think
it can't get fixed in time,
we can't help but put ourselves out,
where others can find us,
since that's what we're about,
damn that double edge we need,
vulnerable ability to heal or bleed.
You are whole, as you are,
on your own, and that feeling,
of pinched folded paper in your heart,
that's only where someone folded,
leaving a crease in your delicate art,
so getting used to it, plugging along,
means lots of loving self-talking to,
and releasing what anyone else may have told you.
Your eyes are alive little portholes,
I've learned to trust these windows,
into a person's soul they're a peek,
even when they well up with pain,
they also learn to watch for things,
to keep safe that precious soul,
your humor and kindness and wit and courage,
must be protected while allowed to flourish.
You are a complete person,
with everything you need,
the gifts that life gave you,
they're plenty, they're rare,
they're just what we needed,
even if some can't see it there,
you're part of what's bigger, beautiful,
and believe this now, though it prickles a lot.
Times can be scary and fear overwhelm,
when you hear someone tell you of,
how great you are and honestly,
we're taught to be humble,
and believe in our flaws,
but to let true love sink in,
to where we can feel it unfolded in our heart,
we have to let the pain of having heard otherwise out.
Crying is power.
Laughter is power.
As also a center of serenity is power.
Knowing yourself and loving that powerful soul,
you'll overcome all and time will see you take off,
you'll fly over bumps, see rough weather ahead,
you'll keep to your course, wings further you'll spread,
as you look far below you at that dizzying height,
you'll forget you are flying and begin to just glide,
take joy from the jet-stream, you cannot fail,
mistakes are just lessons with smiles in your trail,
learn to stay centered with focus and calm,
keep the best parts of your dad and your mom,
toss out left-overs, you have the choice,
the world will be happy to hear more of your voice.
I listened to my heart, it said no one told you,
I can't let you go on without having said so,
Our past has no power but that which we give it,
Our glass is more full as we imagine we fill it,
You're special, little one, I'm honored to say,
I've lived along side you, more brother each day,
Keep lots of warm-fuzzies right next to your heart,
Let your moments be eons and mimic your art.
I'd give you my past to convey what I mean
but life's different for you, my journey it's not,
through eyes to your soul, the diamonds I've seen,
and I don't mind telling you, for it may help a lot.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Gil Scott Heron presents Black History
Partially because I haven't been able to find a free transcript on the web, and also partially because we should all be believers in our own cause, I have here transcribed a recording by Gil Scott Heron called "Black History"
As soon as I figure out how, I'll post the audio file itself.
"[fade in]...the more research I did the more I found that there was a 200 year legacy of poetry that had been fashioned along ideas that correlated with the blues went back from 1789 that chronicled our lives and our life experiences here in this country and the more I found out about our own history the more I was disappointed how little we had been informed of our history, so it made me want to put a poem together to explain what had been overlooked, and the poem is called "Black History":
... [I]'said ...
I was wondering about our yesterdays and started digging through the rubble,
and to say the least someone went to a hell of a lot of trouble.
To make sure that when we looked things up we wouldn't fare to well,
and we could come up with totally unreliable portraits of ourselves.
But I compiled what few facts I could, I mean, such as they are,
to see if we could shed a little bit of light and this is what I got so far.
First, white folks discovered Africa and they claimed it fair and square,
Cecil Rhodes couldn't a'been robbin' nobody, cause hell he said there wasn't nobody there.
[laughter]
White folks brought all the civilization, they said wasn't none around,
cause how these folks over here be civilized when they didn't see nobody writin' nothin' down.
And to prove their all their suspicions, well, it didn't take too long,
they found out there were whole groups of people, in plain sight, runnin' around without much clothes on, that's right! -
- there was women and men and young folks and old folks, well righteous folks just covered their eyes, and no time was spent considering their environment, they just said, 'hell no, this here, this ... this ain't civilized"
And another way they knew the folks was backwards, at least this is how we were taught, is that,unlike the very civilized people in Europe [laughter], these black groups actually fought.
and yes there was some crude implements, and yes they had primitive art, and yes they were masters of hunting and fishing and courtesy came from the heart.
and yes there was love 'n medicine, n' religion n' inter-tribal communication by drum, but no papers and pencils and other utensils, and hell these folks never even heard of a gun!
So this is why the colonies came, to civilize the land, the dark continent had copper and gold and the discoverers had themselves a plan.
They would discover all the places with promise, you didn't need no titles and deeds, and then you would appoint people to make everything legal, to sanction the trickery and the greed.
And back in the jungle if the natives got restless, well you call that Guerilla Attack. [laughter] And you never describe that some folks might 'a got wise and decided they was gonna fight back.
But still we are victims of word games, semantics is always a bitch, places once called underdeveloped and backwards, they now call them a' mineral rich.
[applause]
But still it seems like the game goes on with unity is just beyond our reach. Libya and Egypt used to be in Africa, they've been moved to the Middle East.
[laughter and applause]
There are examples galore I assure you, but if the interpreting was left up to me, I'd be sure every time, folks knew this version wasn't mine, which is why it's called His- Story-. thank you."
Friday, September 19, 2008
Eleventh Day Oh Eight
hey everybody out there with all the money.
this is a regular guy you have to listen to.
All you ten to a hundred richest personages.
If money means so much and to teach to you,
we reached the place to taste togetherness.
We love to hate you, and we hate to love you,
you know what you know in that place you are,
a couple hundred billion among friends, much ado.
Ten days taught us we're here all together,
the debt of a nation faced tremendously large,
is giving up hope but we'll stop all that.
Some people we called for, some folks may charge,
grew coffers in quickened bloating policies.
So now we call back, same die cast swerved.
How does it sound McRichie, something stopped,
your mad super-car economy is stuck on a barge.
Say you're home in your wooded mansion.
excavated to find you've got no ground.
I guess you'd assume you'd change, walk soft.
you'd trim away everything to acquire a mound.
Trim with lights out, walking lots, re-using,
investing in quiet self and sufficient sounds.
Work longer, expect less, hold on for kids sake,
hitting asphalt for wages, it's still there to pound.
Realign. Tomorrow you need. What you had today.
With a few grains of what you didn't need for now,
seeded away for whittle there's not enough for you.
Someone else needed it more. This ultimate sharing
reality comes from being stuck with a blessed globe
Earth finite-ness and the intersection of that place
reminded teenage need to never have enough or be more
comfortable, more secure. All your basics,
pennies on the dollar. After all, color aside
to survive, you don't really need a collar.
this is a regular guy you have to listen to.
All you ten to a hundred richest personages.
If money means so much and to teach to you,
we reached the place to taste togetherness.
We love to hate you, and we hate to love you,
you know what you know in that place you are,
a couple hundred billion among friends, much ado.
Ten days taught us we're here all together,
the debt of a nation faced tremendously large,
is giving up hope but we'll stop all that.
Some people we called for, some folks may charge,
grew coffers in quickened bloating policies.
So now we call back, same die cast swerved.
How does it sound McRichie, something stopped,
your mad super-car economy is stuck on a barge.
Say you're home in your wooded mansion.
excavated to find you've got no ground.
I guess you'd assume you'd change, walk soft.
you'd trim away everything to acquire a mound.
Trim with lights out, walking lots, re-using,
investing in quiet self and sufficient sounds.
Work longer, expect less, hold on for kids sake,
hitting asphalt for wages, it's still there to pound.
Realign. Tomorrow you need. What you had today.
With a few grains of what you didn't need for now,
seeded away for whittle there's not enough for you.
Someone else needed it more. This ultimate sharing
reality comes from being stuck with a blessed globe
Earth finite-ness and the intersection of that place
reminded teenage need to never have enough or be more
comfortable, more secure. All your basics,
pennies on the dollar. After all, color aside
to survive, you don't really need a collar.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Older Posts From Myspace
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Eat Dirtworms You Emoticon Sucking Demons
Ok, YEAR OF THE DOG was not a cool movie. Thats what I get for assuming anything is a romantic comedy. The last thing I need while I'm doing homework on a Sunday night is seeing a shell of a shell of a human being living a two hour denouement of depression in surround sound in my living room. Balls.
I sit in a shitstorm of paper decaying around me, too much moisture to hold and old old life full of chemicals, cringing in my nostrils, whispering toasts to sleep, to a tonic, way below middle c.
My strum slowed, creaking and weeping it stopped, startled into sleep by dreamers with eyes half masted, drooling, collapsed. Slumped over now, hair clumped wrongly awry, it looks bad, smells worse, dumps the yule log on a stack of books ablaze with life and death.
I took it in, its what I've got after all, a penniless pauper stopped up by emotion stopped at the throat, stopped where I could taste it, right in front of my gums, and I licked it against the back of my teeth to taste what I couldn't hold, and was shocked by the razor sharp fortitude of metal beneath my eyes.
That poem that began like something awful, and I drank it long ago, I smeared it on the walls where I grew up, and I can still feel fingerpaint stuck under my nails (saw that one coming). I remember the day I smiled with sand between my teeth, and smiling hurt like sandpaper every day after that, and the grit became cancer became pearls became substance that starts sagas that then soil, rot, drop, and stop again and again and begat.
I ask why, I hollow a cubby, a mime's shrinking box, but its safe, and its mine, here it is, why I don't know, but it still hurts to the touch.
02 Sep 2007
Wanted to Buy
Take away my Harlequin Renaissance, I'm buying a show stopper.
I want it in advance, ahead of its crime, half calf and no whip.
Strudel me away in it, popping out of toasters, committing felonies,
Trying to bounce out, before bounced, before bludgeoned, brained.
Blow me, down, the half laugh of the gasper, half tear.
Toothless smile, I found Sisyphus the hard way, never saw her coming.
Kept trucking bigger, sliding sideways, jackknife. Stop.
Though I change tires, engine parts, I kept going, sidle-ways,
Here I am.
I found me out,
Brought me in,
Check me out.
Sold.
25 Feb 2008
I Found Myself Along a River
I found myself along a river a long long long time ago
seduced I was, by its banter, and directionless upon her
the river drew me, lightly sparkled, her course carved and sure
so I travelled heart in hand, through hill and dale beside her
and through the land of fertile soil, we hoped for where we were.
Eat Dirtworms You Emoticon Sucking Demons
Ok, YEAR OF THE DOG was not a cool movie. Thats what I get for assuming anything is a romantic comedy. The last thing I need while I'm doing homework on a Sunday night is seeing a shell of a shell of a human being living a two hour denouement of depression in surround sound in my living room. Balls.
I sit in a shitstorm of paper decaying around me, too much moisture to hold and old old life full of chemicals, cringing in my nostrils, whispering toasts to sleep, to a tonic, way below middle c.
My strum slowed, creaking and weeping it stopped, startled into sleep by dreamers with eyes half masted, drooling, collapsed. Slumped over now, hair clumped wrongly awry, it looks bad, smells worse, dumps the yule log on a stack of books ablaze with life and death.
I took it in, its what I've got after all, a penniless pauper stopped up by emotion stopped at the throat, stopped where I could taste it, right in front of my gums, and I licked it against the back of my teeth to taste what I couldn't hold, and was shocked by the razor sharp fortitude of metal beneath my eyes.
That poem that began like something awful, and I drank it long ago, I smeared it on the walls where I grew up, and I can still feel fingerpaint stuck under my nails (saw that one coming). I remember the day I smiled with sand between my teeth, and smiling hurt like sandpaper every day after that, and the grit became cancer became pearls became substance that starts sagas that then soil, rot, drop, and stop again and again and begat.
I ask why, I hollow a cubby, a mime's shrinking box, but its safe, and its mine, here it is, why I don't know, but it still hurts to the touch.
02 Sep 2007
Wanted to Buy
Take away my Harlequin Renaissance, I'm buying a show stopper.
I want it in advance, ahead of its crime, half calf and no whip.
Strudel me away in it, popping out of toasters, committing felonies,
Trying to bounce out, before bounced, before bludgeoned, brained.
Blow me, down, the half laugh of the gasper, half tear.
Toothless smile, I found Sisyphus the hard way, never saw her coming.
Kept trucking bigger, sliding sideways, jackknife. Stop.
Though I change tires, engine parts, I kept going, sidle-ways,
Here I am.
I found me out,
Brought me in,
Check me out.
Sold.
25 Feb 2008
I Found Myself Along a River
I found myself along a river a long long long time ago
seduced I was, by its banter, and directionless upon her
the river drew me, lightly sparkled, her course carved and sure
so I travelled heart in hand, through hill and dale beside her
and through the land of fertile soil, we hoped for where we were.
Chili
Love and time caught this little bug,
bursting brightly, her smile caught light,
able as the sun, easy and innocent,
intriguingly the one who served lookout,
unsullied upon a toadstool, at home,
given my chance I'd give her my past,
given her speed, I hold swayed by this jewel,
if minutes of treasures see us conflicting,
we'll pause another second for what love amends.
as sweaty work bright shining tear up our eyes,
she finds the spot where I once travelled,
fortunate charm all gifted and well timed,
I'm thankful to pictures, memories in frames,
Unconscious September sees October things.
bursting brightly, her smile caught light,
able as the sun, easy and innocent,
intriguingly the one who served lookout,
unsullied upon a toadstool, at home,
given my chance I'd give her my past,
given her speed, I hold swayed by this jewel,
if minutes of treasures see us conflicting,
we'll pause another second for what love amends.
as sweaty work bright shining tear up our eyes,
she finds the spot where I once travelled,
fortunate charm all gifted and well timed,
I'm thankful to pictures, memories in frames,
Unconscious September sees October things.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Three For the Free of One
Sonnet For The Season
At works end, a chef returns with new hope,
a finished crew-mate, ground up, he sings,
brazenly flung to fire, grows ice to cope,
bags slung back, packed and repacked his strings,
back to grind, brings home far more than things,
post-its to pages on red pennant seas,
fortitude mashed with what missing her brings,
phrases by learning which stung by degrees,
his home will leap to his life all anew,
the nimbus recedes relieving the haze,
proud of real build-up, new skin there grew,
turned back again, saw his ship in a daze,
lines cast away, they replaced him today,
chapter closed, work done, headed home to stay.
From that idea I read some more, and thought about it still, til before the sun went down on me, I put the grist back in the mill.
I marshalled lexicon as generally things begin, I forgot my first words unrecorded, and had to make them up again.
From there I slept, so wearied then, I crawled back up worse for the wear, and started out again.
I groaned and gathered, purged and spout, I can't remember why, and gave my heart an extra beat, and stumbled towards the sky.
The jets trails choked me, just enough, an engineering dream, but cracked my head upon the plan, so alluring did it seem.
I played at war with friends long lost, it bores me to admit, I lighted up a match of glory, and though without me it stayed lit.
By pride I played with daisy chains so fragile with nature's glory, and stumbled into peers a-peering disapproving my appearing story.
Behind curtains were called to sobbing, every last of us, applause lit up a painted face, a recital's glory garnished thus.
Fast-forward stop the picture clears, don't weep for sadness borrowed, the strength of us is what is lost and how strongly we remembered.
Eighty-nine I started playing, what famous never was, a child with fingers and a marvelous toy, better at playing than practicing because;
A piano has a theory larger, visible above the water, but sound plumbs depths as deep and red as oceans or a millenial martyr.
So hats I wore, and hats I sold, what was visible upon my head, a thinking cap lay just beneath, still marked with blue and red.
Grand places filled the halls of grand ideas in my head, while my feet were journeymen to the apprentice making bread.
Through toil won was one or two, experience I mean, from contact eyes learn meaning hidden, through glistening they glean.
Smiles be-gleaming, kept decay at bay, while laughing, running, hoaxing, cunning, hoping, pining, sitting, talking, becoming graduation day.
But where? and how? what? just happened, where'm I gonna go, look back they said, and forward then, and so I wandered to and fro.
A love that found me, who had a place, she held us firm while I gave chase.
We wound around astoundedly so, and I sat not hearing, but knowing she cleared my old to and fro, un-rusting those old bearings.
But I had to eat, I needed sleep, I wanted little more, replacing myself off the grid, my red-blue stamp bought less from the store.
I'd learned of ancient tribes who suffered pains unknown, how to this life would it compare, to trade in pain for a manufactured home?
Twenty-two, a nice round number, a good time too, though every bliss was traded in for the suffrage of staying blue.
I sought out scamps and learned from them, the strut I needed to feel, to conquer demons forged arcane with sorcerous unfamiliar steel.
Somehow shone through all of this was mighty joy and jury, good friends held tears like chainlink fence when frost is followed by Sol's great hurry.
In this link we held us fast our weight and water carried, so soon we sought a post to plant, we dug the soil with those we married.
Must I mention it stands to reason that no two are alike, we're all the same that we all link fences blazing trails where others hiked.
So wide awake yet weary wandered I into the dream, into confusion that often fell like leaves upon my stream.
Conquered I with thinking streams the pollution of the past, in the birth of whole new children we saw our lighted path.
Sacrifice we condescend, can't fool ourselves to love, but clear to us when newborns cry that their needs shall be above.
Untroubled forward steps were taken each smaller than the last, through dance or stumble plans mistaken for the real path of paths.
Into the world a mighty nation with mighty riteous goals, too bad the sons and daughters died for unworthy truths never told.
Too bad indeed because to there from here we'll always go, until the light of worldly minds know how we reap and what we sow.
Advantage we say lies in hiding all the cards away, but games are played more advantageously when all the cards can be in play.
True you'll lose some time, and such is luck for winners too, but up in heaven the rich won't last because it's common through and through.
Now I don't gamble much but small wagers are A-Ok. Give me all vacations and I'll bet the rest away.
Six times six I'll likely be, once I make it to that year, when my bets pay off as proof of all the things I've said in here.
Lancing Freelance Folding
It's an effort to stand up tall
I school myself, it's in there still
back when eyes raised high in quest
arose questions unanswered best
that way predisposed implosions
separated best by loss of neurons
farewell connections, intimated host
projecting quests where inward folded most
wandering he might weight his steps
unfolded, stopped, beset, and rest,
one side to many, to many the best
gave voice to body, ennerving behest.
At works end, a chef returns with new hope,
a finished crew-mate, ground up, he sings,
brazenly flung to fire, grows ice to cope,
bags slung back, packed and repacked his strings,
back to grind, brings home far more than things,
post-its to pages on red pennant seas,
fortitude mashed with what missing her brings,
phrases by learning which stung by degrees,
his home will leap to his life all anew,
the nimbus recedes relieving the haze,
proud of real build-up, new skin there grew,
turned back again, saw his ship in a daze,
lines cast away, they replaced him today,
chapter closed, work done, headed home to stay.
Thoughts A Hundred Different
From that idea I read some more, and thought about it still, til before the sun went down on me, I put the grist back in the mill.
I marshalled lexicon as generally things begin, I forgot my first words unrecorded, and had to make them up again.
From there I slept, so wearied then, I crawled back up worse for the wear, and started out again.
I groaned and gathered, purged and spout, I can't remember why, and gave my heart an extra beat, and stumbled towards the sky.
The jets trails choked me, just enough, an engineering dream, but cracked my head upon the plan, so alluring did it seem.
I played at war with friends long lost, it bores me to admit, I lighted up a match of glory, and though without me it stayed lit.
By pride I played with daisy chains so fragile with nature's glory, and stumbled into peers a-peering disapproving my appearing story.
Behind curtains were called to sobbing, every last of us, applause lit up a painted face, a recital's glory garnished thus.
Fast-forward stop the picture clears, don't weep for sadness borrowed, the strength of us is what is lost and how strongly we remembered.
Eighty-nine I started playing, what famous never was, a child with fingers and a marvelous toy, better at playing than practicing because;
A piano has a theory larger, visible above the water, but sound plumbs depths as deep and red as oceans or a millenial martyr.
So hats I wore, and hats I sold, what was visible upon my head, a thinking cap lay just beneath, still marked with blue and red.
Grand places filled the halls of grand ideas in my head, while my feet were journeymen to the apprentice making bread.
Through toil won was one or two, experience I mean, from contact eyes learn meaning hidden, through glistening they glean.
Smiles be-gleaming, kept decay at bay, while laughing, running, hoaxing, cunning, hoping, pining, sitting, talking, becoming graduation day.
But where? and how? what? just happened, where'm I gonna go, look back they said, and forward then, and so I wandered to and fro.
A love that found me, who had a place, she held us firm while I gave chase.
We wound around astoundedly so, and I sat not hearing, but knowing she cleared my old to and fro, un-rusting those old bearings.
But I had to eat, I needed sleep, I wanted little more, replacing myself off the grid, my red-blue stamp bought less from the store.
I'd learned of ancient tribes who suffered pains unknown, how to this life would it compare, to trade in pain for a manufactured home?
Twenty-two, a nice round number, a good time too, though every bliss was traded in for the suffrage of staying blue.
I sought out scamps and learned from them, the strut I needed to feel, to conquer demons forged arcane with sorcerous unfamiliar steel.
Somehow shone through all of this was mighty joy and jury, good friends held tears like chainlink fence when frost is followed by Sol's great hurry.
In this link we held us fast our weight and water carried, so soon we sought a post to plant, we dug the soil with those we married.
Must I mention it stands to reason that no two are alike, we're all the same that we all link fences blazing trails where others hiked.
So wide awake yet weary wandered I into the dream, into confusion that often fell like leaves upon my stream.
Conquered I with thinking streams the pollution of the past, in the birth of whole new children we saw our lighted path.
Sacrifice we condescend, can't fool ourselves to love, but clear to us when newborns cry that their needs shall be above.
Untroubled forward steps were taken each smaller than the last, through dance or stumble plans mistaken for the real path of paths.
Into the world a mighty nation with mighty riteous goals, too bad the sons and daughters died for unworthy truths never told.
Too bad indeed because to there from here we'll always go, until the light of worldly minds know how we reap and what we sow.
Advantage we say lies in hiding all the cards away, but games are played more advantageously when all the cards can be in play.
True you'll lose some time, and such is luck for winners too, but up in heaven the rich won't last because it's common through and through.
Now I don't gamble much but small wagers are A-Ok. Give me all vacations and I'll bet the rest away.
Six times six I'll likely be, once I make it to that year, when my bets pay off as proof of all the things I've said in here.
Lancing Freelance Folding
It's an effort to stand up tall
I school myself, it's in there still
back when eyes raised high in quest
arose questions unanswered best
that way predisposed implosions
separated best by loss of neurons
farewell connections, intimated host
projecting quests where inward folded most
wandering he might weight his steps
unfolded, stopped, beset, and rest,
one side to many, to many the best
gave voice to body, ennerving behest.
First Became Last Became First
What are you afraid of?
What gives you hope?
How can you say that?
What form does it take?
If you can, get it all out. If you can't do that, get a bit out. If you can't do that, then squeeze a few drops and slowly watch it grow into the looking puddle, where energy is free and you shake hands with carrier waves that we all ride on.
Like that guy who walked into the Qdoba while I was supervisor, fairly inebriated and with a guitar and a tip bucket, he sang his beautiful song about twice as loud as would have been comfortable. Such a powerful lovesong, so honestly and fearlessly delivered, and in such a strange place and way only added to the shining honesty and humanity of the whole event.
Just for the record I did give him a tip, but then felt obligated to ask him to leave. It's sad that we all can't always follow our heart when we have to follow our intellect or disallow for our responsibilities. I would have liked to have heard more of his songs.
Not sure where this is going. Life is funny and so are people.
In response to funny, I give you bending sculptures of industrially be-font-ed words. Some were the first I wrote, some are the last. It's never too late to reverse a trend or change a card trick - just keep your eyes away from distractions and speak your cause as much as you can. And I'm now officially finished producing 'ado' about my poetry.
What gives you hope?
How can you say that?
What form does it take?
If you can, get it all out. If you can't do that, get a bit out. If you can't do that, then squeeze a few drops and slowly watch it grow into the looking puddle, where energy is free and you shake hands with carrier waves that we all ride on.
Like that guy who walked into the Qdoba while I was supervisor, fairly inebriated and with a guitar and a tip bucket, he sang his beautiful song about twice as loud as would have been comfortable. Such a powerful lovesong, so honestly and fearlessly delivered, and in such a strange place and way only added to the shining honesty and humanity of the whole event.
Just for the record I did give him a tip, but then felt obligated to ask him to leave. It's sad that we all can't always follow our heart when we have to follow our intellect or disallow for our responsibilities. I would have liked to have heard more of his songs.
Not sure where this is going. Life is funny and so are people.
In response to funny, I give you bending sculptures of industrially be-font-ed words. Some were the first I wrote, some are the last. It's never too late to reverse a trend or change a card trick - just keep your eyes away from distractions and speak your cause as much as you can. And I'm now officially finished producing 'ado' about my poetry.
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