JUST BREATH GOD DAMM IT
Echo echo echo, they always come in threes when I say them in my head
three like blind mice, three like the corners of a triangle, like three girl friends giggling along
three times a charm and see no evil hear and speak no evil
three is company and three strikes your out
nothing personal, but I’ve always been partial to fours.
44 on a football jersey catches my attention more than the game itself
the drone of the announcer and the hiss of the crowd always brings me to this eerie
memory where my step grandfather would sit in a staunchy leather recliner and watch foot ball
all day, every time we ever visited grandma
The drive was always in stand still traffic,
going through the ugliest grey industrial sections of New Jersey
only to arrive at the small brick apartment building
with no personality what so ever.
cigar smoke billowing out of the den
grouchy old man cracking hello how are you
with out really giving a shit
fake stinky hugs
grandma holding onto the edge of the table trying to get a breath in through her
emphysema ridden lungs
cigarette packs hidden in the bathroom under the sink
such a wrenching thing to witness as a kid
she passed when I was about twelve
secretly, it didn’t bother me one bit if I never had to make that trip again
eating around that old musty new jersey dining room table
I remember asking if I could help in the kitchen
gaudy floral printed wall paper
the smells of jewish food,
like good food would make up for the lack of good conversation
make it a memorable visit
long ago memories of witnessing fatal addiction
Echo echo echo food, drink, pills, pot, sex, yoga,
companionship, touch, can there ever be too much of any of these things
killing us softly as we go along
leaning in to that feeling of satisfaction, filling up the empty places
with contentment or excitement
I need excitement like a fix in the arm
variety, change, travel, music, dance,
shoot me up!
I need to feel satiated with the sweetness of entertainment
do I ever stop?
My mom used to say "LINDa, even a train stops".
Was I gnawing at her nerves, or did she find me amusing?
I was constant, persistent, egressive, pushy, spoiled I guess
shopping list of me as a kid
i would cry for so long if things didn’t go my way
I remember violent tantrums of sorrow and disappointment
so close to the surface
I handle it differently now, most of the time, thank god
not sure if i have grown up or just bottled it up
a tight little package like a tight little ending to a tight little story
the over flowing vomit of words that pours out sometimes
this file cabinet of memories echoing in my head
echo echo echo
I hear the voices calling its ok
just breath while you still can.
Try A Little Harder
A kind of peace comes over the planet
a little bit of breath for the earth
As the mountain gets covered by the cloud
As the breath gets taken away from its people
maybe they will not cut as many trees today
maybe they will not drill so deep today
maybe a bit of the fog gets filtered and lifted today
Today today today, I pray for it
In my words, in my actions, in my gut, and heart
I try and not add to the confusion
I try and soften the blow,
All over the globe people stop
open their eyes to the pure essence of life and death,
where nature gets the upper hand.
And sickness can suck the economy dry
But I awoke today feeling more alive
And i awoke today with an open mind
I awoke today feeling a little lighter
I don't want to be misunderstood
but I will be
i don't like to be misunderstood
but I will be
I do know one thing, is that I always mean well
I make an effort to see the other side
and try to make peace in the end.
I want to be loved as much as the next guy
and I want them to feel loved as well.
Love is a gift, that we all can give
I wish we would all give it more often than we do
it is there to spread around
The exposed heart is a sponge to be filled and squeezed
Pore over the planet this love great spirit, would ya
Scrape the bottom and bring up the good
Weed out the evil that brings the rest down
Would ya
Great spirit, Im only a small soul, doing the best that I can
One of the many who exist in this way
Maybe add a bit of love to the soup of life as we know it
Maybe give a little more than I take on some occasions
Maybe take a little more than I give sometimes
But try try as I do, to add a little more good
a little bit of breath for the earth
As the mountain gets covered by the cloud
As the breath gets taken away from its people
maybe they will not cut as many trees today
maybe they will not drill so deep today
maybe a bit of the fog gets filtered and lifted today
Today today today, I pray for it
In my words, in my actions, in my gut, and heart
I try and not add to the confusion
I try and soften the blow,
All over the globe people stop
open their eyes to the pure essence of life and death,
where nature gets the upper hand.
And sickness can suck the economy dry
But I awoke today feeling more alive
And i awoke today with an open mind
I awoke today feeling a little lighter
I don't want to be misunderstood
but I will be
i don't like to be misunderstood
but I will be
I do know one thing, is that I always mean well
I make an effort to see the other side
and try to make peace in the end.
I want to be loved as much as the next guy
and I want them to feel loved as well.
Love is a gift, that we all can give
I wish we would all give it more often than we do
it is there to spread around
The exposed heart is a sponge to be filled and squeezed
Pore over the planet this love great spirit, would ya
Scrape the bottom and bring up the good
Weed out the evil that brings the rest down
Would ya
Great spirit, Im only a small soul, doing the best that I can
One of the many who exist in this way
Maybe add a bit of love to the soup of life as we know it
Maybe give a little more than I take on some occasions
Maybe take a little more than I give sometimes
But try try as I do, to add a little more good
LIFE PRACTICE (ITS NOT JUST A RUN THROUGH)
Another day to practice life. It's not an hour and a half paid class, it's twenty four seven.
My life practice is in its prime. I know more now than I have ever known. It's the first day of the rest of my life, as is yours, so jump on and enjoy the rest of the ride.
Beating hearts, pumping life force, giving thanks for our earth and the extra special oxygen that is produced by the trees and bees and birds and gravity.
Pulling us down to the ground, keeping us here and not letting us fly away into the cosmos.
An experience to behold as the owner of a breathing, growing, moving human body.
In it we butterfly over the span of time that is a comfortable lounge chair to ride on.
Like a magic carpet ride, we punch in our ticket and soar through time and space into the light of being.
Curtain rods are holding us up as we sway in the breeze like bathtubs meeting in the night.
Bubbles, soft, and light carry the view of the ocean, only to rest in a deep bed of sour cream that will caress our souls and let them soar into outer space once and for all.
Nothingness the dream state where infinity is the closest number to reality.
Lovely it all is that we can be free to be nothing after a lifetime of many thoughts, contemplations, and worries.
We will be free no more rabbit holes of stressful situations that we tend to dive into with such concentrated gusto.
I'm telling you like it is. Live this life like it could be taken away at any time. There is no time like now to make sure that you are not wasting a minute of your preciousNESS. Because time somehow just keeps going and eventually, for each of us, it will run out.
No rush. I'm not rushing. Just quiet down and ease into your next moment. Let a me tell ya what I'm a gonna tell ya, it's no picnic.
It's a roller coaster of love as well as disappointments. It's a bad to the bone chain of events that are sewn together by the very thread that you yourself choose the color, thickness and weave the fabric of uncertainty into what is known as you. Anyways. all that philosophy is behind us now that we are knowledgeable of the real impact of space, time and continuity. And it's time to just get on with it.
What? Let the ride take you into the realms of the unknown. Don't look back. Take a leap toward your future now. With the new day, you are welcome to give, receive, live love and learn…
Hug one another and look into each others eyes. Listen to each other, do a good deed every day that no one but you knows you did. We are all in this together. Each of us can relate to the others experiences. Because we all can relate.
My life practice is in its prime. I know more now than I have ever known. It's the first day of the rest of my life, as is yours, so jump on and enjoy the rest of the ride.
Beating hearts, pumping life force, giving thanks for our earth and the extra special oxygen that is produced by the trees and bees and birds and gravity.
Pulling us down to the ground, keeping us here and not letting us fly away into the cosmos.
An experience to behold as the owner of a breathing, growing, moving human body.
In it we butterfly over the span of time that is a comfortable lounge chair to ride on.
Like a magic carpet ride, we punch in our ticket and soar through time and space into the light of being.
Curtain rods are holding us up as we sway in the breeze like bathtubs meeting in the night.
Bubbles, soft, and light carry the view of the ocean, only to rest in a deep bed of sour cream that will caress our souls and let them soar into outer space once and for all.
Nothingness the dream state where infinity is the closest number to reality.
Lovely it all is that we can be free to be nothing after a lifetime of many thoughts, contemplations, and worries.
We will be free no more rabbit holes of stressful situations that we tend to dive into with such concentrated gusto.
I'm telling you like it is. Live this life like it could be taken away at any time. There is no time like now to make sure that you are not wasting a minute of your preciousNESS. Because time somehow just keeps going and eventually, for each of us, it will run out.
No rush. I'm not rushing. Just quiet down and ease into your next moment. Let a me tell ya what I'm a gonna tell ya, it's no picnic.
It's a roller coaster of love as well as disappointments. It's a bad to the bone chain of events that are sewn together by the very thread that you yourself choose the color, thickness and weave the fabric of uncertainty into what is known as you. Anyways. all that philosophy is behind us now that we are knowledgeable of the real impact of space, time and continuity. And it's time to just get on with it.
What? Let the ride take you into the realms of the unknown. Don't look back. Take a leap toward your future now. With the new day, you are welcome to give, receive, live love and learn…
Hug one another and look into each others eyes. Listen to each other, do a good deed every day that no one but you knows you did. We are all in this together. Each of us can relate to the others experiences. Because we all can relate.
The Big explosion
Are priorities the priority right now? Am I addicted to movement?
and entertainment? can I not entertain my self enough anymore
To keep It interesting.
Interesting is how familiar my surroundings are,
yet I can notice more depth and color each and every time I stop long enough to look,
to feel the world around me and let it all in.
There are strong urges that makes me pick up the guitar
oh but I can not sing,
There are inspirations that makes me want to go climb a mountain,
oh but I am injured.
How much thinking does it take to think a masterpiece?
So I indulge my senses, all the visuals, all the music, keep listening and looking and dancing, and run.
Feel the heart beat, all my emotions, until I cry once again,
for the love of the land for the crisp woven words being sung in my ears
for the ideas that come out of genius,
recorded and mastered to live forever in the hearts and souls of all who care to listen.
The world can tune in, or tune out, tuning fork of abundance and scorn,
of wild nights, and weary souls, of little things and ribbons, and bombings, and sirens in the night,
and flowers in the springtime and the baby birds in the nest,
The papayas in the trees and the plants that need me in their pots like a lions in a cage,
like the sick tigers in the zoo, and all that makes no scene, in the scheme of it all.
I feel.
I feel The electricity through the wires that run all the way to Hana,
the hospital beds that are lined up in the east
I knew there was a reason why I kept heading west.
For the lives that are saved and the ones that are dead
For the loved and the hated and the evil the lurks, and I bend and I sway to the world as it turns
And I feel all the pain in my back and pain in my organs as they work so hard
Like intended.
Is it all for the sake of my descendants to come
Will I live long enough to see my sons daughter give birth?
Will I live long enough to see the whole
World explode, will I smile when I die.
and entertainment? can I not entertain my self enough anymore
To keep It interesting.
Interesting is how familiar my surroundings are,
yet I can notice more depth and color each and every time I stop long enough to look,
to feel the world around me and let it all in.
There are strong urges that makes me pick up the guitar
oh but I can not sing,
There are inspirations that makes me want to go climb a mountain,
oh but I am injured.
How much thinking does it take to think a masterpiece?
So I indulge my senses, all the visuals, all the music, keep listening and looking and dancing, and run.
Feel the heart beat, all my emotions, until I cry once again,
for the love of the land for the crisp woven words being sung in my ears
for the ideas that come out of genius,
recorded and mastered to live forever in the hearts and souls of all who care to listen.
The world can tune in, or tune out, tuning fork of abundance and scorn,
of wild nights, and weary souls, of little things and ribbons, and bombings, and sirens in the night,
and flowers in the springtime and the baby birds in the nest,
The papayas in the trees and the plants that need me in their pots like a lions in a cage,
like the sick tigers in the zoo, and all that makes no scene, in the scheme of it all.
I feel.
I feel The electricity through the wires that run all the way to Hana,
the hospital beds that are lined up in the east
I knew there was a reason why I kept heading west.
For the lives that are saved and the ones that are dead
For the loved and the hated and the evil the lurks, and I bend and I sway to the world as it turns
And I feel all the pain in my back and pain in my organs as they work so hard
Like intended.
Is it all for the sake of my descendants to come
Will I live long enough to see my sons daughter give birth?
Will I live long enough to see the whole
World explode, will I smile when I die.
Altered
Altered, yea, I'm altered. Maybe need to be more altered more often.
That's what I say, alter away, let's get altered.
Alter here, alter there and alter everywhere.
Alter the normal time space equilibrium.
Alter the space between time and space.
Alter my brain and how I think. Alter the way people understand each other because so much gets lost in transmission.
Alter the way the greed factor in large corporations makes them step on entire cultures.
Alter the thought patterns of people that want to kill other people.
Alter the fact that there are so many people in the world who don't have food to eat or clean water to drink
while others have more than they could possibly need.
Alter…. Alternative, to make an alternative, or alternate situation.
I need to start right here in my own head. Start altering my patterns here at home. Start with one alternative at a time.
Sometimes I feel the need to alter my living room, to move furniture around, to change the color of the curtains.
Altered spaces can be of great influence.
Altered.
That's what I say, alter away, let's get altered.
Alter here, alter there and alter everywhere.
Alter the normal time space equilibrium.
Alter the space between time and space.
Alter my brain and how I think. Alter the way people understand each other because so much gets lost in transmission.
Alter the way the greed factor in large corporations makes them step on entire cultures.
Alter the thought patterns of people that want to kill other people.
Alter the fact that there are so many people in the world who don't have food to eat or clean water to drink
while others have more than they could possibly need.
Alter…. Alternative, to make an alternative, or alternate situation.
I need to start right here in my own head. Start altering my patterns here at home. Start with one alternative at a time.
Sometimes I feel the need to alter my living room, to move furniture around, to change the color of the curtains.
Altered spaces can be of great influence.
Altered.
WHILE MY GUITAR GENTLY WEEPS
She awaits in the corner.
Her beautiful hard body is beckoning to be adored again.
The way we used to do when times were good and there was lots more time.
Her luscious curves are calling out for attention.
She is not used to being left behind.
She is not used to being put on the shelf, she is not used to being put on the back burner.
She is yearning to be touched. Her body attracts dust when she sits around waiting too long.
She still looks beautiful even though there is a thin layer of minute particles stuck to her entire body, it shows the passing of time. She leans against the back of the stuffed chair in the corner of the bedroom.
After unpacking my clothes from a months travels away from home, and getting my bearings in the house again, I pick her up and dust her off with a clean towel.
I run the fabric over the strings to warm em up a bit.
I was told that rubbing the strings back and forth would warm them up on a cold night out doors.
I used to play her by the fire at large gatherings. I never did believe that to be true, do strings really get warmer when you rub them?
I take a light downward swish across the strings with the nail on my pinky finger.
It sounds like laughter from a conversation with a best friend that you haven't seen for a long time.
Like when you sit down together and speak to one an other as if no time has gone by at all.
Love
In love…
The warm and cozy feelings, the security, the gratification, the satisfaction.
The longing, the learning, the laughing, the kissing, the dancing,
THE SEX …….
The expectation, the exploration, the knowing of, the laughing with, the crying, the yelling, the screaming, the fighting, Who is right who is wrong,
The slamming doors…
The opening up and the closing down…
The little things the big things, the adoration, and the despicable…THE SEX…
The practice of patients, the snoring, the roaring, the ear to ear smiling while touching, Are you smiling? Im smiling too…
The watching of movies the hiking the traveling, the beach, the dogs, the accents they have when we say what they're thinking.
The jokes, the crazy talk,
The silly - sleep -talking, the crazy -sleep- walking,
the eating in the eating out…
The money, the honey, the thick of it, the nectar, the hectic,
the way he holds me when Im sad or sick, the way he rubs my legs when he has nothing else to do with his hands.
The way he lights up when I wake him, or when I jump for joy when he walks in the door.
The waiting…
Love… The sweetness and the tenderness.
Endless, arguing over what he said, she said, why did you say that when you DID said.
The Secrets only lovers know, the vulnerability only lovers show. Love is war, love is hate, in some languages there is one word that means love and hate at the same time.
One word, one love, ONE….
Two together makes one whole.
A couple, a unit, a team… An entity, a union, a commitment, a sacred bond, an item.
We are quite the number…Love… cant live with it cant live with out it.
I love being in love, he loves being in love, he is mine i am his.
We are possessive, we are abusive, we are passive, we are aggressive, we are suckers, we are stubborn, we are happy we are content in love.
I love he loves, we live we love, we are a we, in love, in it, deep into it, involved, indulged, intense, in love.
HERE IN THE CORNER BY THE WINDOW
Backed up again, common you, you don’t need to put yourself there in the corner.
The sun is shining, and birds are singing out the window, but here I sit in the corner in the morning, on the hard wood floor, my back against the bed.
It holds me up and pushes me down at the same time.
I face the window, symbolic of my escape.
Soft white curtains tied back to let in the sunlight of the morning in, and let me out.
Just a low porch roof to jump down from and I would be free.
All my life the open window has been the medefor of my escape plan.
Signifying the positive and optimistic aspects of life, the portal to the other side of what reality is in the present moment.
It signifies the ability to have control of my own destiny, if I want to.
I am one of the fortunate people on the planet to have a window and a window that opens none the less.
Some people don’t even have a window in their worlds, no light to shine any hope for them at all.
Other people have many windows but have them all boarded up.
I know someone like that who is very close to me.
He is hanging from the ledge of his boarded up window, not trying to get in our out, but just trying not to fall off the ledge.
My window is wide open with breezes from time to time, and lots of light and heat. The heat gets unbearable sometimes.
I moan and complain how hot it is, but I wait it out.
You know what, if I cant fit through the opening that leads to the other side of the window, I can always just walk out the door.
I can get in the car, and drive anywhere I want to.
I can get on a plane and go far far away if i wanted.
If I chose to just make the plunge out this window, it would not be to my death, I know that, but it could change everything.
Could be a good thing, It would be to an open road, an open meadow, and open opportunity to explore, and venture out.
All the avenues are open to me right now, but I am still too afraid to venture.
Scared to make a choice out of all the choices in the world.
I am stuck in my own patterns of being stuck. I know I deserve it, or do I feel like I don’t deserve it.
So I sit here in the corner looking out the window. Great view….
Monkey Wrench In My Pocket
Really now, it blows my mind when yet another monkey wrench comes flying through the air and hits me right in the center of my world. Monkey wrenches, with their hard edges, weird angles and strange vibes.
A cog in the wheel is it? Another episode for the reality show? The book? The movie maybe?
Do you people really want to read or hear about the monkey wrenches that keep plummeting their way into the turning wheels of the saga of my boring but blessed life?
I highly doubt it. Gosh if you people only knew.
I try to be grateful for the gifts that I have been bestowed, and let gratitude be my outlet,
but shiny silver colored tools and swinging jungle animals smearing bananas all over my back are prevailing.
I try not to write about all this shit cause i want my writing experience to be time away from all the bullshit,
but well, Ive got a monkey wrench stuck to my back. Like all the time, one after another, mother fucker.
Like being backed up against the wall, pushed farther into the wall, and then squished into the corner,through the cracks in the wall, and then splattered so hard against the wall that my guts are draining out of me.
Yea, backed up against the wall is an understatement.
Ok, so I get knocked down, I dust myself off and start all over again. Its been known to happen.
So what do I do? I go to anger management class, otherwise known as Prem Baba work, alias “group”, but for me, Prem Baba drop out. Yea thats me, I couldn't do it.
I will take responsibility for my own actions.
No really, its all good and kosher to do group, but I would rather stay up all night and do drugs, dance my ass off, and suffer from sleep depravation and dust inhalation as my therapy, than have to regress back to my mothers vagina. I couldn't bear being pushed through that canal all over again.
So, instead here I am, doing what I promised myself I wouldn't do, venting my woes on a blank page, monkey wrench up my ass.
A cog in the wheel is it? Another episode for the reality show? The book? The movie maybe?
Do you people really want to read or hear about the monkey wrenches that keep plummeting their way into the turning wheels of the saga of my boring but blessed life?
I highly doubt it. Gosh if you people only knew.
I try to be grateful for the gifts that I have been bestowed, and let gratitude be my outlet,
but shiny silver colored tools and swinging jungle animals smearing bananas all over my back are prevailing.
I try not to write about all this shit cause i want my writing experience to be time away from all the bullshit,
but well, Ive got a monkey wrench stuck to my back. Like all the time, one after another, mother fucker.
Like being backed up against the wall, pushed farther into the wall, and then squished into the corner,through the cracks in the wall, and then splattered so hard against the wall that my guts are draining out of me.
Yea, backed up against the wall is an understatement.
Ok, so I get knocked down, I dust myself off and start all over again. Its been known to happen.
So what do I do? I go to anger management class, otherwise known as Prem Baba work, alias “group”, but for me, Prem Baba drop out. Yea thats me, I couldn't do it.
I will take responsibility for my own actions.
No really, its all good and kosher to do group, but I would rather stay up all night and do drugs, dance my ass off, and suffer from sleep depravation and dust inhalation as my therapy, than have to regress back to my mothers vagina. I couldn't bear being pushed through that canal all over again.
So, instead here I am, doing what I promised myself I wouldn't do, venting my woes on a blank page, monkey wrench up my ass.
The Rectangle Of Words
What is more important, to sleep or to write? That is the question. I shut the lid, roll over in that all too familiar way, and in fifteen seconds I have to sit back up again, pull my arms out of the warm covers, grab the computer and resume. I can hear are the sound of the waves folding over themselves. It is a for sure consistency. I visualize the island in its circumference, and how it rises up from the deep and pokes its hard molten rock surface out of the vastness of the ocean floor, to be the place where I stay, un able to put my mind to rest. It's Monday again and it made me question why. Why was the weekend an accumulation of pensive disappointments now compounded into an hour of laying awake wondering why?
My eyes are closed while I type, as my fingers convey what I am thinking. Looking at the black letters against the bright white light only distracts me from my ability to compose them. To weave the thoughts into words and the words into sentences. The length of the sentences on the screen only pressure me to think faster and more, rather than fluently sewing the patchwork of my thoughts together. Closing my eyes while I type is relaxing as the words are seeping out from my mind, through my body, down my arms and into my hands, into my fingers and pressing the black computer keys by memory. Not seeing the size of the rectangle of words on the screen as they appear seem to help them flow out quicker and with greater ease. My fingers know where to go to print the words out onto the lit up page. Hopefully unjudged they will be read and heard and provoke reaction with out any comparison of me to anyone else on earth. Holding up the apple to the orange. I open my eyes and already there are plenty of lines on the page, and long enough is the rectangle which I have created. I think I will stop and try to rest.
I pull the covers up around my neck and reach my arms down snug up against my warm body. The blankets are shielding me from the cold.
My eyes are closed while I type, as my fingers convey what I am thinking. Looking at the black letters against the bright white light only distracts me from my ability to compose them. To weave the thoughts into words and the words into sentences. The length of the sentences on the screen only pressure me to think faster and more, rather than fluently sewing the patchwork of my thoughts together. Closing my eyes while I type is relaxing as the words are seeping out from my mind, through my body, down my arms and into my hands, into my fingers and pressing the black computer keys by memory. Not seeing the size of the rectangle of words on the screen as they appear seem to help them flow out quicker and with greater ease. My fingers know where to go to print the words out onto the lit up page. Hopefully unjudged they will be read and heard and provoke reaction with out any comparison of me to anyone else on earth. Holding up the apple to the orange. I open my eyes and already there are plenty of lines on the page, and long enough is the rectangle which I have created. I think I will stop and try to rest.
I pull the covers up around my neck and reach my arms down snug up against my warm body. The blankets are shielding me from the cold.
The Pillow That Works
There is that one position folks, using that one special pillow. The one that squishes into any shape, and its not too thick to lay on top of. I take it with me everywhere. Don't even try to use that pillow, my friend, its mine, mine, mine so fuck off. I think it may have feathers in it. Funny Im not even sure, but pretty sure its feathers. Anyway, it, my special pillow that is, starts out made up all nice and puffed up under the quilt at the top of the bed every night, and ends up under the covers at the bottom of the bed each morning. Its like this, when you first lay down on your back, you usually endure a little toss and turn for the first part of the go to sleep at night regiment. You do the try to fall asleep thing on your back, side, other side with no avail. But Im telling you, if you roll onto your belly and shove the special pillow under your hips and then lift one leg all the way up, you can get this weightless feeling and it makes it all easy to fall asleep. People, its a guaranteed to work with in a minute every time. You also fold the very edge of the pillow under your head so that your neck is just at the right angle, close your eyes and feel the mushy but firm comfort. You think every time, dang, it really does work, Im on my way, with in a minute I will be asleep. Its a guaranteed to fall asleep thing. Bam, dream land. I tell myself that every singe time, that its the guaranteed position, and by golly it always works. Power of the mind indeed. People, don’t ever let yourself say that maybe it only works sometimes, cause then you loose the magic of that position. The guaranteed fall asleep position.
Love Dogs and moonlight
There exists a sacred place where loved ones go and families thrive, and can not be touched by worry greed or crime. Can not be bothered by evil war or hate. So much takes place on the living room floor. The laughter, growls, and groans of two little fluffy dogs who love each other so much. They playfully wrestle each other with Sporadic bursts of little pitter pats running, running and hiding, and jumping on each other chewing each others little fuzzy ears, and jumping circular spins around each other licking and humping intermittently with playfully grabbing and biting and rambunctiously punching each other. Their claws slowly over time microscopically tearing up the carpet in little bits, so that every three or four days the carpet fragments turn into everyones get away hair and fur, long blond hairs and dust all rolled by time into a bunch of dusty tumbleweeds that softly roll their way under the sofas and wrap themselves around the legs of the chairs and tables. (vacuuming takes place quite often in these parts)We also roll around on the living room floor. We lay together each night after starry starry night. He wraps his strong colorfully tattooed arm around me. The one with the glorious and strangely ominous octopus swirling its way up his forearm, with all eight tentacles reaching around his arm in all directions spiraling around his elbow with bright blue bubbles and aqua ocean water and coral colored reef rocks permanently painted on his arm it is. He showers me with thoughtful tenderly executed little kisses in my long tousle of tangly golden hair. Funny little giggles come out of me and other quirky sounds of glee. Brushing away my hair from my smiling face, i roll over to engage my gaze with his sparkly eyes and they shine brightly blue beams of light into me and through my being and those eyes adore the dark but moon lit room and happiness radiates all around there at that moment. The little wet noses of the two dogs softly hit the carpet, paws stretched out in front of them, tails relaxed on the ground. Their eyes try to stay open to watch the love that emanates from their parents, but they can not hold them open any longer, and they sleep.
There exists a sacred place where loved ones go and families thrive, and can not be touched by worry greed or crime. Can not be bothered by evil war or hate. So much takes place on the living room floor. The laughter, growls, and groans of two little fluffy dogs who love each other so much. They playfully wrestle each other with Sporadic bursts of little pitter pats running, running and hiding, and jumping on each other chewing each others little fuzzy ears, and jumping circular spins around each other licking and humping intermittently with playfully grabbing and biting and rambunctiously punching each other. Their claws slowly over time microscopically tearing up the carpet in little bits, so that every three or four days the carpet fragments turn into everyones get away hair and fur, long blond hairs and dust all rolled by time into a bunch of dusty tumbleweeds that softly roll their way under the sofas and wrap themselves around the legs of the chairs and tables. (vacuuming takes place quite often in these parts)We also roll around on the living room floor. We lay together each night after starry starry night. He wraps his strong colorfully tattooed arm around me. The one with the glorious and strangely ominous octopus swirling its way up his forearm, with all eight tentacles reaching around his arm in all directions spiraling around his elbow with bright blue bubbles and aqua ocean water and coral colored reef rocks permanently painted on his arm it is. He showers me with thoughtful tenderly executed little kisses in my long tousle of tangly golden hair. Funny little giggles come out of me and other quirky sounds of glee. Brushing away my hair from my smiling face, i roll over to engage my gaze with his sparkly eyes and they shine brightly blue beams of light into me and through my being and those eyes adore the dark but moon lit room and happiness radiates all around there at that moment. The little wet noses of the two dogs softly hit the carpet, paws stretched out in front of them, tails relaxed on the ground. Their eyes try to stay open to watch the love that emanates from their parents, but they can not hold them open any longer, and they sleep.
Imprisoned Muse
So its time, time to make a move, if i were going to compare now with any other time, and pick a word, it would be stuck. But a word is not a comparison. Stuck in comparison to maybe flying, souring, ecstatically blissed out etc…. People, I have been backed up against the wall many a time, but now I can really notice the feel of the walls presence, its hard straight spread out flat surface. Cold cement blocks pressing up against the small of my back. It is strong enough to lean on and it can hold up an entire roof. It is certainly and utterly in the way, and if you happen to brush up against it, it is rough and abrasive. It is cold and uncomfortable against my body as I lean on it. Pressing my hands flat on its surface it is strongly representative of how it is blocking me from making my next move. Finally I am deciding that a nice strong move in the right direction would not be all that bad of an idea. Life altering times are ahead, and I must not be afraid to go for it. Like that barricade that kept us back from storming the doors at the dead show way back when. Sure it was scary, I was young and frail, and afraid, I thought I would maybe get clubbed, or trampled, or even bruised by someone twisting my arm off. I actually didn’t do it. nor did I do many things in the past that my intuition told me not to do. I trust in myself. The time I did not walk on the hot coals when all my other friends encouraged me to join in. They all ended up getting really bad burns on the bottoms of their feet, but at least I was there to do ice pack runs for everyone. I took care of the masses. The time when the entire dorm was dropping quaaludes like they were candy drops, and they turned out to be horse tranquilizers. It was me and my room mate who were the only ones in the entire dorm that did not partake in the foolish over doses of glut any. if I were going to compare a word to stuck, it would be action.
WHERE DOES IT ALL COME FROM? WHERE DOES IT GO?
Getting back into the bed after a good long pee trying to fall asleep after the long night out in the jungle dancing. Things sure look amazing with the lights out. The darkness a canvas of deep black, a light show in my head outside my head, I don’t know. The images move quickly and don’t stay long, they mold into each other flashing back and forth sharp and clear and colorful. What was that noise? It was also beautiful. I can hear loud silence, and breathing. He is asleep now, how can he do that. I want to do that. We had laughed and laughed at nothings, and we felt each other in ways that we normally would not feel on a normal night. Ecstatic touch it was, two bodies blending. Not much movement was needed at all, we were like swimming in each others bliss, and the sounds of joy and laughter came out of us before after and during. To hear this would have been just as strange. Get up, go pee come back to bed. close our eyes and sleep, close your eyes and don’t bother thinking about anything else just smile, and that smile will take off into outer space and continue as just a smile into the depths of time. A floating smile of satisfactions and bliss. I adore the cat with the smile on his face, and my smile knows him. Ok, gotta get up to pee again, jump back into the floating marshmallow gammer of blankets and pillows, the spirograph on the floating canvas of deep black lit up in all the colors of the rainbow. Thin lines all connecting in circles and squares and lines upon lines of miles of lines of colors. Beauty so amazing, the images move quickly but don’t stay long. Where does it all come from? Where does it go?
THE BURNING IN MY EYES
The light from the computer is so bright reflecting off the screen into my burning eyes. I really want to just go to sleep, but to lay with out technology blaring into my brain would mean I have to succumb to rest. to be in the silence. Burning eyes from the long day of smoke and sand and sea. Of short and sweet hellos and goodbyes that will last for a long time. Of long distance conversation with my love who's voice comes out of a little metal box that is flat and cold in my hand. A little flat box which in the early part of the day had rolled off a log into the sand unscathed. A box that holds the technology that can bring two lovers voices together to converse about nothing much, and mean so much to both of us. My eyes burn from the smoke that made me pack up in record time once again to flee to higher ground where I could take a deep breath. We drove fast though the smoke, into the light and the clouds and the blue sky and the road winding not far above the ocean shore. Past the green swaying cane covered fields that will also blow smoke my way into my fragile eyes. Into the eyes and lungs of my cats, leaving large pieces of plastic and ash on my lanai. My eyes are still burning and the smell of the smolder is drifting this way in the nights light drizzle. The day was so full. From soft salty eggs in the morning new friend with large gold wedding ring, to the salad and humus in a small dish and the familiar people all eating and conversing, to the large bill at the end, to the lentil soup and the crying goddess, to witnessing the long time needed apology between two loved ones, to the airport, the pringles potato chips and a banana to top off the knawing need to eat more. All in a day. Crazy that there is even more. eyes burning late into the midnight hour. Just close them i keep telling myself, but there are more things to listen to more things to write, more small little boxes that move and sing on the bright screen leaning on my naked belly in front of me. DJs, and photos of people in crazy costumes with happiness on their faces and dust all over their clothes and skin that is exposed. To drink though my eyes as they burn. soon they will close on their own, no need to force them. They will see from the inside and dream of who knows what. They will awake and be again ready to take in the world and see what there is to see. The all too familiar feeling of morning and home. it is another day of eyes to burn, and even though todays flight from the smoke started a day of burning adventure and rapid constant change and event fullness, hopefully the smoke will not force me to flee tomorrow again.
The light from the computer is so bright reflecting off the screen into my burning eyes. I really want to just go to sleep, but to lay with out technology blaring into my brain would mean I have to succumb to rest. to be in the silence. Burning eyes from the long day of smoke and sand and sea. Of short and sweet hellos and goodbyes that will last for a long time. Of long distance conversation with my love who's voice comes out of a little metal box that is flat and cold in my hand. A little flat box which in the early part of the day had rolled off a log into the sand unscathed. A box that holds the technology that can bring two lovers voices together to converse about nothing much, and mean so much to both of us. My eyes burn from the smoke that made me pack up in record time once again to flee to higher ground where I could take a deep breath. We drove fast though the smoke, into the light and the clouds and the blue sky and the road winding not far above the ocean shore. Past the green swaying cane covered fields that will also blow smoke my way into my fragile eyes. Into the eyes and lungs of my cats, leaving large pieces of plastic and ash on my lanai. My eyes are still burning and the smell of the smolder is drifting this way in the nights light drizzle. The day was so full. From soft salty eggs in the morning new friend with large gold wedding ring, to the salad and humus in a small dish and the familiar people all eating and conversing, to the large bill at the end, to the lentil soup and the crying goddess, to witnessing the long time needed apology between two loved ones, to the airport, the pringles potato chips and a banana to top off the knawing need to eat more. All in a day. Crazy that there is even more. eyes burning late into the midnight hour. Just close them i keep telling myself, but there are more things to listen to more things to write, more small little boxes that move and sing on the bright screen leaning on my naked belly in front of me. DJs, and photos of people in crazy costumes with happiness on their faces and dust all over their clothes and skin that is exposed. To drink though my eyes as they burn. soon they will close on their own, no need to force them. They will see from the inside and dream of who knows what. They will awake and be again ready to take in the world and see what there is to see. The all too familiar feeling of morning and home. it is another day of eyes to burn, and even though todays flight from the smoke started a day of burning adventure and rapid constant change and event fullness, hopefully the smoke will not force me to flee tomorrow again.
Follow your dreams
Being on Maui is awesome but island fever does set in once in a while and with out adventure, what more can one tap from in ones self. Of course there is the imagination to create adventure, even though thats not quite the same as traveling, adventures in our minds can also take us to the far and exotic corners of the world. Dreaming of other lands and peace on earth. The dream of being in love for those who do not have love, and the dream of being rich for those who do not have any money. The dream of being healthy when afflicted with ailments, The dream of flying above tall mountains, with vallies and rivers below, waterfalls everything is green, and shades of grey, and blue, flying above tree tops watching the leaves twirling around in the wind, changing different shades of greens and making shadows on the ground and everything looks so far down below. Wooooow…. Dreaming of flying over tall buildings in big noisy cities with big bridges, looming above water ways, and highways with cars and trucks speeding by in each direction, lights flashing in the night and reflections bouncing off things in the day time from the sun. Dreaming about flying over giant cassles in far away lands and meadows where battles took place centuries ago. surfing, yea surfing dreams derived from memories, where nothing can go wrong, and with superior strength to catch huge speeding waves, to stand up with ease and have the feeling of flying on water. But alas, I have not been remembering my dreams lately.
I want to travel so bad Where should I go for real though? I think I can talk my boyfriend into going to which ever place super excites me the most. Back to Bali? The people are so sweet, and artistic. All the accommodations are so comfy and decorated with so much care to make things beautiful. Pools in the yards, teak carved furniture, and soft cotton blankets and night. There are gardens and lots of good places to eat, lots of artistic balanies people, fun english speaking people, parties at night and of course amazing surf to tempt me. Down side, considering surfing is my no no. Or maybe I should go back to Costa Rica, jungle, mountains, animals like crazy, all kinds of animals, jungle sustainable living, community, hiking, and the no no, more amazing surf to tempt me. Europe, need been, maybe would be a good thing to go with my sweety to someplace that we both have never been, but wonder if it would be way too expensive, I really want to go to Greece, eat feta cheese and olives, and hummus, and walk along the cobble stone cliffs and jump in the ocean when its too hot. Like the girls in the traveling pants movie. It would be fun to go exploring all the time to see cassles and old buildings and art. That excites me, especially because the tempting surf would not be there all the center of the universe all the time. Hmmmm, yes that excites me a lot.
I want to travel so bad Where should I go for real though? I think I can talk my boyfriend into going to which ever place super excites me the most. Back to Bali? The people are so sweet, and artistic. All the accommodations are so comfy and decorated with so much care to make things beautiful. Pools in the yards, teak carved furniture, and soft cotton blankets and night. There are gardens and lots of good places to eat, lots of artistic balanies people, fun english speaking people, parties at night and of course amazing surf to tempt me. Down side, considering surfing is my no no. Or maybe I should go back to Costa Rica, jungle, mountains, animals like crazy, all kinds of animals, jungle sustainable living, community, hiking, and the no no, more amazing surf to tempt me. Europe, need been, maybe would be a good thing to go with my sweety to someplace that we both have never been, but wonder if it would be way too expensive, I really want to go to Greece, eat feta cheese and olives, and hummus, and walk along the cobble stone cliffs and jump in the ocean when its too hot. Like the girls in the traveling pants movie. It would be fun to go exploring all the time to see cassles and old buildings and art. That excites me, especially because the tempting surf would not be there all the center of the universe all the time. Hmmmm, yes that excites me a lot.
Super Salty Sunset Swim
I took a long deep inhale from the bong. She had asked me if i wanted to light it with a special string that everyone thinks is so cool, but I just used the bic lighter, it was easy and it was there. I take really small hits. Im not sure if i have small lungs or what, but my inhales are smaller than most other people, according to most other people. Seems like for all the taking and singing that I do, that my lungs would inhale larger amounts but no. The pot was good to me, went right to my head and everything seemed a little more relaxed. Ok I said, I think I would actually like to go for that swim after all. I had just turned down the invitation, about five minutes ago due to the fact that the sun was soon to set, the air seemed a bit chilled by an evening breeze. After a little pufferooo, a swim felt like a great little adventure so off we went.
There were already sunrays in the sky bursting out of the clouds like lemon squirts as we drove the short mile to the cliff where we parked. I mentioned that I really like when magic happens and Rose agreed that it was a good thing to have magic daily when ever possible, and I said yes it is mandatory. We got out of the car, locked it up, and I asked Rose if steep was ok for her in her bare feet. She nodded with her little elf like face. She looked so cute with her eyes so close together in her head. Her scant ittle home made skirt was blowing in the wind. She had just thrown it together out of an old t shirt on her sewing machine about an hour ago. She was feeling sweet in it, i could tell. We made our way carefully down the steep dusty trail to the rocks, and then trotted lightly over each oddly shaped rock down toward the waters edge. Big small rough and smooth, no two were alike. It was Roses first time taking a swim there and I was proud to show yet another magical friend my frequently visited magical place. As we got closer to the water, we heard a happy yell from a friend who I had shown this place to about three months ago. She was so excited to see us, and it felt good that she was there. We yelled a friendly hey hi, but did not divert from our plan to get wet as soon as we could as the sun was rapidly going deeper behind the west maui cloud cover, and the breeze was getting nippy. We both through off our clothes down to our bikinis. I chose a nice rock big rock to sit down on, and take off my shoes and pile my stuff in a neat area where I could reach everything in an easy efficient manner, for when I got out. I was the first one to the water, Yes it was cold. I waded in, and gasped a couple of times. The sky was incredible, and the water was super salty. I looked back, and Rose was swimming in the inlet, close to the rocks. I swam back and we smiled at each other. We commented and agreed on how the water indeed felt and tasted much saltier than usual, and we wiggled around in the water, and enjoyed the sunset with all of our sensory surroundings vibrating. And to think, I almost turned down the invitation.
There were already sunrays in the sky bursting out of the clouds like lemon squirts as we drove the short mile to the cliff where we parked. I mentioned that I really like when magic happens and Rose agreed that it was a good thing to have magic daily when ever possible, and I said yes it is mandatory. We got out of the car, locked it up, and I asked Rose if steep was ok for her in her bare feet. She nodded with her little elf like face. She looked so cute with her eyes so close together in her head. Her scant ittle home made skirt was blowing in the wind. She had just thrown it together out of an old t shirt on her sewing machine about an hour ago. She was feeling sweet in it, i could tell. We made our way carefully down the steep dusty trail to the rocks, and then trotted lightly over each oddly shaped rock down toward the waters edge. Big small rough and smooth, no two were alike. It was Roses first time taking a swim there and I was proud to show yet another magical friend my frequently visited magical place. As we got closer to the water, we heard a happy yell from a friend who I had shown this place to about three months ago. She was so excited to see us, and it felt good that she was there. We yelled a friendly hey hi, but did not divert from our plan to get wet as soon as we could as the sun was rapidly going deeper behind the west maui cloud cover, and the breeze was getting nippy. We both through off our clothes down to our bikinis. I chose a nice rock big rock to sit down on, and take off my shoes and pile my stuff in a neat area where I could reach everything in an easy efficient manner, for when I got out. I was the first one to the water, Yes it was cold. I waded in, and gasped a couple of times. The sky was incredible, and the water was super salty. I looked back, and Rose was swimming in the inlet, close to the rocks. I swam back and we smiled at each other. We commented and agreed on how the water indeed felt and tasted much saltier than usual, and we wiggled around in the water, and enjoyed the sunset with all of our sensory surroundings vibrating. And to think, I almost turned down the invitation.
SPECKS OF THOSE LITTLE THINGS FLYING AROUND
Rough blue feelings of insecurity will for sure be the death of what could be a good mood. Rough around all the exposed edges cutting thought the silence that we just don't want to speak out of. Side swipes of strange thoughts knock you down, if you let them, drag you across the room and flowers can not penetrate the feeling of madness that may or may not be the hue of the evening. It all depends on what you let in and what you choose to keep out. You never can tell can you, things change so quickly when you are not as committed to the highest path as you really can be. Why do we let ideas that are grey and blurry into our realm of pleasant romantic playfulness. They get predominant sometimes but we need to practice sweeping them away. Sweep them like dust into the sunshine so that only little practically microscopic specks remain in the brightness of a suns ray. Specks of those little things flying around its amazing we don't choke on them. Globally this can help the world turn to the rhythm of kindness and peace through out all creation. Love and sunset colors will light up the cloud formations as we find the animals in the canvas of the evening sky each night. Television screens only detract from the painting as it hangs on the wall to be looked at in instant of wonderment when the eye rests thoughtfully on its content. Its been there all along, but today for some reason it speak in words that I have never heard before this day. This is where we go when we want to drown out our own repetitious patterns of existence. We move through the motions of it all over and over until there is no spontanity left to bounce off of, to take from, to lead us to the next level plato. Climbing to the next rest stop we drink and breath heavy and wait for each other to catch up. sometimes I am in the lead and sometimes it is all to true that you are leading the way and I am following in obedient passiveness just so that I may catch you in your moment of devotion after all the clutter melts away and we are one.
coffee, jazz, and boards in the closet
The connection that i yearned for all these years in its third year and he is so beautiful laying in the bed, sip of coffee and back to rest. Attached and so strong, its more than touching bodies any more, its touching at its deepest level. Attraction so strong knowing how it feels to love. We feel secure in our selves and in our togetherness. We are always so grateful and thankful. So many people don't have what we have. Jazz is the music that I have not yet dove into its relm quite yet, but there will always be jazz. The knowing gaze, of bright blue, colors come they go, sweat from the heavy covers. We lay close and we are hot. Coffee in the morning, who does not love coffee in the morning. Fuel.. All about coffee yea, not. Lovely house, home, soft colors soft furniture, greens mint greens. Greens in the garden, and so many new kekei bananas, hard work and more sweat, and again sweat. In the hot sun, mid day. stupid work in the hot sun again. Interesting not really, music holds my interest, it takes me away, away from my head, back to the future, no back to now, now is always there if you are still breathing is now gone after you die. Do it after smoking, I don't smoke enough, should smoke when I do it, do it after smoking. Curtains sway in the light morning breeze, sun is bright again, movement from the curtains tell the story of the currents outside no need to get up and do much of anything if I don't want to. He lays there so sweet falling back to sleep i hear his breath, his blond halo of curls so beautiful reminds me of walking in the afternoon, listening to music, out of my head, walking every day in the afternoon, Hoku is always happy, romping happy, ocean waves getting bigger each day as the earth leans away from the sun, the waves swell, the sand will wash away soon to be jagged bottomed breaks. Surf in the autumn when the sand covers the rocks. Surf, body aches all over two days later it catches up, sitting writing, movement, get on board, ride the boards, all those boards standing lonely and yearning in the closet. Come to terms with the yearning of the boards, standing in the closet, make use of what is left of the situation at hand. Handing out sympathy cards, no don't take that one. There will be more, take the card that says I love you.
On Monday We Are Going To Savers
On monday together we will go to Savers. That is the day that every thing in the store is twenty five percent off. On Monday I want to buy you anything your little heart desires, because you are my boy and with you I am soft as putty. Last time I took you shopping I let you pick out your own christmas present. I said anything in the store go for it, any shirt, any pair of surf shorts, cause thats what you wear, anything you want cause I love you. I remember you picked out the ugliest shirt in the place, and I tried to talk you out of it, we argued even after I said pick out anything, I still tried to persuade you to choose something more mature, something that I thought the girls would like to see you in rather than that loud comic strip looking logo screaming in bright color from the front of a white T Shirt. You were set on it. You said everyone loved that company. Wow, It was the ugliest thing that I ever saw, but later you bragged how right you were about the T shirt, how all your friends loved it on you.
On Monday, I have higher hopes. You are such the good looking guy, that blond hair hanging almost into your eyes but cut short on the back of your neck, boy, I could really dress you up to kill those ladies, knock em dead. But I know, you are the virgo that you are, and only you can choose what you are going to wear. No you are your mamas boy, and like me, you know what you like. Well, On Monday you got it… A hoody, a sweater, a couple pairs of jeans or what ever. All I can do is hope that you have better taste than last time we went shopping, and that I have a grip on my control issues. I don't want to argue with you on our expedition to savers together. Its going to be fun. I love spending time with you, and if shopping at Savers together gets me a couple hours of one on one time with you my son, On Monday, we are going to rule at Savers.
On Monday, I have higher hopes. You are such the good looking guy, that blond hair hanging almost into your eyes but cut short on the back of your neck, boy, I could really dress you up to kill those ladies, knock em dead. But I know, you are the virgo that you are, and only you can choose what you are going to wear. No you are your mamas boy, and like me, you know what you like. Well, On Monday you got it… A hoody, a sweater, a couple pairs of jeans or what ever. All I can do is hope that you have better taste than last time we went shopping, and that I have a grip on my control issues. I don't want to argue with you on our expedition to savers together. Its going to be fun. I love spending time with you, and if shopping at Savers together gets me a couple hours of one on one time with you my son, On Monday, we are going to rule at Savers.
SPIDERS
Spiders all the time spiders, from the cane field, we are surrounded by cane fields surrounded by spiders. So they live close next door, they crawl over, into our space, they creep they hide, they scare, they surprise. They are large, they are thin, they are thick, they are long, they are fat, they are fist size, they are discussing they are beautiful. Fucking spiders, we can always expect them. Open the door at night, turn on the light, sparse white walls, large, staring, surrounding. They are there, they stand out, stand there, they are asking for it. Five in one night? Give me a break. I did not sign up for this. More will come out, the light will reveal. They come out to the death, they don't belong here. Give them an inch they will take a mile. No spiders shall live in this domain. This is not a shared accommodation, too many of them, no privacy no peace. They watch from above, they creep from below, they run across the floor, they conform to corners, they hug the fabric of the curtains, they even have the nerve to try to stake a claim on my cutting board. Spiders belong out doors, where the plants and ecosystem can take care of them. We don't kill them because of hate, we kill to keep the peace. Survival mode in full action. This is our safe place. It makes no sense to kill, to murder, but I have no feeling for them, I am spider numb, I do not think about the kill, I just swat and clean it up. Wham bam thank you, SLAM. They die instantly, they shrivel in mili-seconds, they do not think, they do not feel, they have no sole to me. They are just a glitch in time. They are just a glitch in my evening. I keep our domain as our refuge, it is not for them, it is our safe place. I KILL .... It is simple, SWAT, kerplunk.
Spring Again
Spring, oh glory, spring is here again, oh great, a new cycle of flowers budding to fruit just to drop to the ground and lay there and rot for another cycle to begin again. Another turn around the sun, another tilt of the axis, another rebirth for the perennial. Oh how nice, the birds chirp at daybreak, mothers bringing fresh worms to their young, oh how sweet to be waken by a bunch of fowl. Oh wonderful bountiful spring, we are overjoyed and blessed by the newness, another chance to make good. A new leaf, a sprout. I give a shit, my world is not new, my world is the same. Ground hog day to the max. I am grateful but bord, I am in a rut, I am not springing into action right now. Are you? Is this spring time all fluffy for you? Is it going linear or circular? Or is it just on the way down from here. What the fuck? Miss optimism is tweaking out here, blitzed unit, bogged machine, clogged system, how normal it all is. Oh how cute the rhyme the reason, the writing on the wall, the sunny spring day, the garden all green, the bugs flying around all singing, oh how cute. Spring, sweet, sappy. Im in a vortex of fog as the neighbor dog poops in the yard next door I think of the cycles, of the intake and out. Poop it out, spit it out, take it in again. Round and round it goes, spring again.
THAT ROCK
The beach was gorgous the other day. The water was the perfect mixture of blues and greens, the kind that change color with the depth of the sand, the kind of colors that massage all your senses at once and open up your heart. I felt calm and at peace with the world around me, care free and thankful for my life. Funny how beaches can do all that for you. It was hot, with variable breezes caressing my body and my face. I put my things down and walked down to the water. I felt it, the water, it was like ice even though we were on a sub tropical island. Not that kind of ice cold like some lakes and rivers on the main land. Over there, it gets so hot out that you had to get wet no matter what. Compared to that it was nothin. It was really just cold compared to the hot air surrounding the rest of my body. Normally I would go for it, not think about the fact that it was cold, or think about what was under the top of the water. Even so, I retracted just a bit before deciding to commit to jumping in. Was it the temperature of the water, or really what lay on the bottom that made me flinch before diving in? I always think first about my little jump dive now.
There was that winter a couple years back when I ran from the sandy beach to the waters edge and dove head first into a rock. That rock …. Most of the year at that beach there are no rocks in the water along the shoreline. The sand comes and goes with the tides and storms, and who would think that a big rock would be there when normally it is not. I will never forget that split second of time. I was feeling like I felt the other day, all blissy, same beautiful colors in the water. I ran from my towel to the edge of the sea and dove in. My eyes were open under the water. It all happened so fast that even though I saw the rock as I hit it with my face, It was too late. Bang, loud noise, shock. I remember feeling surprise way more than pain, it was so sudden. Everything changed. I got up and felt my face, blood dripping all over, a burning sensation. I cursed aloud, fuck shit damb. I I was mostly upset because I really wanted to just stay on the beach and enjoy this day, everything was just so perfect that day for beaching, and fuck damb shit, now I have to go clean my face and find out what the damages are. I grabbed my stuff and stormed off.
Every year since then that rock gets exposed by the waves taking the sand away. I get kind of excited when I see it, I say hello to it, and say a little thank you to it for leaving me with just a subtle scar over my lip instead of mashing my face into a pulp. Now when I go to dive into any body of water, that memory always flashes though my mind before I dlve. Caution, does it take away from the pure bliss of just running from the sand into the cold water, yes, a little bit, but I still do it, just with a little less abandonment than before and its all because of that rock.
The beach was gorgous the other day. The water was the perfect mixture of blues and greens, the kind that change color with the depth of the sand, the kind of colors that massage all your senses at once and open up your heart. I felt calm and at peace with the world around me, care free and thankful for my life. Funny how beaches can do all that for you. It was hot, with variable breezes caressing my body and my face. I put my things down and walked down to the water. I felt it, the water, it was like ice even though we were on a sub tropical island. Not that kind of ice cold like some lakes and rivers on the main land. Over there, it gets so hot out that you had to get wet no matter what. Compared to that it was nothin. It was really just cold compared to the hot air surrounding the rest of my body. Normally I would go for it, not think about the fact that it was cold, or think about what was under the top of the water. Even so, I retracted just a bit before deciding to commit to jumping in. Was it the temperature of the water, or really what lay on the bottom that made me flinch before diving in? I always think first about my little jump dive now.
There was that winter a couple years back when I ran from the sandy beach to the waters edge and dove head first into a rock. That rock …. Most of the year at that beach there are no rocks in the water along the shoreline. The sand comes and goes with the tides and storms, and who would think that a big rock would be there when normally it is not. I will never forget that split second of time. I was feeling like I felt the other day, all blissy, same beautiful colors in the water. I ran from my towel to the edge of the sea and dove in. My eyes were open under the water. It all happened so fast that even though I saw the rock as I hit it with my face, It was too late. Bang, loud noise, shock. I remember feeling surprise way more than pain, it was so sudden. Everything changed. I got up and felt my face, blood dripping all over, a burning sensation. I cursed aloud, fuck shit damb. I I was mostly upset because I really wanted to just stay on the beach and enjoy this day, everything was just so perfect that day for beaching, and fuck damb shit, now I have to go clean my face and find out what the damages are. I grabbed my stuff and stormed off.
Every year since then that rock gets exposed by the waves taking the sand away. I get kind of excited when I see it, I say hello to it, and say a little thank you to it for leaving me with just a subtle scar over my lip instead of mashing my face into a pulp. Now when I go to dive into any body of water, that memory always flashes though my mind before I dlve. Caution, does it take away from the pure bliss of just running from the sand into the cold water, yes, a little bit, but I still do it, just with a little less abandonment than before and its all because of that rock.
Confidence Verses Ego
I get short bursts of confidence in myself as a writer, guitar player, singer, and then I get worried that this confidence is my ego being too big and I don't let it stay with me. Sabotage … there are times when everyone in the room knows my name, they want to meet me, and tell me how i have inspired them, how that one song brought them to the next level of bliss, or how cool they think my clothing is. I always say thank you. I am so thankful to get their attentions. I think everyone likes getting compliments. Other times there are people who I can tell are even nervous to meet me, or to look into my eyes because they are in some kind of aw about my talent and feel they are not cool enough to talk to me. When that happens, I get a strange feeling of satisfaction, that I pulled something off, that I have the quality of some kind of fame. The kind of fame that I fantasize about.
I am walking onto the stage, with an air of confidence and I am picking up my guitar. I look gorgeous up there, and my hair is glistening in the stage lighting. The lighting is perfect on the silhouette of my outfit. I poise myself at the microphone, glance over the large audience of anticipating faces and smile at them as a whole. I can only see the front couple of rows of people, right down below, The entire audience all blend together as a puddle of humans. I have no room in my mind to think about any of their characteristics individually, but they are there. They are there to hear me. I am going to deliver. I am going to go to that place where I like to go, and if I like it there, so will they. I have full trust in my instruments, I have full trust in my songs, melodies, limber strumming hand and strong chording fingers. My voice is in the epitomy of health and can go where ever it needs to go with out strain or thought. Spontaneous, creative, spectacular, something that holds me apart from others, the reason why they all came out to hear me play my music.
Really though, most of the time I worry about how I must look to others. I worry that instead of people thinking about me in praise, that they are scorning me in their minds. Thinking to themselves how full of myself I am, and how I should take a step down and get off my high horse. These thoughts stifle me and keep me from my full potential. I hold back, I don't want to step on other musicians toes. I wait until I am asked to play rather than strongly take a turn on my own. I get a sore throat when I finally get to my singing potential. I get a tendonitis in my shoulder when I finally get in the rotine of practicing for many hours a day. I get a sore wrist from stemming too much. I get worried that my songs are not interesting enough. I hear my own voice, and think it is annoying. Sabotogeing my own self. Why would I want to do that. Confidence verses ego.
I get short bursts of confidence in myself as a writer, guitar player, singer, and then I get worried that this confidence is my ego being too big and I don't let it stay with me. Sabotage … there are times when everyone in the room knows my name, they want to meet me, and tell me how i have inspired them, how that one song brought them to the next level of bliss, or how cool they think my clothing is. I always say thank you. I am so thankful to get their attentions. I think everyone likes getting compliments. Other times there are people who I can tell are even nervous to meet me, or to look into my eyes because they are in some kind of aw about my talent and feel they are not cool enough to talk to me. When that happens, I get a strange feeling of satisfaction, that I pulled something off, that I have the quality of some kind of fame. The kind of fame that I fantasize about.
I am walking onto the stage, with an air of confidence and I am picking up my guitar. I look gorgeous up there, and my hair is glistening in the stage lighting. The lighting is perfect on the silhouette of my outfit. I poise myself at the microphone, glance over the large audience of anticipating faces and smile at them as a whole. I can only see the front couple of rows of people, right down below, The entire audience all blend together as a puddle of humans. I have no room in my mind to think about any of their characteristics individually, but they are there. They are there to hear me. I am going to deliver. I am going to go to that place where I like to go, and if I like it there, so will they. I have full trust in my instruments, I have full trust in my songs, melodies, limber strumming hand and strong chording fingers. My voice is in the epitomy of health and can go where ever it needs to go with out strain or thought. Spontaneous, creative, spectacular, something that holds me apart from others, the reason why they all came out to hear me play my music.
Really though, most of the time I worry about how I must look to others. I worry that instead of people thinking about me in praise, that they are scorning me in their minds. Thinking to themselves how full of myself I am, and how I should take a step down and get off my high horse. These thoughts stifle me and keep me from my full potential. I hold back, I don't want to step on other musicians toes. I wait until I am asked to play rather than strongly take a turn on my own. I get a sore throat when I finally get to my singing potential. I get a tendonitis in my shoulder when I finally get in the rotine of practicing for many hours a day. I get a sore wrist from stemming too much. I get worried that my songs are not interesting enough. I hear my own voice, and think it is annoying. Sabotogeing my own self. Why would I want to do that. Confidence verses ego.
