Tag Archives: Love

Happy Fathers Day

It is Fathers Day, and so to all the dads both biological and psychological, to all the dads by choice and by circumstance, to all the dads of the past, the present and the future:

Thank you – and Happy Fathers Day!

I know that without my father I simply wouldn’t be here today.

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Of Bleeding Hearts

Bright red, blood red
warm beckoning glow
bursting flowers spread
beneath the hedgerow
you and I
enrapt
in words
entrapped
in longing
unable to cross
boundary lines
refined
undefined
limitations
on acceptable
respectable
logical
you and I

I would
if I could
strip us both
of these rules
leave us naked
vulnerable
each to each
beneath the sun
bleeding hearts
exposed reposed
beating breathing
skin to skin
flesh to flesh
life to life
simply
being
you and I

 

Unconditionally

can’t you see
how these tears
you created
are slow flowing
crystal patterns
spiderweb sparkles
dripping silence
on my soul?

don’t you know
each one drops
inside my heart
a tiny diamond
brilliant cold
light wrapped
around a flaw
sharp-edged
perfection
ripping flesh
with each beat
and breath?

You said sweetly
you loved me
would love me
forever
be my pillar
and I yours
no matter
the past
the present
the future
unconditionally
I let you slice
away those parts
that stood in your way
leaving me bare
ashamed to be
myself anymore

that just wasn’t
good enough.

You stole my secrets
speaking them out loud
sniggering
chortling
at my weakness
you cut my hair
stole my strength
left me blinded
opened my eyes
as you fondled
my festering wounds

you made me see
with crystal eyes
and frozen heart
all the lies
entwined in our lives
and how the pillars
of you and I
needed to break
and so I did
pushing lightly
they fell crashing
bringing down this home
we had imagined

now I kneel
forlorn
in this wreckage
alone
pulsing in time
to the sound
of your scorn
my torn heart
bleeds diamonds.

This Darkness Needs Me

You tell me to turn on the lights
wander around go see the sights
You tell me to leave the shadows
get in sunshine see how it glows

You don’t understand me at all
or how I’m feeling so damn small
can’t you see this darkness needs me
to keep alive what you’d burn away?

All I hear is endless voices
giving hopeless pointless choices
telling us what we should believe
without any truth or a please

You don’t understand this at all
or hear the longing in my call
can’t you feel this darkness needs you
waiting no matter what you do?

There’s no shame here in the darkness
We’re all equal here in the darkness
Draw the blinds and the kill the lights now
under the covers I’ll show you how

We don’t understand this at all
its where we began before the fall
this is why the darkness needs us
lie back,feel it. just acquiesce

inside us there’s no light shining
only dark spills past our lining
our hearts beat inside out of sight
and die when exposed to the light

Can’t you see this darkness needs me
just like I need this sweet darkness
its the only thing keeping me sane
its the main thing keeping me sane

come here and touch my darkness
feel it slip across you skin
here you are with the real me
unchained unpained darkly free

come here wallow in my darkness
come here infuse your dark with me.
your darkness needs me

Zero: The Importance of Nothing

A teacup on a saucer.

Yesterday I posted a ramble on a concept of personal mathematics. As part of that personal symbolic space used to define the pattern of me, I alluded to a concept of nothing. Symbolically, nothing is represented as zero or drawn as that familiar circle enclosing empty space: 0

Paradoxically by defining nothing as a symbol, nothing then becomes something. At its heart nothing is the absence of something, yet when  nothing becomes a zero it is actually something. A zero is the abstract measure of nothing. This symbolic conception of the essence of nothing is critical to any mathematical system. Before the system exists, before an object exists, or when it no longer exists, what begins and remains is always zero. But it is not zero until it is observed as being nothing or conceived of in some mind as starting from nothing.

Just like the hypothetical question of “if a tree falls in the forest – and there is no one to hear – does it make a sound?” the same concept applies to nothing. If nothing falls to the ground and there is no one there to see it – is it really nothing at all? It is the act of observation of nothing that gives it significance, and in turn gives that nothing its existence. A nothing unobserved and unremarked has never existed, and never will exist.

My readers are now going “that makes absolutely no sense!” I challenge you to find me a nothing that has never been observed. Be very careful for the very act of noting that nothing  will in fact void its status have never having been observed! That nothing has now been encircled and symbolically captured as a “zero”.

From a personal mathematics system, we all begin as nothing. Before us our parents sprang from nothing, and before them their parents, and so on back through the first nothing. This leads to an interesting mind bender – nothing begets nothing. Nothing leads to nothing. And from nothing comes nothing. Yet each link of nothing leads to something. The trick is understanding at what point nothing becomes something. We of course do this all the time in our own lives turning hundreds of nothings into something throughout lives. It is one of the great things about being human, we can dwell on nothing, let nothing consume us. And in the end have nothing become a horrible something spawned from our own minds connecting nothing to nothing until it is overwhelming our reality.

The trick to handling nothing is to not allow it to have focus. The more energy we pour into nothing, the more energy it will demand. Nothing is after all infinite in its vastness, and the more we allow nothing to consume us, the bigger it becomes. Nothing is only dissipated when simply let it become nothing.

And yes this is now a zen mind trick. Here we move from the concept of “zero” to the concept of “mu”. While zero is bounded and contains nothing. Mu is the concept of ‘nothingness’ as fully existing without the actual nothing being observed or embraced. This is the impossibility of the ultimate zen state of being. Finding that balance of simply being, without interacting with the awareness of being.

Now the reader throws up their hands in frustration and points out my earlier statement – ‘A nothing unobserved and unremarked has never existed, and never will exist.’ So how then is the mu even possible? Perhaps it is not. Only you will ever know if you have attained a mu state in yourself – yet the very observation of the mu state then negates the mu state. Circularly annoying!

I leave you with one last mental concept of the importance of nothing in this ramble. Observe a tea cup. Or a coffee mug. Or even a bowl. It is a tangible object that we can see and touch and hold. Yet what makes it useful is the fact it is designed to hold nothing. It is the empty space bounded by the the material around that empty space that makes a cup or a bowl actually a useful object. This is true of many of the everyday objects we use to make our lives easier. Bounded nothing is open to the potential of being useful, and useful in ways only limited by our imagination.

And so I leave you with nothing else to say.

 

 

Personal Mathematics

 

Mathematics is simply the study of patterns. Yes I know mathematicians like to speak of quantity, and measurement, and relationships, and sets and blah de blah blah la de dah dah. Nothing like making mystically impenetrable what is obvious to the child – mathematics is all about patterns in time and space. Numbers are not mathematics. Numbers are symbols to represent a mathematical pattern.

Because math is simply patterns, it needs a special language to symbolically represent the patterns of the universe. The more complex the pattern, the more convoluted and abstract becomes the symbols needed to represent the patterns.

Given that mathematics is patterns then it makes sense that we all in fact have our own personal mathematics embedded into our being. Our own patterns  and relationships to the pattern of the word around us. An inner mathematics of ourselves. This concept of “personal mathematics” may seem implausible to some of my readers – after all isn’t mathematics a rule set we all share? Well sure it can be – which rules would you like to use? The reality is that depending on that pattern that is being symbolically captured we can change the rules that are in the mathematical space.

For example let us consider geometry. Geometry is the mathematical representative of objects in a symbolic space. For most of us this is the standard Euclidean geometry of planes and lines and Cartesian numbers. The classical geometry of triangles, quadrangles. polygons, circles, and into the more complex rules of three-dimensional objects. All really just points and angles in an imaginary plane. Euclidean geometry is the most accessible of the mathematical rule sets – because it is tangible. But then there are non-euclidean models of geometry.  Convoluted spaces that we cannot see – yet we can imagine and create and measure and apply to real world problems.

And so it is with our own inner world. A geometric inner world of folded space and untouchable angles lost in intersecting and overlapping planes of being. Faceted layers of us, crystallized and entwined in imaginary space, yet as real and hard as any matrix of carbon in a diamond.

In my personal mathematics I start with nothing. From zero we expand outward into infinite possibilities, yet bounded within the frame of our bodies and thoughts. A rule of all of us is this: What I believe I make real. That doesn’t mean what I believe is “true” and testable just because I believe it. But it is real inside my personal space and defines the way I interact with the world, and the way the world interacts with me. Placebo effect is the most common manifestation of the “What I believe I make real” rule in action.

Next in the personal mathematics is the concept of “one”. One is the unit, the block, the base, the starting measure of all other measures. Without a definition of one, of a unity, there can be no understanding of two. And without two there is no three, and no possibility of infinity. The distance from zero to one is in itself infinite, yet measurable and bounded. From one to two is of equal magnitude. To step beyond “one” is to grow beyond limits and understand that there is more than what is contained within. Some people never get beyond the defining of one, never understand the magnitude of two, yet somehow coast on through spawning three and beyond. Yet infinity remains beyond their grasp.

As for me I am still mired in zero, with no hope of understanding even one. Unity eludes me, and yet I long for the idea of two and beyond. My personal mathematics is constrained and symbolically void. The geometry of me is mired in the two-dimensional planes of parallel lines and non-intersecting space. I am non-Euclidean which is both a point of pride, and a spatial damnation of the most relativistic form.

There is more to explore here in these concepts of personal mathematics. Perhaps I will write more on each symbol embedded in my personal mathematica of inner space.

 

 

Spiralling into Black

whites and
bright colours ooze
drunken down
spiralling widdershins
wobbling rancid gelatins
slopping globbing dropping
smackety splat
mushed rainbow miasma
blending blurring binding
churning into browns
deeper down
rotting putrescence seeping
festering slime
of the true and real
original inner eye
darkly down
here there is no light
no laughter
nothing to love
and no way back
all fetid brown
now fully gone into
black…

Pausing Between Breaths

misty grey clouds trace
wet across my face
raining fingerprints
in sullen cold drips
of random splotches

the road is black silk
passing beneath quick
echoing footsteps
and pacing of breaths
kicking up notches

runner’s bliss tingles
rippling up my thighs
endorphins surging
mind body sprinting
against the darkness

in this space unseen
slipping deep between
fixed reality
flux of rhapsody
freed from our boxes

Here I am free
to simply be
unrestrained
in breathing
heart beating
unencumbered
by what was
or will be.

Fluidity

each and every drop of water in your body
sways in hypnotic waves of to and fro
enticing my yang to your yin.

 

Old Men Make Sad Lovers

You do not love me
it is a fanciful impossibility
that the spring would long for autumn
in any shape or form
My peaks are tinged with snow
while your peaks
spill over in bountiful curves
firmly filling out your dress
the feel of your breasts
compressing between our bodies
stirs me to stop thinking
and simply react

We merge in breaths
tumble into your sheets
untangle into tangled urgency
in that moment I am so into you
letting myself slide into desire
of this fanciful impossibility
doubling back and back again
plunging into the moment
with full momentum
you voice your approval
sounding and resounding
in sweet diatonic beat
sonata allegro crescendo complete

We lay still for a moment
I know you cannot love me
even after this sweetness
I wander to the shower
and scrub myself clean
letting your scent swirl away
to keep it from haunting my dreams.

The Choosing of Colours

Friday slips off the work clock and into the weekend
leaving me walking down long echoing hallways
The deserted parking lot shimmers with spring heat
as I zigzag across the painted yellow lines

No place to be, no destination in mind,
I simply drive and find I have arrived
somehow someplace somewhere
rather underwhelming surprising
apparently I am looking for flooring

I walk up and down aisles surveying
hardwood, laminate or linoleum.
pondering cold ceramic or practicle slate
around me couples debate the merits of maple
pros and cons of pine, dark woods and light woods
Is it better to click or nail it all down?

Sales associates circle me offering advice
on selecting mocha over chocolate or raspberry spice
What mood are you setting? How is your trim?
Perhaps you should come in with your wife?
I smile and assure then there is no wife to consider
They nod in understanding and begin again
Ahh yes then your partner surely he has a say?
I frown and assure them the choice is all mine
This news confuses them and they drift away
to help coordinate the domestically paired

Down paint aisles I wander fondling brushes
ogling paint trays, sandpaper and samples
colourful chips all in a flowering row
yellows and oranges in eggshell or gloss
greens and beiges in latex or not?
The women at the counter come and go
clearly seeing I am no Michael Angelo

I grow bored
I grow bored
considering how the paint should be rolled
What colours do I pair?
Do I dare choose a peach?
Blend it with a flannel white?
Pick the tones of a sandy beach?
How might they blend
each to each?

And then I turn to the Associates and say

“That is not it at all,
That is not what I meant, at all.”

I do not know why I even care
to ponder so long my dull empty bedroom walls
it is not as if any other eyes will ever see
the subtlety of choice and reflection
enshrined around my single doubled bed
I may as well paint it all black
or simply leave it virginal white
swinging between opposite spectrums
of painted despair or spackled hope

I wander away with an empty palette
only to find I am sipping black coffee
in an outdoor cafe watching women laugh
in slow seductive swirls of their hair
entertaining gravid memories of flesh
clinging desperately to pulsing flesh
in mewling dance and throbbing need
My cup grows cold in slow bitter sips
but I persist beyond my better judgement

And so it is decided
my walls will be burnt orange
sapid sweet fruit charred into darkness.

Only Memory

this box holds all i was
in scraps of wrinkled paper
fading chromatic chemicals
bonded into smiling synchronicity
enticing chemical neural misfiring
dancing across my cortex

laughter and tears
seeping from my face
forgetting the years
across time and place
now here is only memory

once I brimmed with hope
longing desire and need
now I am only memory
lit by incandescent dreams
of what I once held dear
nevermore to be touched again

once I was life alive living
gyrating vibrating interplay
now I in silence reminisce
in the twilight of my day
holding to fading memory

 

Only Winter Remains…

Spring never lasts
or lingers long enough
We await the arrival
as days grow longer
tickles of warmth
enticing us to shed
only to be wrapped
in lurking cold winds

And then summer grabs us
full force of burning heat
seeping into our bodies
while vivid green life
bursts into lusciousness
of sweet berries and
buzzing drizzle of honey

Too quickly summer fades
into golden mellow autumn
offering lazy satisfaction
in warm lingering afterglow
chill edge in the breeze
as darkness comes too soon

and crisp white sheets
fall cool across our bodies
as winter returns
reclaiming her hold on us
and the fading world
chill smile on her lips
winter knows the sun
is an ephemeral star
doomed to fade
until only winter remains…

 

Happy May Day

Today is May 1st and finally feeling like winter has left. It also feels like winter has zipped straight into summer without any gradual ramp up from freezing to mildly delightful. Instead we are simply into the sweat zone! Ick.

Still it is nice to wander outside in t-shirt and shorts and enjoy the caress of wind and sunshine. If I am not careful I will probably burn!

In many parts of the northern hemisphere today is considered the first real day of spring – and in many countries today is a public holiday filled with celebration and festivities. Being a celebration of spring it is also a day connected to life, love and fertility. In its connection to the season May 1st is a celebration of the new planting year, and the birth of new livestock.

On the more festive time it is a time to indulge in merriment and pleasure. In spring a young man’s fancy turns to love goes the saying – and in spring love turns into dancing and frolicking fun!

As I sit on my deck and enjoy the weather – I raise a cold beer and wish you all a happy May Day!

As Good As It Gets.

There is a memory
of once upon a day
when I was somehow
somebody’s someone
in some mystical way

Anticipation gnawing
towards the end of day
calling me toward her
laughter over dinner
wine light in her eyes
twilight nestling play

Where does happiness go
when it sneaks away?
leaving fading photos
of who we once were
hiding in old boxes
until they all decay

now my day is over
shadows settling grey
evening wraps around
with the folding sun
no warm evening lights
calling me home to play

Yet here I am at home
pile of bills to pay
creaking cracking nighfall
cold sheets on an unmade bed
blare of a foreign movie
keeping silence at bay

In the kitchen I search
for a meal and survey
last week’s fetid remains
festering in the sink
decide on cold canned beans
warmed by bottled whiskey

I eat in the living room
then on the couch I lay
with my left-handed lover
my right stroking a touchpad
remembering how it feels
to bodily dance and sway

Has it really been ten years
since the queen of the may
has graced me with a kiss
and her intentional touch?
So now I write pathetic poetry
inspired by yearning want
tinged with risque cliche

This is as good as it gets
as we age and waste away
from bright burning youth to
aged stale breath counting down
the moments we’ve left to live
much to our fading dismay

Aqua Marine

You rise like Aphrodite
swelling from the surf
dripping warm salt water
in your foamy wake
the ocean of your veins
pounds time in my ears
seduces my heart with
walking rise and fall
of your mesmerizing waves
drowning me in the pull
of your rushing tide.

I Held You…

I found your picture
lurking in my drawer
I didn’t need it
to remember you
cause you’re always
waiting in my mind
every moment we had
etched across my eyes

I remember when you left
heading off to find yourself
just needing a little space
we stood at the bus door
clinging locked in embrace
you whispering so sweetly
you’d be back real soon

I held you
I held you
and you never reached back
I held you
I held you
and then you walked away

I waited for the phone-calls
that you promised to make
I waited for those letters
that never found my door
I wonder if you read the words
I wrote to you each day
Did you see the way the ink
was smearing across the days?

Did you ever think of me?
I heard you were married
and driving fancy cars
Am I ever in your mind?
Or am I just another memory
locked inside some little box
underneath a happy stairway?

I held you
always in my heart
I held you
until I was torn apart
I held you
and let you get away
I held you
I held you
and I never moved ahead.

Candle

April rains chill me
cold deep into my darkness
warmed by your flicker.

Inspired by the  APRIL A2Z CHALLENGE word prompt “CANDLE” at

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Butterfly

you’re hidden away
inside your dull chrysalis
waiting to burst free

and flutter away
leaving me ordinary
beneath your freedom.

Inspired by the  APRIL A2Z CHALLENGE word prompt “BUTTERFLY”” at

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Ascent

uplifted
soaring into clouds
feet on ground

Inspired by the  APRIL A2Z CHALLENGE word prompt “ASCENT” at

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No Inspiration

Waking Haiku

spring knocks on the glass
gently she swirls past my door
luring me outside.

Black Saturday

yesterday was death -
tomorrow resurrection.
So what is today?

Forgotten

It tickles my brain
demanding I remember
then dances away.

Inspired by the  word prompt “no prompt today” at

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Finish Line: Freedom and Success

Now I am off the hook!

365 days later here we are. On March 25, 2012 I started my post-a-day journey. And I managed to actually post at least one new item each day – some days even two! Quality did vary. Word totals did vary. Sometimes what I posted was actually worth reading, and sometimes what I posted was a verbal embarrassment.

I did learn the following in that time:

  • Less is more. Keeping my posts shorter often resulted in more visitors. 
  • Writing is easy – writing well is hard!
  • I write well – but I could write better if I took the time
  • I am not fun to read – in fact I am mostly dense. Not a good blogger trait.
  • I shouldn’t quit my day job to become a full time writer!

When I started posting I had visions of 100-200 views per day. I worked hard to build up an audience following the WordPress tips and tricks for driving views and engagement. I visited other sites, followed other sites, commented, liked, browsed, and whatever else I needed to do to get people dropping by and “clicking”.

It was initially addictive watching the views creep up from 5 per day to 10 per day until I was getting close to 150 views per day at my peak of audience success. It is a lot of work to keep that interest up, and the views flowing through. I would spend at least an hour each day doing my blogging rounds and making sure I left a footprint to lure others back to see what I was writing and posting. Heady and exciting stuff – I felt like I had an audience.

July was the high-point in this blogging experiment for views, and was taking even more time.   Yet it seemed worth it for the feedback and interplay and sense of achievement. Then I went on vacation for two weeks in August to an “internet free zone.”  I was still posting every day – but I couldn’t browse and visit and poke and tickle other bloggers. My views and visit fell off the cliff.

The reality was I had no real audience, what I had achieved from March to July was an illusion of success. The bloggers I visited where mostly playing the same game I was playing – driving the numbers by leaving virtual bread-crumbs to lure others back to my site. My words were not the lure – it was my statistic they desired. When I stopped visiting them – they forgot I even existed. POP – blogger bubble burst.

When I resumed my blogging house-calls and blogging rounds my numbers bounced back in September. And that took the wind out of my sails.  Cause well you see that confirmed people were not reading me because I was enjoyable to read, or memorable. They mostly visited out of guilt, and need. (Yes I know some of you are reading me because you enjoy my posts – Thank You!)

SO now I am all done with that….relief!

Now what?

I will still post and still visit the blogs I most enjoy – you know who you are as I still visit you now and then and leave a “like” or some words in passing. Not very often cause well there are other things that take my time. What I may try and do are more themed posts on certain days of the week. Like Saturday Haiku inspired by Haiku Heights. Maybe Monday Ramble, and Wednesday write about food/nutrition. Surprisingly one of my more popular posts is about the Acid/Alkaline Food Myth. Go figure!

I will also go back over my over 400 posts and re-read and weed them. I have done that a bit in the past month – and that is hard work! I wrote a lot of drivel and so going back now is pages and pages of work! Maybe I should just delete it all and start over again! That was a joke by the way – see even my humour is dense.

Oh and an aside why start on March 25 as my year of daily-blogging adventure?

March 25th in the Christian calendar is the traditional date for the Feast of the Annunciation. The Feast of the Annunciation marks the visit of the Angel Gabriel to Mary to announce the conception and eventual birth of Christ.  Gabriel appears and says to Mary, ‘Hail, full of grace, the Lord is with thee”  to which Mary responds to “Let it be done to me according to thy word”

Since conception is the beginning of creation – in some Christian countries March 25 was then seen as a New Year, and the official New Year would begin on that date. Enjoying small symbols I began my blog on an old school New Year’s day that was tied to an angelic “revelation.”  The Annunciation in turn then leads to the Feast of the Visitation (which in retrospect sets up the entire wanting blogging views/visits thing I wrote about earlier…symbols sometimes create reality!)

Now my blog certainly wasn’t ever that revealing, but it certainly had its moments of revelation!

Thank you for reading and visiting over the past year. Tomorrow a new year begins – and my journey continues. See ya around the blog-o-sphere!

 

Fortitude

having nothing left
makes her irresistible
and unbearable.

Inspired by the  word prompt “FORTITUDE” at

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Mostly Harmless

There is danger in everything. The intersection of serendipitous cause and effect is infinitely chaotic. Drinking, breathing, eating, sleeping. All perfectly normal low-risk events and yet people die while doing them. And we would certainly not want to avoid those activities since not doing any of those results in death.

Here is something to understand: death is unavoidable. Death is the first gift we are given when we are born. We will die. We will end. We will cease.

We cannot avoid that reality of termination, but we can certainly avoid living. Being alive and breathing and eating and whatever else we do to just be alive is not living. Living is going out and testing the world and the boundaries of the world. Children know this instinctively and keep reaching for the next level. There is no walking without falling. Yes we will experience pain. That is also a gift of living. Pain is the alert to say “you may wish to choose another option!”

The world is filled with things that are harmful in some sort of way. Bacteria. Toxins. Sharp edges. Hard falls off big heights. Stupid people. Yet any one of those is only harmful when a threshold is crossed – until that happens they remain mostly harmless. A possibility of danger that may harm in some small way, or inflict harm in some horrible way.

Caution is good. Forethought is excellent. Worry is bad. Anxiety is stifling. Our problem is we have excellent imaginations and we can create a story of harm that is overwhelming and mind-numbing to the point we stop living, and withdraw into a place where we are simply alive. Barely alive.

Enough with jumping at shadows – time to embrace living!

Tantrum

I want it now
give it to me
give it here
give it
give!

why do you deny
what I want
what I need
right here
now!

I know you say
better to give
than receive
so just let me
help you out
you’ll be feeling
so much better
give it here

Frozen Shut

Spring knocked outside
bright and early
gentle as a daffodil
soft as a new kitten
asking shyly
please open the door

we were all sleeping
no-one heard a sound
so she slipped away
leaving winter
behind to play

I do hope spring returns

Calliope

Shining steaming metal
going round and round
puffing bursting panting
shaping brilliant sound

tickling magical memories
from days of sunny youth
a wondrous carnival moment
with shrill whistling oomph

cotton candy buttered corn
carnies calling to take a try
your soft hand nestled in mine
gleaming lips – sound of your sigh

calliope chiming over the din
lulling us leaning us steaming hiss
midway twirling swirling around
leading us breathless into a kiss

Words Entangled

They slip out in the oddest way
dripping meaning all down the page
sounds full of intended meaning
and random noises meant to annoy
bubbling bursting skittering words

They possess me at the wrong times
seeping in driblets out of my head
consonants doubled back on themselves
leaping in syllables freed
from all grammatical rules
taking forms and meanings most ominous

They soothe me in rhythmic patter
unleashed unrestrained overwrought
building incoherent thought bubbles
into poetic symbolic tautology
waiting primly in organized lines
or scribbling laughing sideways at me

Words are all I ever keep in my heart
each vowel holding vibratic nuances
of naked moments spent stripped bare
your warm skin pressed to my skin
embossing your breath within mine breath
holding us eternally alphabetically entangled

Happy Green Party Day

Well here it is St. Patrick’s Day. The day of being green and drinking beer. And if you drink enough beer you get the joy of turning green for the next day or two!

Today is the feast day of St. Patrick, the patron saint of Ireland. The day is a public holiday in Ireland, and a pub-like holiday everywhere it is celebrated! The drinking of beer having become entwined with the celebration of the days festivities. Beer however is not required to enjoy the day.

St. Patrick’s day is a big deal in the United States – in fact the USA has more people of Irish descent, than are living in the Republic of Ireland. Note the word PUB in Republic. Not sure if that is significant but it seems to keep re-appearing.

The link to the USA goes way back with the first organized St. Patrick’s Day Parade being held in New York in 1762. The parade was meant to help Irish soldiers serving in the English military reconnect with their Irish traditions.

A common symbol associated with St. Patrick is the shamrock – a sacred plant in ancient Ireland because it symbolizes spring and rebirth. St. Patrick is said to have used the shamrock to explain the Christian concept of the Trinity (God in the for of three manifestations –father, son, and the Holy Spirit).

Wherever you may find yourself today – Happy St. Patrick’s day! And here is my toast of the day: May spring finally arrive and make winter melt away.

Cacophony

Many crows in a dark tree at New Orleans Squar...

black swirling crow cloud
discordant screaming murder
cawing for darkness

Inspired by the  word prompt “CACOPHONY” at

Ides of March

The ides of March have come,
bringing us rebirth
yet to be reborn
first one must die
and so Julius Caesar
birthed an empire
with his spilled blood
brightly flowing
down the cold steps

The ides of March have come,
warming us into life
moving us from ice
melting into renewal
and so Jesus Christ
birthed a religion
with his spilled blood
brightly flowing
down the cold stones

The ides of March have come,
bringing constant chaos
to lions and lambs
hoping for summer
and slow gentle breezes
sparking new dreams
without spilling blood
brightly living
in golden sunshine.

 

Left Untouched

you drift past
bright eyed
hair flowing
flashing smile
leaving floral
eddies in your wake
turning my thoughts to spring
and how you would taste
under starlight…

when the phone rings
snapping me back to reality
of the space between us.

 

Caught Between Lovers

spring winked yesterday
making the sun blush
with unexpected heat
sending winter reeling

today winter returned
cool crisp and pure
soft white flakes dancing
across eager ripe buds

leaving me torn between
the beauty of two seasons
winter in powerful elegance
spring wild unexpected passion

both take my breath away
fill me with happy desire
the beauty of march means
for now I can enjoy both

Uplifted in the Rain

This morning’s path to work brings
silver skies reflecting my silvered hair
dripping down chilled silver rain
tinkling drops on icy eaves and sidewalks

I am autumn entering another springtime
weight of memory pulling me back
when puddles meant rubber boots
splashing raindrop giggles
tracking mud across fields and floors
so long ago when boats were sticks
with white first flower sails
drifting in raw imagination
fueled by gentle thawing winds
then I was captain and adventurer
free to dream and simply be alive
now I must keep my shoes clean
my pants unrolled and free from soakers
so I can speak to desiccated men in bored rooms

I walk on properly responsible
focused by maturity and a promise of dollars
on my Monday destination presentation
when laughter intervenes:

toddlers shriek past me unrestrained
duck walking bright life into
the melting muddy death of snow
their fresh faced mother chagrined
she mumbles an apology in passing
then calls to her children
to not get muddy

Damn this march of time
and acting our age

I give her a smile
the splash after the kids
and into the mud of living life
turning to say:
“Now is the time to make memories – laundry will always happen!
When the mud washes out laughter remains”

Today I was late for work.

The Scent of Mud

Morning came much too early today, with the clock leaping ahead an hour into darkness. I did go to bed earlier to try and start the adjustment. I even set my alarm to a usually week-day routine. Turns out I didn’t need the alarm. Since I went to bed early I also forgot to top up the cat bowl for his usual midnight snack. At 5:30 am – the new 5:30 am with hour adjustment – he did the bedroom prowl.

The bedroom prowl is when your cat decides you are furniture that needs to be walked upon. Then when you stir he begins to sing his morning love song. Low little mrrpphhs that grow louder in despair. Poor kitty. How in earth is he expected to survive missing out on his midnight nibble? It is good thing he is a domestic indoor cat because the real cat world of outdoor hunting on cold winter nights would be ever so painful!

I should thank my cat for getting me up in time to view the sunrise. It was a lovely sunrise. Today dawned with the hint of spring in the air. Even the early morning sun was filled with a warmth long absent from the day. And it only grew stronger through the day. The joyful drip drip from the roof and the eaves drops playing off the deck and sidewalk. Just before noon rivulets melt was trickling down the driveway.

Now into late afternoon it is a gush and lingering rich in the air is the smell of wet earth. Pungent in my nostrils, tickling the primal urges that run deep. I walked down the street and soaked in the energy of the moment, passed smiling neighbours I had not seen for months.

Spring is near – so so very near!

I think I will start to plan the garden: Spring the time to plant seeds and dream.

Origami

after you left me
i folded your love letters
into tiny swans

for months they watched me
whispering your written words
from inside their wings

in the spring sunshine
i took them to the river
and gave them freedom.

***************************

How to Make my Heart

Fold in half
corner to corner
then again

fold inside
top to the middle
bottoms up

now from right
alongside the crease
next the left

over it goes
smoothing down the points
into shape

flip gently
you now hold my heart
in your hands

Inspired by the  word prompt “ORIGAMI” at

Torn Asunder

What God has joined together let no man put asunder
traditional Christian marriage ceremony

Nothing lasts forever – yet there I was nearly 13 years ago promising eternity to the woman beside me.  In all fairness I do need to clearly and openly state she is a lovely human being. And at the moment in time and space I had no reason not to pledge myself to be forever united with her – or at least until death did us part. Who knew that we would part before death even hinted closure on either of us?

We had already been living together for 5 years when we decided to make it official and seal it with wedding vows. A small ceremony of joy and on to happy ever after.

It is over now. Torn asunder. We are now divorced after a long tedious legal journey that by official records began October 4th, 2009. At least we made some lawyers happy and financially better off. Really it all started unravelling before that date – but the legal system does like precise facts and figures. October 4th is just the date where I grew tired of the “if you don’t like it divorce me!” challenge whenever we had a difference of opinion. On that date I finally said, “you know what you are correct and here is how we do it…”

Sadly, it wasn’t as simple as I imagined it might be – at least in my version of logical reality. In my simple view of the world we just agreed to split things, agreed to shared custody, and ongoing shared costs. I worked out the math and presented the final numbers. How silly of me. I should have realized that my being a complete idiot would prevent that from happening.

You see, over the many years of us living together, it had become clear to my partner that I was stupid, inept, socially moronic, child-like, incompetent, financially irresponsible, verbally abusive, mentally abusive, lazy, fat, unhygienic, tasteless, unfashionable, and subhuman. If she had not saved me from my pathetic lonely single existence there is no doubt I would have been living as a homeless street bum begging for coins from every passerby. At least that is the story I got to hear over and over again. Parts of that assessment of me may even be true. In my own head, and in my own version, I am better than all of that – but then again we are all the hero of our own biography.

And now that is all done. Completed. Battle-over. Victory declared and the spoils of war divided and allocated. It is an incredible relief. My blood pressure readings have dropped over 20 points since everything has been signed, and transacted. My heart has stopped racing at odd times for no reason.

Now what? I actually feel empty right now. The years of battling and constant bickering preoccupied and consumed an obsessively ridiculous amount of energy and life force. After being in a heightened state of adrenaline and worry for so long I now feel deflated. I am nullified. I think I am depressed.

Perhaps I should look for another relationship? Or should I? It isn’t like I haven’t been open to the possibility of the last few years. I have even had some dates with women who have read my blog and thought I was some wild passionate artistic type. We go out and they realize I am just a boring, fat, old man who has a rich inner fantasy life, and a mundane real world. Reality sucks that way.

The problem is simply that I have no charm. Charisma is an innate quality that cannot be cultivated or faked. Or at least not successfully faked for long. I am cautious and quiet by nature. I am thoughtful and observant and steadfast. I see and hear the world around me and create patterns of reflection. And that is just rather bland in the overall exciting “live for the moment” world in which North Americans think they live.

I have been going to social events for singles. One would think my odds would be fairly good since the groups consist mostly of women. At many of the events there are four women for every male in attendance. I have struck up many conversations – and even thought I had sensed a connection with a few of the women – yet over 3 years I have zero dates. That is simply pathetic.

Now I cannot say that I have had no offers – a couple of women have boldly asked me out and even offered potential naked intimacy. Yet, I have absolutely no romantic interest in those wonderful ladies.  It seems I have mismatched chemistry at play! It is like some farcical Shakespearean romantic comedy – one where I play the role of Falstaff. The common man as buffoon.  I desire what I desire – and in turn I do not desire what is offered. Well actually there was one offer I did want to enjoy and accept – only it was a “one time only never to be repeated” offer. A nibble that would have left me longing.

Perhaps I should just accept that any love is good love and take what I can get. Enjoy what is now – and let tomorrow look after its own needs. Yet somehow that doesn’t feel right. I guess I am not enough of a hedonist to pursue flesh for the sake of flesh. My reluctance to compromise when I am of limited appeal means I will remain a celibate hermit in the wilderness.

I guess that would be all just fine and dandy if I did not have a crush. Yes I know pathetic. She clearly has no interest in me by any stretch of the imagination – and believe me my imagination is very stretchable! I have asked her out for coffee at work – and she has always declined. It is clear I do nothing for her – and yet I find her walking across me thoughts in the oddest moments. Ahhh – what a sad complex world we humans weave!

So there we are – the sad pathos of my imaginary romance! I guess I will just have to set myself up as a sugar-daddy to a struggling visual artist who needs studio space and someone to pay her bills. In return she can paint me vibrant paintings and escort me to art-show openings where we can discuss the merits of post-modernism.

At least I can dream.

Gem Stones

cold crystals rest
on my window sill
bending sunlight
showering brilliant
sparks of spring light
into dazzling prismatic
splatter across my white walls
marching rainbow patterns
flickering across my ceiling
untouchable sparkles
driving my cat mad

holding me mesmerized
beyond the dark reality
of what is here and now

 

Fatigued

Another day and I am out of ideas. No spark at all. So I will ramble meaningless sentences on to the white screen in front of me. Not sure what it is – I am just dragging. Daily molasses slog from bed to shower, shower to room. Slow motion dressing. Plod to car – and into work. Do the daily grind while watching the clock.

Tick-tock round in circles. Click. Click. Click

End. Leave. Lounge. Rinse and repeat.

What more is there anyway? I am the recording stuck on infinite repeat. Groundhog day cycles Ala Bill Murray and minus Andie MacDowell…

Oh look there is my shadow – I must retreat now and cower in my hole until winter snows do recede and fade and feed the ground so that daffodils will bloom and brighten the sidewalk were the dogs pause to piss bright yellow streams into the fragrant blooms. Lovely, just lovely.

I have probably offended my readers with that vulgar description of the rituals of spring. Alas, it is a true image of north american urban living. Here where dogs are king stud and bitch queen of the front yard. It is the joy of living near a park – such that when the snow banks melt – the offerings of the God Dogs to the boulevard are revealed. Bleached and freeze-dried turds now reconstituted by the mud of thaw. Oh yea verily it is the beauty of spring.

It likely doesn’t matter what I post here no one actually reads this far in my blog posts anyway. At least this exercise of daily posts has tested my ability to be a writer. Not happening. It is good to try these things and fail so one doesn’t hold on to everlasting regret and tell the world  ’Oh I wanted to be a writer but I never tried.’

I lack the discipline to actually plot and draft and re-draft and re-plot and burn and cut and edit. I am the one pass writer, spewing words from brain to page in Joycean deluge of stream of consciousness but without that compelling take away your breath inner voice that says oh my god that was wondrous and raw and but for the grace of god there go I. I am master of the spewing deluge that says oh my god I am bored and now I must tear my eyes out  of my head yet somehow I continue to read this crap in hopes that I have not wasted precious minutes of my life reading such awful garbage - there must be reward or redemption for plodding through to the end of this sentence. Some pay-off? Something? Anything? Words of wisdom? Please? I am sorry but there is none. It is like life – it simply goes and and on and then just suddenly ends in a great big pile of nothing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Just like that blank space above…

Okay I am done now – here goes publish. This is a cheat in my post-a-day marathon since it does not meet the creativity quota. So sue me. Better yet come back tomorrow when my brain is perhaps working in a better manner. That is a lie – it never gets better than this. But come back anyway so I feel like I am getting my money’s worth.

Thanks for reading – I like the company.

Really I Don’t

You think you’re required
to keep my world afloat
well I got news for you
cause I really don’t

I really don’t need you
telling me what to do
I surely don’t need you
playing me for the fool

You should just get going
heading on outta my life
nothing left to say now
other than its been nice

I really don’t need you
telling me what to do
I truly don’t need you
making me feel so blue

You really don’t belong
in this space here with me
always running me down
telling me how to be

I really don’t need you
telling me what to do
I surely don’t need you
playing me for the fool

You just can’t believe it
no matter how I say it
so let me make it clear
fuck off and I’ve just quit

I really don’t need you
telling me what to do
and I never ever will
so darling here’s adieu!

Opus Mythicus

fantastic plans dance in my head
visualizations ever unattainable
grandeur singularly elusive

I am pilgrim wandering forward
seeking sublime revelations divine
and finding only pebbles in my shoes

plantar fasciitis hobbles my steps
fallen trees crash across my path
nightfall threatens dark closure

I am quixotic fool ever questing
wearing fading daisies and ribbons
for a lady who lies somewhere else

does she ever think of me?
Is she looking at these our stars
and making wishes for my future?

no doubt she has another lover
keeping her warm in the night
while I shiver in this forest

she has no reason to wait for me
I have only given her my dreams
and they are worth nothing at all

tattered words and spirits floating
on moonlit rivers past crystal caves
where the memory of tomorrow is hiding

I would tell you my story in verse
if I had the tune to shape the words
but here there is only watchful silence

and so it ends.

Bitter Days

raw vengeance is
distilled
presented
by reaching inside
squeezing out bile
for foul coulis
dripping over gallstones
arranged in mystical patterns
on paper plates
remember
revenge is best served cold
masking the taste
of rancid bitterness
that sharp metal tang
cutting across
into soul heart
every thought
fully
possessed
compelled
driven
into darkness
muttering madness
fluttering
deep inside
round and round
reliving what
we most regret
so bitterly despise
in twisted memory of you and I.

Breeze

spring’s warm breath
sends winter away -
let’s go play!

summer breeze
cool breath on hot skin -
no worries!

autumn gust
strips golden trees bare -
easily

winter blast
hides the to-do list -
smoothly done.

Inspired by the  word prompt “BREEZE” at

Freedom

Freedom sneaks
in unexpected ways
in unforeseen moments
in uncounted surprises
taking away
unseen pressures
unknown stress

leaving me unburdened

Hazards

danger danger up ahead
caution warning flashing red
those curves they move way to fast
can’t just let them slide right past
gotta ride them round the bend
worry later if we’ll mend
speeding sliding over ground
skip the brakes and wheel around

faster faster here we go
no time now to take it slow
climbing up through every gear
open up and let go fear
now we’re moving straight ahead
hope I haven’t been misled
feel that sudden power surge
ease on in and start to merge

revving revving full on thrust
giving in to all this lust
shifting down from mountain pass
slipping into valley grass
pistons pounding out a beat
as we’re blasting down this street
feel that tingle down below
thrumming engine primed to blow

danger danger up ahead
caution warning flashing red
those curves they move way to fast
can’t just let them slide right past

  • Back To You (echoessilencepatienceandgrace.wordpress.com)
  • Transported (helpfulannalisa.wordpress.com)
  • Guide (blackinkbirds.wordpress.com)

Kindness

“Three things in human life are important: the first is to be kind; the second is to be kind; and the third is to be kind.”
― Henry James

Today I am philosophical, pondering the idea of kindness. Why are people kind? And what does it mean when someone is kind? What motivates one person to do a kind act? And another person to turn away and not see a need unfulfilled?

To be kind is to look after someone else’s needs without expectation of a return kindness. It is not love that motivates kindness, yet love requires kindness to flourish and grow. And this aspect of kindness puzzles most people – how can we be kind to strangers? It makes no logical sense. Yet most of us will stop and help if we see someone is in need and we know we are able to help.

Snowstorms bring out kindness – people pushing cars out of drifts. Stopping to shovel snow from driveways. I watched a elderly neighbour bring out hot drinks to the people who stopped to shovel another neigbours driveway. None of these people really knew each other except in passing on the street. On bright sunny days they often just walk by each other without speaking. Yet today – with lots of heavy wet snow – they stopped and become a community.

Lending a hand when there is a “short-term” crisis like a snowstorm is one type of kindness – and a kindness that we don’t question as having an ulterior motive. Less spontaneous acts of kindness may get scrutinized for other motives - especially if the bestower and the receiver of kindness are of opposite sex from each other. And even more so of the receiver is viewed as attractive.

I remember helping a woman on my street one summer who needed her garage door repaired. She had backed her car into the garage door and now it wouldn’t open. I watched her hammering at the track and finally went over to lend a hand. I showed her how to loosen the tracks and shift them into place. It took maybe 30 minutes of adjusting the door track to make the door slide again. When I arrived back home I had a glaring partner standing in the hallway with her hands on her hips. Apparently my act of neighbourly kindness was seen as having some other long-term goal. My action was inappropriate.

To this day I am left wondering – is there such a thing as an inappropriate kindness? Is the problem in my acts of kindness? Or in the perception of the person that viewed the kindness? I often do small things without any expectation of reciprocation – simply because I can help make things better. Yes it feels good to know I made a difference – which then encourages me to help again when I am able.

Can one over do kindness? Something for me to puzzle as I drink my tea…

 

 

Stranded

stuck here in the middle
far from shore
blue sky
blue water
blue thoughts
wind-tossed
sand-strewn
in solitude

how did I get so far
from where I wanted to be?

Decoy

alluring allure lured me
into your charming charms
you so forwardly forward
I touched by your touch
sensing sensual sensations
slipped sliding smoothly
into caring caresses

I succumbed to seduction
yielding into yielding
revealing reviling revelations
as we laid lying after laying
tearing tender tenderness
into shredded shards
I thought this was real
deluded elusive illusions
always leading the way.

So Simple

It is easy it is
really it has to be
or evolution would have failed

yet here I am
imaging a thousand
dead ends and rejections

my complex brain
creating new realities
that have nothing to do with you

nothing at all
and so it is…

 

Shimmer

spring shimmer
heats to slow simmer
boils over

bursts into
dazzling bright colours
all aglow.

Inspired by the  word prompt “SHIMMER” at