Holding on…

Listening to
the stranglehold of history
the minutiae of years
can’t help wasting it…
the years to never be regained…
but ah the escapism of a circus performer
hanging on to the tight rope
’cause in the worth is the prize….
We sit and reminisce
watching history watch us back
as it laughs
for it hasn’t changed
just morphed into new dimensions
thinking ’bout what’s happening
and trying to place
the talons down….
seems like the time and place
re-arranging the semblance of order
as confusionism takes flight
coming or going….
not that it matters
except to the mistress of her craft,
wake to the new dawn,
fly to the sun for a chat
finding out what’s really going on….
in and out of the mind
nothing really going on
except the tragedy of awakening…
caught between chords of yesterday
we find no reason to connect
two ways to black and white
no color barrier
just the eclipse of moons and souls
standing on the shoulder of the road waiting
thumb out
waiting for a soul with understanding and heart
listening for the reiki beat
of healing…
“relax…Just the basic facts….there is no pain…your lips move but I can’t hear what you say….you would not understand, this is not how I am…”
lost in the cycle of
disillusion,
should we let the butterflies land?
or let spellcheck take control….
stolen thoughts and set aside…
” when I was a child, I caught a fleeting glimpse…I cannot put my finger on it now, the child is grown,……….
the dream is gone”
so many gone….why is it.that I dive deeper
feel the pain,
need to reconcile the future with the past….
so hard to do when pulled so far
and so many pieces can only reconnect
with their whole….
“remember when you were young? we shone like the sun”……oh…
the smell of weed on the air….
wanting to be a part
to belong,
damn how these lyrical trips take me
magic carpet ride to yesterday,
can’t complain
cause I could never explain
as long as you’re still here on the journey
and seeing this girl through….
all she needs you to do…..is…..
ah,
the endless question of reason…..

Thank you for letting me have a little soul dilemma tonight, listening to songs of my history, thinking of friends here in bloggerville ,you know who you are….life years moving onto the coming on 50 years…so many miles to go before I sleep….”remember when you were young? You shone like the sun….now there’s a look in your eyes, like black holes in the sky…you reached for the secret too soon…you cried for the moon…shine on you crazy diamond”……”always searching, reaching…never ending…all apologies….it is what it is….we sat in a dorm room, drinking Lowenbrau….young college girls rich with the scent of Apple pectin shampoo, the lingering scent of my memories still on the air, men who wanted to be girls flitted in and out like gentle confused butterflies and I merely lingered in the outskirts trying to read the chapters…of who ultimately I would end up to be…..to be continued…darn YouTube……a time capsule for sure ๐Ÿ™‚

Last man standing

We became those,

the last standing remnant of yesterday,

dinosaurs of our existence,

caught between a song and today

for there was nothing else

we could fathom.

We were born this way

so the beauty of each song had to say,

voices without faces

it just was the way it was

and we accepted it that way,

For there was no depth,

no stress,

nothing that got caught up in the way,

and we could sleep at night knowing

we were young

unique,

the last man standing

like the birches in the meadows,

peeling from the outside in,

the scent deep on the air,

we were just that

simplistic like a memory,

got caught in the way.

I sit here today,

the jasmine heavy on the air

like thoughts on the mind,

and tomorrow is yet another day

and it will be what it will be,

and somewhere within,

beneath the cuticle that’s torn,

through each bit of ache

we know it will regain

its strength again.

I know not always the right things to say,

I only can feel what flows like a stream-

slipping past the silent trees that watch

like the nightman waiting for drama,

nothing wicked this way comes

except that which we invite with open doors,

and closed minds,

time drifts down as the night has descended

and a sad country song plays on the disc,

why not me?

and I wonder,

why not?

Fluid by nature

Caught in the drifting flow

melting moons of a mind moving

once more and again our nature

drives the melting like chocolate on asphalt

standing in puddles

fluid by nature.

Everywhere and nowhere

alert to the motion of light happening

sitting on the sidelines like a voyeur at a parade,

same old same old

when nothing changes the Einstein factor

insanity will reign.

Caught in the warp of the everyday

watching dogs pace after the power line bandits

teetering on the brink of understanding that it is

what it is

and isms and schisms can whisper their words

falling on deaf ears and eyes that can only see

what is known,

a melting moon can and will happen

cause the Google monster tells us so,

check it out and know

like an artists painting of dripping moments

the brush will wash clean

clocks and the timekeepers at the gate

when anything is possible and will

when given the chance,

happen as it will-

written in time yet still as of yet undiscovered

the crazies will find the asylum a welcome retreat

from the normal that has become

the everyday.

I see the sliver hanging on the invisible string,

just a piece of its former self,

because the heat will bear down

filling in the cracks and crevices

where only tiny seeds will survive

and names will elude the mind that tires

but the mustache will stand strong

of the Dali’s of this world

for they see what others can only sense

as it all drips quietly away.

Just my mind, lost in an artists moment…..tired and ready for a soft pillow.

Rolled

I remember the scent of hay

growing in fields below a setting sun,

waiting

for that moment when ready,

ripe,

ripped,

cut,

severed and laying beneath the sun

drying out,

curling into a remnant of self.

Words pass through days

reaching in deep

pulling out the moisture

the life blood

the force that gave life

and with a last gasp

rolled into mounds

to serve purpose

in new ways under a winter sun,

brittle and cold

yet ready.

Rough and edged with pieces of yesterday

cut down from the beauty of the growth

fodder for life

still of use

sustenance for the hooved beast,

food for the circle

the chain that moves round,

I should be happy to be

when so many lands lay barren.

For I am a part of all,

it is I

and I am stacked and in circles

waiting for the next move.

Enough

In the heart of darkness
Each soul will rise to the occasion
Letting go of the little words that pinch,
edges grated against the shield built,
so easily we could fall once more
into the vortex which is manipulation,
once more we could cower and give in.

It takes strength to stand up,
to be strong against those who preach the prophesy
of someone else,
the unnamed face of blight,
but if not enough credit is given,
for the pool that lived within the depths for half century,
The wise shall see through the looking glass shown:

the warrior will still rise, unbroken.

For no protection is needed,
there is no maiden in distress,
there is no mind in need of salvation.

New days are on nigh,
and the clock will chime regardless
and the bell will indeed toll,
but the keeper of the madness is always very aware.
The lock and key will hold the strong fort
for the changes that will come
I have no fear.

I have learned my lessons well
and though one of few spoken word aloud,
when prompted, and provoked,
I have no need to fill your mind
with justifying babble
when only mere silence is truly due,
for One cannot be a creation built
of anothers will and constitution,
a road must be walked alone ultimately
and on that path we gather
those of love and soul
and simple like mind,
never judging,
never trying to recreate into an image,
freedom of self will rise as is the birth right to all
peace indeed always will reign
in one who believes,
who truly is fine in the skin that shelters
the essence of a good soul.

Thoughts of a mind filled with a tinge of anger tonight, but overcoming and finding the peace, for to give in to the thinking of another and take it as ones own, means to give away self, and in this new year that is drawing to a close, I am sheltering fiercly this strength and force, that I shall overcome the outer slings and arrows, that I shall be myself and no other, and that alone will afford me the peace I hold dear. I cannot, I will not, be someone other than who I am, proudly and without reserve. Looking forward to a new day, as I do each new day, new year or otherwise……gonna be a fun ride my friends, count on it, embrace it, and just be! Peace and all is good….just cleaning out the mental closet before sleep lays claim and dreams invade…always the best indeed. ๐Ÿ’•๐Ÿ™๐Ÿปโ˜ฎ๐Ÿ’Ÿ๐Ÿ’œ๐Ÿ’™๐Ÿ’š๐Ÿพ๐Ÿพ๐Ÿ’‹ Happy New Year to one and all and catch you in a few hours for a thrilling new adventure in 2017. Peace and love, Kโœจ๐Ÿ’ซ Shine on you crazy diamonds.โญ๏ธ๐ŸŒŸ๐Ÿ’ซ๐ŸŒ™โœจ๐Ÿ’Ž๐Ÿ’Ž๐Ÿ’Ž๐Ÿ’Ž๐Ÿ’Ž

Red water runs

Moving menace

Fish flounder in sickening seas

Birds will die from poisoned fins

Sadness as the breath

Escapes in particles

Consuming oxygen

Killing life.

Can’t breathe here suddenly

Escape back to safer climate

Down the street and away

We are able

We run seeking shelter

If only they could too.

Went down to the jetty today to experience our first red tide since we’ve been living near the gulf, upon exiting the car, the particulate in the air took your breath away, I came home feeling sick and my nose plugged up and we were only out for about a minute and a half. It is horrible and my heart aches for the fish dead and dying and the birds that consume them awaiting the same fate a little bit in the future. Praying for it to break up and go away sooner rather than later. No swimming, no shark teeth hunting, no peace. Sigh. Not my image, googled one as my photos came out not so good, not enough time to get a good shot…couldn’t breathe.

Man of motion (Gordon Downie)

Between the spaces where the dust settles,
Where words of a poet come to rest
and screams of effect of a tragic goodbye,
tiredness of soul rest
and glittered nights will be set for life,
it’s in these places the voice ignites
and says it’s goodbyes in the evening light
together, tears are shed before it’s done
as we remember the days as if they’ve just begun.
The whimsical remembered stories told
in our minds they seep
forever to enthrall
and we speak your name with reverance there
with caps and courage and grace brought forth
a “live well” as the light goes out
not just another but one of us
from youth to now we still hear the voice
on cold wind blown Canadien nights
what poets words do stir the mind
for tonight until the end of time
oh sir you gave a young girl thoughts
on forbidden dark lit concert nights
as we danced until the morning came
and as we slept many whispered your name
as we shall do until the end of days
in rememberance of that summer haze
when music was all that made us alive
thank you sir from the Florida skies
and wishing I had been there to see
the final moments
sharing in the shedding of tears
as you climb the stairs that await us all
I hope you know
you were the white shirt singer of a teenaged soul
who inspired a child in lonely days
in the poets mind
you took your time
you did it right
the final chords,
a shining light.

I am so blessed with having seen my favorite Canadian band The Tragically Hip twice in my life, yesterday was the showing on CBC music of the final concert, heartfelt bits and pieces are all I’ve been able to pull up, as the lead singer Gord Downie battles an inoperable brain tumor, such courage, love and showmanship was what I am now left with, and such sweet memories of teenage nights at a concert up in Canada….no I can’t say much…but it was Amazing…I will leave it at that. God bless you Gord, a poet who still inspires….Singing fifty mission cap….and Boots and Hearts of course.๐Ÿ’œ๐Ÿ’• Thank you for your gift of music and words ๐Ÿ’•๐Ÿ’œ Glad I had the chance to witness the beginnings of goodbye.

Into The maelstromย 

Tossed and turned about
ship unanchored moving in
to the wind whipped depths
returning to the open sea
lost for a moment in an eternity,
anger claims hold in white washed waves
as sleep elludes the restless soul
anger,
darkness clashing forces
something so simple
turned into another deep dive
in to the bottomless emptiness
and you can throw the vest, the ring,
the device that cannot save-
for there is only one way to rise above
this maelstrom
and that is to go deep within
to explore that which lays claim
like the handful of ships before
sunk and without notice
destination unknown,
pieces of history barely remembered
yet for the wire tongued whip
trying to keep it in line
and the feckless student
wise beyond his time
turning disdain to the Motherland
better to run aground
learning how to survive
than clinging to a sinking ship
whose day has come to run aground
to become but a fading memory
of yesterday and the storm
that launched the ideas
of a place of blue seas
free.

Gorgeous image of Venice FL by : Kristen Gunn

In search of perfection….gone.

I listen in the haze of a cloud

Words that soothe and bring a soul strife,

You’re not here

But yet you remain

The magic of modern day life.

Can’t grasp my hands around

This moment that loses itself in time

Another place

Another language

And I am Young once more.

Am I getting older

Or am I merely locked In The

Is sad capsule of time

Buried below bricks waiting, 

for the perfect gawking moment

Of what once was

But is no longer.

I feel the tears fall like rain,

The pity party late for the grand parade

But I know you wouldn’t mind,

Got there

In my own good time

And I don’t need a light,

Too many years and good sense have run by

And I listen with feverish intention,

Watching the new you tube invention

And it’s grips me hard

Each word played out,

Hard,

Like a sledge hammer to the brain

This moment, 

which will never pass again,

And I am no one

And you, 

you are someone

Because you mattered,

And lines will be crossed,

Yet who counts the cost

Just the faceless,

The nameless,

Who stands and dare say it is just….

Whitewash on a wall

Easily covered

Nothing really, at all.

But to those who know,

Who count the score,

Just words in passing

Like the rain that falls 

and then effortlessly moves on

As is intended

Leaving the rest behind,

You are you,

And you were everything…..

Across my universe…for Brooke

She was here

Time stamp six days gone by

Friend unknown

And she’s gone….

I listen to the music that touches my soul

And her voice is heard here,

Bringing me a senseless joy for connection,

And I don’t know why

But reasons and purposes

And she’s here still

Smiling that wicked smile I see on her page….

That I at heart wished I too could possess 

And really, I could easily say

It doesn’t matter but for so many it does,

She has a name

She had a life

And she’s gone…..

He asks me why I’m so vibrant tonight,

Listening to the lifeblood,

Music that touches me

But I know that it is what makes me feel alive

When others are gone.

And I grasp onto those pieces,

The rhythm, the words,

The beat that makes me feel alive

For she was too young

And I’m still here

Not that there’s a trade off

But I think of her

The girl I never knew,

Six days a friend and she’s still here in my mind,

Living her life that some might not understand,

And everybody loves,

And everybody cries for what would have been

And I’m just plain old sad

Trying to gain control of these feelings,

Wondering if we would have laughed together

Instead of being left tonight with what could have been and songs

That inspire sadness and tears,

Because when nut come to bolts

We all have our lives to live

To, crap, at a loss for the right words,

To live while the living is there

Because we never truly know

At the close of a perhaps perfect moment,

It’s all gone,

Over in a flash,

She was my friend for six days

A girl woman I will never truly know,

But blessed that she saw something that made her reach out to say, hey…

Want to be friends?

I want to know her more,

And it’s too late now,

But perhaps she cycled in when needed as a reminder,

That we’re all connected in more ways than we will ever know,

And I embrace the friend I wish a had known.

I’m having a good day, when I should be having a quite bad one, a girl who friended me on FB died two days ago and I feel bad for never having had the chance to get to know and appreciate the girl and woman she was. Wife, mother, and happy soul in general from what I could see….the world was a  much brighter place without her smile….listening to across the universe and wondering why things happen, people coming and going out of our lives….no rhyme or reason….”the wind just pushed me this way” as Robbie says so nicely…somewhere down the crazy River…..feeling like crying and embracing it…yeah, feels right…..peace Brooke Smith, peace….I will share a laugh someday on the other side….peace, baby, peace….