What we know

John told me ages ago,

like an old time story a memory,

you’ve got to hear this,

means so much,

and I hear the voices now in my ears,

thinking back to that moment

years ago,

bringing it all back on this night

as the wind blows from a different vantage point

a bad world, a mad world

and the wind keeps blowing

the jasmine scent

so unlike bombs in the air

eons away

from what I am surrounded by

and so many changes I cannot quite comprehend.

As he falls, I can only sense

the repeat performance

from so very long ago,

the story of the loss of a man

just like us but not just like us

and I watched his face as he watched mine

above the table each night as he dined

amongst the family that fell

apart one by one

year by year

becoming a story in of itself

of no revelevance

except for those who lived

beneath his stoic gaze.

Did you know I hated him?

For what he couldn’t hold together

and did you know

some days

I hate him still,

although not such a strong hate,

just a mere disinterest at times,

because he represents

something beyond my circle of thought,

like a passing gaze at an accident

that couldn’t help but to happen

but I know he doesn’t condemn,

so not his style,

cause I can listen to my voices,

my Elouise and my Sheldons

who are mired at times where I reside,

and I know we keep company

with this kind soul who could never judge,

after all,

we do enough of that ourselves.

When I ask,

those questions that swirl when I anger,

when patience just doesn’t find me

in it’s eager way,

and the swearing mind has it’s way,

although never leaving the lips,

just the mind, mind you,

it lends itself to its own stories,

tells its own tales…

quite good at that by the way,

but I can still see in my little girl mind,

a man on an ass,

a donkey if one would expect correctness,

who plodded on,

knowing,

expecting,

enduring,

and I wonder why I can’t be

as strong

as humble

as loving

as gentle

and I know because he tells me,

with time it comes,

the acceptance of what is to come

to one

to all

and I’m okay then,

and I can close my mind off

and shut off the noise

and just cry in my silence

for a man who died

like a hundred thousand others

before I became a heartbeat

and I know I am blessed

for he tells me

as no one else

could ever do.

This is his image I knew

and know to this day,

while ghosts haunt me

I still can’t help but to remember

for it was drilled like an endless test,

what we try to escape

will always circle round

to find us in our weakness

and sometimes playing possum

is better than answering the questions

told with angry eyes,

why can’t you be?

why can’t you just tow the line.

fdde8932378f110b877cae6213c44db5

the image that watched me eat, sleep, live….tucked away for years after the fact….I needed no reminders for he dwelled deep within….I still need no reminders, better to leave me to worship in my own way as I chose. One chokes when force fed….I know a few will understand. ❤

Mysteries of time and space

Images unseen move past the lens of life

Filtering through time and space

Within shadows there is light

Caught in a second 

Unaware until found

Having perhaps always been there.

Below the depths of an evening sky

Movement heard in crackling leaves

And the scent of all familiar

Calming the senses like a smooth invisible wave

Simple as incense smoke rising

And dissipating into itself.

Spirit moves me in the quiet melody of a song

And the cool air dries the sweat of a deepened sleep

Trickling down into the abyss

Of dreams of ghosts revisited.

I was going through some pictures I took on my iPad and came across this one. It wasn’t there before and I’m not really sure what it is, but it seems to be a lanai shot in the dark, but I suppose it is there for a reason, sidled between shots from morning till dusk. Love it when fun things like that happen unexpectedly. Magic photos unearthed.

Hooked

Morning skies beam in colors

brisk breath hanging on air,

caught up in the web-like fingers of the distant trees

hooked on a view beyond compare.

I stand like a fool on the hill

balanced on the slope I stop my thoughts wondering

why it is these things we do without thought,

leaning to stay steady

just something we do without realizing,

how in tune our bodies are to terrain

and how we seldom fall as if somewhere,

invisible wires keep us upright

standing strong.

The sun moves higher too,

on its course doing what it always does

just because

the cosmic pull from night to dawn

the internal workings of the universe

unseen but there.

Energy pulls us upright within as each step taken

moving down the hill to more level ground

we lean and step taking care

to move ourselves into just the right position

as we gaze above at the might of the unknown,

and hooked on all that we see

or dream.

Falling into chains

The magnificence

thunderous roar filling ears

the depth and speed to behold

wondrous to the eye.

He walked these shores

lost and entranced by what he found

a world wanderer

no place to lay his head

taken away in chains instead.

Thirty days in a hole

moving from beauty to brutality

fodder for future words

disconcerting I have heard.

For the simple crime of vagrancy

he slept in a concrete house of horrors

so close to my home

facts I had not known.

To know you through pages

I search for antique finds

to hold you in my hands

books of yesterday held by others before me.

Why was I drawn into your life

lessons from teachers or was it simply

a look in your eyes that said

That you too understand the workings

of a writer telling tales

spinning webs to be lost within

letting the soul bleed out

the only way it knew how.

 

1876-1916) Writer, novelist. London wrote in “The Road” (1907) of his experiences as a drifter coming to Niagara Falls in 1894, being enthralled for hours by the falls, but then (having no money for a hotel room) being arrested for vagrancy and sentenced to a month in the Erie County Penitentiary.
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Violet whispers

Waves of mood
Playing softly in the dusk
Violet whispers
Night bird calls.
Who goes there
Wings flutter in flight
Where have you been
Lavender thought.
Stars peer out
Between dappled clouds
Somewhere out there
The whistle sounds,
Night train moves
On rusted tracks
The mind wanders loosely
As Violet whispers
Soothes the energy
Calm reigns
When night falls
She will return
To purple skies
And meadows of clover.