Circus Cities
I’m a town and country person, although I have lived away from my New Hampshire woods. I have lived in a few big cities. In Pittsburg, living in the projects, we use to go into the rail yards and scoop up left over vegetables into pillowcases that the unloading machines couldn’t reach. Or, go over the stone wall to steal some grapes from a neighbor living below the projects, which I believe, let us ‘cause we never got caught. But, the most disturbing thing I witnessed, going to school in NY City, watching a dog defecating on the sidewalk. On concrete, not grass or leaves in the woods… on cement! That, I thought, was the most dehumanizing, de-animalizing consequence of our circus cities.
We don’t know we’re goofy
Until it rains
After building our house
Forgotten the roofy
Tags: Notes Found On The Refrigerator
When I think someone nearby
Is charging me too much for my resources,
I spend more on gas and time—
Not really saving a dime!
But, I guess, it is not the cost—
It must be the satisfaction
Not buying from them
And—
The beautiful drive.
****
As A Writer:
How can anyone capture a free spirit when one lives alone—
Even with another;
Gliding, diving, and bumping into things—
Independent of reason or rhyme?
Yet, their direction is always the same—
Straight ahead;
Come hell, heaven, or high water—
Destination, always unknown.
Unable to catch the spirit passing by—
That captured sight;
Unable to capture it—
With an un-capturing eye.
****
Through the abyss of “reality’s diminishing disguise”
Beauty and imagination often reveal themselves in subtle smiles;
Lest we forget, where we— come from!
How to read this reflection—
Showing us—
Who—
We really are.
****
Good Morning sunrise
Moon’s reflection still shinning
Oh beautiful day
****
Releasing Illusions On The Shore
Beach sand sifted from my hands—
Flowing stream
Silently clutched by gravity
settles in small drifting piles beneath me.
Thought and mood changed from grain to grain.
Perils and adventures rise and fall—
Again and again.
From one position to the next—
All things change
Us—
From illusion to truth—
Only a mindful soul steadily remains
In each sunset, in each full moon, in each new sunrise,
Where, we become the sand—
Released from our hands.
*****
From sand to diminishing pottery
My soul pours out the last of life
Of existence to non-existence
To non-remembrance
Of holding its last
Lover’s rose.
*****
Whoa! There’s a small spider in my car!
Catching me unaware—
How did he get in?
Kissing me on my chin—
So sweet, so devouring
what should I do with him?
I’ll stick my head out the window,
At 50 miles per hour, that should be the last of him.
Shoot! There goes my hat!
But, apparently, not my new best friend—
Best buckle up then.
Tags: http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/, Notes Found On The Refrigerator, Pine Cone Diaries, Sand, spirituality, Zen
(curtain rises…both are getting into bed)
Mémé: I’m not asking you to cheat
Only to tweak. (turning over, back to Pépé)
Pépé: I refuse to participate, in the choices they make,
can’t you see, Just let it be!
(he does the same and turns over. now both are lying back to back)
Mémé: Get off your arse then, and turn off the light!
There ain’t nothing right… left to be seen this night.
Pépé: I thought it was your turn
To turn out the lights, tonight.
Mémé: You want to fight?
(as a matter of fact)
I still got a good right.
(giggling)
Pépé: What is it that you want me to do?
Again. Before I lay down.
(slowly getting up)
Mémé: Go and tell the grandchildren
To stop this, this… “Messing around!
…La vie ne est plus le pont de d’Avignon.”
Pépé:
(re-enters and gets into bed facing mémé)
Bonsoir Mémé.
Mémé: Bonsoir Pépé.
(Both start humming ‘Sous le pont de d’Avignon’)
(Curtain closes)
On the lighter side, in my “research”, I stumbled on this and if you have the time… [growing up with this song, I couldn’t help but smile when I saw this.]
Tags: A role of responsibility, France, French-Canadian, http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/, http://withrealtoads.blogspot.se/, Short play
Wings reflecting the moon at sunrise,
Settled upon the child with no sin;
In water and parents, he was baptized.
His heart now lit, from a light within.
Shadows may cover his smile
As his youth transitions into understanding;
From failure to the success, patient all the while,
Like a crawl… to standing… to running,
For no minds’ reason at all.
He will awake during his life time
With a drop of water, a tear of joy
Running down his face; acknowledging his mother and father,
Being born under an ivory Host, with a visitor without error,
Or mistake. His Guardian Angel,
For whom, he will never forsake.
Tags: Gift, Growing up, http://gooseberrygoespoetic.blogspot.com/2012/01/poetry-picnic-week-21-childrens-stories.html, http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/, http://withrealtoads.blogspot.se/, Notes Found On The Refrigerator, religion, spirituality
Sins and whims follow swift currents.
(errors in delight move faster than light)
Skipper and passenger, in myriad murmurs,
(Mind and heart argue and fight)
blame the sinking of the soul, in all events,
(each acknowledging neither is right)
On their leaning, to close to the brim.
(capsizing the balance of each other’s sight)
Their voyage unable to transcend the peak of the waves,
(oh, but their argument will not let them sleep)
float to the bottom in lifeless bubbles;
(with promises and assurances unable to keep)
seeking passage without having to pay.
(Feeling blameless, wolf’s victim as sheep)
For neither the price, nor for the rescue or salvage.
(follies, human salvation, shallow as deep)
****
“…Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.”
A Psalm of life
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Tags: Growing up, http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/, http://withrealtoads.blogspot.se/, Notes Found On The Refrigerator
“If someone renounces themselves,
then whatever they might keep,
wether it be a kingdom or honour
or whatever it may be,
they will still have renounced
all things.”
Meister Eckhart
I have lost everything I loved,
trampled below me and from above
I cannot find those things anymore.
They have been sacked and plundered, scorched and scored;
Expelled from the belly of a Trojan horse
Wrapped and gifted, without remorse.
Perhaps, I had to abandon those things
in my surrender, in my winter before the Spring;
Empty handed, on my knees,
To learn there is nothing sacred, for desire without need.
As I grow older, more mature, more disposed
to release those things I can’t believed in anymore,
You, have stayed at my side, through this resolution,
to help me place the plastic flowers of illusion
At the grave sites of what I thought was at stake;
Allowing me, now, to be peacefully embraced
At the foot of my grave mistake.
Tags: Desire, Illusions, Meister Eckhart, Mistakes, Peace, spirituality
I find my depression by calling myself the witness.
**********
It is time to re-discover …and scrap what I have invented.
********
“I did not make all things. I AM all things. Cursing what is made is futile and disparaging. Things are fine, they just need to be put in the right place.” scribbled by a pencil across a terrible “act”.
****************************
pick up or point out
Ah, here comes the picker;
that poor bastard is unconscious.
If he sees something out of place he straightens it right out.
If it’s his, he puts it back in his pocket. If it’s not
he puts it back from were it fell from.
Or, may consider its current placement
for another day. Not anally, just clearing his path
putting things away.
Usually behind him, is another unconscious bastard
looking about and enjoying the sights.
Hands clutched to a dustpan and broom
hunting and finding faux pas,
preferably on shiny un-carpeted floors,
under the bed, and behind opened doors.
they will always “AHA!” …to the picker, often in terse tone,
extending their hands in laziness, except for one finger, pointing it out;
handing over the resolution, expecting a bow and a “thank God” he follows you about.
When you become responsible for yourself,
you are freed to appreciate the picker
and the other bastard I suppose.
43.444533
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Self-pity is a stone
thrown on a still pond
that ripples only misery
with everything it touches;
eventually to dissolve, I suppose,
on the banks among the reeds
before the pond returns
to its peaceful
state.
********
Guilt:
The snake has legs
carries a dagger in its boot
curled up to the warmth of its prey
plays heads or tails with a two-faced coin.
You know it has slipped in
when you hear the closing door
awakening with a dagger in your chest.
It’s best to forgive, be forgiven, and forgit.
Good-night, now shoo! Git.
***********
Who dares give shit to the dishwasher for dropping a dish?
**********
Love?
I’m not talking about beating the piss out of something
to straighten out dents!
I’m still a romantic;
a flower, a kiss,
a small candy heart
that says in fading blue letters
“I love you.”
A card or two
even if it’s from your mother
just another remarkable reminder,
in addressing the word “you.”
********
regardless, of your creativity fella,
it still needs to be somewhat refined
as raw gold, or silver, or coal, and
in this particular instance
even mud.
oh, up your nose with a rubber hose!
Oh, oh, “F” plus
*********
Traveling the birds path that leaves no trail
the sickle of time, the cycle of life,
became ripples from a circle in my eyes.
The splash has wet my face.
I morn less for time and change,
awakened to see
what the center had to divide.
Learning to put things where they belong;
most of them, I found,
empty under my wings.
Tags: http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/, Tea
The Buddha is the perfection of free will. Jesus, the Christ, discourages failure; allowing the dignity of risk to be forgiven and forgotten. The gods and Saints, Prophets, and Great Chiefs exemplify this understanding struggle that arrives to the Center of Inner Peace (God) before our minds created the earth. The path has already been chosen. It has been blazed and traveled on long before light. I need to stop chasing my tail.
********
Falling down the stairs (sorta like stumbling on the Truth) has it’s initial physical reaction but none so surprising, after landing on the first stair, as there was, in realizing (with some fear) that, there are more stairs, I was falling. OUCH! 911 me!
**************
Every feather I found on the ground was accepted as a gift to wear 🙂
**********************
Do I really understand what it is, I receive?
****
I accept our similarities and I am familiar with them.
I am seeking, however, my uniqueness among you;
which we equally possess within ourselves.
*******
I need to bring strife to a mutual conclusion.
I need to resolve it and move on.
If I can’t, I’m in real deep shit!
If, that is the case,
then let me hold my breath
and dissolve. 🙂
****
I have accomplished more things in my mind,
that I have failed to do.
Proud of my success I suppose,
but under an empty roof.
*******
shaved and wearing a smile, hopping and limping along
Fred the peg all dressed in red was going to the neighborhood bar.
He had met a lady there last night, real cute and precisely square.
Go figure?
After much conversation which seemed to go everywhere
They both agreed to meet again, at exactly the same spot, there.
Fred spent the day whittling his leg hoping to better fit in,
with the square.
Now kinda looking slim, with an awkward limp,
she made it clear when he got there,
unfortunately for him, they would never fit
Her edges were there to stay.
The peg was initially liked by the square
but, he gave too much by whittling his leg
and she unable to understand
the free space existing there,
that could eventually be filled
by the things they share.
************
Sometimes you have to scribble things into irrelevant obscurity, eh! 🙂
Tags: http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/, learning...Slowly