the author at work 2012
light soft rain again
people come and go
i know absolutely nothing
the rain falls thats all
in squalls from the sea
a mist moves towards me from the horizon
it envelopes the sea which becomes opaque
onslaught after onslaught
the valley below disappears in a blur of green grey and white
things become still
the rain falls yes but all else seems to pay attention
sadnesses fall down on me constantly
i now know i will probably never be free of them
my umbrella all bent out of shape
letting anything through
the years with their claws and clauses
the months with their meters ticking
life flies away at terrifying rates
life somewhere else
life in between
life beyond life
life in a day
life in one act
life in one moment
whatever it is you can’t bottle it
its elusive but its running out
life or time who can tell the difference
they evaporate at different rates sometimes
i wish for a new strength a miraculous power
i plot in a silent quiet room above it all
i plot in the rainy day and its silence around
but my thoughts wander and amble
and i can’t remember just where i have been
a disconnection is beginning to gradually occur
always something coming round the corner
expect instant delays
i am fading away on a numb field
its alright
its perfectly natural
things become still
and sleep
like your most wonderful lingering friend
who entices you with oblivion
but then delivers you instead to struggle and toil
deep within sleep you fight on n on
arguing thrashing regretting wrestling lost
in the eternity of my mortal mind
at night i jump through some monsters hoops
trapped in some astral flim flam
half me half somebody else
i devise such plays for myself
in the morning i awake my lines still on my lips
memory and morning merge
and all is only a troubling shadow
that randomly occurs to you in tiny snippets
surely haunting you the rest of your life
Life, I was going to say, you have to just keep chiselling away at it but is it chiselling away at us? Que sera.
i have actually for the first time ever, started thinking about my own mortality.
just in the last few days.
i must learn to embrace the inevitable perhaps?
the shadows are growing longer.
That was pretty, Andy!
Life will never leave you alone. That’s the problem with it.
“Watching my parents wither away is a stark reminder that mortality can be nothing but death cheaters are we all!”
when the rain stops Bondi shines. I love the seasons as they accentuate the good and bad. Yin plays yang and the beach is replaced with books. Mr K , your intellect shines like a beacon. Love ya work
“Life in a day, life in one act, life in a moment……”
Life unfulfilled….
As Andy shares with all of us his thoughts , I am reminded of how similar many of us are. I also have been pondering mortality. With mouths to feed and roofs overhead with a slight leak of water when it rains either quietly or in a downpour , I count quickly the wasted hours , days, even years. Six years ago yesterday, I was injured severally at work. From that moment til today….it feels like no time has passed, and than there are days that I fan never remember my life prior to my injury and medical nightmares. Probably because of my constant reminder of what unfortunately happened. It took a long time for me to come to terms with what happened to me, how it changed my life forever. I wish I knew than, what I know now. Not that I would have done things differently, I believe I may have made some opposite decisions regarding my own health which ultimately effected my current situation and my possible shortened mortality. When someone tells you, than another and another that your physical being is degenerating at an alarming rate and they have neither a solution or an answer….mortality is all a person can think about as I gaze into the crystal blue eyes of my little angel from a rock slab covered with a dry siff sheet called a hospital bed, spent so much time in the past six years viewing life from inside the disinfectant smelling room of many a hospital.
My oldest brother, who I have no relationship with, this of his own doing – the damage factor of the trail of tears he left behind him as he misled everyone around him.
He , so sadly, has done it again.
He had a stroke the other morning, cannot gauge the severity of it considering he know informs the doctors and the Mother we share, that he has had one before. Well, yesterday…. late Monday afternoon here in Chicago, he had another one and is hospitalized again. I can only feel sadness for him right now because I know of all the wasted years he only can wish he had a small percentage back. His life has been SomeWhere Else.
Now he cannot run from his mortality as it stares across from him oj a reflection from a hospital mirror . Six years seperates us, but it as might as well be six lifetimes.
Birth certificates do not come with expiration dates…. If they did…would any of us take a sneak peak or just play out their role in lifes short play.
I would want to know…just so I can ensure the health, safety and well being of those that I will grow to love and if lucky enough to be blessed with ample time on this astral plane….
I would try to enjoy life and its wonderous gift …..more than I did and currently ….do.
Darrin JK
Todays poem hit home sharply and with a sullen sadness that will be hard
to shake loose from….
DJK
its too easy to get lost in thoughts isn’t it sk
you’d think just staying aware of the present moment would be easy
mantras and meditation help me to stay aware and help give me a lift
no time to wallow in the mire, can’t afford the luxury of despair
need to generate a force within, an inner strength, that will attract power
how we act in our dreams can show what was really going on in the back of the mind during the day, we can act like saints here and real sinners there
the psyche is laid bare in our dreams
seeing a change for the better in our behaviour in dreams indicates real change
the mind and the personality are ephemeral
but our essence is eternal
need to free it from the ego
the children walk through the fog
a surreal playground for one and all
and they spin around without falling
with their arms spread out, standing tall
and i see myself through their purest eyes
while i think about the days when i was small,
and impressionable and more hopeful, if i do recall
but those days are quickly fleeing just like the fall
when the leaves break free and heed their eternal call
and i float away in a childhood dream, beautifully soft
as i jumpstart my soul to face the days that are oh so long
..listening to “american prayer” yesterday makes me want to wish to existence an “australian prayer”..its like hes holding your hand through the whole bizzare landscape created by the word and montage of melody…im always quite astounded by just how close Jimbo seems to be when its on..its hard to miss somebody when theyre in the room..A.P…by s.k….oh would i wish it!
life somewhere else
la vida en otra parte
life in between
la vida intermedia
life beyond life
la vida mas allá de la vida
life in a day
la vida en un día
life in one act
la vida en un acto
life in one moment
la vida en un momento
see? I found my dictionary!
Dude u ever go 2 hanging rock?
Some beautiful words from you in the last few days Steve. thank-you as always.
There is no oblivion.
xx
Seems like it was just New Year’s and now it’s almost May! It’s already yesterday. The planets of our solar system spinning faster, heating up, time moving faster. I can’t even remember what I had for breakfast.
Ron Mael wrote ‘The Decline And Fall Of Me’ back in 1982 or so. You’d like it.
FREE! There, now go forward.
You know what makes for a lovely bit of laughter? When in the midst of that rainstorm and you have an umbrella — and then? You turn a corner and the most hugest gust of wind comes up and… inverted ribs and now you feel like some sour-puss silly gus not wanting to be happy/letting it ruin the day – or: you laugh and think to yourself… see, this is why those umbrellas aren’t even necessary. [I'm] okay getting soaked, then it becomes a good memory instead of a ridiculous frustration, and then what? … You look around and all the umbrella salesmen on the street have changed their signs… those umbrellas that right before the storm started were being advertised for $6; now the bastards have changed signs: $12. Hah! I don’t need one, thank you.
Dear Lord, SK, this is so beautiful. I just love it. Read it to my friend Janet over the phone and she went, “WOW!” (she’s a New York writer, so this is good.)
It’s really soft, and basically how I feel, most days…well, EXACTLY how I feel, let’s call a spade a spade. It’s so good that I feel joy instead of envy.
Sun outside through palms and pines
And here the artificial cool streams out
To protect me from what
From the nature the heat
As if I would burn in the air
And in here there’s dust and fur and shrapnel
Bits of my life that I no longer need
But I hold them anyway to mark my ground
To say that yes I‘ve been here
Sleeping cats set a prime example
Why can’t I be so free
Why can’t I lie down without answers
Why can’t I pass through the days that are given
Why can’t I love everything?
It’s not so different a life is a life
Mine under a scrutiny of my own mind
It doesn’t mean don’t care.
It only means don’t fear.
Purr.
Taking a breath and closing my eyes
I see all that’s past and all that’s to come
It’s all the same for everyone
Tiny vessel me
Little body here a pinball in the machine
I’ll take your slap and bounce, Lord
Just let me breathe
And I’ll learn how to purr.
Odin will beat you all with a big stick!
Not sure how you mean the monster’s hoops, but here’s a cool radio story on redirecting nightmares through lucid dreaming:
http://www.radiolab.org/blogs/radiolab-blog/2012/jan/23/wake-up-dream/
I have lucid dreams myself, but they only make me peevish; usually find myself within a dream grumpy that I am wasting my precious dreamtime on a crappy one. Apparently my unconscious is an art critic.
L.
ah lucid dreaming…..sounds easy but hard to do…
good podcast, thanks Lara
saddnesses – inevitable as mortality. go gently
Wow! Absolutely beautiful. Theta defined.
“memory and morning merge
and all is only a troubling shadow
that randomly occurs to you in tiny snippets
surely haunting you the rest of your life”
Your Friend in Pennsylvania
(Now in Cocoa Beach)
You really capture that sad, gray, sleepy rainy day feeling.
Steve you sound very depressed. I think there is a definite imbalance in the natural course of life when you have kids at an older age. I had my dear bunny at 38, the most joyful, beautiful, intelligent being ever. Of course it goes without saying that I wouldn’t change a thing, though I can feel, at 47 an unsettled feeling, perhaps to pursue the next chapter in life, though of course that all goes on the back burner, being a single parent and sole provider and mentor until she goes to uni. I feel such a restlessness but keep it subdued for the good of her. Linda x
agreed but what can i do about it now? just keep on lovin’ em!
my Dad was 52.5 years old when I was born
there can be no doubt he loved me and my brother to bits and that’s all that matters
No dreams at all would be best.
My aim, as I am sure yours is Steve, is for them to look back and think, oh yeah, I was a valued kid! Work, pay the bills, take em to sport, have the pre-tweens over for the weekend. Your creativeness will always give you a sense of purpose Steve. We all need a purpose x
I loved it when Paul Simon said at 55: “I don’t expect to sleep through the night.” If it’s any consolation, Steve, I raised 4 daughters now in their 20′s, and I think the most sacrificial thing you will ever do, and the most rewarding thing you will ever do…is raise kids.
She
The tide of time
brought her in and
onto the fringes of my
little
life
a sandalwood lifeboat
an exotic turquoise
bottle of myrrh and aloes
from distant shores
come to anoint
She floated into my
darkened corners
bringing light and laughter
and passion and children
Lazar-like I rose
from a dead sleep
to a new
vision
the scales fell
the blood flowed
the body warmed
the heart
became
emblazoned
emboldened
imbued
lovely
I loved it when Paul Simon said at 55: “I don’t expect to sleep through the night.” If it’s any consolation, Steve, I raised 4 daughters in their 20′s now, and the most sacrificial thing you will ever do, and the most rewarding thing you will ever do…is raise kids.
She
The tide of time
brought her in and
onto the fringes of my
little
life
a sandalwood lifeboat
an exotic turquoise
bottle of myrrh and aloes
from distant shores
come to anoint
She floated into my
darkened corners
bringing light and laughter
and passion and children
Lazar-like I rose
from a dead sleep
to a new
vision
the scales fell
the blood flowed
the body warmed
the heart
became
emblazoned
emboldened
imbued
50
The grinding and shaping of life’s material
With tools made from pain and love and lovelessness
Aided by the weathering of tears and deep sighs
The viewing of a receding youth
Flowing down a stream of memory
Caught in the swirls and eddies
Of sentimental reminiscence
Is this the epitome, the apogee, the climax
Or is it the gentle winding down in reflection
Finding forgiveness for past hurts
Past misunderstandings
Past arrogant ambitions unfulfilled
The warp and weft of time’s threads
Woven into a cloth unfit for public display.
Truth
We hold it, we think, in our hands
And turn it over
And ponder it
Like a found fossil in the red soil
We put our mark upon it and hold it out at arm’s length
For all to see
But others see only a worthless muddied stone
Picked up by a fool with
no eye for the genuine article.
Love
Subject of film and fantasy
Composed in passion
Sung in reverence
Prostituted in advertising
Lost in transit
Found in suffering
Polished by time
Treasured in late age
Elusive as Elysium
Essence of life
Perfumed ointment for the corpse.
Youth
I peer into the cloudy image of
An old daguerreotype I carry
And polish
And augment from time to time
Reinterpret
Reinvent
And edit to suit my taste.
I’m taller
Fitter
More attractive
More alert
Less bitter
A more interesting version
Of the pastiche I now create
And hold together
Poorly
But am content to present
As a true image.
Realism
Are you an optimist or a pessimist
Can you see the possibilities within
In the now and the not yet
Or is an apocalyptic vision your preferred option
A Hobbesian nightmare of Gothic proportions
A Nihilistic panorama of necrotic decay
Does a paralysing fear encase your mind and viscera
Or is the hope of things not seen
But there
Just over the horizon
Enough for you
And your small but persistent dreams and ideals
Does a light quietly burn
Fueled by art and poetry and mystery
And love
Are you infected by that folly
a passion
for
life
Journey
I am making the journey
To that vast and mysterious shore
To my self.
List of things to take for journey:
Fearless self-criticism
Emotional scalpel for difficult memory adhesions
A few psycho-babble self-help manuals
A good and loyal friend not easily bored
Poetry and novels and more poetry
Conversation and plenty of coffee
Forgiveness and understanding
A sense of the absurd
A sense of humour
A good ear and nose for nonsense
An interest in exotic contortions of the mind and heart
A stout pair of walking shoes
Oh…
And your self
….if they will come….
Love’s Shadows (In praise of Tom Moore)
Thoughts of separation
loss of faith
and hope
and Romantic
Idealism.
Love finds its soul
in its
incompleteness
impossibility
imperfection.
Love is a close relation to death.
Love takes us
out of life
and away
from
the plans
we made
for our ourselves.
Some humble offerings, for your interest, Steve. Pax.
Um…all by me…and inspired by ‘Heyday.’
I wouldnt wish this bastard world on anyone so i will never condemn a child to live in it. My never-to-be born will thank me.
Is this your blog or chris’s?