Pauldrons of light cascade from this divine river.
It creeps and carves the landscape into poppy fields of farmers gold.
In a trigger of dusted measured memory.
I do find solace, if only temporary.
The break is swift and clean.
I find no blame to be given that is not my own.
I try to comfort the group standing ear to ear on rivers shore.
The breath I hear is not my own.
I feel uncomfortable and crowded.
I stand still, my breath sounds in nearest ear.
I'm sure it's has quickened, and surely will be noticed.
I feel that a push at any moment would cause a stumble out,
and into the unknown river of which I stand so near.
In this river no one swims for long.
I've never seen a head bob up to gasp.
Even a last breath is never taken, or perhaps given.
Life is question, on every breath, spoken,
unspoken and quickly,easily forgotten too.
I forget, if it allows life to grow inside.
You tell me.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
The Scholars
Bald heads forgetful of their sins,
Old, learned, respectable bald heads
Edit and annotate the lines
That young men, tossing on their beds,
Rhymed out in love's despair
To flatter beauty's ignorant ear.
All shuffle there; all cough in ink;
All wear the carpet with their shoes;
All think what other people think;
All know the man their neighbor knows.
Lord, what would they say
Did their Catullus walk that way?
By: W.B. Yeats
Old, learned, respectable bald heads
Edit and annotate the lines
That young men, tossing on their beds,
Rhymed out in love's despair
To flatter beauty's ignorant ear.
All shuffle there; all cough in ink;
All wear the carpet with their shoes;
All think what other people think;
All know the man their neighbor knows.
Lord, what would they say
Did their Catullus walk that way?
By: W.B. Yeats
Monday, October 25, 2010
Dog Licks For Grandfather, A Clock For Mable
In all excesses of time.
Nothing rings quite true,
like a dog's lick of the hand.
A clocks tick of brass moving hands.
Feels like standing on a wrong moving escalator.
Life is simply sublime time in truth.
Dear Mable,
Grand father calls to you.
To wind, and oil, the gears,
that grind through the sands of the day.
It rings at a time, twelve thunderous, ear splitting gongs, Grandfather.
Nothing rings quite true,
like a dog's lick of the hand.
A clocks tick of brass moving hands.
Feels like standing on a wrong moving escalator.
Life is simply sublime time in truth.
Dear Mable,
Grand father calls to you.
To wind, and oil, the gears,
that grind through the sands of the day.
It rings at a time, twelve thunderous, ear splitting gongs, Grandfather.
A deafening, bitter, and sweet end to it all.
Shocking zzzzzzzt! And Necessary!
It seems that shocking is the sort to rouse the active response needed in my writing. Maybe more of an abrasive manner. It would appear to spill the bile in myself is a certain purification right. I will place in my blog raw nerve.
I know as a person with challenges. It is small step from nerve to rant. As I often do. People with mental illness know this as the bare earth between the lines. The lines we walk everyday. I must remain anonymous as too protect my family, and myself, from ridicule.
That is me in the picture. So as pictures speak a thousand words. I will write, one more, to paint a poetic and chaotic reality, that is my life. So comment, speak, make yourself heard. People that know me will understand, and maybe you will come to understand the wheels as they turn. Tally Ho! Into the fray, we go.
Mahalo.
I know as a person with challenges. It is small step from nerve to rant. As I often do. People with mental illness know this as the bare earth between the lines. The lines we walk everyday. I must remain anonymous as too protect my family, and myself, from ridicule.
That is me in the picture. So as pictures speak a thousand words. I will write, one more, to paint a poetic and chaotic reality, that is my life. So comment, speak, make yourself heard. People that know me will understand, and maybe you will come to understand the wheels as they turn. Tally Ho! Into the fray, we go.
Mahalo.
Sex During Pregnancy
Sex during pregnancy is great for both partners. It increases the bond, and in our case, heightened sensuality. In case the man has fears of hurting the baby. Don't worry, YOU ARE NOT GOING TO HURT THE BABY! You not going to poke out an eye or have the baby freak out, because their is a penis there. The baby is way up inside there. You with long penises need not fear about it. Just proceed as normal, unless told otherwise. Talking about the pregnancy is important for both partners. Communication is key to a healthy relationship. Think as a woman things are already heightened, sense of smell, taste, and touch. These are but a few of the things that increase in a woman. Sexuality is important to women, and men. So do not be afraid to have sex with your partner as this is a very special time for both. Any questions just ask. You won't know unless you ask.
Mahalo.
Mahalo.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Alone Among Friends
I find myself in a crowded room.
A lonesome and chaotic reasoning,
clacking, humming and speaking.
A painful tumultuous clamber.
One that my mind sits in dazedly.
Alone among friends, in a feeling,
always strange and shocking.
In all the years, and through to this day.
The same is always new, and biting.
Never forgiving is life speaking,
in words, places, and people.
Finding yourself everyday, couldn't be
a more redundant, and startling shock.
Easier is death than to survive against,
in the failing of this day's light.
Hope for the survivors of this tormented living.
Through all in love, and at times faltered reasonings.
Live a full life, in yesterday, today,
and every tomorrow.
Live with the belief that if today sucks,
tomorrow won't, and if it does!
Then maybe the next won't, or the next, or the next.
Believe in it, it's Hope, Love, and a hard won day's Freedom.
Hero's are made in adversity. We know it, We Live it.
A triumph is a hero's resolving to LIVE.
(10-24-10)
A lonesome and chaotic reasoning,
clacking, humming and speaking.
A painful tumultuous clamber.
One that my mind sits in dazedly.
Alone among friends, in a feeling,
always strange and shocking.
In all the years, and through to this day.
The same is always new, and biting.
Never forgiving is life speaking,
in words, places, and people.
Finding yourself everyday, couldn't be
a more redundant, and startling shock.
Easier is death than to survive against,
in the failing of this day's light.
Hope for the survivors of this tormented living.
Through all in love, and at times faltered reasonings.
Live a full life, in yesterday, today,
and every tomorrow.
Live with the belief that if today sucks,
tomorrow won't, and if it does!
Then maybe the next won't, or the next, or the next.
Believe in it, it's Hope, Love, and a hard won day's Freedom.
Hero's are made in adversity. We know it, We Live it.
A triumph is a hero's resolving to LIVE.
(10-24-10)
Saturday, October 23, 2010
A Friends Illness
SICKNESS brought me this
Thought, in that scale of his:
Why should I be dismayed
Though flame had burned the whole
World, as if it were a coal,
Now I have seen it weighed
Against a soul?
By: W.B. Yeats
Thought, in that scale of his:
Why should I be dismayed
Though flame had burned the whole
World, as if it were a coal,
Now I have seen it weighed
Against a soul?
By: W.B. Yeats
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