1…2…3...

Stylized. Chic. Logistically situated atop a precipice that has yet to peak. We are alive, fully functional, yet inherently winded.  We live as we live, ignorant and often ignored.  Flourishing in a sad derangement of philosophy, a tenor trembles, the trebles high, the bass is broken, and the backsides collide in slates filled by worthless plights. We are clustering in collapsible rings, and so the relics flicker to a new decree, instilled anew in 1…2…3…

A high-fructose dichotomy exists. The bling is sated on the side of outdated radio.  There’s an alto sax playing, a barometric drop a-glow with pressure. With the weather here who can know?  Forward marching so shall we go?  Alive, aloof, we are so disbelieving, always looking for that definitive shred of proof, without, it’s all but din and cacophony, a wasted sound spins in 1…2…3…

After and before, before and after, centers of attention, mid-points for disaster, high-strung, low brow, tensions mount, tackle box without bait, we can’t wait, we can’t wait, to be free, to be free, never begins in 1…2…3…

Hi-fi, new wave, Wi-Fi enabled sense of shame, a sentinel, vanguards of tradition take the fall, are decorated with blame, a livewire flickers in the rain, shocking, shocking, mounted atop the roof of mind, finding shelter beneath a tree, electrocution starts in 1…2…3…

a stack of smoke breaks free life’s soot, in stereo, in stereo…history beginning once again, do you believe, can you believe, streaming live in 1…2…3….

Algorithms.  Anomaly’s.  Stars, bars, lines and code, cracking, breaking free, a dynamic apostrophe relates in 1…2…3…

A variety of translucency bleeds light. A latent vibration echoes a shiver. Illustrations and details, set a sail as elusive, it is nature this is not conclusive.  The words are but representations of what could be. They are only symbolic remnants, ruminations of sound, shattering, stinging, stringing bolts together lightning fast, from which an atomic breeze is distinct…sparkling strong in 1…2…3…

Eardrums bleed with potential. Insinuations label the disturbed and mental, a domination of the populace speaks to the decibels herein found, loud and proud, pounding pavement without the soles of shoes ever once touching down to the stone of ground. Lies start their spree in 1…2…3…

Pride, mounted, jib to spar, cards dealt near and far, gonna let her ride, gonna double down.  With a bluff so strong, you’ll have to have the cards to match or else victories pronounced in 1…2..3…

A fire-fight on planet Nero, golden bricks amassing zero, half-life dwindling, flashing fast, quicker than a video blast, sub-cultured species, harnessed-reined, these are but men, yet still heroes of a different dream, sandman strikes in 1…2…3

Another place, another, realm, cast iron, zinc-plated, breast-plate smell. Glistening, gleaming shapes, photons, protons, electrons swell as a neuron’s beam berates us well, pattering upon the trip of wires, higher, higher, the pikes backed up, there’s no way out, doubting the magnitude of what has just transpired, anarchy.  Rioting in 1…2…3…

A turning zephyrs tail-spun wisp, whipping round, made to shift, retching trees up from root. The severed cracks spanning the ground, all is lost, nothings found.  In a place so high, like Kansas singing from the sky, Carry on my wayward friend, one day soon we’ll make amends.  Until then, the past must persist as long as our breaths still mist, gone again, gone again, marching orders coming quick, dialysis is pronounced, the bile’s thick, black in nature, mankind's sick, the bile’s thick, grey-black-brown-green cultivating this damaged scene, action cutting back in 1…2…3…

A serial apprentice in a frost-bit state, alleviating a pressure mostly high, it’s gonna blow, it’s gonna blow, anxiety trembles as tension grows, flames ignite and the tragic flows, every swiftly, ever long, the pastures are a plenty, the iron-work is not as strong as we thought.  We were wrong, we were wrong…our actions erred, our plots are lost, we’ve been caught, red-hands bleed green.  Disgrace curtsies in 1…2..3..

We twiddle our thumbs and hum our tunes, pass the buck and shoot the stag.  There are those that believe in life yet quickly opt for death. These are the yellow that we see, climbing so high up into trees, scared stiff like cats with claws exposing themselves in 1…2…3…

Little green men are arming up. They live below ground, underneath the craters of the moon, some live in fear, others change their gears, holding signs, praying to, whatever probes they will soon find.  Ineptitude reaffirming in 1…2..3…

A lulling gaze is cast, it shines down upon me and you, you and me, and there we are and here we see, a fallen society, reflected upon in 1…2…3..

Fear swims into and out of mind.  Some gets broken; some are bound. Some lose sight; others are slighted before ever being truly found. Numbing in 1..2…3…

 There is true evil in play. It does exist, in the arbors and the groves, in our biases and the hate that grows. It’s danger dangles in the wind, it’s hounds are hunting, the scent is strong, lost soon becomes found, humanity is digging their own plots to lie, worldwide evacuation begins in 1…2…3…

Shingled, shackled, neon sight, jingle, jangle, brilliant, bright, final, finale, fragments, finite, tragic flow, traffic flow, oh so slow, all have stopped to watch the world have itself a go, fireplugs, arsonists, jitterbugs are juking jabs and shuttling stabs, we are as one here in this plan, painful… pain, Houston called.  Problem’s been solved.  Another acronym bleeds another sign.  Abbreviations activate their launch.  They start the clock that’s ticking free. Countdown’s commencing in 1…2…3….

Fireflies in the sky, burning through the night, galactic tumults sure shine bright. The comet’s tail is trailing nigh.  See the ripsaw shredding through its test.  Violating it’s own principles for the camera.  So many are all too eager to show who’s best, itching to dominate all things in view.  Close your eyes and deeply breathe, this may get ugly in 1….2…3…

A conditioned response rings that bell. Sounding chimes, pealing well. The heat, it grows.  The sweltering spells a new communion steeped in heat.  In every nook a glutton hides.  In every shadow there lives a knife.  Greed’s apace in 1…2…3…

1 to 3

1, 2, 3.

One to two

Two to three,

all is changed, yet nothing has. All is through, all is done. Escape routes hatch. Eyes now see.  Eyes believe. What a view, what a view, yet never realizes, it’s simply the same sights they’ve always been accustomed to. Reframing stirs a new beginning in 1…2….3…

For all that’s happened, for all that’s been done, we can only pray something positive from this comes.  Hope commences in 3…2…1…

Cancer

“When it’s safe, I’ll come out of my shell”

Indigoes, whites and smoky greys

Paint the Cancer’s hue displayed

Two is the number that defines

The relationship of the crab

To water and moon

As cards face the mystic dealer,

A Chariot of resiliency is here

Then found

Cancerians are emotional, intuitive and sympathetic,

They also tend to be imaginative, loving

And motivated by the pursuit of happiness in life, as

Happy people are better to be around, light up the soul with

An incredible light, and are more productive in every composite

Avenue that comprises the very essence of a synergistic happy-life

This group is extremely compassionate, and nurturing

By nature, caring for the care alone, to make others feel as

If they are loved and that they should always feel as if they were at ease, living as one does when comfortably a-rest at home

Cancerians love to laugh, and it’s infectious sound elates a room, distinctive, welcoming, ever hoping to paint the atmosphere, with a cheer that spawns the laughter of many others more

The Crab’s take a lot of weight, they kind only Atlas can truly bear.  They may feel as if it’s their sole responsibility to overextend themselves, to love and spread their love to all, everywhere…but when a mission goes awry, they can get moody and misunderstanding of the situation at hand…they may feel jilted as if their efforts are taken for granted, and arguments can thus appear, and in so doing the antithesis become of the scene they initially strove for, creating a cycle of decline that only repeats this moodiness of despair

Cancerians can often take the martyred approach, only living for others, sacrificing all they have and more…and while admirable in many lights, this lifestyle can be very taxing upon the crab themselves…for only living to help others, oftentimes, in most cases, the one that gets ignored, winds up being their own selves

With a tough outer shell, in spite of their personalities and deep-seeded propensity to help and care for others, unfortunately a world that is preprogrammed to heed first impressions and to live and choose attraction towards those things that are aesthetically pleasing, the Cancer is overlooked, and prejudiced against before they ever have a chance to share their gifts with the individual.

If you are a supreme worrier, you may have Cancerian roots deep in your makeup, for this group comprise the chief worriers of the zodiac, “never happy unless their worrying about something.”  This appearance is logical when considering what they are shooting for in life, as caring and worrying are intrinsically connected and in so doing, that part of the personality these traits do share….yet, too much worry, can lead to the negative cycle too, so what is a crab to do, a question that can make the cancerian to worry even more

The notion of Home, is of supreme importance to this group.  Home is not simply a place where one lives, but is the house that holds all that you are.  Therefore, any disruption to this sense of home, can easily create a rift of emotional distress, until the sacredness of home is once again restored

The Vanity Plate

Well, I wasn't feeling all that well yesterday, nothing physical, but just one of those days we all get from time to time.  Besides the feeling itself, it stinks that it happened to happen on a Tuesday, where OLN is in full effect over at D'verse.  I've definitely a lot of catching up to do but that's cool too, gives me a few blocks of excellent reading to do, rather than all packed into one night.  But anyway, please check out the link and get your read on.

This piece totally came out of the blue, actually didn't have anything written, and while still feeling a bit like I did yesterday, I didn't think I'd come up with anything for today either.  But luckily while out this morning, which I have to thank Jello for that excursion, (I'm so addicted to Black Cherry Jello btw), I happened to see this White Cadillac out on the road.  I'm not particularly a Cadillac kind of guy, but what struck me here was the license plate.  Thanks.

I.

Silky smooth, her

White walls rolled

Ever slowly—flaunting

It’s bedazzling view,

Emanating in freeze frame

Ever slowly—flaunting

The freshness of its lustered cream,

A lathered richness bathed to skin

Ever slowly—flaunting

From the sparkling shine of chrome

to a pimped-out trim that’s all it’s own

Ever slowly—flaunting

It’s a wonder, how eyes could still see

Anything beyond the aesthetic glow

Ever slowly—flaunting

II.

But looks aside

I could not help

focusing my attention to

inches below her trunk

Ever quickly—flashing by

Here, it was,

that her vanity glittered forth,

a plated licensing of gold,

reading, “GR8 HAIR,” in all one word

Ever quickly—flashing by

And yet, the first thought that came to me,

did not pertain to the myriad of potential possibilities—Why

this choice ?—for the reading surely would—provide the implications

so easily perceived—as to an individual’s occupation and/or personality

Ever quickly—flashing by

But so fast the flashing would pass, to find

me pondering in curiosity—wondering if this person also possessed,

A plate that reads, “NOT SO GR8 HAIR,” all in one word,

For, you know, those other days, the ones you wish to just go away

Ever quickly—flashing

  

Origin Story

I've been meaning to create a blog for much some time now.  There are numerous reasons as to why I've never got around to starting one until now, the main ones though are my key 3 vices in my life, Distraction, Procrastination, and exhaustion.  Distraction and Procrastination seem to go hand in hand, or at the very least procrastination really becomes the product of distraction, and as far as exhaustion goes, I really, at this point, just have to deal with it, I require certain prescriptions due to injuries sustained a few years back and being overly tired just seems to be one of those side effects that pester some and not others, I happen to fall in line with the pestered crowd.

In any case I've finally gotten my bearings about me, at least for now, and hopefully this blog will provide numerous benefits:

1.  The top reason I'm creating this site is for therapeutical reasons.  I feel that if I set something in motion, this blog, and place myself in the committment circle, making a promise to myself first and foremost, and then to whomever chooses to visit, then I'll be more productive in both quantity and quality of material as well as helping me sort out the days and create some form of order in all the chaos that seems to almost hourly smother me.

2.  Another reason for this site is to help me deal with ideas and issues, sort of a sounding board, and I find it easier and more enjoyable to work things out via poetic output.  This is kind of an important idea, as I'm really about learning through the subconscious mind, and believe the mind truly does speak to us when we give it time and a medium, of which I find poetry to be the perfect medium.  So upon completing a piece I'll look at it from all sorts of angles, internally that is, and see what I can get out of it, so at times the work I post may not be what some would call complete.

I prefer working with first drafts as they seem to be the truest connection to ones' soul.  Occasionally I'll analyze something I've written and then change things up a little, that is if I can consciously think of a more cohesive or more descriptive way to state the message I feel the first draft contains.  However, by doing this I may be changing something important, something unintended for change and quite possibly would be distorting the meaning altogether, so this will be and up in the air type of process as to the when and where I alter pieces.  I will however make mention if the piece is a first or subsequent drafting.

3.  As with any piece of art released for public consumption, I'm hoping that readers can find ideas or images which they can relate to either directly or indirectly, and hopefully provide their minds a vehicle from which they can springboard over hurdles in their lives, bandage wounds that were at one point seemingly clotless, or just provide a momentary respite of inspiration. 

I'm not ignorant enough to believe that everything, or anything for that matter will create a spark or a salve or help/assist anyone else, but that is my hope and intention here by posting pieces that have helped me out, or pieces that I feel could possibly help others out.  But each person is different, and each mind works in completely unique fashions and that, in my opinion anyhow, is what makes reading and writing poetry, the varying interpretations we gather and create, knowing and unknowing, such a special medium.

At times I'll list ways in which a specific piece has helped me, but not too often as I really don't want to force-feed my own interpretation upon others, or skew their experience in any way, so unless the message I received was so profound and need feedback regarding such a message I'll probably leave the piece intact without impression for everyone to delve into individually.

I do request and encourage comments from anyone who cares to share their voice on a piece or if something they read affected them in meaningful ways.  This, the ability to share and interact, is probably, in my opinion, the greatest gift this vehicle of expression has to offer, and is the main reason I've been kicking myself time and again to get something up and running.

What you've just read here will almost certainly be the longest piece of non-poetic conversation published.  Occasionally I'll broadcast things I've experienced or issues that come to my attention, of which I'd like an audience, but again that is not what this site is about, and for the most part, outside of comments and response to comments, won't be part of the daily offerings.  This site is about a lot of things, discovery, relations, sharing emotion etc...so I do apologize regarding the completely non-poetic origin to this site, and wish to state I simply felt it necessary to explain certain things, before things get really going, so everyone knows how I plan to operate and what readers should come to expect of this site.

My first piece will be coming soon but until that time I look forward to sharing and discussing all things poetic that consistently swim around this persons mind.