Far off cars
smoke stack blackened skies
silently betray slithering lies
and falsified facts
glinting knife in the back
reflecting, collecting
retracing my tracks

send
send it all into the atmosphere
and save the rest for your repast

in shallow attic walls
rack my brains to find and bind
images and memories
slowly slowly fading back
backwards wallow withering fields
flowing into one weathered heap
i look down to spy
cracked and sacred April skies
reflected in meandering puddles
muddled mens' faces floating remote
away away from here

Titillations of jabber and junk

Find the fabled pen on the mountain
frightening in its fine features
sheer height
shaping night
show me something
shaded in the sinister tress sleeping
underneath the earth
a hearth of artful words
and humble behaviour
not really who you are
at heart
a whole in part
fleeting falling filtered thoughts
place your pots on the shelf
filled with figures from forgotten nothings
the ringing in my ears
deafens the dias shining in the seaweed sun
trying to fly above and around
learning to lie in the hardened ground
you slowly laugh
lyrical lark
i've lost the mark that once seemed clear

Futile Attraction

I just took a day to write out a very heartfelt post and now it's ALL gone. Fuck you, Blogger.

Sur le pont d'Avignon

My accordion solo soon to come.

Hold everything.

At least until I can figure my life out.

Wait, you mean things don't work that way? Shit.

Sooo. Leave everything and move somewhere remote and more...prone to nature rather than the superficial. Sure. that could work. If I didn't have an underlying need for people who I actually trust and feel close to. People like that don't just land on my doorstep. It takes time to develop real friendships. Even NOW I still don't feel completely trusting around people I call my "friends."

Life works out. It just does.
Some people really believe that. Ok. But are those the people who resign themselves to a less than satisfactory existence due to the fact that they've flopped into some situation and have decided that it's good enough for them? Wait, that sounds a little too close to my own life right now.
Ok, so then maybe those people are those other ones--the ones who up and set sail on a whim. Relationships? You can make new ones. Money? It'll find its way into you pocket eventually. Until then there's waiting tables and eating--god forbid, ramen. Do people even do that anymore, or is it simply a cliche that's been used to a fictional state?

Shit. All my questions sound ridiculously shallow when I write them out.

Love, attraction. Living quarters. Money. Career (?) -- Ha, that last one is laughable. Is there anything really real? Really worth working for? Or does it all just end up being two choices:
Choice 1: End up alone, having worked passiontely for a cause or having excelled at some skill/talent like the theater or writing best-selling novels that leave others questioning their own lives...or music. Do musicians ever end up being succesful AND happy? But seriously, then end result here is be great at something and work hard and be alone as a reward for having dedicated your life to the pursuit of an ideal and the larger creative mindcollective in the universe.

Ok, or choice 2: kids. deadbeat mindless job to pay the bills. macaroni and cheese, Ocean City weekend vacations, TV show evenings.

I think there was a point in my life where I felt like a had a grasp on some direction. And then all of a sudden I'm standing here in the middle of a rain-soaked road in the middle of the night, and time and age and all of its two ton momentum is staring me down with the brights on.

rewind. refresh.

now begins a new blogging experiment. goal: to see if there are enough fresh thoughts in my mind to litter this digital platform. or do the nooks and crannies in my cerebellum echo with the emptiness that too much time spent away from creativity generates? dust bunnies and cobwebs.

we shall see.