Wisdom of Grace

“I guess dirt is a good foundation for Green”
– Grace, On what comes before

Do not underestimate the power
of letting a fellow traveler
examine closely your thoughts;
the exchange of words in the old fashion.
Speak beautifully, construct the response,
and fear not being misunderstood.
The travel of two is always a blessing
to the journey — Like a fixed star,
these moments gift to your voice
some sort of guide along the road — Something to bounce ideas off of even if they don’t come back right away.  Internally, perspective stirs the concepts, it stokes the flame; feeding it when you thought you might be on your last log

Share the tastes, and pangs of life.
Even if it is dirt, you can both agree on that.
And what’s more, when it isn’t dirt…
you’ve both got something of a shared celebration!

 

Still Trying

It was a day not so long ago,
filled with hope that all could be turned to gold,
And money wasn’t the goal,
It was all just to shine bright and bold
But dull isn’t that far off some notes

I don’t know,
I don’t know, a god dam thing,
About the colors I’ve been playing in an attempt to sing
About the chords I’m mixing in an attempt to paint
I don’t know,
I don’t know, a god dam thing
except that gelato tastes better with you than alone
(I always look forward to getting some)
And I fade to the cut-scene
where in the back she’s singing over me,
Oh my love, it’s not painful to walk
while she cringes to every step
Since my innocence flew away from me
And the goddess still comes in faith,
That after all I’ll still dance for free

Yes it was an evening painted in gemstones
under the crystal sky where an orb of light shone
and although we didn’t have much
it gave just enough to afford some special comfort
Because the real value of something is in what you see

I don’t know,
I don’t know, a god dam thing,
About the words I’ve been taking in an attempt to groove
About the steps I’m penning in an attempt to commune
I don’t know,
I don’t know, a god dam thing
Other than gelato tasting better with you than alone
(With or without you I’ll look forward to getting some)

I held the weight of water in my throat,
Put it down don’t carry this any longer – the lungs are strong

I’m not well off, but i’m moving forward and that’s better than most

I Always Liked The Light Show

I’m not much for staying quiet, the forces of nature know my mind is turning; and it must flow. I can not sit by the banks and hold all the water to my self. I’m not much for being pushed either. I’m patient – But that patience does has an end it seems. I never minded watching with some contemplation. I just took too long to churn the situation.

I lit the fuse about 20 seconds ago. I know I should have given a heads up, but I think you know the spark has been running. I’m not quite sure what it was, but we’ll see soon what I’ve set off.

When I’m in the dark,
When I’m in the dark my heart fails
A couple bumps, and I think I need a kilo;
So much weight I could push the scales –
Take my evening strolls to the chimeras’ lair.
Let’s skip to the full moon! It’s a short fair

And now I know what it is I am preparing for.
One night, when I awake at 3 A.M. unable to slip
back into dreams – I will look beside me, and there you will be
Sleeping peacefully near – and suddenly,
The madness of it all won’t seem so lonely.

Did you see the flash! There it is another one! What doom we saw and called it beauty!
I do remember all the times I let us slide, I have learned though now that there was never any time. No time to sit and watch. I had to taste you in the moment right before getting lost. Because in the blink of an eye it will all be gone. But dam it’s a hell of a show. Loud enough to keep the image vivid in your mind all the way home. And when we get there:

I’m going to change my galaxy
I’m going to paint a few things a bit closer, and some others further apart
I’m going to let all the colors run to where they want

When we we’re on fire, the heat didn’t really bother us.
Now it’s hard to ignore the burns, but I’m still walking.

 

Last Night I Think I Lost My Patience

I put my hands around you, I’ve got to get a handle on you
Nothing but respect, that’s all I do
So I don’t want to be seen sideways
When you look at me like I don’t make the sense that we’re talkin,
measure the cut, did I forget something?
Am I making you work too hard for me

You look tired. You look tired.
Lie to me, lie with me, get your fucking fix
You look tired. You look tired.
She pulls me in all directions, I swear without her I’d be just a point
on a map
You look tired. You look tired.
It never really mattered too much to me. I don’t untangle your hair like I used to
You look tired. You look tired.
I was desiring, as the urge burned within me for a taste

Cutting on the board, orchestrate my heartbeat with her waving fingers, as she moves hair out of her face; The person I am when I’m with you, sans all the other shit;

Her whole world is so much richer than mine, The sounds I hear are not as textured nor do they go as deep. Maybe I’m too worried about the hideous monsters still drinking tea at my table; Admit I’m the fucking lightening!

Well darling it’s water again. Clear, transparent as your body kneeling before his. The thing about our actions is they are not solely our own; We, in this complicated prestige, take the role in a play. Some people are not capable of living with secrets, because they don’t know the ways of concealment. I have read your diary. I have written several of its passages. You have divulged sufficient soul and I can expound on it. And now the thing I must draw out, is how I should let it sink to the ocean floor. God wouldn’t that be a riot! I’d say come along for the fun, but I wouldnt want to get sidelined at my own send-off. You don’t want to dance with me anyways; I don’t think you’re my style. So I’m going to go slam some Hennesey, and move front ways back ways till I’m sure I’m taking the right one. Because choices in the dark are always the ones that we want.

Secrets really leave no mark, I can not say the same for wounds.

I’ve been lost and I’ve been high, and both of them have had me wondering why

Your Attitude Is All You Have That Really Shines

Look how you get up in the morning,
Are you mad? Are you a king?
Have you forgotten your place in time?

A knight can’t hesitate to do what needs to be done. It doesn’t matter how you feel inside, because if your sword hand pauses for even a moment; You get cut down before you get out of your scabbard. And that’s never pretty.

So tell me how you feel when you don’t get what you want! By picking up your head, and getting back to what needs to be done. Don’t skirt a duty because it isn’t the ideal you saw in that fool head of yours. Do it now, and get on. The pages aren’t waiting. The river still running, and you’ve got water to catch

You really have a duty only to yourself!
But when you keep your sword sheathed you’re still making a choice.
It’s a choice about the world you want to live in.

Do you want to be remembered for the dents in your armor – Or for the efforts which you gave to others? You can turn your face and keep on walking, but you won’t build anything but a wall.

Some people are dark memories for this place.
Those that shine illuminate the shadows – All the others are forgotten.

You Have To Wonder About All The Hoopla

We all just want to feel complete. We all just want to feel that in the end, we didn’t leave someone who was genuine with us high and dry; On the sand, to cook in the sun, where the waves of promise left us. We don’t want that for anyone.

Well what if this is the final resting point? Oh ask it again when your time is up. If you really want to get off here, then go ahead and do it fast! If you don’t want to keep going then don’t. The ride has places to get. I don’t need wavering convictions – I need only the man who will show up and stand through everything that tries to bury him. If this happens to be the final resting point, it will have to wait until I march my tried body back from where I’m taking it.

I’m trying not to leave much of this period. I don’t want to mar the history. I don’t want to give credence to all the dark suits. I really don’t want to ever admit my light dipped low.
I do suppose a surging light to bat back the vile could echo far out through the space of it all – Even if everything is only a flash

I promise there is something glimmering;  faint as it might be, you’ll find it.

 

The Hottest Night The Jungle Ever Had

“What is it which makes a man and a woman know that they, of all other men and women in the world, belong to each other? Is it no more than chance and meeting? No more than being alive together in the world at the same time? Is it only a curve of the throat, a line of the chin, the way the eyes are set, a way of speaking? Or is it something deeper and stranger, something beyond meeting, something beyond chance and fortune? Are there others, in other times of the world, whom we should have loved, who would have loved us? Is there, perhaps, one soul among all others — among all who have lived, the endless generations, from world’s end to world’s end — who must love us or die? And whom we must love, in turn — whom we must seek all our lives long — headlong and homesick — until the end?
— Robert Nathan (Portrait of Jennie)

What fool will first make a proposal? Is it you? Do you have the pomp? Will you claim your gavel to be judge; or do you think such things should be left to the faculties of twelve? Too many mouths when we need all the senses. I’m talking more than bodies! The dialectic won’t be swallowed by bites. Haven’t we learned this ? Where are the other parts! We need the tetractys – The whole is greater than the sum of its bits and pieces you keep fooling with.

We were talking love though weren’t we? Oh you can talk love all you want, but it isn’t there until you act beyond the things you expect to receive. And how do you know when you will? With any certainty? I’m not sure we can ever answer that. Perhaps it comes down to forgiving all the shards in your hands because it wasn’t after all their intent to slip into your skin. They simply existed; and you merely put pressure – And where the two met, they got to know each other.

I don’t want to get clinical nor do I want to be cynical. The world is rife with beautiful things coming and going. But you’ve got to keep the basics together. You’ve got to work with a body of matter, and then pull in other bits. If you plan to go from one end to the other, you must have something to go on. But here you are! You are sure, already, about what you have to go on! That’s why you’re barely visible from the steps. You couldn’t wait to get out there. To get out there and prove whatever started this fire, exists.

 

 

Something Explains Everything

In still and transition, this is us. You’re here and so am I. It’s rather enjoyable If I had to pitch something. But you know the questions we’ve always been asking don’t seem to find answers. And when people stop thinking their questions will be answered, they get up and go. Where to? I don’t think that matters to the message.

What kind of house do you want to live in? Do you want high ceilings? Must it be sui generis or is the roof enough? I could ask a few more questions, but is it necessary to go that far? Should I invite them over? Are you ready for the destination? She’s a microbiologist, and she tells me the macro-molecules are doing well. I don’t trust her or the science.

 

I can’t much imagine living in a house like that, because I haven’t spent much time in homes that made me feel like I should stay. This philosopher tells me my reasons are lies, but I can’t help but feel she’s got me all wrong. I know some other fancy titles, but I seem to like the dresses better

You know I’m roots; I don’t fuck with the branches and leaves; I like my hands down in the dirt.

Perhaps There Is Flesh To Be Found Here

We talk about ruins. We hear the echos of empty hallways made for ceremony. And see melted candle wax dripped down the walls, and spilled all across the floors. Something grips this place; An air that stands in the way of those who wants to pass freely. It warns us with shivers down our spine – An almost familiar kiss to our ears and necks. We walk through ruins, and don’t tend to think much of it. Not everyone has the kind of grit, and righteous indignation it takes put the spirits at ease. You want to know this place, its’ pangs, what harmony it deserves to find; You step soft in reverence as if intending to compose a hymn with your innocent discovery.

Are they ours? No, we can’t claim things as alive as this; They are too hard to read. You laugh and say perhaps the dirt might glow, even shine in a jar! I too think and feel this. I can’t help but be eager to try given your childlike enthusiasm – We will have to bring a jar the next time. But I imagine before too long we’ll be picking up handfuls of dirt; Letting it run from our hands, while we take a seat on the earth, and trace the courtyard stones; Stones laid here for us to touch, in ways that we must listen to nature to learn of. We sit quiet for a moment, and the wild comes. Still is the air, but I know how fun you get when you speak with your animal tongue.

There is a spirit to it all, a mind to the matter, and none of it can be solely ours outside of responsibility to what we choose.

The Lost & Gone

It’s been so long since you’ve written. The weeks go by and no new word of you has surfaced. You’ve begun to be buried beneath the passage of life and other dust. This isn’t to say, if I disturbed all the layers, that I’d find you under there; No, I don’t believe this is that type of burial. I know there is far too much drawing you to adventure, too much to expound upon in the native tongue of flesh and touch.

I just wish every once and an exhale, that you find time to use your words. Because for those who miss out on the first hand taste of your actions deserve to know at least second hand what you felt; Like the sunsets taken in before they lived! Paint them like only you can picture.

What are you lost for? You know why we don’t talk straight; We have to keep the meaning hidden. Who wants to read something without any curious mysteries? We can only assume that the other has understood the symbols we have placed along the way. So if you’re following or not, You will read. You will ascribe to me whatever you feel, and that will be that.

At some turn you realized, that this my darling was never about completing anything. We don’t finish, we never end. It fragments, it gets drawn apart, but it’s never ending. Isn’t that most clear when we need another sip only breaths after the last?

You could sit there and let everything pass you by, and surely what you’d come up with is something that no where else exists. I wouldn’t be surprised; But I want you to get out there.