Some People Really Do What They Love

“Life comes down to this — you can do anything, there are no limits to what you can achieve, but you do have to decide what you want to do, and then get to doing it.” – One of the secrets of life

Why are we always waiting? It is the man, the woman; who does not wait – patient – but refuses to wait, who becomes successor to the gods

I sat for a long time with this. I let the music play until I did not recognize where I had been or where I was. I am sure where I started was seeking to find that fable of all fables, but that forever eternal is a frozen moment, not much longer than the instant it takes for a molecule of water to slow down to a freeze and move back into a flow with the temperature fluctuating the way it does. It’s a complex measure, in truth, we have no measure yet to define and capture all that is encompassed; apart from perhaps that indelible mark, the arrow that always strikes true on the person who is fully human. Love; Stronger than man-rejoicing wine? More inextricably linked as they share a similar visceral – guts on the table – joy, and dichotomy of honesty & deceit ever tearing. Yes, I sat for a long time and I would offer up the notion that love can stand to measure every nuance from end to end.

Some people really do what they love,
and others are driven beyond love
because it’s not enough. To them and I both,
I offer my felicitations – a belly full of wine
when and if the time ever comes.

What are you waiting for?

 

Things Are Different In The Morning

When you wake up, it isn’t what it was the night or day before.
Leave me, leave me, leave me – We’ve been nothing but trouble.
Counter views, and frame colliding perspectives, now empathy.

“I feel a sudden clear focus and perspective. There is no time for anything inessential. I must focus on myself, my work and my friends.” – Oliver Sacks

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!

 

Do This Because You Must

“Not being able to create art, they will not understand art.”

I have become very fond of our scuttling, our tossing and turns
Where are we going but in the arms of another once more,
into the rays of the brightest days ahead, and the soothing darks

Shadows passing by, to a classical promenade – we’re filled
with the ecstasy of a new favorite taste,
touch upon these tongues the juice of gods
the dripping filth of a fruit truly enjoyed, flesh devoured.

You dove in and let the primal loose, and used your skin like a paint brush,
Dragging across the sky until every star shone precisely how you desired,
and you desired a lot – You desired that every breath be held properly as you moved,
and passed with a right amount of resistance, a reminder that something in you is raging
to leave its mark! Clawing with every neural snap, every electrical pulse, POW – it will
leave the walls of your room dripping if that’s where you want the master work, it calls;
a summoning howl to the torrents within, dangerous, but magic always wins.

Well Don’t Get Lonely Now

Music to watch boys to, it’s something a certain type of girl swallows;
But my eyes don’t follow

I am afraid there is nothing here for you to take;
With you there is a do not disturb sign over the door to the party
and I’m dancing, all by myself it’s euphoric — You’re there,
but off in the distance.
A plush and comfortable space littered
with shattered mirrors and empty bottles.
I don’t drink, really I don’t unless it takes me
someplace worth disappearing to;
a matte black room with gold trim
keeps all the noise outside – and whatever we do, inside

Wish I may, wish I might — Really do what I ought tonight.

I can’t keep track of it all, you disaster, you ballroom head turner
In practice, you dance alone, but imagine that people are watching.

With yourself, in solitude are you lonely?

The second you reach out someone’s hand is there for you,
although a hand with intention is not what you are seeking.
So you sit back, pretty high, on what you believe to be a throne.
You don’t recognize it but entitlement forces the image in your mind
that every seat is a throne. Every stare is thus unqualified and non-deserving of the art you unveil. You feel superior, empowered to take back what you believe has been usurped by a quiet observer’s glance over the courtyard common grounds. A garnish, you must get something more from those beneath you
else you can not feel whole,

And when they aren’t watching? When by their own self acceptance and love they choose to look through you… what then?
Who will you be in that moment?

If I Had More Life

I draw you–in–many don’t go down this road.
There is too much to do,
even with what we have we’re short – we’ll make it work
I see the world writing,
a new story everyday
poetry month, another year –
It’s me, it’s me, it’me,
With brave words I hide many fears,
fear of loss, of pain, of truth,
I am not the words I’ve written
It’s me, words I’ve always been,
how to use them, how I bend,
Yet in all this months time,
I’ve managed not to rend
words from within. I am dead
Never doing what I’m supposed to be doing,
and maybe I won’t do what I should,
but I’ll end up doing what I’ve done,
and that is something.
I’ve got more life!
Have you seen me with a fire?
Have you seen me when I’ve got everything together?
Just the right amount
The right mask,
A taste I can enjoy at my own pace; nothing moves at our own pace
To my own tune – I’m sacred
Off key and I’m still enraptured – a captive audience does not decide what it likes
I’ll enjoy this with ceremony

The Creator’s Dilemma

I opened my eyes this morning, and determined there were many ways which I could get out of bed, and even more ways with which I could feed my heart, and spill the colorful soul I’ve got within.

All day, all day, I wanted to be me & write and laugh with the people I dig. Smiling, breathing, and looking up at the sky catching some rays and not catching anything remotely sad. So I grew my hair out and moved in ways that I thought was becoming of joy.

I did my best by waking up at 5 a.m. I’m driving over 150 miles to the city of LA which I dread with excitement – while I work on a large government contract which gives thoroughly unspecific directions ambiguous enough to discuss the teaching practices of vageuries and meditative floor sweeping in a post Pythagorean world. A younger me would have considered this as far off from my true self as possible; most likely using a semicolon much sooner in this caption.

Thus I learned that making the work light, with spirit and jokes, will help to ease life’s rough edges; that someone who comes into your office saying they are all about the money probably isn’t lacking passion – also the importance of sarcasm.

What will I make for you today? 

——————————————————-

So what is this dilemma? You just make and make!

In this moment I lack the capacity to mold each spark into what it deserves to become, and lack the ability to give it the autonomous initiative to complete itself. Months ago today I began to create, and did not have all the moments required to complete each sparking from me. They still exist, but as I am no longer me of that day, they no longer suit my direction. They sit without review, they survive unsatisfied, and lack the train to drive them where they ought to go.

But even fragments of gems are beautiful