post title

Well placed and deep rooted I turn
up
at every turn I see you have done much for me
I am nothing here with out the pipeline of fuel
let me turn up at every turn
oh this road has so many curves! Thank you that we can see
I pray my twenty twenty improves!
my fog hits higher registers and I'm left with a curious
residue

like trans music filtering into a window of
fingernail clippings
like a threatening attack
I am afraid of what will be said
and bullets are like cotton candy
action oriented, I'd hold on.
I know it now that I'd monkey up
and the jar trap would give pause

so why wait?
be free of it? or am I wrong about it all!

Grins and laughter make brittle those moments
where I would  fear

such was my thought! this return was seen and
this makes for a track record of left arm pains
on a regular basis more grins and more brittle!
what fear can stand against that fire!?
my laughter offers a resounding "None!"

B'derkh

I retreat back into the place where I can take from the sounds and reform what words mean.
I have all this steam driven by banjos and.  I.  can't.  keep.  up.
because I was meant to be here so I'll stop running.
Why this picture hits my eye's mind?
I find no piece fitting this puzzle and I can't muzzle
the screaming valve.  the left main ventricle with volume past
echo chamber piping a robust product.
"I want that you conduct with out theft"
that being the heft of my current request,
I find it best to bleed out in binary.
The simple story beying I have but one.
All emanates from this like sun light.

Do you know what kind of heat the sun can generate?
When I say this I mean to give an honor of greater value,
but we have not the earthly language to cope with such greatness.
I mean to say that I have one simple story
and I'm sorry, Îmi pare rău
but you must know, it is all of me.
You see as the sun gives us light and heat.
So does this tale of many gifts  unearned.
I am burned to closer I get to tell it but I can't stop.
there is increase of the crop when I seek to say
Burn away the dross and seek to set camp near my moons source
a reflection is not nearly enough
the truth is real and so simple
its seeds grow with in and they consume the compost of my mistake
while i wake to the day break with in
My sin is eaten and I seek more seeds!
Tilling this garden...it takes over
I turn it all over!

Like a well worn silver dollar
I'm ready to be melted down for greater
I am rolling that way
b'derkh

trickle of consciousness

far to long and grown inarticulate like a few of these with out a trimmer I am unsure of how it is you want me to coe over when ever but what that means is far more than what i give you and I need to go shopping for some olives but the round path brings me back to the p[lace that I am going to start teaching and at one point I will switch into the new and this will make one of the students lose the class.  SOF SOF i breath after the bee sting I roamed the sheet of paper with the lies of pencil lead because of the eraser you see me sitting there with a stutter and reach out so what am I thinking that I see where the hill slope ends? I'm still dreaming.  Finger swollen and how is this going to work with cars and vans and I need so much to have this week end but then its the next weak.  I need this weak to end more than the day is long so what can we make with this needle and thread?  Giving back and letting my swollen finger release the contract (signed and sent in the mail for that part time job.) so Abe and Martin  mix between the loss of stream.  I think I'll run into Andy Dufrane though this is SO far from his depth it still drags on in a waiting period of worthy.  with the count going up of Oh whats that and moments from a change to go and get those last five minutes
the wrap up is I wound you and I am sorry but I have scissors for hands and I cant find the place where I can bring Albert back.  Grown and time spawned a shell that allows for entrance but the ricochet with in is uncontrolable and destructive if I constrict. so swollen finger and tiered tongue I find the other kids poem far out scares my own.


times up
and I still can't spell uncontrollable...

ManCub

I have a very good friend who is currently on a really big adventure.  An inspirational adventure.  He inspires me with the adventure, and his ability to blog and share it with others.  I am on my own adventure right now.  We left at about the same time and as I follow him through his I feel an extra connection.  This week was a particularly encouraging post brought to us by the words from a retired school teacher

 "and don't loose heart."

My week was rather difficult and I wrote this yesterday:

 שבוע קשה.  הלב שלי כל כך כבד.  כי אני ממש רוצה לראות, לדבר, סתם להיות עם חברים שלי בארצות הברית.  יש לי חברים פה אבל  זה עוד לא אותו דבר.  זה לוקח הרבא זמן להכיר אנשים יותר טוב.  אני להאט, ממש להאט.  אני דברתי עם חברה שלי בחיפה, בליר וקיבלתי אימאיל מאחות קטן. מורגשתי יותר טוב.

אבל אני יכול מסביר את זה בעברית. זה  נשמחתי

(For those of you that don't know about google translate, give it a try.) 

Thank you ManCub for your encouragement to press forward.  While you conquer physical mountains I am conquering a new language but both are incredibly daunting tasks!  Thank you Thank you Thank You!

broken

 glass house motif
crackling under the pressure
outer guard with a sheen of glowing surface
We have a steering issue that hits us into the curb
with course undisturbed the wheels head back to the beach after winding different ways away from it.  These instances keeps our hands on the wheel when others say to take them off.

glass house issue
stacking onto the lacker
inner core with an ore of diamond solidity
You have all the future ahead of you to goodbye
with out an only flight plan this former crash glides on the wind of all four different ways and right to it!
Those, bind hands together in an unknowable order when others want to know!

version 2 (more developed)

    This story is about a blind mug collector and a time when he thought about a tea cup.  Though we may have more interest in the young man, it is important to note the tea cup was a one of a kind hand crafted masterpiece from the Master Craftsman.  It was very well made with beautiful colors and the perfect combination of elegance, playful swirls, and transparency  that allows the light to radiate and brighten the surrounding space.  Though it is a work of art and worthy of great care, it acquired  damage around the handle.  The Master Craftsman was bringing it into a fully restored condition, but our story with the young man starts before the work was fully complete…

    Now this young mug collector was quite the eccentric personality.  He loved to awaken early in the morning and enjoy the quiet with some tea mildly sweetened with honey, never milk.  He did not like milk in his tea.  While he had a preference for herbal teas, but was always pleased with what ever was available.   For a man with this measure of interest in the culture of tea, it would seem odd that he never drank from tea cups.  This is where he diverted greatly from the norm.  He only drank from mugs.  The strong and sturdy type.  To him they were like family and friends.  Each mug he collected had a personality of its own.  Some were funny shapes others had clever slogans spelled out in the texture and in all there was great variety with in the collection.  While he only regularly drank from a few he enjoyed maintaining a connection with as many as he could, even if it was only once in a long while.  He had a special routine for holding them to get to know each of the mugs and they were tied to joyous memories of the past. It brought him much joy to be reminded of the blessing it was to have each mug in his collection.  

     He had nothing against tea cups.  He thought they were beautiful and he knew people that spoke endlessly of their love for well crafted tea cup.  He was aware of the expense involved and felt his income to meager to invest in such a venture.  He knew they were more delicate than mugs and thought himself maybe to ruff to properly care for fragile art work and to do so every day! He had few experiences with tea cups as a boy and they did not help to create more interest but quite the opposite.  So he  avoided the whole dynamic entirely and stuck with his mugs.

     One day he was in the process of adding a few mugs to the collection.  He was entirely unprepared for what was about to happen.  He heard a tea cup in the distance that had a sparkle to its clink as it was set in the display. He dismissed it easily but later in the day he heard it again.  He did not actually know it was the same tea cup at the time as it had been moved to a different display case and the acoustics  were different enough to change most of what he heard, but that glint of light, that glow of music rang in his ear.  As he would stop in the store from time to time, this tea cup continued to catch his attention and he became almost agitated by what began to happen.  At one point he even had a dream and the tea cup was in it.  While it was not the focus of the dream, he was bothered by what the meaning might be.  It seemed an interest in this tea cup was growing, and he tried to fight it.

    When he finally admitted to himself that this was the case, he sought out an expert friend of his.  He was familiar with this tea cup as it was widely regarded an exquisite  work of art.  He mentioned some minor repair work that had been done but ultimately gave a rave review.  Our poor collector  began to  be aware of a range of confusing reactions and a wealth of apprehension.  He brought this up with a Professor he had met.  This very wise man listened to the young collector and eventually told him these feelings were not something to be rid of, but embraced.

"Think about it,  you know tea cups are delicate and highly valued.  Your apprehension is only natural.  Use this as a guide line to being careful as you seek out more information."  

    Our slightly relieved mug aficionado then plotted out his movements.  He modified the routine so as to take extra care.  With a wealth of courage and for the first time in his adult life he went to reach for this rare ceramic piece. He was so encouraged at  the brushing of the rim without it crumbling to dust!  As he blindly made a move for the handle, his thumb came across the sharp edge and was split open.  He thought he put it down gently but to this day is unsure if he could have done better.  The teacups sound rang true and seemed to be okay but he was in pain and he could not see the what and why of his thumbs current state.    He quickly pressed against it to stop the blood flow and pain brought air into his lungs.  

    He made his quick retreat trying to fight the fear attempting to blanket him from this unforeseeable incident.  He had built up such courage to even try and now was in pain.  Would he be able to reconcile this new found interest and resulting discomfort, or would he resign himself to life as it had always been.  Before he calmed down his mind was full of the back and forth of ocean waves.  "What was I thinking? Will I ever build up such courage again? Is there a point to it? I made a plan, why did I get hurt? Do I deserve anything so nice?"  A wealth of melodramatic and ultimately silly questions welled up, were categorized, and dealt with.   

   After tending to his wound he set his mind to planing for his next step.  His thumb held the memory of the sharp edge in the form of a superficial scratch and regret tried to take hold.  It failed as the light began to grow from deep with in him.  He was choosing to learn from this.  Yes, he knew it was not the fault of the teacup.  and Yes, more surprisingly for him, He still had interest is the sound of that teacup.  He decided instead of reaching out for the tea cup  to seek out the Master Craftsman.  He would know what style of cup was the best fit and would never entrust one of his works to someone if it was not yet ready.

oh crap for real?

one month and
some time has passed and I have had lots to write about but alas there has not exactly been the time to write.  I am writing this now in a rushed ration so as to help myself get back into the practice.  I like to have a little momentum or some kind of gimmick.  I am sure of where I am in a geographic sense, yet not as much in the metropolitan sense.  It is as if the doors opened to get me here and now I have entered a room full of doors.  and they seem to be in flux.  opening and closing and my hair is blown back by the wind.  Which way will be best?  there is some measure of fear crouching around the corner throughing out static interference so my brain thinks "this is it!" then "Oop, maybe not"
And this is not all that unfamiliar as I labored to get here I had years of this.  "What should I do for work?" the answer never came because the answer was to move.  Done. checked of the list. move down to the next thing.  what is that next thing?  (doors swing open and shut) which of these next things is actionable (doors swing open and shut)  Why do these wings flap with no measure of time? flap? more like flab! I sink in the air and my measure come back to haunt me.  I don't want to be carried on the backs of others, I want to help carry!  How can I better use this written place to bring you the truth of what could be, of what will be?

And in all I see it is such a waste of time!  but in saying that it is a waste of time I feel like I am saying that it is a complete an utter bad thing.  how bad is this?  should I hermit myself away then?  This I know is wrong but who is the outlet?  certainly not this young one.  so I wait with baited breath for six years to return and maybe get some measure of deliverance...but what if...
endless cycle of stupidity

maybe I'll try for a hair cut tomorrow.  that or wait for a month to pass...how can that be?  your math will be off around this schedule
stop looking and this glass like it has the bits you can see
my wind blown hair only makes for a better pic
but internal shots make for shots to be gotten
a short time till pads of some number and then what?
how far am I willing to walk with only one goal?
one and half hours and I will tug at these strings till my fingers bleed
tomorrow or the next day because I want for there to be joy in my head and I think that this is one of the only ways that I will see a change in my left.  To give all of what is left.
How do you spell bereft?
weak I know but a week month has lasted me over nine years and my heart melts at the sight of this happening again.  how much longer until I can slight these things into a pocket and forget them? Oh really...Never?  Well how what when where why! I'll just stand on a corner and waste through everything, not knowing where the end of this pit goes

But there it is:  I know where that pit goes and it is not for me.  So next week I have adventure planed and after that I have time to run myself into new ground basking in the glory of how hard it is to be stubborn and mindless after one knows better that to be stubborn and mindless.

12-7-12