And it is like this...I'm not sure of (anything?) what to write about, but I know it is better to have written. So may be some bits will be about a guy named Evan Pikovavich, some may be links to cool music, and others may be one word minutes before the deadline for the sake of having done something.
We'll see. I guess that is the only promise I can make here. And it is challenge enough, knowing that it it really is a "WE" that will be watching. Thank you for reading and please feel free to offer feed back. This is only a beginning...
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
ME...thats who!
Who starts a 365 project on the second of January?
Who starts 15 minutes before the first deadline?
Who is likely to break down a go for once a week in the middle?
Who defines middle as a few weeks from now?
Who spends zero time forming the boundaries of his 365 project?
Who likes to ask questions?
How much wood could a woodchuck chuck, if a woodchuck could chuck wood?
Who starts 15 minutes before the first deadline?
Who is likely to break down a go for once a week in the middle?
Who defines middle as a few weeks from now?
Who spends zero time forming the boundaries of his 365 project?
Who likes to ask questions?
How much wood could a woodchuck chuck, if a woodchuck could chuck wood?
Friday, December 21, 2012
risking the current quite for perpetual peace
I am stretched thin and it has become customary. and now that to beautiful...
I delay that which is always here in favor of that which need not be.
thirteen days from the emotional count down clock! I faint at the idea that peace is sitting in my pocket
All I must is to resume the path I was told of.
I now start the journey to the red string walls and look to see if we can find the right angles
maybe they are obtuse
a slap to the face and fall down and we run the right way to the right place and why can't you see these feet are in need of the dry times to resume? my salt water is getting out of hand and vision hits the buck wall.
I'm quite sure I've buried the diamond in a wealth of rough by now but the excavation shall begin in thirteen days and we really don't know what we'll find so lets empty our mind. The collective one has gotten to cluttered and at the waist of time. We aspire hire and check for compass directions of separate needle spaces. the pull is to strong for close calls so they will have to put their phones down and let the boy talk himself out of his paper bag. risking the current quite for perpetual peace
refinement peeks around the corner abstracting the view of more urgent work
but this electric guitar hits the right frequency of times past and this windy wet shortens the count down.
what are numbers anyway?
the horn section is killing it! orange fog pulls at the keys from below so the feed back will have to weight. (because we don't have words like that in our language.)
so we find the wrap up as the count gets smaller.
they are about to loose it and I'll have to take my self away when the words become to much
I'm not sure when the bridge will brake but I think t....
I delay that which is always here in favor of that which need not be.
thirteen days from the emotional count down clock! I faint at the idea that peace is sitting in my pocket
All I must is to resume the path I was told of.
I now start the journey to the red string walls and look to see if we can find the right angles
maybe they are obtuse
a slap to the face and fall down and we run the right way to the right place and why can't you see these feet are in need of the dry times to resume? my salt water is getting out of hand and vision hits the buck wall.
I'm quite sure I've buried the diamond in a wealth of rough by now but the excavation shall begin in thirteen days and we really don't know what we'll find so lets empty our mind. The collective one has gotten to cluttered and at the waist of time. We aspire hire and check for compass directions of separate needle spaces. the pull is to strong for close calls so they will have to put their phones down and let the boy talk himself out of his paper bag. risking the current quite for perpetual peace
refinement peeks around the corner abstracting the view of more urgent work
but this electric guitar hits the right frequency of times past and this windy wet shortens the count down.
what are numbers anyway?
the horn section is killing it! orange fog pulls at the keys from below so the feed back will have to weight. (because we don't have words like that in our language.)
so we find the wrap up as the count gets smaller.
they are about to loose it and I'll have to take my self away when the words become to much
I'm not sure when the bridge will brake but I think t....
Saturday, December 1, 2012
Jerusalem cat
Well I am so sorry Jerusalem cat, I did not mean to startle you.
Shall I stomp my feet so you know when I aproach?
Oh! Pardon me Jerusalem cat, did I disturb your sleep?
Shall I avoid you on the street from now on?
Jerusalem cat, I'll not take your food. why are you running?
What can I say to ease your apprehension?
Watch out Jerusalem cat! you'll hit the wall!
Careless retreat, does it pain you to see me?
Even on your worst, soaked, matted fur days there is beauty in you.
and that is even from the distance before you retreat.
I know there is more...
Monday, November 12, 2012
Friday, November 2, 2012
strange sub set
not broken but breaking
a strange sub set of pain
where enough is not
where smiles are a kind of currency
and I'm over run.
not fallen but falling
a strange sub set of pain
floor set spikes sought
where the third is a deadline
and we are two months out
freedom taunts tear ducts
and I blur my thoughts with static sound tracks.
over heard and under thought
I've been wrong in what I've wrought
but this is a different beat
and the pain came first
a strange sub set
and I'm left out in the heat
external drop brings no meaning in me
I'm warm with in.
though the source be focused and fire-y
i radiate
don't come close now
the crystal will come tumbling down
its a strange sub set I know
but it must be
for now and for me
it must be
a strange sub set of pain
where enough is not
where smiles are a kind of currency
and I'm over run.
not fallen but falling
a strange sub set of pain
floor set spikes sought
where the third is a deadline
and we are two months out
freedom taunts tear ducts
and I blur my thoughts with static sound tracks.
over heard and under thought
I've been wrong in what I've wrought
but this is a different beat
and the pain came first
a strange sub set
and I'm left out in the heat
external drop brings no meaning in me
I'm warm with in.
though the source be focused and fire-y
i radiate
don't come close now
the crystal will come tumbling down
its a strange sub set I know
but it must be
for now and for me
it must be
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
owed palm ahv-all lay-aht
not even the static clouds out the static. I fold along the fault line and wait for the quakes that bring down all of greek tragedy.
Timing and waiting till a turn on the page becomes a turn of the page. and I carve out the the words for which I think are being searched.
I see dancing every where and my leg is broken. I am taunted at every turn yet this book is such a gift I can't consent its decent. 'Tis not the regulated notes phrased at a pleasant pace that pounds out more pressure, its the phone. Under used and Oh so scary.
Bass rattles loose the bolts of my well worn reputation and I run.
but broken leg and heart ache may have a victory march, we'll see.
through rose colored glasses i claim the happy fields of growing and thriving.
but the toil for such a place has yet been done and will demand quite a violent conquering over the current lack of maintenance. both floor and fences not to mention the roof and these boot the grounds themselves.
I am stirred and I have such a lack.
I have so little...
But this is how the origin of greatness is brought to sight. as this story becomes open you can see beneath the corners of the pages and the support strings from above. they are not there to puppet, but to bring joy from falling!
what was once death can now be life!
Timing and waiting till a turn on the page becomes a turn of the page. and I carve out the the words for which I think are being searched.
I see dancing every where and my leg is broken. I am taunted at every turn yet this book is such a gift I can't consent its decent. 'Tis not the regulated notes phrased at a pleasant pace that pounds out more pressure, its the phone. Under used and Oh so scary.
Bass rattles loose the bolts of my well worn reputation and I run.
but broken leg and heart ache may have a victory march, we'll see.
through rose colored glasses i claim the happy fields of growing and thriving.
but the toil for such a place has yet been done and will demand quite a violent conquering over the current lack of maintenance. both floor and fences not to mention the roof and these boot the grounds themselves.
I am stirred and I have such a lack.
I have so little...
But this is how the origin of greatness is brought to sight. as this story becomes open you can see beneath the corners of the pages and the support strings from above. they are not there to puppet, but to bring joy from falling!
what was once death can now be life!
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