Sometimes when the mind starts wandering
So many memories and thoughts keep pondering
Life never stays the same as it keeps on changing
Moments of joy and sadness just keep reclaiming
Sometimes there is chaos all around
You look for silence but never found
No one sees the frenzied turmoil
On the surface all looks so serene
Sometimes your mind blocks everything
No memories no thoughts just practicalities of life
You are broken but not to the visible eye
Grief rewires everything just for you to survive
Sometimes you struggle to break the shackles
Sometimes you just quietly gather your pieces
All it takes is to be true to yourself
And slowly rest will always fall in place.
Something’s happening, let’s call it sunrise, for now,
and summer vacation in Geneva, in umm.. 10 hours.
My heart-beat is spiking, like a flag or kite flying.
I’m leaving an empty room - making one last pass with a broom.
I’m stuffing my bag, with the last few things, for escape on aluminum wings.
My dreams, woven in bright, butterfly tapestries, are rolled and folded -
packed between urgent fantasies and harsh, time-sensitive practicalities.
I know you’re there, a quarter-world away, good news, pegasus awaits,
to streak gulf-stream high, over choppy oceans wide with mechanical fire,
its ice-cycle crystal contrail points, like cherub cupid's arrow, toward you.
Forget pixels, tech instruments, remote lifeline connections,
and prayer-like whispers over thin, criss-crossed wires.
I’m making my move, coming compass-needle true,
to press up close, reintroduce, extemporize and seduce.
.
.
music for this:
Someday by Sugar Ray
sunburn by almost monday
This Charming Man by The Smiths
Heaven by Los Lonely Boys
I am from a generation they call X
Not because it marks the spot
But because it marks the best
We are eccentric because we walked the moon
And because we shared lust as an essential need
But wait until you meet your resurfaced acknowledgement
A frantic existence you call Technology
Generation X from 1965 to 1980
Where Charles Manson, the flower childe
Meets the notorious Ted Bundy
Richard Nixon and watergate, who actually knew
That this was an era of being a shrew
The birth of individuality
Known for practicalities
Known for informalities
The ghosts of the Vietnam War
Known for diversities
The civil technicalities
Henceforth, a generation of creation is no more.
I want to hold you close forever,
to savor the vivid, fleeting intimacy,
that, like candy, seems gone too soon.
I’m a practical person, so I asked Peter,
“What works better, duct tape or velcro?”
Sure, some things will be awkward, at first,
like walking, thanksgiving dinner with parents,
shopping, bathing and driver’s license photos
but those always suck - let’s accept that.
We’ll live and love - together - without apologies.
.
According to Chinese medicine, each of the 5 elements
wood, fire, earth, metal, and water, have a corresponding season.
We are a living, breathing, embodiment of nature & the world around us,
Intimately tied to the seasons and their influences.
Aside from spring, summer, fall, & winter, we have the 5th season.
The hidden 5th season doesn’t split the year into 5 equal parts,
it is a season within a season.
The mysterious 5th season of Chinese medicine is late summer,
or the last 6 weeks of summer, from about August 5th to September 21st
By early August, the intense whirlwind of summer is fading, time to put our feet back on the ground and reorient a bit to the practicalities of life.
The crops have grown all spring & summer and time seems to stand still for a bit while we enjoy the fruits of our labor over the last two seasons.
The late summer season corresponds to earth element that embodies this grounded, stable time.
Knowing about the 5th season is a great way to connect with nature and ourselves, this time of year.
November 2, 2022
… where ignorance is bliss, / ‘Tis folly to be wise.
Informed about the choices—
the mainstay o’ adulthood—
we often smother voices;
in good stead they have stood.
Grapple with, analyse
a destination grim:
a web of intrigue; lies
which we quote verbatim.
Some opportunities
present itself to us
with practicalities.
We often wish to cuss,
but many chances missed
in pursuit of prize.
Where ignorance is bliss,
‘tis folly to be wise.
The quote is from the final stanza of Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College, by Thomas Gray (1716–71).
This is an example of gnomic poetry.
Who is the Ringmaster?
Who is the pawn?
Who will decipher
When the patrons are gone?
Enter the Big Top spot the trapeze,
Allay all your fears, put them at ease.
Barnum, Ringling masters long past,
Legends of showmanship destined to last.
Performers who push human boundaries,
Whose skills outstrip all practicalities.
It's raw talent on view in center ring,
Unique marvels of practice really happening.
No single skill matters outside the ring,
Performance in life, that's the thing.
Suspend for a moment what you know to be real,
Fantasy is fostered, it's the circus appeal.
Listen to the Ringmaster's full vibrato
As he shows each act with flair.
Paces his rich voice staccato
Presenting, making you connect and care.
Never lets himself become the show,
Top hat in hand in center ring, beginning to the end.
Tells you all you need to know,
Master of all the fun, every patron's friend.
I live to love you my 'Love'
I breathe to keep you alive,
I smile to see you ebullient,
I talk to keep you thrive.
Hence I see you drowning to death,
The worries have become thy controller,
You are levitating out of agonies,
See, I'm the same love that you used to call 'flower'!
Still the fragrance is the same,
O Love! Recall closing your eyes those days..
The meaning of life was 'Me' to you,
I fancy, I see clearly that then YOU!
Thy admiration made me butterfly,
Bearing more colours than they highly could ever gather.
The charm of life I got from your songs,
That denoted chords when you touched my bangles.
Are the practicalities mightier than your love my Soul?
Can they really fight back to your mighty will?
Hath your fear mounted its peak for thy enemy?
To surpass the love-mountain where we built our love territory?
Honey, I'm just here, beside you just feel,
Trying to back you to hope, please chill!
Leave the agonies to be blown away,
We'll make the mountain of happiness out of molehill!
Where you will see
Only you, only me.
LOST IN TRANSLATION
i have become the page of a book
stored neatly away on a shelf
the others have their own little nook
they all know where they belong
all cataloged so they know where to look
this library is immense
but they'll still find their way
the other books are often checked out
the practicalities their pages concede
i guess it's easy if your understood
i'm written in a language no one can read
my best intentions are lost in translation
so distrust the advice that my words may heed
they wont work for you
cause they didn't work for me
a book with no cover
and no title page
some chapters are missing
what's left fade with age
paper ruined by my ink
belladonna blackened beige
We say goodbye,
Knowing it is over, knowing it is ending;
I hold myself in to keep from reaching for your hand.
We talk of practicalities in bright, brittle voices,
Knowing it is over, knowing it is ending;
I hold myself steady to still the shaking beat of my heart.
We talk no more of future plans,
Knowing it is over, knowing it is ending;
I hold myself still and extend best wishes to you, as well.
We agree it is better not to see each other again,
Knowing it is over, knowing it is ending;
I hold my breath against a flash of reality.
I watch you drive away, waiting for the pain;
Knowing it is over, knowing it is ending,
And I realize it is the last time
You will ever break my heart.