As midsummer approaches this place,
I begin to wriggle.
With every slight movement, the scent of the earth
And the high-temperature sunlight make me pause.
I long to bury myself deep within the soil.
Please, let the rain fall.
Wriggle, wriggle.
Before I know it, I am inside the dirt.
Though the world outside is sweltering,
The whole energy of the earth embraces me.
I am alive.
Budging, shifting.
I am not even hungry.
An emerald with no name
Wraps around me.
And so, a season passes by.
Then, someone pursues me
Like a stalker.
I gave up.
It was an existence I could not defeat.
The barren, withered you
Dances a snowflake dance for me,
So charming and sweet.
Before I know it, softly,
Leaning against my side,
Giving me a sudden, surprise kiss,
My whole body trembles without my knowing.
I miss them. My friend.
My friend, all of a sudden,
Was kidnapped by a massive, towering figure,
Unable to even breathe in the seawater,
Staring at unfamiliar fish,
They must be struggling and writhing.
I am a earthworm.
Today, too, I wriggle.
A daily walk beside the sea,
restores the mind, sets spirits free.
No day the same, yet so well known,
a moody, kindly voice—soft toned.
The waves roll in, then slip away,
their lingering tug, begs me stay.
Each wave resounds into prayer,
a mantra shaped in salt-sea air.
As they break, crash, hiss, surge and creep,
they caress shores with every sweep.
White bridal veils spread on wet sand,
trailing lace crescents on the strand.
The rhythm of what is seen and heard,
brings peaceful awe to what is stirred.
All who return to stand and see,
pay hushed homage to mother sea—
To mater mer, the source and womb,
the wellspring from where life did bloom.
The blood in our veins that sustains
our cells, is seawater remains.
The sea is blood, spirit and bone,
a deep sweet tide that calls us home.
The wind off the cold North Atlantic ocean
smells of piquant seawater on its breath,
agreeably pungent, brackish and moist.
The legendary Nor'easter off Newfoundland,
the bane of so, so many ships at sea,
is not a breeze with a soft, caressing hand.
It kicks and knocks and slaps and whacks and thwacks,
pummels and punches, pinches and pushes.
The stolid, sturdy imperturbable island
sits there and puts up with the abuses.
The northeasterly wind is very resentful
of its odiferous reputation.
At night, it simmers and seethes and smolders,
writhes and trembles, weeps and whines, stirs and sulks.
But, like the song says, the wind and sea smells
are "perfume to my soul". I stand alone on shore
and listen to the ocean's roar, wind's woosh,
and my mind decompresses, destresses;
this is my peace, my serenity.
I am home.
I was so small, looking up at you as I gripped your
hand tight.
My eyes like deep sea bioluminescence, yours like a
nebula.
Dead and anew.
You were starlight, the sun. Close enough to warm me,
but impossible to hold. To soothe.
The world was not meant for us
And yet, here we are.
Mismatched, misshapen, misbehaved.
We peer through the cracks and cut our fingers on the
edges.
And you, you said you would die young
Snuffed out so fast, in a moment of darkness.
I guess you got what you wanted, then.
I guess you wanted to leave this all behind.
Instead, you left me
Stuck with your spirit bursting in my chest.
I am engulfed in this absence, filled with seawater.
Head pounding to the beat of your heartache.
And the tree that watches over you
Stretches to see the sun.
And the dirt blankets you the way your mother
never could.
And I hope you found your place in the vast.
But, god, didn’t you ever look up?
Who could ever bear to leave this world?
"Never paint except with the three primary colors [red, blue, and yellow] and their derivatives." Camille Pissarro
One primary color can make me feel mellow
when warm like honey heated up or like rays of a golden sun.
It’s flax, saffron, blond, and canary yellow,
cheerful like a daffodil and bumblebee fun.
It’s bananas too and a well-buttered bun!
The second and vivid primary color
spells energy, boldness, passion and power.
Cardinals make most other birds seem simply duller.
A symbol of love, rose reigns as a fragrant red flower,
while scarlet and crimson sunsets my eyes can devour.
The loveliest for me of these three colors is the hue
that melds with yellow, thus creating green.
Some jewels, blooms and berries are naturally blue.
Splendid is a dusk with the tint of an indigo sheen.
Oh, cerulean sky above seawater shimmering aquamarine!
The waves grow larger as they draw near
I just want to disappear
The white water crashes against the jagged rock shore
I really thought that there’d be more
The air is salty and the breeze sings its song
Have I been living my life all wrong?
Seawater sprays me in a fine mist
I’m worthless
I’m worthless
I’m worthless
I’m worthless
The clouds drift overhead in wisps of white against the black I would turn around now but it’s too late to backtrack
I’m already here
At the edge the pier
My intentions are sincere
So please—don’t interfere
I’ll let the waves wash me away
I hope this is the end of my dismay
I really don’t want to stop halfway
Just do it
Just do it
Just do it
Just do it
I take a deep breath as my feet give way
I know, I know! Who I am!
I walk on through moonlit sand.
My Life, I claim, I claim as mine!
Through trials and tribulations of time.
Autumn's friends are satisfied that I am broken.
Yet I rise in pain without a word spoken.
Revenge! I cried as blood dripped from my hand.
They scoffed at me as I made my stand.
I deviously smiled as their confusion began.
With horror in their eyes, they stumbled and ran.
There is no need to pursue those who are unjust.
For what I have minimally done was a must.
I cleaned the cut on my swollen wrist.
As the moonlit seawater begins to mist.
It was not fear as the mist formed and he walked towards me.
My son, you have done well, and now you are truly free.
1-5-25______________1-25-25
125_________________525
21__________________105
3___________________15
1___________________5
0,0163%
of hydrogen
extracted from seawater
Deuterium when mixed
with tritium
under the influence
of extreme heat
and pressure
becomes a gaseous
hydrogen fuel
becomes a fusion plasma
generated in the Tomak
a tomak is an experiment
machine used to harness the
energy of fusion
charged participle of fusion
can be controlled
by magnetic coils
air and impurities are
evacuated from the vacuum
confinment and control of the
plasma are charged up
and the gaseous fuel is
introduced
powerful electrical currents
are run through
the vassal were gas breaks down
electrically
and then it becomes ironized
and electrons are stripped
from the nuclei
and forms a plasma
TO ACHEIVE FUSION THE
PLASMA IN THE TOMAK
MUST REACH
150,00,000 million
degrees!
Plasma particles become
energized and collide into one another
natural electromagnetic repulsion
om collision to fuse
the proposal for a
configuration of a magntic
fusion device.
1200 Packard Twelve
or a Ka de shi'erhao 1200
20 minutes!
I am flowered in the shade of bird wings
neath patch of deep sadness absent of clouds
beholden to loosen memories mist filtered
cell charged energies their liberal release
bars that separate the spirited guardians
of fortitude held till dawn gilded rays shone
on the levy's shoreline thrashing waves
tethering the oceanic breezes crowning the
curling tops of surf swirling foams that
champion a sandy blackened shorelines
surging and receding in merciful coiling
of rejuvenating wetness where beached
life shoots to recapture folds of a fragile
domain as the briny seawater air loops
loosely stretch o'er the isles beckoning
the suds of waves and coconut thuds fall.
I try not to.
I blink anyway.
Like blinking out seawater.
It pours.
Goosebumps are uncontrollable.
Sitting for hours.
Sitting unnaturally.
But I can’t shift, only sway.
They command me to stand.
My feet are asleep, but that’s not the worst of it.
I see my surroundings again.
Bed.
I’m embarrassed.
I lie down and become stiff again.
I don’t bother with the blanket.
It never helps.
I don’t bother crying.
It never ever helps.
I enjoy the sparkle of rainbow colors and pretty sheen's
As my mind travels to worlds collected in many screens
It’s an escape from my anxiety and daily troubles
As I work and relax inside my creative meditative bubble
Vibrant gems come in many tiny rounds or squares
A medium to transform worlds once placed there
A seascape lighthouse brightens along the shore
As blue seawater now sparkles in diamonds and gulls soar
A hidden sunken treasure awaits with a trunk full of gold
As swimming marine life soon comes to life in colors bold
A shark protects its bounty as playful dolphins frolic on
The shimmery sea life of wonders brings peace and calm
Summer blooms in peonies and roses in pink
Now decorated in iridescent gems as they twink
A virtual flower garden creative and serene
Ready for display for all to enjoy and be seen
Songbirds happily chirping while perched at feeders today
Their red, blue and gold feathers in tiny gems sparkle away
The air looks fresh with a warm breeze and bright glittery sun
My diamond painting world brings me peace, relaxation and fun.
Pour the seawater into a shell
and hear each sound of the ocean,
you can own some of it 'till it dries out;
would you become a captain
and sail away to seek adventures?
Tempestuous oceans frighten,
grit keeps brave sailors alive and alert...
who has ever survived with a feeble will?
Have you traveled by sea and felt distress:
were you serenaded by a lovely siren?
Pour the seawater into a shell,
many kids have done that
and felt cheer and thrill;
be as curious as them,
shred your boredom:
step out, voyages wait!
The world birthed an arching column,
its broad shoulders eclipse the sun
obfuscating the golden grain colored rays
What are their thoughts? Are they an eternal refrain?
Their hunched posture, knees pillowing breasts
Ashen hair cascading like the foam of the Aegean,
the waves of time flowing down its taut trapezius
A breathing landscape living atop the one we roam
It is done roaming, there is nothing left to see
Its eyes cavernous, with pupils yawning endlessly
The pressure of its presence turns the sand it sits upon
into a picnic blanket of stained seawater glass
yet with all it carried, I sense it carries no burden
for there is no more journey left.
There is gratitude that the only act remaining
is to wait.
And what is in a bland
year
that a great moment
could not obliterate…
the value of a lifetime
without a season of proximity
shared…?
as one thimble of seawater
passed between us
can be a voyage toward
wondrous eternity
when hearts are righted
and divine charting
full sail
at the steer -- ?
We talk of the toast
into tomorrow
while letting the dear drip
pour away
limiting prayer
to future morning cadence
giving not enough deference
to Loving Presence attended…
Kiss me!
As barren as the moon,
Perhaps not later,
But soon!
Filtered air,
Seawater collected,
Eaten with chop sticks,
If you please,
Whatever we can eat with ease!
Too hot to live on the surface,
Burrow under the ground.
Deep enough for cooling temps,
Not enough to raise the rents!
Everyone moves to shaded ground,
Rocks hold heat,
So, underground!
The moon is looking better all the time,
Not so crowded,
To move around.
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