morning pages 7.30.09

Its!
Terrsday!

and we are wanting to make love
to the day
in a new way
a fool drowning in his coffee and morning news
while the dogs chew
and the dream tide subsides
like ice cream on a hot day
at the zoo
thoughts smell like elephants and hippos
plans are cries of the howlers and gibbons
a spray of peacock feather day dreams

to clear my head for business
of priorities and fantasy
with mowers already roaring
and indoor fountains trickling
and altar open for the blessed ones
and sleep dirt still in my eyes

the republic of one is open for business
the desires of many coursing through it streets
and the guru is just out of reach
so what will we teach ourselves
about infinity
on a thursday
without alms
or an order

just wind
to stable
inside our hope chest
and a deck of fresh cards
to soldier

along the backyard fence
gardens
and undercover
barter
routes
that lead past rope swings
and redneck swimming holes

card board went out with the recycling
like ginger bread
spread with creamy salt water taffy
and pickles
still fresh in their juices

pressed up into a cuban and coffee
always back to coffee

and meditation
on the senses
senslessness
pick a card
joker

wooo hooo

Afternoon pages 7.26.09

Grabbing a quick slice of an endless rainy day

thunder breaks like a bomb overhead

lightening deters us from our kayak plans

shoulders sore from two hours of Yoga

plans for the evening

dogs are restless

then there is the perenial question

what is today

what is it going to create

meditate on

permissions and prohibitions

lineage masters

heating up last nights indian food

echoes of Millie

drawing in the bedroom

watching soccer

napping

ignoring the rowdy dogs

procrastinating on cleaning.

what am i going to create

who cares

painting to painful

write poems books etc nah

music? cant sing

books blah

pictures video

cartoons crap

sculpture shit

dreams conversations lost

just blank living

like a silent child

lost to everyones view

no garden just dirt

no plans just time

no joy just relax

no talk just words

flat ginger ale afternoon

in July slipping by

ignoring friends

and family

and listening to the rain

time to clean up

Morning pages 7.25.09

Saturday morning

weekend without fanfare

astral weeks

crampy fiance

sleeping naked

dreams of longing nubile

stood strong

the muses world shifting

beckoning the artists date

putting ribs on

and chandy

red zone gentle leader

squeals to be crushed

regret frustration

neighborhood walk

tv comedy

today is new

escape the house hold and studio dichotomy

with video camera?

or balls of thread

to make poetry

with each breath

sailboats

yawning

in and out of dock

scraggle of parking lot

paintful heat

lapping up like flames

I am looking for that place that person that thing

that that state of mind

that is untouched by time and place and its troubles

the fortress of samadhi

Milarepa's castle

which has white stones

and green moss

rising from the crags' of suffering

to the heights

kissed by conditionless

loving kindness

back down on the keyboard

fingers

pause

mind and heart bicker

over logistics

intent

wording

of

meaning

of happiness

unsought

comes hither

unbidden

finds one out

so play and work

untangle

in sweet rain of seconds

into a stream of minutes

a swelling of hours a

crashing of a day

like a gently turning page

in my unwritten book

Sir Sir

come sir come finish this finish this chapter

tell us

what next

what's next?

I dont know

I really don't know

Morning pages

Dear Reader,

I have returned from an unannounced unspecified hiatus. There is too much too report about the interim and that is not even the point. As you know this morning pages entries are spontaneous and unstinting unedited and supposed to be in long hand and not likely to be read again it is to clear the head and spirit for the good stuff to get passed the river of complaints and chorus of mini thumb violins that accompany me everywhere well not really. Oh you have them too? Maybe they are a chorus of harmonicas or oboes kettle drums. Well if I can think through such noise it is surely not to punctuate well. So be forewarned these are not for the faint of heart and they are supposed to be approximately three pages and done every morning before much else which i have already cheated on a bit as I have checked email and had breakfast etc but it is a start none the less.

now switching from prose tooo?

If it is odd is it uneven?

I guess this is to clear the random voices that natter in the creative cafe of ones head. to tune in to something more close to your own voice. And then as the air condition kicks on and the coffee is wearing off I feel like I need to do something in the garden yes the lawn needs a mow but the exciting news is the start of a garden not what one would expect from yours truly as I always swore I would forgo dogs and gardens as my mother was very preoccupied with them perhaps obsessed for a good long part of my upbringing and so I had had enough second hand pollen and dog hair perhaps too much for my liking. Not that I don't like canines or plants and their very real quality of life enhancing ways but it is a participatory sport that I have only recently embraced trying not to hold my nose but to enjoy for its rough and dirty messiness much as I enjoy painting or traveling, meditating etc. In fact all the better that one has less overt control and must have a different level of ownership and labour of love invested in such things.

So in a burst of afternoon activity brought on to escape little children singing scales in the next room I took the terriers out for a trek around the nature trails and of course became distracted by taking pictures much to the amusement of neighbors who found me staring into bushes of crape mertle by the side of the road as if impersonating a bee of perhaps getting ready to relieve myself. It doesn't help that my cell phone is green too. Pictures are forthcoming I promise you wont be disappointed. the dogs of course both aid and disrupt this process so it becomes a strange collaboration which they only distantly grasp. " Oh why id dad stopping again? he is pointing that green thing in the bushes or at the sky or ground again. oh damn." pant pant. oh crap he is pointing it at us again." and i am cursing them for wrapping the leashes around my legs or their legs or around the bushes or straining to get a wif of armadillo.

And so the time passes as the sun sets and the children practice there scales. and instead of making diner like any normal person at 8 pm who is ravenous I start to dig the weeds and errant grass clumps from a patchy plot of yard under our bay window. yes I now feel the urge very pressing i might add to start a garden! Not just any garden mind you but a sort of memorial garden to be dedicated to the passing of Tracey's and my grandfathers three of whom departed this year. Of course it need not be that alone lest we forget all relations as the native elders would say. so future generations must be considered and of course the four directions and the earth itself well when one is ravenous and the sun is setting and it is very humid and all you have is a shovel and a little hand tri-prong thing-a-ma-gig courtesy of Tracey's folks you can only get so far before your back is sore your fingers and shoes are filled with black sand and ants and the dogs are on your last nerve for rooting around or laying around in the work zone.

So fortunately I saved by the great voice of reason(she shall remain nameless lest it go to her head):) and so all that was quickly curtailed and remedied over ambition with carry out chinese from the panda and soccer reruns of US vs. Panama see previous blog post.

Ok in the interest of the morning pages not bleeding over into afternoon digressions I will stop here and bid my fervent reader adieu.

US U.S. Men Move on to Gold Cup Semifinals With 2-1 Overtime Victory Against Panama

Kenny Cooper Buries Penalty Kick in First Overtime to Put U.S. Through to Semifinal Kyle Beckerman Scores First International Goal With Equalizer in Second Half U.S. Will Face Honduras on Thursday, July 23 at Soldier Field in Chicago at 6 p.m. CT, Live on Fox Soccer Channel and TeleFutura

PHILADELPHIA (July 18 2009) — The U.S. Men’s National Team got a stunning strike from Kyle Beckerman and a penalty kick in overtime from Kenny Cooper to defeat Panama 2-1 this evening at Lincoln Financial Field and advance to the semifinals of the 2009 CONCACAF Gold Cup. The U.S. will face Honduras in the semifinals on Thursday, July 23 at 6 p.m. CT at Soldier Field in Chicago. The match will be broadcast live on Fox Soccer Channel, TeleFutura and the Futbol de Primera Radio Network. Fans can also follow the match live on ussoccer.com’s MatchTracker and Twitter. The U.S. fell behind when Panama capitalized on a corner kick during injury time of the first half, but Beckerman struck back early in the second half for the equalizer. Cooper, who came on for Davy Arnaud in the 77th minute, was fouled inside the penalty area late in the first overtime. Cooper took the spot kick himself, placing it just past the outstretched arms of goalkeeper Jaime Penedo, off the post and in for the game-winner. “It was a challenge to the team to be in that spot at halftime and I still felt good that the response was strong,” said U.S. Men’s National Team head coach Bob Bradley. “When we didn't finish the game in regulation, you still got a sense the mentality was "we're going to take care of this thing. The players deserve a lot of credit for that." The match, which was a rematch of a 2007 CONCACAF Gold Cup quarterfinal, saw several starters from the first two matches return to the lineup, including Beckerman who had only come on in reserve against Haiti.

“The ball went out wide and was sent across. I gambled a little bit just thinking it may pop out to the top of the box,” said Beckerman. “Sometimes you gamble and sure enough the ball finds your foot.”

http://www.ussoccer.com/articles/viewArticle.jsp_15237132.html

Use Time Wisely-Slack Off

http://www.latimes.com/news/opinion/la-oe-weiner11sep11,0,2618052.story

(Just for laughs) Everything I Need to Know I Learned in Corporate America-Not!

Everything I Need to Know I Learned in Corporate America ...

1. Indecision is the key to flexibility.

2. You can't tell which way the train went by looking at the track.

3. There is absolutely no substitute for a genuine lack of preparation.

4. Happiness is merely the remission of pain.

5. Nostalgia isn't what it used to be.

6. Sometimes too much to drink is not enough.

7. The facts, although interesting, are irrelevant.

8. The careful application of terror is also a form of communication.

9. Someone who thinks logically is a nice contrast to the real world.

10. Things are more like they are today than they ever were before.

11. Anything worth fighting for is worth fighting dirty for.

12. Everything should be made as simple as possible, but no simpler.

13. Friends may come and go, but enemies accumulate.

14. I have seen the truth and it makes no sense.

15. Suicide is the most sincere form of self-criticism.

16. If you think there is good in everybody, you haven't met everybody.

17. If you can smile when things go wrong, you have someone in mind to blame.

18. One seventh of your life is spent on Monday.

19. By the time you make ends meet, they move the ends.

20. Not one shred of evidence supports the notion that life is serious.

21. There is always one more imbecile than you counted on.

22. This is as bad as it can get, but don't count on it.

23. Never wrestle a pig. You both get dirty and the pig likes it.

24. The trouble with life is, you're halfway through it before you realize it's a do-it-yourself thing.

25. Youth and skill are no match for experience and treachery.

26. No amount of advance planning will ever replace dumb luck.

27. Anything you do can get you fired; this includes doing nothing.

28. Money can't buy happiness; it can, however, rent it.

29. Never pass a snow plow on the right.

30. If you can smile when everything goes wrong, you probably don't understand the problem.

Pema Chodron Quotes

• The truth you believe and cling to makes you unavailable to hear anything new.

• We work on ourselves in order to help others, but also we help others in order to work on ourselves.

• When you begin to touch your heart or let your heart be touched, you begin to discover that it's bottomless, that it doesn't have any resolution, that this heart is huge, vast, and limitless. You begin to discover how much warmth and gentleness is there, as well as how much space.

• A further sign of health is that we don't become undone by fear and trembling, but we take it as a message that it's time to stop struggling and look directly at what's threatening us.

• Gloriousness and wretchedness need each other. One inspires us, the other softens us.

http://womenshistory.about.com/cs/quotes/a/pema_chodron.htm

Thich Nhat Hanh-Quotes

“In order to rally people, governments need enemies. They want us to be afraid, to hate, so we will rally behind them. And if they do not have a real enemy, they will invent one in order to mobilize us.” “Life can be found only in the present moment. The past is gone, the future is not yet here, and if we do not go back to ourselves in the present moment, we cannot be in touch with life.” “If our love is only a will to possess, it is not love.” “Breath is the bridge which connects life to consciousness, which unites your body to your thoughts.” “We have more possibilities available in each moment than we realize.” http://thinkexist.com/quotes/thich_nhat_hanh/

Flashback Blog

The Eye

Monday, January 10, 2005

Temple Of Dendur, MEtropolitan mUseuM, Man-hattan
Topic: Travel Musings
New York City Day Dreams
All we have are Fragments in Space

Held like the remaining pieces of a jig saw puzzle,
in the palm of civilizations childish hand.

Close your eyes imagining these Temple stones at the MET to be but a few pebbles in the Nile of time.

An afterlife played by a few lonely pieces on fates chess board.

Players playing themselves paused between move reverie.

I wish these thoughts into a game of coins tossed across the slack ebony pool.

Ripples barely reach the papyrus stands, like my gaze floating toward the statuesque guard ladie's implacable expression.

She stands like a flesh and blood goddess immobilized by the museum blue suit.

Long neat cornrow braids, silver hoop ear rings eyes glint through glasses at the crowd of children lining up in formation to approach the inner sanctum.

An island on and island on and island a brief glace around at the spirit door before which the offerings are placed by processions of bare chested icons barring all manner of worldly wealth for the afterlife's royal occasions.

Does our generation have any inkling of the vastness and pressing weight of the yawning jaws of time.

Will the futures children imagine us if they stand in line to experience a revolving door wrested from the skyscrapers of yore?




"Life is not a problem to be solved but a mystery to be experienced"

Goin ta die...

Going to die goin ta die

great god almighty Im going ta die

might not be today

nor tommorow

or next week

but good golly ill surely die

one bright morning

dark day or quiet night

till then let me smile let me cry let me dance,

sit and sweep up joys and sorrows like a child

whose dancing to a tune of rightousness

under an open sky!

Desire's Jester

the map of my mind's desire is like a jester at the fair

he is giddy with nauseous colored grimacing features

and his lithe body dressed and twisting with loud patterns

his voice caterwauling with half baked ideas

his fingers writhe like copulating snakes

as he directs my attention to obscene stuffed prizes that pull at unrealized desires

If only I could decipher the slight of hand that pulls me into the mire of losing wagers

the blood boils and the desire to triumph all at once at any cost

throws the mind into a dizzying spin

the bells the the rattles the horns the crowds

keep the eye on the bulls throbbing heart at the center of muscle and dark hide

and pop the balloon with the dart and ahhhh from the spectators

and ahhhh I have won clutching a prize from ignominiousness and mute death

the jester melts into the onlookers amused or jealous inquiring befuddled glances

until from a distant corner of ear shot a new voice rises above the din and the mind is captured by its promise and the carnival laughs as we conspire toward our next amusement.

Silent (AHHH!!!)

In the stir and crackle of moment

the assembly blinks and settles

as the universe spins still at massive velocity

around a centrifugal point

the microphone stand

the sitting room

the afternoon breeze

the words that are plucked

like grapes

from the inner caverns

of vision

And passed around like sweet and sour

or picante hors d'oeuvres

steeped in life's hunger to know

meat from gristle

seed from rind

as the

pestle and mortar of heart and mind

separate food from foul and ash from ember.

we all breathe in as

the sentences breath out into the room

like a single organism.

yet so multifaceted

as to remain almost a continually evolving mystery

even to our own corner of the room.

our eyes shift and pause looking into one another

for the common ground and the boundary

till we weave a unity of cross purposes

and break and remake pacts with ourselves

and one another unless we disarm in weariness

over it or give in to the habit of battle or silence.

So as the curtains and the shutters and odd assortment of chairs and faces

take backstage to collective memory and we are emboldened to lay bare our

families founding grand/fathers foibles and follies we are able to alloy his glowing

strengths and it quickens us all to feel its pulse living still

stirring in our unbidden moments of grief and hope and confusion and calm that frame grasping for what we are and are not.

For I know all to well that I will cast off from this same stage all to soon

and the roles we have played will echo and fall silent

and be recalled and replayed

and forgotten again

till memories blood and myth

join like the dust of stars

and our unique mosaic of DNA

falling from the undertakers hand

into the silent

AHHHH!

Ragged Shirt

A thin blade of grass

still growing toward viability

through the straw and clay

a new chick still wide eyed

beneath her mothers wing

a child trying to unwrap the summer heat

into a good game of tag

he's stumbling around the house

trying to tie all the loose ends

into a tapestry before going mad

as he watches the world

wrap tighter the spools

of contradiction.

His needles more dull

his pins bent

but his hand more sure

as they fire on the button holes

of desperation to connect

to the ragged shirt of love and loss

that dresses us all in humility and hope

and dry eyed searching need

that blisters our tenderness

Debut Posting (Air Drum Roll Please)

Ok

This is the Debut Posting !!!

Drum Roll Please!!!

Chantilly lace had a pretty face

and a pony tale

ah hanging down

a wiggle in her walk and

a giggle in her talk makes the

world go roun roun round!!!

OK where was I ?

Yeah this is my forum for all

un-blocked art/creative musings

with various asides of spiritual dilemmas and dispensations

topped off with Visual,audio,video bar and dessert buffet

hungry yet?

No

Nauseous? pregnant?gassy?

already ate thank you very much

Great!

Dive in cause Summers Almost Gone!!!!