We're here and it's Now!

Darkened skies filled with crescent moons
sunlit days brushed with the scent of burgundy leaves that must!
quiet tires splashing down the road
the zen meditator and his fulfillment of the Koan
mornings beautiful and mournings that march on
raining and it's peaceful people and their equals
sequels that steal the initiative of the first cycle
flares and the runway, and 51's aircraft
witchcraft, islam, christianity and buddhism
a mechanism for fueling the spirit within
akin to chagrin and the energy to let me begin
the day, the gray, and the ability to find a new way
a recipe, the registry, and the concept that beckons me
miles of pipe and oil that's ripe. to their delight
they ask to drill where what dwells is wildlife.
the snide, the gripe, and the flight from strife
it's life, it's abundance, the triumphant reluctance

the falls they trickle and global warming, it's our "pickle"
futile to feel our volatile yearnings
destructive forces and the need for quarterly earnings
the firefighter who must pierce the burning buildings
war, infighting, and the perilous fate of a two party system..
a sigh, a cry, and a jovial existence
insistence on resistance it's abstinance is resilient
paintings that penetrated and soaked in like a sponge
the 90's were the way for generation x and grunge...
it's a mixture and we are all the fixtures which
occupy the space provided. for man its nature he has to confide in
for reflection it's the train in which we all ride in
derision, precision, the razor's edge, the surgeon's incision
decisions, divisions, there's constant revision
volcanoes, earthquakes, poker, and high stakes
for the surfer, the shark, and his future, it's stark
Hemingway, his writings, beautiful and dark
such is a day of a life in which to remark......

My Dear BFH

As she sat silently in her chair
saying the rosary that only He could hear
she would become lost in this meditation for hours
occasionally breaking her focus with trivial conversation that sours
her union with the divine
holding the chalice for the congregation filled with wine
a sip of tea and for some she was Aunt Bea
to me she was the embodiment of a Christ-like figure that he would take from me
her sorrows and faith that never waivers
friends and family who'd arrive with chocolate favors

our hearts were broken on that June 30th morning
the spring fed waters drown away my family's mourning
her spirit emanating love and understanding it's hovering
over us until we can visualize the kingdom in which she now resides
my face starts to light up, it's invigorating, and what breaks forth is a smile
knowing that she's not still knocking at her sisters' and husbands door
no more darkness, sadness, and wondering
she sits as His orchestra is spewing rain and thunder
like flowers that bloom, this lady lives in Him and the rest of us. Thus,
the vacant seat will arrive when Bea is at the right hand and clutching all of us!

Polar Opposites

i've found you, no need for exasperation
have no fear and banish consternation
abandoning our goals, that my friend is deviation
to honor them is to stay purified and recognized
for the ultimate reality. A web of deceit would
lead to damnation! To lead with one's heart is
the Virtuous Soul. To lead with one's "ego" is ignorance!
To know that you are loved beyond measure
is assurance. And to run toward
this path is to pave for endurance....

A tornado of cells that spill out new life
and the morter bombs that blow the innocent to particles
garbled policy and confused people. a renewal of faith that forgives
better acceptance than most. perhaps possessing a
stronger will happen to stumble upon "us"
gun toting pirates with nothing to lose, fearless
renegades wreaking havoc in the open waters of the sea; that destroys
the innocence of that,
water which at one point cleansed our sins
such irony, such hypocrisy, such constriction
meanwhile, now traveling everywhere with a
fucking shopping cart. It's utter betrayal
for fighting for our liberty. take me by kite
so that I can avoid perilous plight.


I'm not willing to let the glimmering light of your
sight be, carried away. Sunglasses? That's reassuring
Temperament will be needed. The beginning was
paradise. Now we have to live with the
evils and disturbances unless we chase them away
and remain free. I suppose solitude
really is the only remedy for these monsters
and their burdens?

Random stream

What else could be said about passing stars
the wonderment and gaze and aimless nights in bars
rainy sidewalks and desolate night streets
freaks, unknown, slumbers, and the night air
like churned dust in a daylight wind, gone!

Vanishing people, places, and things
trees appeared that normally went unnoticed in
this spell, crazed, spaced, and incorrigible
it could have been me! It should have been!
And, why hadn't it been? A chiseled stone has
already been carved; in fact starved!

I'm a leaf and the current is not ready for me
the sun shall continue to burn my shoulders
I will still at times dance out of this body.
My breath will become effortless
the air, the moon, the stars, the eyes of the forest!
It is they who sustain me....

rock bottoms and rigid cliffs
shale, peat moss, and beaming green. Sparkling
glass reflections and budding trees. cherry blossoms
and you and me; our retreat, your monastery!
And now, my ascension from the cuts and lacerations

Wow! Thankfully the block of ice i've been chipping at, broke! An almost relentless plight for the search for something to sustain, and keep me afloat. I must admit, I was almost on the brink of retreat. Toeing the line of apathy as it were. Endless promises, and a trail of unresponsive recipients. The balance of the universe beckons the desperate to remain calm, help is on the way. Negative energy and positive energy certainly comes in waves. I liken it to plate techtonics. Each plate shifting and grinding against each other and the end result is an earthquake. At least this is my unscientific dummed down version. Perhaps, I'm both of these dimensions' truth? It was a long cycle which, at some point had to be shattered! Enough of this digression. We've certainly embraced these ideas in some form or another for way too long.

Currently, I'm reading Thomas Merton. Easily one of the more brilliant writers and spiritual minds, the western world has been spoiled with! He is very tranquil at times, and then surprisingly bitter. Then with sheer force he always returns back to center. He was very liberal for a monk in the 1960's. He would associate with all manner of people which, in my estimation is always the mark of genius. By that I mean, radicals, communists, socialists, conservatives, liberals, and many others from around the globe. The ability to recognize that monk or not, man or woman, each and everyone of us can indeed learn something from each moment, and each person. To me, that's comforting, and very realistic! It's frustrating when you look around in life, watching many people, blinded by the beaming light of ignorance!

My confidence is being rebuilt after yesterday's successes. Strata by strata we're refining and blowing away the dust of the negative breeze that came through and camped out, for way too long.

A quote from Merton's book, The Other Side of the Mountain. This was a response to LBJ and Vietnam. "Johnson says he isn't going to be the first President to lose a war. So a few more thousands of people have to die to save face for him (Merton, p. 65).... I thought this was a very witty reflection on a turbulent part of history and perhaps a failed Presidency!!

Where Have You Been?

The current carries new ideas to an unfound place. Like space invaders, we file in to see new channels tuned. I could not believe what he was never told. All who see need to be reassured. It helps humanity carry on. Feeling nurtured and possessing comfort. Most that recognize their void, compensate with the new lives in front of them. They embrace these dear hearts. Filling their emptiness with unknown love. These types pass love on from generation to generation. Breaking the unattached bonds, they are the new pioneers of the most sustainable element in life. It's not necessary to hear his spoken word. I understand it just in passing. There's a personal assault or torment existing in the pit of his soul. The patch is not always readily available to cover up this festering anguish. Don't worry I wanted to proclaim! Lord knows you're trying and continue to set the stage and the example for these evolving figurines.

As our journey continued, the sun set behind the green mountains. The sky was categorized into quadrants. In one, there was a fire ball sun disintegrating into the topography. In the second, a dark black/gray hue filled this space. In the third, there were blues, purples, and the sun's reflective rays. In the fourth, I think I saw Him hold the infant in his palm. This image was vibrant, radiant, and spewing understanding to all who witnessed it. I had to set the shudder speed before it vanished. It gets sucked into a precipice everyday. His switchboard is lit up giving the darkness personality. If we're careful we get to witness His playbook in action.

I know what is meant by unspoken words giving way to harmonius actions! Paying attention this time, he gets a second chance to reconcile misguided love. A few more chances to mend new threads. These threads are being formed. Bubbling up to the top of the current and dancing their way into the riptides, they push forth. Innocent eyes are looking at him. Smiling ever so brightly, they transcend their spirit into these new bundles of joy. Peeking through the transparent looking glass, these new joys, rejoice in him, and he sees his promise in his reflection. Realizing any old mistakes, he follows the stars up the mountain and drags the sun from out of the precipice in order to shine its brilliant light into these new hearts.

Strength

Head on straight or cross-threaded?
never fear that's always dreaded!
beauty is here to come and get us
twill lift the frown and bring back the clown!
old memories seemingly are quick to drown,
chopped brutalities that crumble and let us,
seeing what we have and smiling all around!

to neutralize and categorize sheds light
not letting the petty carry our plight
fortunate we are to feel these ups and downs
lets face it pain lets us know that we're alive
for we lose when these tensions are allowed to drive and thrive
it's how lucky we are to feel and breathe in these sounds
stop crying, keep trying, and things will eventually realize!

it's where you're supposed to be so don't regret it
accept it and welcome it these are lessons
its not always the physical that seeks its respite
transgressions, regressions, and progressions,
are parcel, formulaic, and spin like a drill bit
coursing through the wood they find their obsession,
all the while standing, smiling and dissolving this digression

Words and the Sublime

It has been quite sometime. Please excuse my absence for those of you who read these postings.  It feels as though I'm floating into a journey of the unknown. And, in a lot of ways, I am.  Its tones are quite melodious, a swim in the abyss, a kiss from the sublime, and a wave to come towering over, dragging all patrons back out to sea!  Stirring thoughts, unanswered concepts, and the trumpet sounds. So wonderful.  An ocean of chaos churning all of the wrongs and rights. Trying to get my feet back on the sand. Trying to feel that comfort of walking on the known land.  Guitars, trumpets, altos and tenors, thank you for fueling this dimension!  I am reluctant to escape this place even though it has been riddled with nothingness. Nothingness meaning, there's no sustaining force for gain.  The opportunities seem boundless and I am shackled to a chair of torment.  I'm getting lost in this plight.  So much depressing news, foreclosures, joblessness, wars, and this I'm still writing.  

A word, a call, an opportunity, is all!

the organ is eery and boundless

balanced, bruised, and standing tall,

its these neverending voices that'll hound us

getting lost in the shuffle

some get crowned and some stay down

it is as Darwin said, "survival of the fittest,"

for the angels beckon, please come with us!

it's comforting but not the time

snowflakes fall and hit the ground unheard

while staring out the window the bluejay is the bird

the tabla sounds and lost is the theme

so tranquil to eradicate the vandal that taints

the wretched ways are not dealt with;

and its maddening.  he's omnipresent and therefore,

the judge!

the screeching horns help dissolve the unpleasantries

bringing forth a new wave of energy (yet to be determined),

the feeling was like that of an unconscious walk,

you know your walking but something's propelling you!

in the moment, on the runway, the timber aides this;

it felt as though levitation was taking place, very aware,

looking around, focused, and nothing seemed out of place!

nothing is truly solved but there is sanctuary in this new found space!

Windy

Following all murmurings and motions
the noise does not excuse itself;
through a tunnel it speaks;
not a raucous but a commotion,
though it does not shudder from the brown shadows
it peaks through each synapse
fearlessly prevailing upon all creatures,
closing the venetians and can still hear it!
o'er the hills and wandering valleys
through each blade of grass, each grain of sand,
it blows onto the rocks, the water has ripples
for the old lady, her cart, and her walk which is crippled!
defenseless and cautious its force is not to be reckoned with.
dynamic is its strength and beautiful is its call,
for in winter, spring, summer and fall,
tis the tree who tries to stand tall,
foresaken wishes leave us devoid,
for the force of its energy is so strong,
better to forfeit than to be swept up,
instead the toiling is whisked away,
and the wind is triumphant for just one more day!

In the Moment

Islands of trees surrounded by a sheet of ice. I'm dodging yellow jackets on 2/11/2009. How? If it were not 63 degrees today, how could they sustain life? Nature is resilient! It's warm and spring-like but the thaw is not near quite yet. Big geese calling upon each other. Leaves scattering and shuffling like the sounds of peanut shells on a hardwood floor. I can remember his screams. Screams that pierced the whole block on the way to the park. He was probably 6 or 7 years of age and he was resisting his mother and crying. The boy was outside a barbershop and did not appear to need a hair cut. It sounded as though he was screaming for his last breath of life. It kind of freaked me out, as this child's bellow carried on all the way up the block.

A collection of stalks monopolizes most of the shoreline. Grandmother and child strolling by singing nursery rhymes together. The sounds of out of tune squawking geese fills the air and its calming. Scavengers scour the middle of the frozen lake. So captivatingly quiet! These people enter and feed bread to the seagulls. A hawk just swooped in , and is now stalking seagulls and pidgeons. It (the hawk) is very still with its neck cocked to the right and focusing on every move on the ground. It sits diligently and patiently almost like a sniper. After moments in the tree in front of me, it leaps and swoops a bit down the park toward another tree in which to perch! Non-stop chatter on the bench next to me, is chasing me away. What a glorious day! Sun-filled air and the masses are out. A nice spectacle, for which nature, bestows upon us all. Every guest in the park must have felt something about this day.

It's these types of days that keep us grounded. No matter what goes on in our lives, it's these quiet moments that can keep us in the here and now. Since, all we have is this moment, we should relish every second of it. It can be taken away from us with the blink of an eye. Being in this moment, and of this moment, is really all we have. We cannot truly realize any other thing but the present. And, the fret for this, and the fret for that, seizes! We are where we are supposed to be. Or we would not be? I guess we should not question our current disposition. It's this moment and we ended up in this moment for some reason. Stop the combative behavior and embrace it!

??

Does this path have a heart? If so, continue!

The Hermit

trudging and snapping twigs,
a branch whips with velocity at his face;
a brushed line of trees lines the river;
runoff at a rate of speed unknown
mossy rocks and swirling rapids
whirling thoughts and hummingbirds hanging
hands lent to the righteous path
its for cleansing, a divine bath
nightfall's coming light the lantern
crickets chirping around us
and nothing but the rushing sound of river soothes us!
sunrises sent for warming these hearts..
with spiritual garb they enter in deep thoughful prayer
they look majestic and mystical, are they even really with us?
their days are so simple
so well chartered and carefully crafted
a community bound by their love for Him
jokes are played on one another, no differently than us
minds are stoked by books and constant writing
looking inward and enriched by the enclosure
pure as pure can be, he faces the stone chapel
he lives here and cannot imagine it any other way
such is the mind and the life of the monk

Looms

ears adjacent to the wishing well
splashing rays of sun fill the hour
knights and armor with motions that cast a spell
feelings cook, coagulate, and sour,
captions beaming with wisdom
his cries are leading me back to his day of baptism;
our patterns of strain and the inevitable schism
rapture entrenched in swirling winds of commotion
you think a sounding note and a piano will seal this devotion?

looks like he pulled down the shade of dark clouds,
to help you reach out and say hello to the moon!
hearing the faint sounds of transportation
patiently waiting the clock tower tics and tics
gripping the point and its pieces break and break
rising fears, rising tensions, the medium arrives
its time to disassemble this monster's intention
etched on stone it tells an old story
these warriors they fought phalanx and heart

smash through the blocks let's see what lives on the other side
unseen journey's deserve our attention
we climb and we find what inhabits it,
derides and glides just short of pride.
if we find out what fuels this perhaps we can get through this?
removing the rock reveals what's hidden
victory will find us just stay for a while
a volcano lies dormant until the heat makes a home
jettison these thoughts lets escape this terrordome!

When Exhaustion and Anxiety Meets Two Parrots

An absolutely grueling test I say! The morning started off with an amazing sunrise. A splashed sky filled with firey orange and candy-apple fused cirrus clouds. Granted I was a bit cloudy from the sleep deprived state I found myself in. Stillness! Morning is perfectly planned that way. A short train ride filled with sleepy cars. Saturday morning at 7:30 tends to be like that in the city. Each rider tells a different story of last nights events. Open mouths and bobbing heads saturate the Q. I am in the zone, almost trance-like for what I'm about to undertake. The faces that enter the lecture hall are filled with an anxiety that cannot be measured. I feel the uneasiness because I've been there before. All sorts of anxious behaviors commence. Shaking legs, incessant talking, and confessions of the many study sessions that lead to this moment. I feel as though at this point what will be, will be. Could I have prepared more? Absolutely! Your heart truly has to be in this because three insane years will begin the moment you, sign on the dotted line. Still exploring avenues you might say. Serious measures have been taken to try and sift through the madness, the confusion, and the hype.

It actually feels quite invigorating having released myself of this burden. It was looming in the background for a while now! Probably the highlight of heading for this day was when I saw two green parrots squawking in the trees along the campus. I then looked up to my right and saw this vast nest that was around the size of a kiddie pool. The parrots controlled the tempo of the air, singing their songs and waking up their neighbors I remember thinking, is there a couple of bald eagles up there? Obviously, there is a parrot population there. I realize that I sound absolutely crazy but, I mentioned it to Erin and she said that it was on the news a while back, that there was a rather random faction of parrots living in Bk. I definitely had to look a couple of times to make sure that I wasn't still asleep and almost dreaming this morning. If they weren't your typical parrot, realizing of course that i'm no Orinthologist, they were certainly in the green parrot family, any way you decide to argue and see this through. That was the best start to a day filled with apprehension. The day ended with me walking away with more confidence than I anticipated having, given the circumstances. Either way, I got a little taste of the amazon in the booming metropolis.

Now, with this day's conclusion, the feeling that resonates is one of anxiety. Seems like we've come full circle. Given the magnitude of this test, for a prospective student, it's a bit similar to awaiting results of one's blood work. Something that was worrying you, turns into a test, and ends with an unending period of stress, until those results are understood. Not to compare this predicament to one's panic about blood work results, but, I think, either way, this terror comes from the same place. It is a thread from the same emotion.

Bewildered

I am truly baffled by the unwillingness of our government to work together and problem solve. I heard today that the 1.8 million jobs lost, would be the equivalent of the entire states of: Connecticut and South Carolina. These numbers are astromomically much higher than most could have predicted. It's amazing how many of these politicians, who clearly have jobs, can take such dire circumstances so lightly and matter of factly. I suppose until you struggle and can truly feel the other's pain, you cannot fully grasp the magnitude of this or any other turbulence that may penetrate the lives of people that are just like all of us.

It's a sad day when the country is sinking, economically speaking, and we cannot put aside our political disagreements. I thought we were Americans first and aligned with a particular party second. I suppose that was me wearing rose colored lenses again! I can understand completely, the ideological differences spread across both parties but, in a time of a crisis as large as this, all bets are off! Let's restore our credibility once again in the financial markets, overseas, domestically, and with better care and benefits for our troops/veterans. Sometimes it seems as though the troops that are dying for us are not brought to the immediate attention and focus of the country. Whether you agree with the wars going on currently or not, you must fully realize the daunting commitment that the troops adhere to, in keeping all of us safe.

It is our job to be better, to help when we can, and to make an impact on the world in which we live in. We only get one crack at seizing an opportunity to make a difference. The opportunity waits for no man or no woman. The time is today, right here, right now, to make a difference. It is my intention to become more involved in any way that I can. I am realizing more and more each day that passes, that it starts with me. If I truly believe in something strongly then, maybe I can inspire others to act with me! It's a start to a new beginning. We have to explore the unknown ourselves.

Kundalini

Merely costumed creatures transporting information
focused on the ajna point and receiving messages
leaving the physical and watching the self
a gentleness is reached and grace is witnessed
how to live quietly? can be done
receiving information from the 10 bodies

piercing eyes like that of a wolf
he who is with the pack
trails of unending blissfulness
carried to witness this truth
in union with the body and the self (the Yoke)
incense and its smoke carry these practioners toward the truth

prana elevates all who breathe, but are aware!
tingling and hovering like a bee
calmness covers correctly the laceration of uneasiness,
heavy prana releases blockages;
if the river is damned it cannot flow properly!
So too is the breathing. If blockages impede the flow, we cannot shepherd in,
the new force, that of the kundalini

Unpredictably Chilly

Menacing wind and walking mechanically,
the swan laid lame on the icy walk
passersby informed the ranger of a wounded beauty
reflecting snow and the sun reinvent the bulb
the crane scours the shoreline!
it appears it's slim pickins today

like a prowler invading the park, I walk...
its beauty is silent and its presence is stark,
when the sun gets tucked in, the stars wake up
sleeping shifts are what the interplay relies upon
there'd be too much stimulation if all were up together!
waterfowl occupy the pond, minus the wounded one,

filled subways and crowded platforms
on days when no one's around?
poised, fluid, and damned!
the weather and humanity's hibernation
you'd rather have this alone!
a trapeze or a trampoline

the milkyway is the torch for the stage
for a scene we cannot quite gauge!
classical, renaissance, new age, and medieval!
our waters are frozen,
jousting through the open range,
the acrobat moves about the blue flame

the girney, the patient, and the lobotomy,
whose sanity is on the line!
scenes that shook the psyche of the universe
flying through this ether we discover more
shaking uncontrollably out of one's body
ascending, descending, ascending, ascending, ascending and now floating

Telepathic

Murmurings of the past,
fast with neverending hymns from the last,
mending wounds once bitten by misfortunes,
the sound of this heartbeat,
the call to prayer,
the breath flows, in and out, in and out, effortlessly,
and I am conscious!

The road to nowhere said Kerouac,
unfound walks,
a lost skiier and the medvec
crunching ice, while fiends roll the dice
the stove is hot and the room filled with heat
coursing veins stealing a slice
life boils over burning your feet!

Travels and trials soon to be played out
closer to an agreement much rather an appeasement!
it came out of the water, twas the head of a brook trout,
unspoiling along giving way to secretion,
perched from a tree and looking in!
show me a sign to breathe in what's right
give me my faith and i'll live free of sin!

A Sickle, A Sawed-off, and The Angry Father Of An Angel

He dashes along the sides of cars. Waiting fancily with his brass cigartette holder. So sophisticated. Bordering a Hunter S. Thompson- like character. He thinks he's a hip chum. Vasilev appreciates the fact that he takes over the E. 7th street side of the area. Anyone that walks by must pay hommage to him. He's a hustler. More importantly, he's a business man. When someone needs a thorn to go away, Vasilev makes it go away. He launders money, strips down stolen cars, and is a womanizer. This is the stuff that starts to get him in trouble. He thinks he's impenetrable. He picks the wrong man's daughter to mess with. When a stroke of luck in Vasilev's life turns into a series of downward spirals, can he maintain his superstar image, with the irate father, of the last woman any of his crony's, saw Vasilev with?

The woman's father breaks into his chopshop, and awaits for Vasilev to stroll into the shop. Hours tick and time passes the angry father by. The angry father of the girl finally starts to fall asleep having been in Vasilev's shop waiting for him, for at least twenty hours now. The man is snoring with a sickle in his hand and a sawed off shotgun nearby. He hears Vasilev's broken english/russian in the background, and thinks it's actually a part of his dream. The angry father has drool emanating from every pore of his cheek. The drool is like that of a dog watching a human eat a steak right off the grill. The voices draw near! The angry father still sleeps. He shifts his foot, knocking over a can of nuts and bolts! Vasilev thinks he's a big shot puffing through his fancy brass cigartette holder. He becomes suspicious and stops, becoming very still, almost statuesque in his stance. The angry father wakes up gradually now, realizing that his dream has come to fruition. He was not dreaming that he heard Vasilev's voice, he now knows that Vasilev is on the premises and is outside his building, "the chopshop." The angry father assumes that of a sniper stance awaiting Vasilev's entrance. Vasilev is pacing inch by inch toward the door. The air is filled with faint darkness and the sun trying to peak up from behind the horizon. Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle. The angry father thinks Vasilev might be on his cellphone with one of his gophers. The father is waiting and waiting. The door creeps open slowly and squeakily. The father cocks the hammer of the sawed off shotgun. The sounds of high heels are clickety clacking about three paces forward. The door is now wide open and the sun and the darknesss are competing for who gets more of the earth's attention. The sun is rising and the darkness fades into its precipice, and boom! The angry father squeezed the trigger and blew his own beautiful daughter's head clear off her shoulders. Vasilev knew he had many angry father's after him, because of all the beautiful ladies that he had won over because of his power and corruption. He was feared and not loved. But women loved that abrasiveness about him. The angry father was speaking for all father's when he fired this shot at Vasilev. This poor man killed his own daughter thinking it was Vasilev.

The father then reloaded, and began to return fire with Vasilev. He was always packing heat. He had too many enemies. He finally caught Vasilev in the knee with a shotgun blast. Vasilev lost his weapon too. And, even though the sun was, coming up like mercury on a thermometer, slowly but steadily, the darkness still dwelt in the shop. The father then walked up to Vasilev, looking at his dead daughter, shot by his own hands. His pride and joy was now gone from his life because of this filthy criminal and her night out with the big shot from e 7th street. The father walked over slowly and sternly with the sickle and began to skin Vasilev with super human strength like a fish. Vasilev laid there screaming helplessly. The father then went over to the chemical cabinet in the shop. Vasilev had gun shot wounds to his knees. The father went over with the sickle and sliced off half his foot, starting at the achille's tendon, and reaching to the ankle. The screams coming out of Vasilev's mouth were unmerciful. It sounded as though it was the death cry, and in many ways it was. The father then walks back over toward this russian gangster, and begins to douse him with gasoline. Making sure that most of it goes in the last wound he just created. The angry father takes one more look at his dead daughter, strikes the match and starts to watch Vasilev's body burn right in his own shop. The father turns around and sees that it's now lighter outside, and this enables him to, find the gun that Vasilev dropped during their shootout. As the father of the beautiful deceased girl watches him burning and screaming like that of a constituent of hell, he empty's the clip of the gun, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom. The father staggered through the town, after leaving the shop, his dead daughter, and Vasilev behind. You see, on e. 7th street, things get taken care of by angry father's or they don't get taken care of at all!

James

Triangulating

Deceit! Why her? She does not deserve this. She works too hard to have this enter her dear heart. I have seen amazing strides from this woman. She is willing to help anyone, listen to anyone, and offer any advice to anyone. It's not something she needs. The magnitude of this unhappiness should have manifest itself in the old days, not these new beautiful days where she's created such a beautiful picture for all to see. Her faith is unwavering. There is a relentless plight to make things better for them. For this I am deeply saddened. I want her to know that she can confide in me. It's my duty to see this through and to offer the hand that is needed. We all need someone.

I have nothing more to write. I'm helpless to some degree. Why? He does not deserve this either. He unwittingly inherits this burden and for what? I'm running out of the energy necessary to be pragmatic in this endeavor. Flight? Nonesense! It has to be dealt with, sooner or later.

They say grace is what guides us through these moments of the unfamiliar. Grace will be given to her and she will get stronger through this process. Grieving? Strength shines through these dark walls. Your beauty will shine. It will shine delightfully, and you will see just how impactful you are to the lives of many. I already sense it. I can feel it. I can breathe it, I just cannot yet touch it. But I know it's there. A sign will convince you of this. It might be in the shape of a smile, a reflection, perhaps you will perceive it when the moon guides you through these dark nights. There is no darkness, just the light. Know this, I am convinced that this light will guide you down the starry path that is yours. The constellations in the sky will write the words that you my dear child, are going to be shown the way. Only you, will soon surrender to this light. A candle burns out, and gives way to the new wick. The new wick is for you. So blow it out and make a wish. He will seek what's best for you!!

Blago-Scums

Is anyone tired of watching and listening to coverage about Rod Blagojevich? The Poisonous ways of politics are over. At least I hope? This guy is delusional. He actually feels as though he is being impeached for: giving elderly people free transit fare, for looking for cheaper ways of obtaining prescription drugs, for preventing the demolition of wrigley field, etc.... I cannot listen to that nonsense any more. I suppose on one level, good for him, because he is turning into a larger than life celebrity, and should not have trouble finding work again! It is maddening though to listen to him maintain his innocence. It would have been expensive to fill Obama's seat!! There is unanimity on this front.

And, If it's not Blagojevich, it's the freaking snakes on Wall Street. Bonuses and new jets? Haven't you scumbags taken enough from everyone's retirement and from hard earned taxpayers' money? Are you guys serious? Everyone lost as a standard, about one third of their investments as a result of the greed on Wall Street. It's time that these people were truly held accountable. I am at an age where more than likely, I will recover. But, people like my parents' age, 60 and up, have got to be staring at the ceiling at night. I can imagine that some people have gone to the doctor's office for certain prescriptions and mouth guards, due to their new condition of bruxism. By the way, for those that do not know about bruxism, it's the grinding of one's teeth. This usually occur's at night and is the result of stress.

So, it is with the utmost sincerity that I say to you, President Obama, good luck, you have your hands full. To the greed of the corporate world, to the faction of seedy politicians, and to all that are in oppostion to, good clean government, there is now a man that will play the game: "wack that beaver," whenever you try to show your ugly face, he will smash it back down into the poisonous holes in which you dwell!

James

Remarks on Dorothy Day

First of all, let me start out by apologizing to the readership! I let you guys down but, most importantly, I failed to fulfill my obligation to myself that I would write something on here everyday. What an interesting evening. I finally had a chance to visit the Catholic Worker. What a space! An abundance of great people fueled by the legacy of Dorothy Day. The scholarship seemed to indicate or at least, side with the idea that she ought to be Canonized. To this notion, I concur. She was/is a remarkable woman, with whom, we cannot say enough great things about. Though she never sought praise, or wavered in her hope for, social justice for the impoverished, and/or the enrichment of souls. That as a community, we might be able to provide a safe-haven for the down-trodden, the drug addicted, the oppressed, the homeless, the individual seeking refuge and asylum from the torments of their foreign land, or even, perhaps, domestic land!

It is safe to say that, if we all use Dorothy Day as a model for peace, social justice, and a helping hand for all who need us, that the world will benefit in ways immeasurable. We can heal these old wounds. We can patch defected hearts. We can blanket the cold and the dampened folks who seek a warm place to sleep tonight. What grace she had! As a whole, we can only hope to make minimal strides at best, in paralleling, just a fraction of what this enormously brave, compassionate, and dear heart, had accomplished throughout her prolific life as a social justice activist. Her piety had depths that, as a collective body, we can hardly imagine. However, we can take from her life, her beautiful attributes as a loving woman, person of strong faith, and one of superior spiritual fortitude. In fact, I leave feeling better both, as a catholic, and as person of faith, by having delved a bit more into Dorothy Day's myriad accomplishments.

The Alien

Befallen unto hands unready to sow
trapped in the illogical and rather diabolical
like the archer and his vintage bow
bones and cadavers perusing books befitting to the maniacal

study in earnest so openmindedness may flourish
nervous knee-jerking and hopeless situations,
for the time is now for that soothing voice that can encourage!
for the discontent and erratic fluctuations?

Will it decidingly devour and sound its death toll?
miming and chiming the carpet rolls; the scathing debating,
suspending the combative nature of these rising souls!
and the snarling, my darling, you lure this alienation!

they will come when we are not ready to accept,
self-absorbed and solipsistic in nature,
preconditioned pampering and put downs are precepts,
hollow heads and freakishness stifle the beauty of nature vs. nurture...

Juxtaposed

choked by its dust, choked by its age,
beating and tightening. taken care of?
whispering words that fuel the day
red brick, soaked limbs, bodegas, and buildings
wading through calm pools on the sidewalks
climbing curbs and walking the tight rope
mindful of the grass being kissed with the abundance of water
the water washes away old stale thoughts and cleanses the walkways of new beginnings!


slamming doors sealing the energy
frostbite warms these cold hearts
my throat is closing, helplessness, emptiness, but lucid
straddling each pond like an archway to a stone castle...
the plunge?
we bathe...we breathe...we speak...we hold,
onto the lamp to escape the sublime,
who wished it away?
A word with them, that's right a word with them! bring back dawn
screw darkness that occupies and enters a space of reason...
ratchet the margins, bring us closer to fond memories
the bugs bite, some don't make it, i hear them zapping themselves in that bright fixture

we march on, they dwindle
we fade, they march (vicious cycle)?
the skin peels off these bones like the wig of a bald woman
flying and cutting off ties..how could we need you...violent rage, violent days, fitful rage!
the ice looks like an aerial of continental drift...jagged edges that fill the ice-climber's days
moon rays that wake up pungent sage!
the seers saw, and my mouth dropped with a sedated gaze of awe!
stay in this cave and learn why don't you
your mind is disturbed when you let yourself out of there
stay and breathe...its spice needs to heighten to liven the breadth
it expands like bonding agents in cracks
tired yet of watching fate repel future?
the opthamologist and the sniper, who holds more value?
roof-top views and silent pews
its the stammering, side stepping, and discovering that will keep this contemplative one,
on the prowl for this aged and torn comprehensive scroll.........

The Future with No Surrender

Today, things changed. Not necessarily sure because there is no empirical evidence of said change. However, I met with an extraordinary Jesuit today. He was very helpful and I am convinced that our conversation this afternoon will bear fruit. He framed the programs of study for the M.A candidate and Ph D. candidate in Medieval studies. With the luck of a good test score and fulfillment of their admissions criteria, yours truly, will be starting an M.A in Medieval Studies. The tricky part will be the mastery of the GRE's to ensure full funding. It was mentioned that there is not as much emphasis on the math section as there is, the verbal/vocabulary section. That said, the cards turn toward the polar opposite when considering Presidential scholarships at the Ph D. level, fullbright scholarships, and fellowships. There will be excrutiating moments when dealing with the hurdles of getting both feet in the doorway of the Graduate Center. GRE's! I have to provide myself with overwhelming conviction that I can kick a standardized test in the ass! Mind frame is everything. Always has been, always will be.

I just finished gleaning through the information in which this fine Jesuit provided me with. I felt worried that if a decision was made in haste, that I would not perform up to the level that I truly feel I am capable of. Deadlines are approaching. There may be a way to fill these voids even though deadlines have approached, however, getting professor recommendations on such short notice will be difficult. I must now work on my letter of intent so that it is submitted without blemishes. I have to set the bar high because many competing students, probably have a leg up on me, since they've made up their minds to enter into graduate work months ago! That's quite alright. I was unsure until this meeting and plenty of reading on this program. There is an enormous amount of scholars from diverse backgrounds. I am so intrigued by this notion. Scholars from around the world: Cambridge, University of Toronto, Notre Dame, etc..... So moving forward, it is go time. Idle moments shall cease. Productivity shall increase, and I will be triumphant in making my mark in this crazy world!

James

Equilibrium> (homeostasis perhaps)?

Fleeting ferociously but clashing with the window pane
notwithstanding the texture of glass
proudest moments came from the attainment of the struggle (this I know)
it comes from filling the unbalanced aspects of nourishment
Animation, hesitation, and consternation fill the minds,
of these select few

battling brutally all foes that inhabit this same space
thoughts and solutions coalesce with frustration
reaching in this massive urn, still coming up empty
rushing storm drains and fleeing rats for food,
scaling the walls fingerless and digging these feet in,
I'm tangled by the web i'm caught in
much to its chagrin, I begin...

provisions, revisions, and inner-visions
nestled with discomfort, dawns a new approach
being poached or poaching
doesn't mesh with the outcome
diplomacy, reinforcement rods hold our accountability
bring forth stability!

extraordinary are its decisions if level-headed
progressive or regressive? Imaginative rather!
to justify the worth of this example,
we map our quest with clarity
the palatability of nourishment is comforting
burly, disheveled, and without care
hit the snare and provide a proper stare!
constrictions and dilations,
make way for expectations and jubilations
positivity in sum, eradicates negativity
the choice stings pessimism and opens the door to,
Optimism!

pockets deflated can now be inflated?
an affirmation to an allegation of a devoid delegation
alleviation and deviation from the plan
hope not?
cope and strive because it is imminent that the tools,
will support you to thrive and shroud this misguided "CLOUD!"

Wanting over Tilling

Deafened! Reduced to the whirlwind sounds of horns
pleasantries!
gray loose granular surfaces made in shards
its reflection beams toward these shards
pointing in all directions
humbled by its cast
reaching out to touch the faces
who do you see? swallowed by the enormity
feet shuffle through
clouded fortune and tireless sojourns
scorned for accepting this
peeking, poking, and streching
merely contortionists?
cannot fit concentric valleys into eccentric raveens
they stand sometimes grabbing for pinecones
surveying the premises for intruders!
they seem more annoyed than terrified

would i dare to tumble in that fortress
i feel that all that inhabit this land, has their eyes fixed upon me
my scent has wings and it grounds these birds
trampled ground and innate tensions
maybe I will exit the landscape
they cannot all be watching
blinking eradicates the burning eyes
walking, bam, restraints
how big of you to trap what standards have been arranged
now look into it's mothers eyes
paralyzed and perilous
man vs. beast, shreds of paper, and calloused feet!
taken over by us
vedic diets alleviate this consumption
greed or need?
feeding frenzy for the immediate world but,
now, "The Great View," seen by purists, is now blemished\
because beast saw fit for want and not necessity!

Rising tides and rain water

Glimmering glaciers reveal themselves in the form of water
simmering tea and the distinguished glee that accompanies
dust you came dust you shall return
return to where?
never here but always there
seared feelings and rare dealings
marshall the temperament so it can speak volumes
gnostics were ridiculed
by the knowledge held it was thought to be miniscule!
some got it right and others it was their never ending plight

mislead and still melting!
the space between a heart beat and the blink of an eye yields the (non-entity)
blooming is the hour of chaos
the search for answers and our effect on them!
mundane, arcane, and domain= thoughtfulness?
billowing and smoldering is the sun and its rainfall
cannot wait longer stand tall and say something!
eyes are beaming and no we are not dreaming
headaches and toothaches are mild
compared to the detrimental yells of the wild!
if the melting continues we all better learn to swim
causing lifelessness, draining, emptying and rushing water,
for whom will be the watcher and keeper of my daughter's daughter?

morning flow

Knots and boulders, sent swimming
leaves that drop and charter the bugs down the current
pieces of filament strewn about the bank
to my delight the big fish and his bite!
the interplay of the elements at work
How did it get here?
So lucky,
alive and well, not flourishing but succeeding,
prosperous no! enriched though!
sweat beads on his brow,
he wishes he could see his breath...and it's cold?

Before he realizes, it's hot again!
the camouflage reappears,
excluding the cork and they still cannot see!
it is we that want to see and we absorb it,
those that are unlearned can learn if they stay and wait
proud patient people pay dividends to this masterfully crafted day
sunburned and nauseous
hats and cold drinks
good humor and steady as she goes
walking, wading, and waiting
they're biting on both hemispheres
baptized in pristine waters? so precious!

Yawning and Pining

Serenely stapled to the fabric of this calm surface. It sits beneath the bridge. It is a transparent pocket of water. Sitting pondering the day's labors. Marvelling at the night and its enriched sky. The stars blink out of control. The day's nonesense droned on. It was filled with lots of busy work both inside and out. I walk by a woman struggling with a box and looking, at me, she gives the look like help me! Somebody help me! But chicken wings await me. Tepid air fills my pores as I walk to the trainstation.

Sometimes as much as you want to help out more, that happens to be the day we kind of commit to ourselves that we've clocked out. We need a restoration day! Nothing personal just tired. Sleeplessness and stuffy air to cling to. I want to fall back asleep and am tired, but the day beckoned me to get going. When it is a sun-filled day in January it's "carpe diem." I don't want to miss today's painting. It's not a back drop it's all inclusive. It is so vast that it's almost surreal. Nature always prevails. At least it does where I am. You can drown out the poisonous parts of life when in these places. I need a long walk. There is much more to report, mais, je suis fatigue! Long day. I don't want to dimish the readers' precious eye sight.

Sleepy and caustic
Knowing to quit
Trying to leave
Rudely!
Unintentional,
abrasive,
maniacal,
self pity,
sense of entitlement,
fizzled out glory!

Counting sheep
waxing and waning
restlessness,
unsettled
unapologetic
wavering
sympathetic
righteousness
your game
tree lined
eddies and riptides
tall pasteur
you graze

in daze
some phase
these days
tuesdays?
moon rays
Sundays!

closing now?
time?
no money
Played Dummy!
Gin rummy?
your safety,
furnished hammocks?
don't go, don't know, will know
window
opportunity awaits
like the bed of the sleepless......

The Unknown

We do fear the unknown. This is most obvious. However, how can we learn, if we do not try to understand the unknown. I had a friend recently tell me that he does not know what things are like here and that he gets anxious anticipating what things could be like. That is certainly understandable. I was quite hesitant and reluctant to try this new place out. A weird thing called love sometimes ushers us into the unknown. We can never truly understand, how different cultures live if we are not around them. I hope I'm not repeating myself with this last sentence? I almost feel as though a similar sentence was penned by me, already. Honestly though, it you are a fatalist, this was already supposed to happen. It was etched in stone my departure from my hometown and onto this unknown city. It was out of my hands if I am a fatalist which, to a large degree I am. I believe that everything happens for a reason. Even when the reasons are painful. The painful lessons and the jovial lessons, both in great measure, point to something. It is life trying to show us something. Sometimes it's not until much later that these courses our life takes bring us toward the light of understanding. Many times we are left in the boat with no oars. We don't know what lessons we are being shown and perhaps they will not become fully realized until we meet on judgment day?

To learn more and be shown more, we have to venture to the unknown. We have to explore the unfamiliar. We have to meet these strangers. To immerse one's self into a different culture keeps us from becoming quick to judge the other. It is so easy to think of ourselves as so much more different than the other. We all come from the same clay and the same Hands made us. Why not try the unknown? If it does not work, we at least tried, and hopefully learned from our endeavors. Fearing the unknown, and repeating and staying with the known, keeps us bogged down by the repressive wand of complacency. I am not saying that anyone is wrong for not heading out onto a new path. It's F@#%$#$ scary! It is unfamiliar and at least we know what we are getting with the old path, the familiar one. What I wanted to communicate to the man without sounding like a fucking elitist was that hey, trust me, you will enjoy a brief visit here! There are innumerable offerings! So much to show, so much to give, so much to ingest. Life is so short, and no matter what path I am led to, I can say that my thirst was quenched on many different levels. I absorbed the benefits of this place and they were many, and I learned from the ills of this place and they were few.

James

Reflecting on this Historical moment

We could not have asked for any more inspiring words this afternoon. We could not have been more pacified than we were today. We could not search for any words in our dictionary to measure up to the weight of those that were used today. Conceptually speaking, I think the most immediate comfort was met today by this transition alone. The old ways have today, disintegrated. The frigid nature of our new and treacherous undertakings will be met with calculated decisions and where welcomed input will be duly noted. The sense of togetherness was felt by many today. The collective body of americans know that they must get back to Thomas Jefferson's vision toward a participatory democracy. The challenges facing us are incomprehensible. But we shall together stake our claim in taking back the beauty that was insituted in Philadelphia over two-hundred years ago. The seismic activity in the graveyards where Madison, Hamilton, Webster, and many others have been laid to rest broke ground today. Their souls are listening and they realize that the restoration of their timeless document shall be once again, realized.

We the People are feeling the excitement of the days of Ben Franklin, Thomas Jefferson, Abraham Lincoln, FDR, JFK, and countless others who have been noticed as successes in the many American Presidency's of this great nation. Time has come to honor the many who have framed this nation as the leader of peace and democracy. We were poisoned, duped, and undermined for long enough. It is our day. It is our year. It is our history that will carry on and unbuckle the restraints that have held is for far too long. Barack Obama is the new hope, the new way, and the new optimism that will remain with us for these next difficult four years. I think I speak for us all when I say let the work begin anew. Let the typical politics that have devoured our freedom and prosperity be laid to rest. Let us unleash the healing powers of the divine so that He may give back to the country and the global community the respect, honor, and dignity we once wore proudly!

Let us all breathe a sigh of relief and carry out our civic duties as citizens toward achieving the once realized strength of this great nation.

I was never more proud to be a part of this special page in history and to be able to feel this moment with so many other like-minded people today. I am rendered speechless and faced with awe as to what has transpired today.

Game on! May God Bless this new President, Barack Obama. And, may God continue to place us and our nation.

James

The Essence of Today and Tomorrow

floundering and floating through its course
the meaningful discover their truths
frosted runways create the beautiful texture
he will present us with new found ideals
the chariots charioteer
escapes the moon lit sky and befalls on glory
the chamber is locked and loaded and ready to be heard!

it stirs up particles and clears the pipeline
it pumps new life into the decaying carcus
he sweetens the prediction of a delightful outcome
butressed with fine attributes, a beam of neon shines bright
tales will unfold, out from their holes they will soon show
attentive ears write the words and elation comes forth!

buddha smiles ever so brightly so the stars can shine nightly
cracked pathways are mended
frayed knots are repaired
broken down structures are refurbished
a blanket of snow is the fabric for the post
the climb is steep and we are trudging
there's no more time for begrudging and judging, for the chivalrous one is a phenomenon
and for now, i remain his confidant

whithering

Lazy days give in to hazy days
like the scientist and his mice running through the maze
the look of his craze gave way to a wild gaze
the pensive pose by the woman and her manic ways

he configures his draft
while incessant writing will help shape his craft
the sporadic expressiveness of his excellence
helps create the design that is born out of confidence
moods, minds, and colorblinds,
shift toward the litter of wines, rinds, and paradigms
this is what happens while seating idly and hazy,
the gentleman finds out that it is he who gave in to lazy!

His smile and observation gave way to a friendly exchange and understanding from the muslim woman. From there the day proceeded into choirs. Fashioning items around the dwelling. Rocking out like a fool with music not listened to in quite some time. Is it me or did George W. Bush appear to be drunk as he approached the podium for the last time the other night? I thought I recognized a stutter step then sidewinder? I suppose, who could blame him. The smoke is rising from the chimneys of the old victorians. The birds bellow their songs through the unexplainable temperature. The unclothed trees take on the appearance of veins, capillaries, ateries, and such, during this time of winter. There is a feeling of emptiness. But this emptiness provides for very much needed quiet moments while walking. It is the most important part of the year for introspection. You need silence for peace of mind and understanding. There needs to be time for the contemplative flavor to soak into the recipe. Silence keeps us closer to the truth. Without silence we invade this space and inhibit both spiritual growth and intellectual growth. If you're talking all the time, you are not allowing yourself to let the thoughts percolate and form and manifest into something larger than us. Meditation is the easiest way toward the truth! It's a space where the divine can be felt in us and our breath shepherds this bliss to and for us.

There is alas, stillness. Breathtaking! Thanks! As bitter as it is outside, i'm still relishing the stillness. Sheer silence. Birds are the only ones making a peep today. Even Manhattan's immutable energy is surely muffled for today at least. Journeys unforeseen have taken place and continue to take place, bitter or not. The chill is so cold that at one point it actually burns the fingers to a degree. When stepping out of this tranquility and into warm apartment creates a filling that would appear as though meat is thawing and oozing its juices. Only it feels as though water is running out of every digit on this body.

James

W

Whispering from the hills and beyond,
the spirit carries the shadow
it's emanating a charged field
floating carpets and dancing chairs
it stands and it whispers tales of the legend
soon entering this realm of interrogation without torture
its negotiable but should be exorcised!

Stands and sours the hypocrisy so prevalent in the upper mezzanine
today is sweeping through and loudly heard!
Staying in this moment, understanding this moment, turns into a daily mantra
inflexibility hurt the image and blurred the path
it will ebb and flow into the frothy foam of each wave
constructed in primary colors and lacking substance
seated on shale with fractures in the top layers that peel like chalk
devoid of what's necessary to feel love, love love, and give love, love? "be love"...

Beautiful

Remembering days when you walked along the raveen, beared left, and walked straight up a steep incline! Walking along rows of endless cornfields. Immediately, a right hand turn during the walk brought one to a little circle type of turn around. This little spot was littered with shards of glass. The sunlight flooded the green leaves of the trees and vegetation and provided them with their ever so healthy color and appeal. About ten feet from the turnaround was a sort of retaining wall barricade type of thing. The roar of the other side of this wall was that of a 55' drop of a waterfall! Shuumpf! Shuumpf! Shumpf! Followed by the similar sound of water rushing its way through a gutter of a home. Such a delight to the auditory senses. The water was gin clear. One could see their reflection. Mossy rocks were the pattern of this fabulous brook which dumped into a pristine spring-fed lake. This stream is not only a slice of beauty from the stroke of mother nature's wand, but it is also host to the salmonid species. In the summer most people seek the fish out of the lake. However, you can still catch fish in the brook. It's just that it's much more difficult because of the lack of rainfall which is the tendency of some of the summer months. I haven't seen this place in years but its memories are still clear in my mind. It was a great hike but the slippery rocks along the big waterfall are very treacherous and only a skilled hiker should even try. Better yet it's still unsafe! But people always have to toe the line. Such a beautiful walk, hike, and swim. The water is so refreshing and its like a baptism when in that water. So invigorating, so cleansing, so breathtaking. To reminisce in January of the summer days is probably the most ridiculous undertaking there is at this moment. The deer keep a watchful eye on all of us as we visit this place. The animals know that they have unwarranted guests. After all it's their house right. We know what happens when some of these small creatures enter our homes, right? The sense that we have been violated. All they wanted was a change of venue. Isn't that what we're doing when we walk through the woods and go hiking, swimming, and meditating? After all we are all animals and we do the same things just not in the same hierarchical order.


I am wet with its dew
it's the sight of a few
who are changing their hue
i ask him if he still knew?

Says I who saw
and it came before her thaw
its now time to draw the last straw
like laura running down to meet pa

we witness the strokes of her magnificent brush
though as miraculous as her beauty she was never in a rush
some paint, some faint, and some taint
for its the knowing of a few and its beauty that keeps the watchful eye on duty

The Good and The Bad

Slippery slopes send stagnant sins storming silently in the night. They scurry like roaches when the light goes on! Thieves and liars. You cannot hear these bandits, looting and pillaging. I had a feeling that it went on. Though I refuse to play babysitter. Mike said yesterday, in his comment to an earlier post that, "when we come out of the womb we are neutral." He then said, "are we?" I think I will wrestle with this notion. I think that he's right, in that we enter this place neutral for a snapshot in time. Inevitably, we are all born to be sinners! Isn't that why Jesus Christ died for our sins? If left to our own vices, we will sin. Adam and Eve, have anything you want just don't eat the apple! It's like saying to a three year old, don't touch that, don't eat that. The minute the parent leaves the room, they are defying their parents wishes every step of the way. Perhaps to try and show us how to avoid sin, we are as sinners/humans, given little tests on different occasions? Wherever our shortcomings as humans lie, those particular vices or sins we have committed keep reappearing? I have read in Dante's Purgatorio that, if you are truly sorry and repent for your sins, you will be forgiven. However, if you repeatedly commit the same sins over and over again, and even if you repeatedly repent, damnation to hell awaits you (the sinner). It would mean that you have never learned from these mistakes. Dante states, "There is no music in hell! Only groans, screams, and crying." He also says that depending on the severity of the sins, you are to dwell with similar evil doers who have committed the same vile acts. There are different levels to Hell and Purgatory. I must admit, the vividness of these depictions made me very uneasy. I don't think that I necessarily live a bad life but, the ideas Dante offers, ought to scare the hell out of you. Pun intended!

I was walking home late last night from work. It was around 2:15 a.m. And, I am currently, reading some Dante. Maybe you could guess from some of the constant referencing. First of all, it's fascinating reading. The imagery, the words, the language, and the almost life form that the work takes on! So, i'm walking and picturing hell and purgatory and this and that... I begin to sketch in my mind how these things work. Are the street people, i.e peddlers, prostitutes, drug addicts, thieves, hustlers, drunks, etc... are these people already condemned to hell? I mean if you repeatedly commit the same sins night after night, and week after week, you have never learned anything. One could have repented but, they keep repeating the same sins. The interesting thing is that when you see these people and they confront you asking for money, presenting their excuses, and whatever, even if you don't give them change or cash to support whatever vice they might be trying to quench, they will usually end with "God Bless you! That might be the worst thing to say and hear. I realize that your intention is supposed to be that they will go and eat with the money that they accumulate during their days. However, they are blessing our hearts for giving them booze money and drug money. We are all one! We could easily become these folks through poor choices. But God Bless you almost always makes me uneasy when I hear it used in this context. I am supposed to help my brothers and sisters not feed their monsters. I can pray for these sins. I am rendered useless toward helping them.

How much room is given to the sinner? Purgatory is the place where suffering has to exist based upon the seven deadly sins. Dante talks about walking the shores of purgatory and seeing the stars and how he and Virgil can almost see paradise. He says this because there are in his depiction 7 levels or terraces to Purgatory. Some beauty can be witnessed there as the soul is purified and thus the sinner becomes lighter and in this transition, ascends the mountain of purgatory. This is not to say that a bit of suffering does not exist in this realm. Dissimilarly, in hell it is unremitting torment. Screaming, pain, and suffering, for eternity! At least with Purgatory, the suffering will end if you truly repent and if you pray for all of the other souls who share the same state of circumstances as you, "the soul" in Purgatory. Damnation to hell is long, wicked, harsh, and cruel! Perhaps its just? Depends on the nature. As the architect of the book I am reading, Dante is so brutally honest and grotesque in his depiction of these places. Now, if I haven't scared anyone into the confessional, you cannot be saved! I am no one to Judge any of you. But, perhaps its the old, Catholic guilt that will stir you up? I always enjoy the stars and the night air when I am walking. However, because I was reading on the train and reflecting about different things I witness, and think, I started to really absorb some of these things. The content of the book is gripping and apparently trickled into my mind the whole way home. It was probably more of a banner of distraction because of the temperature early this morning. It is a terrifying discussion but something to think about. Growing up we just heard Hell was a bad place.... Hell is much worse than a Stephen King film! Good luck and fasten your seatbelts. If we all lead more peaceful and spiritually obediant lives, we should all have a chance.

Something to think about!

James

Talking and searching!

Next stop, 2nd avenue. This place is where the literary spokesman resides. There is an energy to the room that is felt on so many levels by so many people. There is spoken word. What does that man? I think that it is the beautification of words that when presented aloud, it creates both beauty and imagery to the five senses! This is not an easy task. The first few lines need to grab the ears of its audience. We live in a world where we are constantly plugged in. We are like robots that don't communicate anymore. We converse via text message and email. There are some that IM, but mostly the only thing we are reduced to is, impersonal means of communication. Wars are fought on occasion as a result of arguments and discussions falling on deaf ears! The world is hostile. So many have good answers but nobody is buying the time to listen. The IPOD just finished its last song, my blackberry is buzzing with messages, I have to text so and so, and the list goes marching on.........Eventually we'll have to learn how to communicate or the place where we are now seated, will implode! Now, we are all guilty of this, and I am certainly not excluding myself from the discussion but, I believe that communication is of the utmost importance in today's climate. These are merely suggestions and not gospel. And, no, I don't have the answers, just my observations.

Arctic air is crisp
while hanging by a wisp
it is indeed drawing fluid from its ducts
while the old lady buys her tucks
sweating, cold, and feeling quite bold
how to prevent the chills and the ills of the earth
by talking and not stalking these tangible's
it's the temple built by carl hempel (philosophy)
Who the owl says who?

None because what's done is done
Dante and his purgatorio
depicts, designs, deconstructs,
these trees are bare but murky are its details
the birds are buzzing despite the unmerciful
the moose was loose and airlifted to utah
the missionaries watched it get dropped off to them
yin and yang fight for strength and
I fruitlessly await the day for communication to be borne!

James

What?

I'm writing for sanity and to dissolve/diffuse these wretched thoughts. I am older now and what remains is a fragment of hope, but the need for survival pounds through my negative energy. I hang my head high regardless. At least I think I do? A happy life that lost it's freedom of breath and yoga to the crisis we all face!

There is delight in almost every instance. It's in a child's eyes, it's in a waterfall, and it's on a mountaintop. It's pervasive. She is a joyful mother. Running extremely behind in her travels, being forgetful, charming, witty, and funny, all in one! There are an abundance of swans dangling about the room. They tell a story too. If they have ears they've heard unimaginable things. Interesting things too! A commerical truck's reverse siren is piercing the air. In here, indian music is filling the air. It is coursing through the people's veins. A sticker adorns his lap-top stating, "think it's not illegal yet." I think that this is a reaction to the restrictions placed on the people of this country. A bit of flamenco guitar to switch up the monotony. Lovely, perhaps it's Paco Delucia? Maybe Al Dimeola? Good music goes hand in hand with good thoughts. Sometimes good thoughts yield good music, and vice versa.

Things are shifting in many different directions lately. Good directions seem to be sneaking a peek into the days of this young man. He's feeling a bit better about the course his life is starting to take. He makes some small gains.

What is the relevant purpose of this exercise? Oh, the cold sneaks through the window sill. The comfort from the winter breeze breaks the hot air that fills the room. Why are the lights on? Boring! Time to leave and do something! Anything. Carrots and roasted hummus anyone?

James

Closer to Understanding

There are those that watch. There are those that do! I want to be categorized with what is relative to doing. There are many organizations that I should be involved in. There are many people in need, much more than myself. I have recently come into contact with fairly inspiring people. They are large in number. For example, to name a few, writers, artists, musicians, recovering addicts, addicts, narcissists, students, homeless shelter workers, and those that help the homeless without financial gain. It could be a way to recharge the soul, rid oneself of any impurities, or sediments that lurk in the capacity of our moral or immoral disposition. All of these people are one with me! The good, the bad, and the indifferent. The diversity of life is ubiquitous. Maybe it's only now that I try to sift through it much more eagerly and engaged? A great man once said, "I don't give a damn about teaching you and telling you things about philosophy and what not, I want to know what you know, what makes you tick." This as of late resonates within. I see what he means, I think? If there is life, if the heart is beating, if one is there, there is something to be taught or to learn from these life forms. I want to know the stories of those that give up. Their lack of hope brings me new life and new hope. I have met a drunk, a recovering crack addict, and many people from around the world. Even in the midst of my sadness or turbulence, these people help reshape me and make me better. In turn, I would hope that the stories that they volunteer to me, makes them stronger or heals and mends old deep-rooted wounds!

The mind is a fascinating thing to massage. It's good to think these daily ocurrences through. It's therapeutic on so many levels. As the sitar patches old holes or old voids! Leaving behind vacant thoughts of self-loathing, and self pity. The time is now. It's better to listen than to always offer one's own opinion. I'm working on this myself. Perhaps it takes a lifetime to hone this skill? Some of the most intelligent people I know are excellent listeners. Sometimes I think they are just talking minimally only to extract information. But, in all likelihood, these folks are trying to learn something too.

Perhaps this is why many monks live the life of silence? They know. They live in isolation from sin. I'm sure sin is always rampant in all capacities but, if they do not surround themselves around sin, it may be easier not to commit it. To live completely pure lives, it seems obvious that one has to be in some sort of spiritual community. To be in this transcendental state, living a highly meditative existence, allows the monk to become closer to God. All of the mentioned situations bring forth a mild understanding of what it means to live a better life. Maybe not a better life, but a life lead with an open heart chakra, more compassion, and more empathy for one another. We all can make each other better. We are all somewhat better and somewhat cleansed by the understanding that we are all one. And that, when we talk, listen, and feel with our hearts, we can all make great strides toward healing.

James

Quasi-realization

By way of certain surroundings, the old ideologue has changed his views. The snowfall silences the streets. His journey's take him to and through the woods for discovery. Usually he needs the wild frontier to escape what clutters his mind, in order to enable the elements that boggle his mind. His view from the highest peak of the most difficult climb is unspeakable. He has been humbled and, oddly enough, he finds solace and tranquility in this new place. He feels the liberation. He feels over wrought with the sense that he should have spoke out sooner. There were plenty of times in the old sphere where he could have spoken up and made more of a difference. Do you think the man is now repenting to a large degree? It takes a period of strife to recognize the unshakeable burden of what those hands have done. No one had this view in the cross hairs, let alone him. The shift was so radical that it just dawned on him in most recent times.

He has grown in ways that are immeasurable. He has accepted much more about life than ever imagined. Friendships have strengthened, love has deepened, beauty has been realized, and humility has been honed! The misfortunes of the gentleman, helped aid his growth for the later transition, that remains inevitable. Since he complains less of trivial matters beyond his reach, I believe that the trying matters that have consumed him, will soon dwindle like that of the power of the corporate world. He understands his role a bit more now, convincing him ever more that, it is His will. And so, he will take his lumps as they come, and not waver in his strength to deal with them.

James

The Ghoul

Bitter and burning. The tempo of it races through each being like a tsunami. They are rendered useless by it. It's in them. They are in a state of peril with no where to turn. There are heinous acts to further it's cause. For some it's their finish. For others it's sustenance. This faction of tortured souls are not alone. It's global. It knows no boundaries. It can't be halfhearted, it's all or nothing with the beast. A race to conquer it! The creature welcomes new life. Some will fall victim. Others will bask in it's waters and then know it's time to get out before it's too late. Once focus can be maintained at least for increments at a time, hope is restored. This new life replaces the old and it's the dawn of a new being. The Divine presence whispers this new life from out of his precipice. The new form gulps the nectar of the earth, waiting to wander this new space. Sheer beauty pervades this new form.

If old ways resurface, his Holiness chokes and waits a moment to extrapolate his vaporous form. The soul is deteriorating and refusing to fight any longer. We wave goodbye to this beautiful person and have to figure out a way to sit back and watch this thing take over once more. It has many shapes, it has colors, and it smiles and grins and grips so tightly. How to stave off its scent? Merely impossible as she looks desperately at her ally who'll save her. Why try? These folks always let themselves down. They think they can prevent and hold off the monster but it prevails. It swallows it's prey up, person by person, and soul by soul! The space is too vast and the possibilities are infinite for the ghoul to torment. Keep a watchful eye on it because when not looking it cuts through the soul and leaves a bitter burning to those who bear witness.

Meandering

The waves bring us closer to the understanding and realization. The moon shines so bright just as the day comes to a close. The bird flies to it's destination. The orchestral chants of these birds and their fellow creatures soothes my misunderstanding. I try to chart a course which has no compass. My decisions are based in large part on trial and error thus far. There are moments of clarity when I feel the oneness and then there are many times were i think we have an obstructed view of this realization.

I wander and squander
leaves shuffle and snow falls
the wind pierces this energy
it cools what's smoldering
down yonder has meaning
it's pieces create a ruffle
the synergy of the bands
it's what keeps me wondering

I ponder and wander
til I here his calls
he says so fiercly that it's heresy
but i wait to feel it in the morning
it's rays left behind are beaming
like the wrapper of a fine truffle
to lead us to foreign lands
for it's the wandering and squandering

Woke to the broad strokes of pastel gleaming in through the window. It looked like a blue peninsula with the sun trying to peak up from the bottom of the earth. It's as if someone has to pull it up a hill and out from behind the curtain to set the stage. The trees have shed their clothes for the winter revealing their nakedness. Some pine trees nestled in the corner help the mind's eye complete this painting. I cannot sleep for fear that I'm missing this sheer beauty. Why would I want to sleep any longer when nature's cast is peering through my window. The fatigue is here and permeates my frame but the thought of missing this is unbearable. Darkness gives way to this unending beauty. There is much to be thankful for. One should be thankful that the darkness does not last forever. What a pity it would be if darkness was triumphant over the beautiful sunrise and the interplay of trees and billowing clouds.

She always appreciated the sunsets though. She would utter remarkable phrases of it when out at the lake. She would gather all of her constituents to view and meditate in amazement at what the heavenly father had left on those fine evenings. It was an easy and peaceful engagement to so effortlessly follow her advice. Standing at the edge of the embankment to look at her beautiful setting before we all hunkered down for the evening. She carried so much grace! Maybe her grace stemmed from this wonderment that would come at dawn and at dusk? I think I speak for all of us when I say she is greatly missed! Though only her immediate offspring speak of her often. On occasion fine stories of her and it surface. She became a part of me more so when she left. I used to beat myself up for not stopping to catch what she saw. This is a lesson that shall stick with me until I am called to my final destination. When the tap on the shoulder comes, you travel to that other world. Until we all see her again, we have to gather around and behold the magic of her wand. Our day is here today, but tomorrow we have confidence that we will see her again!

Clandestinely captured by words he muttered. Who was supposed to know? No one, that's always been the fuel for his heart's fire! If he starts to identify with this additive, he will nurture and till that field where fertile ground will yield an abundance of wealth. Not the poisonous wealth but, spiritual wealth, compassionate wealth, empathetic wealth, and conscioius wealth. Being aware, breathing before pleasant moments give way to displeasantries. Maintaining steady posture, focus, and an illustrious outlook on the way things ought not to be. He expresses his thoughts in fashion with what's encircling him but feeling threatened by the sharks who have not eaten. It is a cycle a cycle which has been dimming and soon it's wick will fade like the memories of yesteryear.

Finally broke through the web clung to it. It's been released like the genie from the bottle. If this breathing being is given oxygen, the dream can be realized. The cast of characters in the dream are almost similar to the beings that prevent the hope and happiness from surviving. It could be a phenomenon, this trying to manifest dream into reality. The 180 is viewed by him as a decline in what was the concrete and now felt by him as a bit of a defeat. He knows it won't last. Why would it? The penance is fading and all that surrounds him is purified by the sound of OM!!

James

Dismal

Twas a dismal day today for sure. It was dark, cold, and rainy. I plowed through the streets of nyc with the rain drops pelting off my umbrella like the sound of change hitting the top of a bed. There were various puddles with various depths to those puddles. People avoided them in the manner of children playing hopscotch. I too followed in step! I meandered through the puddles and into work at a moments notice. There was a stillness to the air much like that of winter but with a spring-time moisture lurking in the air. Then it rained again! A fog covered haze was the fabric of the sky. A creative sense of urgency saturated the strides of the people with whom I passed by. Sometimes even the busiest of people are truly going no where. The desire to act important is ubiquitous. You see it everyday. You can hear it in the tone of a conversation. It occurs when an individual offers a narcissistic side of their psyche. As if you ever asked everything about a persons professional life. The silence and emptiness that fills the air is uncomfortable and disrupted by those that hurt their hands patting themselves on the back so much! To me when that silence is breached with self absorbed ways, I am selfishly quick to change the topic to something that no one else is interested in. That way, those types walk away. The reason for the usual hasty departure is lack of interest, unfamiliar territory, and, no self fulfilling prophecy.

I generally enjoy the inception of new people into my life, but, it's tough when it's exclusively an outward display of one's inner monologue. Maybe people truly don't mean to tell you how much they make and all of their accomplishments? Perhaps they forgot to bring a good book along with them? It's possible that people talk about themselves and all of their accomplishments because they can't handle the tranquility of the air or, they find themselves to be void of interesting subject matter? These are questions that by design, cannot be answered. They are merely murky remains of a dismal day.

James Hartnett

Economic Frustration

I'm sensing the fear and frustration from unemployed citizens. I've noticed that just today alone, there were many interviews going on. I realize how lucky i am to have a job. This crisis has been felt by many. The greed on Wall st has put many job seekers in a position of uncertainty. That uncertainty stems from not being able to attain jobs that they are already overqualied for. The competition is so grave that unmotivated and complacent job holders are now finding themselves unemployed. The employee now has to maintain an overly aggressive attitude about his or her job because employer's and/or small business owners can discard disgruntled and attitude addled employees with the drop of a hot. I have already seen it put to the test with my own eyes and eye witness assurances provided to me by other jobholders at, other locations.

The theme being stamped home here is that, even if you don't like your job and are slacking off, you had better have a job that is at minimum better suited to your needs and capable of providing you enough money to carry out your role as someone who has bills to pay. Count your blessings if you even have the werewithal to get by in this unremittingly lousy economy. I too went months without a red cent earned and believe me, I know how hard it is out there and how despondent I have become to get out of this choke hold that Wall st left us in. It's been corporate greed and failed government that has rendered us helpless!

Now the genesis of an historical moment of history is about to take place. I have nothing but great hope about January 20, 2009. This new chapter is about to unfold and the excited anticipation of the American people is immeasurable. Let us give way to a new moment of history and dispel the old ways of Wall st. For America, fresh new days filled with light and new ideas break the old levy of torment!

James Hartnett

when dishonesty rears it's ugly head

In light of Governor Bill Richardson's business transactions's, the Obama administration faces yet another act of drama. If a politician has skeleton's shouldn't he forfeit his right to promotion in public office? I think it's a pretty primitive concept. So now the country can be once again distracted. This isn't good for the hopeful expectations of the American people. There will be those on the other side of the aisle that criticize President elect Obama's decision-making. If politicans are embedded with illegitimate or unethical business tactics, they shouldn't hold office.

These are public officials and are held accountable! Let us not stray from the more important work that lies ahead. This is the time to weed our gardens. If democracy is to shine bright, we need to rid ourselves of the pollution that exists in the different components of government.

James Hartnett