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