Paint.

 I write about a river,

                         
                     or a tree by the water


                                           the view of the sky    


                                  or a day gone by


 I write about a bridge


                                         or a concrete valley


           
                                                             a rich cultured land        

   
                                  or a wide empty field


 I write about a canyon

   

                            or a storm on the rise

 
                       
                                                               a border line crossing



                                                    or a tale of true loss


I write about the wind


                              or how it blows

                   
                                                       a gust off the ocean


                      or a whisper in your ear



             
 I write about your song

             

                                                 or the ache in my memory


                                                     

                                  I write about the paint in the scenery

Pastabilities

Io sono scrive canzone per te,
dove sei?

Ala Italia? I no?

1.

In the middle of a room;
   bright natural light glowing
white curtains hang over a worn oak floor
sparse furniture in shades of brown
wood and leather nothing modern.

He sits straight up on his couch
cross legged and silent
this ache of nothing
is sitting within
his body like a stone
He prays with all his muscles
his hands are abused
his head has always to be cleared.
when his breath has opened
water flows through his bones
light bursts out of his eyes
his dance is like fire works

In the middle of a room;
 in a house on a corner
some man is living alone
with a dog.

Wanna know what the devil has been doing to the thoughts of mankind all this time?

 He tricks the ones who love themselves to think that they're going to heaven, and

he tricks the ones who love God to think that they're going to hell.

the pine.



  

   












Eighty-three year old eyes 

haunted eyes 

by sight of old things 

tired fingers, worn hands, foggy mirrors and her garden gloves. 

the door creaks on one hinge, it whines   

it opens slow and he sees again 

the pine 

his frail teeth clamp together and his lips tremble 

the pine 

trembles of a reminding wind 

the way the tabacco fields only grew with her 

her by her farmers side 

helping at harvest time 

but time haunts his eyes 

and time chills his spine 

and he can't turn away 

his eyes from the pine.

"The truth ends every conversation."


   - Jerry Seinfeld 

be here now

I'm sitting on a couch in my living room listening to a song that i was listening to last year at this very moment. i remember it. the day the time the hour the minute where i was where i went where i am, i was here.

The Stepkids change my mind about new music.

The Stepkids! Finally I found a new band that is changing my mind again!!

They got that soul my brother Luke has been looking for.

Funny video too!

Always with a cup o' coffee, not! My bladder is shot! My gall is exploding! My stomach is congealed! Always with a cup o' coffee, not! Not one pot! Not one cup! No americano, espresso, three or four shot 'a brazilian nut!  

1 5  d a y s,

    N O  C O F F E E .

Phx life is good. Work is all I feel like I'm doing. I feel like I'm beginning to remember life out on the fringes again, but how different it is from this. It's the other half of my heart. I can't help it. But I'm thankful for every day I'm given and I'm feeling the clear light more consistently. Regardless of where I'm @:)

My cup of coffee finds me in Phoenix, Arizona in a mediocre coffee shop Ive been coming to every morning for years, getting the same drink, and they still don't know my name. I'm thinking of something to do, somewhere to meet you, that's new.

Thursday 10:47 PM

Lord,
           Let them have peace.       
Lord,
           Let them have peace.  May they feel freedom.  From themselves, into You.
           Let them have peace.  From within themselves, unto You.
Lord,
           Let them have peace.
Lord,
          Let them have peace.  The broken-hearted, the broken.
Lord,
          Let them have peace.
Lord,
          Let them have peace.
                                   

Fortitude is the guard and support of the other virtues.

Darkheart. "Serenade" Seattle, Wa. May 2013

Sell Your Crap. Pay Your debt. Do what you Love.

How I Love the Monsoon Season

Saved

Old mates and their soul mates

I get a fuzzy feeling when I'm out and about probably sitting in a dark corner of a restaurant or bar and I see someone I used to know from way back walking with their lover. Sometimes they're much fatter than I remember, sometimes much skinnier, sometimes much worse looking than I remember, sometimes I'm surprised at how great they look compared to my instant memory as I recognize them. Good for them! I say to myself, in all sincerity. It really does bring me joy to see the kid who never had a girlfriend in high school, or never had any friends, or even the jock who had all the ladies in high school, paired up with a wife or husband. In all these recognitions that pass me, none have ever recognized me... (smirky smile) and that's always the way I've liked it.
A new friend once wished me well as I left town saying to me, "you'll be fine, you're a fucking chameleon."