somebody spoke and I went into a dream

antipodes

2011-12-29T15:04:00.002-04:00

clock buzzing and
drifting awake from much needed sleep
alarmed and
suddenly afraid in Springtime
and epic cantos
backward but complete
running through both
my brain
my body (bloodstream a conduit
for mind to reflect)
mirror Huxley's
antipodes.

24 March 2003

so fast

2011-12-02T16:29:00.002-04:00

very fast
too too fast
my car and I slide through the darkness
momentary glimpses there on the windshield
past images playing tricks as I turn yet another corner
so fast
me and my foot on the pedal
drifting through turns
frowning with the stupidity of this
but calling up all the time
these past images all jumbled
not wanting to lose the thread by slowing down
there are answers here
I'm sure of it...
too fast
stereo full up
racing racing; then
my children, my ex-wife, there all complete
brakes squealing, pulling over
and sitting all shudder and inhale
lights off
I cry
oh I weep
this pain far too great
I grieve for lost life, lost chance
lost love
and pull away slowly
my children calling to me
as they have for so long
their voices rolling with the wheels
asking me when
oh my dear God
when was I coming home?

14 August 1995

Thoughts

2011-09-03T19:13:00.004-03:00

Thoughts on Life

Perry Dale

April 28^th, 2003

God is the slate on which our lives are written.

God is Love, God made the Earth in Love

and a desire to create Man in His image.

God is the Earth.

Love the Earth.

* Enjoy yourselves.

Work hard, play hard, and rest often.

There is all the time in the world, for everything.

* Hurry when you need to,

but go slowly when there’s no urgency.

Prioritize.

* Balance is everything.

In the middle is moderation;

live there, and save privation and excess

for when they’re called for.

* Live in the Now.

You learned for, and about today, yesterday,

and you plan for tomorrow today.

Live in the present, it’s all you have.

In the NOW lives all of time.

* In conversation, divide words and silences evenly.

We learn and we teach by both talking to others

and listening to them.

In communication

we drive the engine of creation.

Communication is education.

* Our whole lives seem to be a search for some middle ground,

but the middle has a habit of moving every few minutes,

so be temporarily satisfied

with where you are

and how far you’ve progressed

toward that middle ground.

* When driving long distances, treat the trip

as if it was a job you enjoy,

and only work overtime if you’re not tired.

10 hours behind the wheel is plenty,

combined with rest stops

where there are trees.

* God cares for us.

That’s why He made dirt mainly soft

and put a carpet of vegetation on most of it,

so that when we fall to the ground,

by accident or on purpose,

9 times out of 10 it doesn’t hurt at all.

26 December 1995

* It is not in the owning of something,

but in the single encounter,

perhaps to be repeated,

but always to be remembered,

that we may possess something

precious.

* If we have but one visionary experience in life,

so may we carry such with us beyond life to that

which awaits us on the other side.

* We seek to know, to touch, to understand;

there are some things which can only be felt,

can only be believed -

from such thing Faith begins,

by such things Faith is nourished.

* There will come a day, quite soon I think,

when the interconnectedness of all things

will be understood by all that which comprises Mind.

28 December 1995

* Families sit in circles;

other groups or gatherings imitate

but rarely come close

to the same intimacy.

7 January 1996

* The walk of Faith is constant.

While sitting or resting on this walk,

in prayer and meditation,

one must be mindful of the necessity to rise quickly

and resume this walk,

lest one’s seat become too comfortable.

* In need, one has only to ask.

In pure desire, in the Love of God, staying alive is a given.

Only being alive presents difficulties.

For help, one need only ask, in Faith.

* Money’s not essential to a good life.

We play with money, like a toy.

Hate harboured in the heart is worthless,

while a smile can bring untold riches.

The exchange of money is a moronic sophistication of the barter system,

a perversion of the exchange of sustenance in all forms -

the give and take of that which enables life.

Money sucks.

15 January 1996

* As we approach the millennium, that all important, all inclusive date

on all our calendars, worldwide spiritual awareness grows steadily.

It is with this special awareness that the revolutionary system

of Mind Barter begins in earnest.

We must share what we know

in order to be ready when the final choice is presented us -

the dropping of the curtain or

the lifting of the veil.

* Be aware.

Lose all fears, and be aware.

We who sense the coming crisis, ultimate and seemingly all-powerful,

must come together as an army of awareness,

linking minds and bodies and becoming invulnerable

in complete communal sharing.

1 January 1996

* In the witness of another’s awakening to a special level of awareness,

this awakening dubbed “spiritual”

by those presumably operating from a state considered “wisdom”,

one’s own awakening is strengthened, shaken or stirred

from a state of rest.

So commences, and continues,

the process of Mind Barter,

the ultimate metaphysical exchange.

17 January 1996

* In this new life I have found in recovery,

there is no such thing as “importance”

in the exchange of information in conversation.

What is trivial to one can be earth-shaking to another.

The point is to converse, to share, such things

that seem pertinent;

in such a way, through such actions,

do we initiate contact and maintain

Mind Barter.

26 January 1996

* Those of us who,

more often than not,

find life a hard go

may occasionally find ourselves remembering

a time in our childhood when we were at peace;

we may be overcome by a strong desire

to return to that time,

or at least the circumstances that special time found us in.

There can be great comfort, great relief,

in the inner re-experience

of the conditions and surrounding associated with this childhood peace.

A return to innocence can at least remind us

of our very real capacity to be happy -

can assure us that we may yet be happy again.

8 February 1996

(from journal)

...constant, unconscious desire.

A drive, again today, to pull something from nothing;

to dip into a small wavelet from the seas

of that place where though comes from.

Something from nothing,

that creation we have been given the ability to engage in.

We create only because we live in

a miracle of creation.

We take for granted what we are surrounded by,

visible and invisible.

We feed on the invisible,

and most of us are never aware...

Thanks, God, for nothing.

Thanks for providing so much of it.

18 February 1996

* Mania, like depression, is a thing of the heart,

at least as much as a result of chemical imbalances of the brain.

Love affects our hearts long before our brains are aware

anything is going on.

It is the heart that demands that

the brain do something about the excesses of joy, of sadness.

The brain is most often surprised at this demand,

and in so many of us, overreacts.

Thus mania, thus depression.

And so we go on.

So we live.

18 March 1996

* Suicide

is the ultimate expression of those engaged in

habitual, casual obscenity.

22 March 1996

* It’s the mornings woken to grey skies,

and not blue,

that prove the mettle of a person.

To smile at grey skies is a guarantee

of easy joy under blue skies.

25 March 1996

* Prayer comes to mind at any time. While my night-time prayers can be long conversations between my God and me, often spoken aloud, day-time prayer can at times appear fully formed in thought, transferred quickly and easily to my heart, and released, sent on its way to whomever it is intended for, God or man. God hears, and knows, and carries these messages from my heart to the souls of those I love. I am free to do this whenever I wish. I have come to recognize prayer and its healing quality, and my responsibility to remember God’s constant readiness to listen and deliver my heart to my fellow man. In prayer, I can touch anyone at any time, from any distance. Soul to soul, as we all are, God’s enormous gift to all of mankind, our small taste of Eternity here on Earth.

* If I love God more than anything, if I can know a love that strong, and have no fear of being hurt, then it becomes easier to love others. And the fear of intimacy, of truly revealing myself to others fades away. On such premises are true friendships formed; in such awareness is love let loose, because hurt is impossible, or at least handleable, in my ultimate love for my Higher Power.

* Contact with my Higher Power is precious to me. Loss of this inexplicable contact is depression, and the loss of it in mania is grandiosity. Loss of contact, if this separation is of sufficient duration, allows alcoholic thinking back into my life, the discounting of the countless rewards of sobriety, of recovery. All around me I see friends get drunk after working so hard to “get the program”. I see me in all of them, me if I lose precious contact. We simply forget. I have forgotten, and come back to God’s Grace. Some don’t come back. They forget. They get lost, and stay lost.

God loves us all. We must try as hard as we can not to forget. Don’t get lost - it is so very hard to find your way back. Love yourselves, and always remember:

Precious Contact.

29 March 1996

* The more the songs I hear become poetry in my mind, the more my poetry resembles song, the closer I come to freeing my inner artist, the closer I come to participatory creation. The Great Creator calls to me to come out and play, and though still housebound, I find myself listening, waiting to hear the call of the greatest Artist of all. I tune in like a radio receiver, surprised to find that merry-go-round voice has always been there while my antenna has been down for long repair.

Poetry to song. Song to poetry.

Imagine that.

3 April 1996

* Some mornings I dance.

Grey skies, blue skies, it doesn’t matter, some mornings are for dancing.

This morning

I danced to the sight of early Spring snowfall

and a lone robin hopping around the yard,

poking its beak through the snow to the ground below.

I celebrated life, and diversity, and the lack of meteorological guarantees.

This morning, I danced.

- excerpts from journals -

25 April 1996

... I seem to spend so much time in grief. There seems so much to grieve for, so much to regret. So much loss and sorrow.

But all around me, about and inside me, is Beauty, and Love.

And we all balance as best we can. We cry and we laugh. We grieve and we rejoice. And if we’re lucky, we remember to thank God for it all. Everything. Everyone.

Creation. Duality...

... and the ultimate miracle of our power simply to perceive it all. And to participate, all in our own way, in Creation. What is happening all around us every day is infinity unfolding. Time exists only in the now, in this moment. I’ve lived an infinite number of moments. And an infinite number of moments await me.

I’ve lived a long, long time. And an infinite number of moments from Now, I will stop.

13 May 1996

... Thank you, my Treese, and be careful. Walk with God, as He has always walked with you. Hang on to Love, my baby, always remember Love. And remember, there is no one, no one, here on Earth who loves you more than I do.

I promise.

21 May 1996

... And out my window, there is finally green again. Gaea and Her time schedule - we need only be patient.

So, after this long, long winter, I hope to begin again. As things start growing again in the earth, so might I begin as new once more, somehow get back to that magical time-box where not only each day, but each moment, is the only one I have. Existing in time as I know it, hand in hand with the Great Creator. My participatory moment-to-moment existence. Sometime in there I may find my poetry again, sometime in there I may start feeling good about myself once again. My hand in Yours, God, I only have that one wish. A return to innocence, living paradoxically able to instantly spot deceit. God, make me as wise, and as innocent, as I can be. Let me participate and therefore touch all about me, gently, to embrace or reject as Your wisdom and Your presence dictate. I am Yours, my will and my life, moment to moment. I have always been Yours.

27 March 1995

... I live eclectically. All things balanced in the constant awareness of duality, the essential dichotomy of life. Evangelists and Satanists, holes and humps. Heaven’s a toilet bowl and Jesus is working the flush. Universal balance is gridlock constipation and Satan’s selling Ex-Lax. Think I’ll go hug a tree.

28 October 1995

... have to get up every 20 minutes and turn the record over. Ah, just touching the vinyl brings back the old days, 10 grams of needle tearing through the groove of some poor overplayed record, Black Sabbath’s Paranoid or Led Zeppelin’s “The Lemon Song”. Lying back with some girl, eyes closed and waiting for the lead break, not minding or not noticing the scratches and pops, the absence of pretty well all treble and bass in favour of the midrange that was all that most record players could manage to produce from those tortured grooves. Acid-bridge in the middle of “Whole Lotta Love” with Jimmy Page sneaking up with that crash and burn guitar that could and would take the top of your head off if you were on the right stuff... amazing then, doubly amazing now.

... I had to kick myself in the ass so many times before I finally realized I was doing it all wrong. Not kicks, but strokes. Not banging my head against some tree, but hugging it. Not instant revelation but quiet summation. Lots of garbage out there, sure, but surrounded by, spoiled by, that one ultimate singularity, beauty. Pessimism and vitriol covered finally by a blanket with a message stitched in reading simply Goodness, Kindness. New virtue and integrity winning the battle, for now at least, over addiction and despair. Tears that release instead of gather, eyes that look outward rather than inward. Oh, oh my, a heart that beats to soothe rather than hurt...

14 October 1996

... Love is timeless. True love has no borders in space and time, but lives in the heart, or in the soul, which is eternal.

I remember my first love as if she just said “so long” and walked out the door. I remember a tiny woman I loved two decades ago, and remember with absolute clarity how badly I treated her in my misery. I’m so sorry, tiny girl Linda. You deserved better, and you found better eventually.

Love lives in the heart. Love is everywhere, in everything. Some love we’re born with, and becomes part of our lives as we grow - children, nature, the ever-present stars in the sky. But the love that is “found”, that, if given time, becomes as much a part of our minds and bodies as that which we’re born with, is the most special of loves. Love outside our families, this love discovered or found outside the boundaries of that which we take as our natural possession and starts or ends in trust, in joy or pain, in faith, is so very strong. Perhaps the one love that transcends the boundaries of “innate” and “discovered” is the love of God, so all-encompassing when its presence is finally felt and humbly acknowledged.

But I talk of love that seems to appear out of nowhere, but can become as strong and bonding as that love I feel for my children, my parents, the sky and God. The love of a woman, the love that can become as unconditional as familial love. A love that doesn’t appear full-blown, but has to be practised until one finds himself “in love” and as accepting of that love an any other love has ever been accepted.

... Love is eternal. Love, not science, is what made the Universe, and is what hides its mysteries from our questing minds, hides the “beginning” and the “end” and even the size. How big or small can eternity be?

Love itself doesn’t hide. Thank God it doesn’t. But mystery is so necessary, else we’d never fall in love.

Imagine that.

18 October 1996

... If I perceive time to be composed of an infinite number of moments, then the amount of time it takes me to write this sentence is unutterably long; if time were somehow concrete and made up of tangible units, I would be astounded at the very “size” of the time taken to write this, and dumbfounded at the “size” of time I have lived until this very moment. God alone knows the true nature of time, but I learn to gather my moments about me and look on them all as precious and rare, beautiful and singularly unique. So very much has gone before, and so very, very much lies before me - the order of time forming from the ever-moving, ever-changing universe.

Beauty

2011-06-18T14:48:00.003-03:00

an afternoon at the mall,
sitting smoking in the sun
by the entryway;
I look around and find treasures
in the people around me.

young, old, but all beautiful
in their way,
in their efforts
to greet the day
and say hello to Gaea.

God's work manifest,
God's love abounding -
I see what He sees
and marvel with Him -
wonder at the results
of the miracle He started
so long ago.

this day
with the sun shining
on God's creation,
we marvel
just Him and I;
we drink in the promise of humanity.

we teeter drunkenly,
gleefully,
on the dizzy precipice
of Beauty.

17 June 2011

reason

2011-06-16T18:43:00.002-03:00

long conversation
in love
and no reason really
to talk because we know
what each is ready to say.

there's no need
but every reason
to finally hang up the phone -
because you there
me here
makes us eager -
wishing for transporters
and time machines.

19 March 2003

shutter

2011-05-09T19:34:00.002-03:00

at the shore
cameras and clean getaway -
we'd argued and
gnawing on that
we walked separate paths
through rocks, old shells
and driftwood.

I saw you
as you turned and looked back at me
and I had no choice
but to take the picture,
to preserve you,
so faraway,
so evanescent.

(20 January 2007)
08 May 2011
the photo is gone, but the vision isn't...

i and I - constant dialogue

2011-05-06T13:53:00.004-03:00

oh yeah
I see you're here too;
maybe you can tell me
just what happened.

did you just decide one day
to get lost?
did you hate me when you left?
and whoever in the world
said it was all up to you?

tell me what you did
what you saw - what you said
and where you went.
did it scare you?
did it make you shrivel up inside?
Jesus, man,
you stupid stupid man -
whoever in the world
told you to go alone?

you left me bereft,
unutterably alone and angry,
a prisoner out of time.
don't talk to me yet,
you'll get nothing but static from me...
I don't think I love you anymore.

just sit there,
you sex-crazed
ego-behemoth asshole,
while I figure out what to do with you.

Gaea my Mother

2011-04-22T15:25:00.003-03:00

lightning flashes
illuminating the sky far to the south
but no thunder rolls
as I sit in my small room
all quiet and listening
as the summer rain talks to me.

I think of the rain
which slakes the thirst
of Gaea my Mother
and know that
for now
I have no place out there.

I wait for my Mother
to call to me
and invite me to join Her -
find a place and lay down with Her -
pure and sinless.

I will embrace my Gaea
my Mother Earth
as she cleanses me
and soothes my broken heart.

15 June 1996

rainbows

2011-03-25T18:29:00.003-03:00

late night coffee
poetry and a pretty woman
to make eye contact with
and talk of all the colours in us
and them.
you don't know me though.

we can open all the windows
kick the dust from the porch
but leave the doors closed
as we shake our heads and try to clean
the better parts of the world
of terror and madness,
as we sweep gray from rainbows -
I don't know you, though.

your face
your eyes and
I think of school, that place I went
where I listened to teachers and their words;
the dreams I retreated to when
number columns and notes on a page
stopped talking to me,
when the sun drew me away
to rocks and water and trees -
and I tell you of
grasping, dismissible fear
and how words are just there,
how they never go away,
while you tell me of God and we-you
nod and smile and...

but you don't know
I don't know
us
yet.

21 June 2002

at the end

2011-03-19T11:07:00.001-03:00

at the end of
you and I,
now that it's over
and I realize it in my heart;
tell me you love me
one more time
and I'll look at you
and shake my head
and ask you to please
not talk to me anymore.
all these years gone by
and I've learned nothing

except that it always
always
hurts to love.

1 January 1999
(found in journal)

rescuer

2011-03-11T14:44:00.004-04:00

in wonder and delight
I stand under Your sky
and say, "I love You so much,"
over and over,
and I can think of nothing more
to say or do.
I walk back inside
knowing the miracle of my life;
still here,
still strong and ready
to thank You
for bringing me into the Light
and keeping me here
all these years.
I lift my head and say,
"I love You so much,"
and know You hear me,
builder of my life
my rescuer.

04 March 2011

listening

2011-02-15T18:30:00.005-04:00

this early morning

all quiet in here

just me and God

and lovestruck robins singing

in the echoes lof darkness

while streetlights stand their lonely hours

waiting for the sun

listening

listening.

me and God, tea and cigarettes

a light coming on across the street

in this very deepest part

of the morning.

lovestruck robins

singing - singing

God and me and streetlights

wrapped in silent wonder

listening in the quiet

listening.

and it seems

all in an instant,

dawn and

an end to our silent sentinel

God and me

starting the day

again.

the streetlights keep their silence

and crows wake up to find

the little ones

the lovestruck ones

have stolen away with the morning.

streetlights and me and God

together,

perpetual need,

silent still - once again

our love has sown the seed.

4 May 1995

Heather

2011-02-06T14:41:00.002-04:00

kitchen light in dark night,

a Christmas package opened,

a picture, black and white,

at least thirty years old and you,

then, but immediate,

your smile and your hair, your face and your perfect body -

big shirt and cutoffs and fat sunglasses

and femininity unpretentious, beauty unconscious -

I fell in love with you, struck dumb at seventeen,

as you stood, exactly as I look at you here in this picture,

young

gorgeous

sexy

and I knew I couldn't be sure you were real

unless I touched you

unless I brushed my hand against yours in shy passing by.

and so I did, quiet, stumbling a little as I came close

pretending not to notice you there, as you smiled at me;

and did you jump just a little, like I did, when I touched you

so lightly

so gently?

I was so quickly sure, but I wonder -

could you have had any idea, all those years ago,

that I'd never know another as I walked through life,

never another as I knew you in that very moment -

so sure, as youth can be, that I'd love you until I died?

and now sent to me from you

still far away but drawing closer every day,

my Peace in a photograph - my heart opened

my love wakened

as fresh as when we were children -

as new,

as moving as it was

the first time I touched your hand.

24 December 2002

God says...

2010-12-20T17:28:00.003-04:00

discourses

on time and space

and why the sky is blue

are all just fine but

now and then

I like to step into a room

and listen to you all

talk of earth, and

hammers, and

children and

lawn seed.

2003

reaching

2010-11-15T16:34:00.013-04:00

looking across the water
from where you and I had so often sat,
watching the surf on the rocks,
swallows flying near our heads
making us turn and look for nests in the embankment.
cold and empty in the sunshine and sharp Morden air,
I reached
out to and across the water
and waited, eyes closed, for justification
and a reason to continue.
reaching, so final and desperate,
and receiving nothing back
but the sounds of the surf and the seabirds,
and the silent, determined swallows
flying near my head.
others came by, with cameras and kids,
as my melancholy deepened
gray to nearly black -
others came
and I kept watch for you,
remembering you and all the times
when we had this place to ourselves,
with the water and the tide and the rocks,
and holding you close to me.
I kept watch for you
in the diamond glint of the sun
all cold and empty,
reaching.
sun and rocks and receding tide
the wind off the water -
nothing.
gray to near-black
to nothing.

7 July 1997

compass

2010-10-02T15:12:00.002-03:00

sometimes i think i'm going

out of my head

only to find signposts

showing me the way back.

at times the very thought

of leaving reality

has me looking at the ground

for breadcrumbs.

i think

all things considered

normal's a compass needle

pointing to sane

and i've just got

no sense

of direction.

11 April 2003

so many broken hearts

2010-09-27T12:19:00.004-03:00

here in this room tonight

if there's a broken heart I can't tell

except mine, of course,

this heart of mine I hide so well.

as my friends take up conversational slack

and talk of good times and bad

I listen with half an ear

coming to know other hearts, all broken and sad.

at the end of the night

I walk out and know

we are all broken hearts

mine and yours, just so.

we are all lonely, in our spaces

where we've all gone in secret, to cry:

just tonight not so alone

we smile at one another, learn to get by.

in this room tonight

our hearts we hide so well

all broken but some healing,

trying, deep and aching, our stories to tell.

we know each other and make an effort

in love and caring, each to the other.

we hope to heal all the sadness,

sharing, where before we wouldn't bother.

I'm waking up and you are too -

so many times we've fallen and found hell;

soon I'll show you my heart

this heart of mine I hide so well.

4 July 1996

smoke

2010-08-31T16:19:00.004-03:00

there's a world in my mind

that doesn't exist ;

the fear of some things

in the fuel of a fired-down kiss.

the too long away from

six other faces too alive

to be recognized,

as my particular paranoia

stares back at me from the mirror.

the fire's not burning but

killing smoke stings my eyes

as I look for you -

your names though

escape me.

my eyes tell me that

your beauty lies in the soil

of my fingertip rescue search -

not a line of life in the world

that begins in smoke.

monster

2010-08-26T11:37:00.001-03:00

if, in blind judgment
I find you lacking
just keep talking
please, keep talking,
paranoia makes monsters of us all.

if, in your hearing
of my overconfident self-appraisal
you should think me wrong,
then shut me up
do it quickly, for a monster ever have I been.

if I, in manic schizophrenic delusion,
should tell you the world is flat,
close my eyes
lull me to sleep
take me to the moon
and point to your world -
maybe I'll understand.

if, finally, I lose myself,
be kind to me
for it's not a monster
but a healer
I've forever wanted to be.

14 September 1995

stars

2010-08-12T12:35:00.003-03:00

a walk up the lane
after the campfire and love all around
stepping softly so as not to stumble
so very dark, or so I thought until
I looked up and saw something amazing -
a carpet of brilliance above my head,
stars uncountable,
so many stars, and the Milky Way
so fiery, so overpowering, so close that I was sure
I could reach up and touch them.

I stood in the midst of that fire
only able to say, as my heart
felt full to bursting and ever so small,
"God. Oh dear God,"
as He showed me His World, His Power,
His Majesty and His Mystery.
I could only finally lower my eyes,
humbled and thankful for this peek at His House,
this gift and the reminder that I am,
that we all are
His children.

maybe I lost it

2010-07-01T19:24:00.001-03:00

my guitar leans in the corner
after too long forgetting
to tell me where my fingers go.
old schoolmate
your voice I hear in my head
telling me I was a natural
and that so long ago.
there it leans covered with dust and thumbprints
as if I'd never followed a C with a G.
I feel the softness in my fingertips
hearing you say - play that again, man,
I've never heard it that way -
playing for you my friend.
in here now a song
and I recognize a simple progression
knowing if I pick that guitar up
my fingers will forget.
this quick memory
playing and fingers sliding
wrist loose and hitting precisely
stretching strings and smiling
there in the groove
hands working
knowing all six strings
all the frets up and down
back and forth
somehow there and making good music
creating my own place
in the structure and space of a song.
now my guitar leans in the corner
and won't tell me
where my fingers go.

14 August 1995

catch the wind

2010-06-30T21:01:00.000-03:00

the wind catches me
and right away i think
of the vice versa
and just a little smile
because
impossible, right?
i might just as well
write a best-seller
or a song sung by millions -
a poem that makes people cry
or laugh,
i might just as well
try and catch the wind.

24 April 2003 (special thanks to Donovan Leach, wherever you are)

high and dry

2010-01-23T20:45:00.002-04:00

and then you said,
"how do you keep your feet on the ground?"
looking at you, as you flew,
it never occurred to me to join you -
the structure of your sky
was watery, obscure,
and your eyes hid the tops of the clouds.
---

I leaned forward
so that the leaves of the plastic plant
hid your face from me;
and didn't tell you
of the desert and the bedouins -
the camels and scorpions
the vastness
the dryness.

---

and as you went
away from me, I flew away
to the heat and the bright light;
back to my sky, and the
high and dry.

heated

2009-12-26T18:28:00.003-04:00

you explain it;
you're so smart -
tell me why we
fuss and fight
then leave one another,
alone.
why we look askance
when someone talks about
Jesus:
why we dismiss our attractions
in favour of morality...
skewed perception.
go ahead,
you tell me.

regardless

2009-03-22T12:41:00.004-03:00

we get by if we don’t believe
because we get there
regardless.
we die a thousand times
and don't cry out
but are rescued
nonetheless.
we try to murder our souls
but find them
staring back at us in the mirror.
we feel, we weep, we strike back,
and we don't believe -
we fight, we abuse, and wail in terror;
we lust, we hurt, and rail at the moon
for not caring.
we commit psychic suicide
and drift away
from self and natural-born desire,
never once realizing
that love lives next to us.
we fornicate or
make love
and it all, at once, turns out to be the same.
we try, we want, we cry;
sharing our pain
never occurs to us, and we sit
in silence, indulging
the dark thing that lives
outside love.
love lives next to us
but we don't believe
and go on
regardless.

4 May 2002

if walking

2009-03-18T15:46:00.002-03:00

if walking
not tired but held in here
fan blows puffs of cooled air
light falls on paper, pictures of my kids;
and if I turn out the light...
but can't.

-
if walking, full moon like daylight out there
bright muted sun -
I want to make it dark in here
and look out the window
put a shirt on go out in the soft day-night
but held in here
fear
of walking in that pale light
moonshadow would show me what's not there
if walking.

-
if I turned out the light
I'd be lost and
the moonlight would tempt me
to walk scream inward in waiting
for reaction - I would stand and look at the moon
in wait for reaction inside screaming manic
panic
if walking.

-
I stand
ready
then startled by the streetlight extinguished.
no voice calls me
just cooled air my children's smiling photos
determined to turn out all the lights
stand at the window
day-night and manic fear
and imagine myself
walking.

Springtime

2009-03-15T17:12:00.001-03:00

we've just gotten here and looking around
some bland faces
some cheer
raucous
speakers and old songs for sound.
you wonder, just low beside me,
under your breath, "how long has this been here?"
"for friggin ever," i answer, "didn't you know?"
walking here and there then stopping
to chat with you
and You - such a diplomat!
precious forbearance
my girl and i
perfect attendance as ghosts
float by.
easy in
easy out
a small smile and a lump in my throat,
sunshine and flowers
April showers -
all out of time
and time
to get back to those bells
all around us
chime, then,
chime.

22 April 2003

Theresa, Jeff, Jenny

2009-03-01T20:55:00.006-04:00

Theresa

for you
shining so bright in my mind
words... just won't come
they aren't there...
as if someone as beautiful as you
blocks me.
I hug you and stroke your hair
mumbling fatherly cliches, and think -
someday I'll tell you a thousand things,
life things, secret things, adult things,
hoping somehow to get to you before anyone else,
hoping perhaps to shelter you from reality
until you're ready for it.
someday I'll write your name
in letters so big they'll fill the sky.
just for you
shining so bright - soft pure light
in the eye of my mind.
-
21 January 1989

--
Jeff
you, little boy
your face lifted high
to see the video screen
battling bad guys
and monsters.
you
little boy
so quiet with your books
your art
and your smile when you see me;
you
perfect boy
you are my joy
and my heart.

-
18 December 1988

--
Jenny

so
my darling
darling girl;
do you wake up wondering
when you hear my footfall
outside the door?
I listen for your dreaming,
something I guess only I can do.
so dream
my darling
my little girl,
I love you.
-
9 December 1988

My amazing children - my love for you has done nothing but grow in all the years since I wrote these to you. You are my heart and my life.

Daddy

child of my youth

2009-03-01T19:01:00.003-04:00

if there was ever a reason to write
make it now
in the part of the morning long before dawn
blue lights dancing in the corners.
memories
carnalities
the smell of you still there -
still here in the fold of my shirt
when I move.
and all of that so long ago;
-

memory - such persistance -
as if I'd always known you and know you still
captured in a moment, naked,
your arms outstretched;
while in eternity I look at you,
knowing I could never let you go.
-

there are reasons
night persisting - now seeks then.
I catch the scent of you
coming through the years
still pure, still full of you
and my desire undiminished.
I remember you
child of my youth.

quiescent

2009-02-20T16:54:00.002-04:00

all among
around
and God
quiescent.
Williams' descent
stalled for now
; because we deserve better
. I'm glad I died in '69 + -
I'm happy now
to ever let you know
God: speaks to us all
all
the time -
we need but
listen.

11 June 2007

metaphor roads II (BKIAY)

2009-01-24T22:54:00.001-04:00

diamond
different Eyes
You stumble
i catch You on
metaphor roads - you diamond
me coal -
You whisper, "soon, now,
my only man..."
and i hold You to I
and tell You
what a good girl you are.

complete

2008-12-23T17:07:00.001-04:00

here is morning
complete
clear as
the sun
bathes the white landscape outside my window
my mind my eyes
traveling paths then and now
and tomorrow
my children
my parents
my sisters
my brother
my precious woman
all there on the roads of my present concern
telling me they're happy I'm alive
that I've made it this far.
constant retreat
stopped for now
and a certainty that today
I'm not a man too soon come into himself
too soon realized
too late for laughter.
tomorrow I put aside
and I put my head down
my heart pulsing in my throat
my loved ones content while
the morning
today
always
unfolds its glory unabashed
bolstered by my love
silent
complete.

Winter, Spring, Always

2008-09-17T20:26:00.002-03:00

I found you
alone and skating in the dark;
clouds in the sky - the moon behind them
dimming the stars and pulling the wind out of the corners.
you looked back at me
not afraid but new to life, somehow,
and strong
so strong.
every night after that
my eyes would falter, and start to close
as I walked behind you
softly, so as not to wake you
to the pain, the fear that surrounded us,
we both so tired of being brave...

in my mind I kissed you
and breathed you in;
stopped always
by a jagged line of nothing in the ice,
and me far too heavy to cross that patch of frozen water.
you walked with head-up caution
glancing now and then at my regard -
your interest beaming back to me
like a flashlight
like a beacon
too intense to do anything but tell me the truth.

over coffees later, you told me of your past,
while I looked at your good face
and ate your words like candy,
your kids in bed, waiting, in dreams,
for the two of us to become friends.
our lives a mystery
interwoven, strands of many textures, colors,
and I was far too lost in the corners of your eyes.

in time the warm rays of the sun
made passage by boat across the strait
the only way to you;
the ice receded and in our fond poverty
we would wave from opposite shores,never sure when we might talk again.
later, in warmth and seclusion I thought of you -
closed my eyes and wished you well -
too weak to swim to the island
where you stayed year by year.
and missed you
how I missed you
and held you near in memory.

we're older now
and here we are, in this house -
tired but alright -
after falling through the ice finally,
but protected by our friends;
you and I and catching hold
of their life preservers.
floating to the surface, we laughed and held each other
and whispered over and over,
"it's alright now, we're cold but we can swim -
carry each other if that's what it takes."
and we swam
laughing, crying,
while your children waited on your shore
and I looked back at mine, at their shining faces,
while they stood and waved
from the mainland.

now winter's over, and new things grow
where before there was nothing
but snow.
in love too fragile and omnidirectional
swimming in guileless truth
we make for the island
and dream our good, good dreams,
family, fire and fondness.

(November 1998)

my not-girl, and i miss you...

2008-09-10T14:28:00.004-03:00

Monday, August 11, 2008

witch you

you - whipsmile glance
wiccan girl
my wicked girl
you i don't touch
though i want to
i want two... ah me, you feel....
erect -
like i've built a statue for you.

11 October 1998

2008-09-10T14:27:00.002-03:00

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

discretion advised

2008-09-10T14:25:00.000-03:00

Thursday, August 14, 2008

PunchButton

wild horses
death'shead apocolypse
you hide in the cellar
as towers collapse
"kill the pig-fanatic
post-proselytizing murdering coward
unmen."

children with bombs...

God must notice
as smithereens become chunks of
innocent brainwash.

God must notice,
then turn His back and say,
"I'm not the Boss of them."

Gimme Democracy
Gimme Freedom
Give me the Children;

let me see what i can do -
i promise
no bushburningbullshit- i Promise.

new English, if you please...

came to - come away with i ///

release - send letter go John Dear ///

relief - anxiety go Susplendidly///

genius - ZappaNoWrong noiseAlbert-///
(physics) StevethePenthouse Hawk///

smoke - hisOwneach - No Bummer except prettyHer///

girlfriend - can say HedLynnPamJeannieDonna-filkkalotHer - insert name freely Threw/out///

boyfriend - homephobiawrongSex but what do i know?///

gay - Exit not NOT Entry - wayface - unDynamo/Hum+BrownBobby///

"quotables"

"Oh I believe that there is really no such thing as Dyin'"

F Zappa
from Does Humor Belong In MuSiK?/ / "Whipping Post"

"Sometimes I feel like I'm dyin'

Allman Bras.

2008-09-10T14:24:00.001-03:00

Friday, August 15, 2008

first pics with Canon digitalis

Books and me - first picstwoo

Tryin trim

2008-09-10T14:22:00.001-03:00

Sunday, August 17, 2008

FORMALITY/hUMILITY

we have the several of two or three

more i want to glue them on Silvertoneguitarmine

butAin't it not Big enough

Pics of Precious

People in Love

i've Had such a Life.

matters

proceed all these pics printed

plain paper

and looking Them over

i now know

pride of Place out the Window goes

apace

in space Between

i begin formaility

Humility God,

you

Hellp.

Today

midnite.

TrimmertryinG

different

2008-09-10T14:20:00.001-03:00

Saturday, September 6, 2008

different

there my Samick
no dust on'er anymore.

i can really
really play that thing -
people tell me i'm "good", such high praise
to be sorted and sifted

John Hiatt and
"that's just about as far as we go from here."
a wise, very old soul, him.

no confusion;
just looking and listening
for God's marching orders.

K. there again - and eyeAH...
like i once told H.
only
different.

Joannes

2008-09-09T11:53:00.002-03:00

You phone and
i think of my little brother and
your 22 years with him and
i hesitate to tell you
how much i love you Both.

You other - me you attract
like flame and moth - i know you
from somewhere
you look like
someone, and i know
i'd like to be your friend or
dream... or
nightmare...

Two Joannes and i
guess i just like the name
and the women who live
behind it.

Yes, dedicated, if such a thing is required, to Joanney and Joanne. And I guess it's appropriate to say that I will miss them both. Or not. Phone me, if you have the time...

Peace,
Trimmer

metaphor roads II

2008-09-07T09:26:00.003-03:00

diamond
different eyes

You stumble
i catch You on
metaphor roads -
You Diamond, me coal -

You whisper, "soon now, my only man..."
and i hold You to I
and tell You
what a good girl
You are.

and so on, and so forth ...

2008-08-08T19:54:00.003-03:00

midnight cigarette
in the cool, calm air,
listening to a train whistle
not far away, dying but calling me,
wishing me away -
far from here
far from this terrible feeling
of alone and afraid.

back inside, the TV on but
the sound down to almost
inaudible and i
listen to the ringing in my ears -
i hear nothing but the surrender,
the scrambling of signals
and the loss of all this time;
the passage of it all.

i say to myself - later
i'll finish this when my mind is better
than it is right now
dying in the night...

spooky...

2008-03-21T14:11:00.002-03:00

A couple of my daughter Tree's latest special photos - "Emergence" and "Nightmare II" - she's especially adept at doing these multiples. Such a talented girl!

all small and sneaky (i and I revisited)

2008-02-29T11:58:00.002-04:00

i ask Alone,

"am i truly here again?"

Alone says, "yes, my love, you are."

Dark stays in the corners

talking with God,

while I and all I carry

smiles all small and sneaky,

knowing there's a good chance

i won't find my way out

this time.

not complicated

2008-02-15T12:26:00.002-04:00

oh yes God,

i feel it again - i need to be

sat down in the middle

of someone's garden;

in the midst of growth -

fecundity.

oh yes God,

i feel it - this day and

so many days before.

sit me down and

stay with me until

i feel myself a part of You

again.

Sunday funny

2008-01-27T20:00:00.000-04:00

despair and me (1995)

2008-01-22T18:10:00.000-04:00

these few days of
emptiness and the old war,
despair and me dancing our strange
strange dance
a slow dance with practiced steps
sweaty with an old lover I've grown tired of:
this dance
avoided but finally come around
and shrugging off the inevitability -
the old war re-engaged
despair and me
old lovers finished with surprise
just boredom left in our eyes
we dance
hold each other close, despair and me
knowing naught but this closeness
and in intimacy
embrace
knowing each other so well
true lovers looking only
for the other's death
to end the war, this long, pointless war.
despair and me
dancing our strange, silent dance.

I write this bit in addition to the poem to stress the positive aspect of my latest piece with that awful ‘d’ word, my acceptance and final defeat/victory through the embrace of despair rather than the battle continued: the war’s over, we both win, and retreat with an amicable truce.
My truce is made.
A retreat, perhaps surrender, in mutual respect - it has been a long and bloody war, victories and defeats celebrated and suffered on both sides; an agreement not to take up arms for an unspecified time, my honour intact while despair is to be watched very closely, honour foreign to its mission.
Despair fights on, elsewhere, and I continue my battles, there being so very many enemies to engage. I engage without fear, a warrior forged from steel layered and strengthened through a quarter-century battle against that which embodies fear, death its final weapon, and me only wounded and finding myself recoverable. And in recovery, I am fearless, if I strive to keep myself pointed on the forward path. I eagerly anticipate all that awaits me on that path, friend or foe. I fear only the backward step, the stumble, the slip that impedes my quest forward, my search for present truth in remembrance and honour of my past - a past I must remember to put continually behind me; a map to be referred to in times of doubt, a small help to remind me to retrace my former steps, visit the sites of previous battles only when such a thing is necessary to bolster my strength.
I know despair only withdraws to bind its wounds and plan future attacks. It is like that, knows nothing else but the strategy of offense. It knows me, now and ever, and smarts from the standoff I have forced it into. Already it has sent small, probing attacks, testing my defences. My best move is simply to reach and pull it close, until it retreats in confusion and indignation. But it plans, oh, how it plans, in blind obedience to that which is its very creation.
In fearlessness, I know I must not let down my guard, for despair and I are as old friends who have taken up opposing political ideologies - we are opposed, but unable to forget we are also friends who have fought each other to a standstill, and share a twisted sort of love as a result.
I do not hate or fear despair. But I know it as my enemy, first and foremost - an enemy poised to strike at the first evidence of a chink in my armour. It is my lifelong adversary, my childhood friend.
My God knows of these things, and He helps me as I walk. I beware. I walk forward, and I beware.
I have made such a truce with despair, several times. But despair is strong, and I have known it to win far too many times, in far too many people’s lives. Beware, my friends. Just beware.

(November 1995)

Friday Funny

2008-01-18T14:32:00.000-04:00

... in keeping with the season

2007-12-25T13:03:00.001-04:00

Happy Holidays and a Merry Christmas to all the thousands and thousands of people who visit this blog every day! Or maybe millions!

Hope everybody has a wonderful time.

Peace, love and rock'n'roll,

Perry

the 9th

2007-11-16T14:48:00.000-04:00

the music plays
and last night runs through my body
like alcohol;
desire
my God
desire.
the music plays
and on the phone I say - listen, just listen -
seeking empathy,
spiritual barter.
mind seeks rest

body seeks action

or is it the other way 'round?

desire

my God

desire

last night like alcohol

while on and on

the music plays.

more or less

2007-11-16T14:23:00.000-04:00

"There is a theory which states that if anybody discovers exactly what the Universe is for and why it is here, it will instantly disappear and be replaced by something even more bizarre and inexplicable. There is another theory which states that this has already happened."

- Douglas Adams -

one butt
more or less - yelling at him,
"throw the goddam thing
out the window, man."
after we all talked,
me stupid,
you smartie,
one but more or less,
shut your mouth, girl,
give me a hug - when will I see you again?
ground mist,
110 kph,
"alright, the ashtray then, shit,
you want to save the world?"

whispering

2007-09-23T18:55:00.000-03:00

whispering to you in the silence
as the moon gives its slow gleaming
to the walls, the blankets, our bodies,
I tell you of all the times
I might have saved the world
but for the absence of control
the inability to organize
the realization of weakness and
such implacable impossibility.

your face on my chest
your hand cradling my head
as I say these words
your leg gathering moonlight and shadow
stirring and collecting it,
moving it to a place
where songs begin -
you cover me with it finally
moving so softly that the silence never stirs -
brushing my face with a kiss after my story
of the battles I've fought for sanity,
you tell me you love me,
the sound escaping from your perfect lips
like some song no one's heard before;
you tell me you understand
you tell me I'm a good man,
as you touch me and a feeling comes around us
like a blessing
and I give myself to you
and the light and the shadows.

as breathing slows and we separate
only far enough to see, to focus
on eyes and lips and not lose contact
with the places where songs begin
you whisper in silence
in softness you tell me of dreams
and fantasy fulfilled
and the final realization that all wishes come true
that we together could save the world
if we wanted,
while your hair under my hand
feels like a child's
and I can't stop myself from saying
"I've never loved another,"
and you laugh all low and small
and put your lips on mine -
your lips to mine you say,
"of course you haven't,"
and we laugh in through past the contact
neither of us wants to break.

moonlight and shadow and our truth
our hearts open and gathering
harvesting - mixing and taking
from the folds of the night
bodies all at once
remembered
forgotten
replenished
our hearts so open
to the reality of our love
our words, the strength in our eyes,
the urgency of our touch as we sing
amazed, amazing songs of reaching, releasing,
the rediscovery, finally,
of rightness and beauty,
this is beautiful
this is right -

then we drift together in the very comfort
of bedrock, absolute reality of ourselves,
the indescribable oneness, something so sane,
a feeling like a blessing,
a thank you sentence in a book,
a gratitude that
this is where we've always been
this is where we stay
as long as we will
as long as we can
remembering
forgetting
replenishing, returning to
you and I here
hearts open to moonlight
to shadows
to the folds of the night.

(for everyone in love, with love)

letter to a Friend

2007-08-22T12:31:00.000-03:00

You're a gem, my Suzy girl, yes you are.
John and I didn't spend a lot of time together, myself being busy cutting a bit of a swath through the community - (he WAS remote, and supercool, and a bit braggy about his exploits, but a good guy, I guess), - but in a way so as not to hurt anybody.
That was the major difference between Mr. D. and me, I think - he had no idea the hurt he was causing, while I was incurably romantic and subscribing to the 'love somebody, then let them fly' philosophy. Basically, I loved women, and I suspect Mr. D didn't like them very much at all. And maybe that's why he was a little tetched by the time we left to head out west. Tetched enough to ..... (expletives and some details expurgated in recognition of Mr. D's continuing friendship....) and leaving for the middle of the ball field, where I used to go when I had a bad trip going on. I remember at least one night when you walked with me through a terrible bummer I was having, hallucinating violence and all... I always felt so easy and calm with you...
Love is blind - and the unrequiteable receiver just as blind. Your story of John G. sending you that letter, praising his new wife and all, it seems so unfeeling, but it is probable that he never knew how deeply you loved him. When I left St Mags I was still blinded by Love, mostly for Hed, sure, but also for the whole community, the innocence we all put aside. The death of the '60's, my God, I was sooo sad! So many of us left that place with business unfinished, I think, me heading for some place called Winnipeg, when all I wanted was to stay in that little hole in the woods with you all, because we all seemed to need the place so much. Mr. D and I traveled together, and I'd break down now and then, and he'd call me a wimp. Fuckin man... I phoned him just this past birthday, we were both May 26th babies, him in '50, me in '51. We talked for an hour and a half, and I understood what our friendship was made of, and how eternal that part of my life was. He lost everything, then gained it mostly back - his Mom and Dad are gone, his wife also, and he's been a very sad man. Karma... Lennon was right of course. He's heading this way, maybe. We'll meet for coffees and talk about the whole schlamoozle. And I'll tell him that, really, it's all okay with me now. And that he's still probably the best friend I ever had, or so my perverse and "mature" heart tells me - I managed to hang onto that last bit of late-60s innocence, so that in my travels I still get surprised by life, by people, all the time.
When I was in my first year in the Forces in Ottawa, I received a wedding invitation from Hed. I went downtown, bought a dime, and smoked the whole thing in back of the Parliament buildings and cried and cried. Oh God, such a hurting little guy I was, so torn away from, so needy... such a baby, unready for life and what it had to dish out to me. I had such a feeling of loss, such a giant hole in my soul.
I'm better now. It's because I never lost that last little bit of innocence, of Hope. And, miracle, so many others that I knew and loved are still wide-eyed to a near enough degree that we all can still hold ourselves close.
I'd like to dig up a couple of pics and post this on my personal blog - would that be okay? I'm overflowing this morning.
Love you, my lmsqk,
Perry.

if I'd'a been (incomplete, forever)

2007-08-10T21:02:00.000-03:00

if I'd'a been someone else
and not this tightly controlled
manic-depressive engine - low on oil and burnin'
rubber; a soul crazed for quiet repose, and direct,
somnambulent eye contact...
if I'd'a been, but -

no:
me I am;
child of God,
father to three,
the least and the most, a simple man, here with my father
in Gaia,
Fred to his friends, and my mother Elaine, woman of strength
and morality - Summerside Patriarch and Matriarch.

if I'd'a been - but then
good wouldn't be
so very, very good, and bad
so terribly
scarily present... with Hell to show us,
so we might learn
to discern.

in Love
I look at it All, all this Art,
and rejoin the Painter, this harbinger of
Paradise;
treat myself
ever so kindly, ever so gently.

if I'd'a been... but,
I'd not have me
to argue with late into the night -
and I wouldn't have God to say goodnight and good morning to.
I'd have never loved and hated so strongly as I do.....

(unfinished)

26 June 2007

Hi everyone - good summer for you all? I went away, learned a thing or two, and now I'm back to bug you all...

Donnie, you still around?

How's she goin', LMSQK?

And all the rest of you - I've missed you...

Perry Deepdale

2007-07-22T09:33:00.000-03:00

do you SEE what happened to us yesterday?.....
pardon? okayokay - my darling SOhed has informed me that it RAINED!
Jesus, I'm so scattered we mighta
had an earthquake and....

deep
a little stoned?

2007-07-15T08:48:00.000-03:00

Your Aura is Violet

Idealistic and thoughtful, you have the mind and ideas to change the world.
And you have the charisma of a great leader, even if you don't always use it!

The purpose of your life: saying truths that other people dare not say

Famous purples include: Mahatma Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Jr., Susan B. Anthony

Careers for you to try: Political Activist, Inventor, Life Coach

What Color Is Your Aura?

ghosties

2007-07-13T21:14:00.001-03:00

fog and mist when nothing was visible
except the outline of your house and i
stood at the end of the driveway and i
raised my camera and knew this one would be special and as i
snapped the shutter i saw something scary - dead
because there are different levels of death
as in life
story has it that we all died in the 60s, in a nuclear conflagaration
or run over by a bus
maybe poisoned at Woodstock
or in final deadly ecstasy at the realization that
God made another Eden
finally
you know how that
works...

ghosties
do they guard or
do they wish to create havoc?
i don't know
i died in '69...

focus

2007-07-13T17:43:00.000-03:00

there you are
there
offering enticing
as i stand at the foot of the bed
watching as you play
alive in need
in want
inviting
pleasure waiting
visible
beckoning
and you on fire
burning like incense
heat
your skin glowing
changing the colour of your eyes -
i watch
and think
breasts
nurture
sex
nature
eyes
infinite
lips
my focus
my food.

29 March 2003

me'n'my Pa

2007-07-04T14:28:00.000-03:00

Moi et mon Pere, Frederick Peter Dale. Just a youngster...

Peace,
deepoet

later on...

2007-06-29T02:45:00.000-03:00

i stopped the car ten feet from the shoreline
and left the lights on, walking into their pathway,
into the thick fog
as a giant sphere
formed in front of me,
and i stopped in wonder,
listening to the waves wash up on shore:
my head said,
"miracle"
my body said,
"don't get too close"
and
my soul said - "why do you not recognize me?"

finally walking back to the car
i turned the lights out and stood
in the dark
in that silence
broken only by the surf
lapping at the wild rocky shore,
and i marveled -
i wondered -
and stayed just long enough
to paint a picture in my mind
made of magic and
spheroids and
You...

Sunday Ferlinghetta

2007-06-24T16:37:00.001-03:00

on your feet

2007-06-23T11:46:00.000-03:00

You,

and your, “as long as your eyes are open and you’re standing on your feet it’s a good day,” and I wish you’d’a been a guy so I might have pushed you down, even if I would never have of course, you being tiny and pretty and even if you’d been 6 ft 200 lbs with a beard I’d not have touched you because I’m not like that and besides you made a very good point and whatever I thought, however I was feeling, you had every right to say that, and mostly bolster your own good feelings right then, and just because I was feeling pretty lousy myself and out of love as usual, though I felt like I was close to actually having a girlfriend who I talked to on the phone now and then and wished was here and I might have been falling face first into love like I hadn’t since I was a kid, but just because I happened to be feeling like a fly on a windshield when you said that, I should never have told you to

bite me.

20 November 2002

fridayfrypan

2007-06-22T09:42:00.000-03:00

Reason

2007-06-17T20:21:00.000-03:00

Creation. Light and Dark. Creator, God, Buddha, the Grand Wazoo - all are credited with Creation, the bringing of order from chaos.

God created light, from darkness.

God created good, from evil.

God created woman, from man.

Darkness, the absence of light, would seem in logic to have pre-existed creation. In order to bring about good, evil must have abounded universally, a sort of reverse template in the Divine's wish and need for an opposite. From infinite chaos comes finite order, a regulatory system in which elements of chaos funnel down and combine to make sense, fragile and seemingly defenseless against the forces continually at work to tear it apart.

Yet order, life, the organization of chaos into sensibility, fights on. Why? How?

And so we come to "purpose" and "desire" and that lonely singularity, "beauty". There is a reason behind it all, an explanation for the existence of life against the impossible odds stacked against it by darkness and random, rapacious evil. We seek, presumably, to find the answers, the reason. We are caught up in the Mystery, and we look for God, however we may imagine him, under every rock and around every corner.

Maybe someday God will reveal himself to us, but for now, vive the mystery, and hooray for our drive to find the answers. It makes this life so very interesting...

deepoet,
13 May 1995

failure...

2007-06-17T13:11:00.000-03:00

I think I'll make this my philosophy for a bit longer. I've been so good at failing in the past, and looking at it in this way, I've done damn well in spite of it all.
Peace,
deepoet

Saturday disconbobbulation

2007-06-16T09:10:00.000-03:00

one of those days

2007-06-15T09:49:00.000-03:00

Talking to God - there if you need him...

2007-06-14T23:02:00.000-03:00

God's pretty busy, what with being everything, everywhere, everyone, so at times it can seem so very hard to reach him, try as you might. Some of us have prayers we learned in church, some of us make a prayer up and say it aloud, because we believe God loves to actually hear someone talking with him in Faith. When a connection is made between you and your God (for there are as many Gods as there are people, I suppose) you know it to be true, because it causes a certain sensation in your mind, body and spirit. This is the ultimate connection, the clearest communication a human being can participate in.
To my mind, we all talk with God much of the time. The babble in our heads is an ever-ongoing conversation with our selves, we being children of God (yes, even the Hare Krishna, bless them), and as children of God, we're privileged to have God listen to us from time to time, he being our Father. And fathers are loving, teaching, hypercritical and judgmental, as well as very concerned for our living welfare. When we were children, our earthly fathers often took us away to be with them somewhere other than home, in order, I've heard it said New Agedly, to bond with us. So did our mothers, those incredible earthly goddesses disguised as Gaia incarnate. God, as I personally sense him, encompasses all of the concepts of family, of familial Love. And He listens to us, sorting through and making sense of the babble as only he and he alone can.
I have a secret... sometimes, when I want to get in touch with my higher power, I take a walk in the woods, find a good solid Maple or Oak, put my arms around it and squeeze. It's a bit like feeling the power of God's incredible engine here on Earth. Yes, I'm a treehugger, and glad that I am.
God is the ultimate connection, because he is everything. Be still and listen, inside and out. There God will be for you to talk to.
Be still, and listen. God will be there to put windows in your walls.

Wednesday noseday

2007-06-13T10:43:00.000-03:00

QUIESCENT

2007-06-12T19:27:00.000-03:00

all among
around
and God
quiescent.

Williams' descent
stalled for now
; because we deserve better

. I'm glad I died in '69+ -
I'm happy now
to never let you know

God: speaks to us all
all
the time -
we need but
listen.

Monday funny

2007-06-11T16:25:00.000-03:00

Sunday funny

2007-06-10T10:12:00.000-03:00

JenJen

2007-06-09T11:29:00.000-03:00

my Jenna and the music

my darling girl,
your voice shaky in anticipation of the festival,
the music and the celebration,
as I drove you up the mountain -
your precious voice, excited and true;
"oh, I love you guys," to your friends in the back,
and all the way up the mountain
I wanted to stop the car and pull you to me
as I did when you were small,
when my heart was so warm and so open, so open to you -
as I suddenly found it now, and realized
it had been so long since I had told you -
I wanted to put your perfect head on my shoulder
and tell you
how very, very much
I have always loved you,
my beautiful
darling girl.

2 October 2002

Saturday funny

2007-06-09T11:24:00.001-03:00

Friday funny

2007-06-08T09:47:00.001-03:00

Thursday funny

2007-06-07T17:37:00.001-03:00

Wednesday funny - man of the year

2007-06-06T13:37:00.000-03:00

Tuesday funny

2007-06-05T10:57:00.000-03:00

that's important

2007-06-04T19:41:00.000-03:00

as you talked,
I saw your eyes tell me
above the words
of your triumph over fear -
love over pain,
and I drew near.

as we talked
in candlelight
and settled with green tea, and
shared our wonder at new life found,
I thought you came
near to me.

as we held one another
then parted,
I tried to kiss you
in clumsy aftershock -
crossed your line, perhaps,
and I felt you draw
away from me.

after you'd gone, and candles put out,
your voice still echoing
in this little place...
asleep on my feet,
clumsy, complete - knowing your joy in triumph
was as strong as mine -
I closed my eyes
and drew near.

13 October 1995

Monday funny

2007-06-04T08:46:00.000-03:00

Sunday funny

2007-06-03T09:33:00.001-03:00

Saturday funny

2007-06-02T10:01:00.000-03:00

Friday funny supplementary

2007-06-01T17:10:00.001-03:00

Humor - Bedtime Virus

Do not open any E-mail with the subject line - "Good Night, Sweetheart." It contains a nasty virus.

Apparently this one is pretty vicious.

It will not only erase everything on your hard drive , but it will also delete anything on disks within 20 feet of your computer.

It demagnetizes the stripes on ALL of your credit cards.

It reprograms your ATM access code , screws up the tracking on your VCR, and uses subspace field harmonics to scratch any CD's you attempt to play.

It will program your phone auto dial to call only 1-900 numbers.

This virus will mix antifreeze into your fish tank.

IT WILL CAUSE YOUR TOILET TO FLUSH WHILE YOU ARE SHOWERING.

It will drink ALL your beer.

FOR GOD'S SAKE, ARE YOU LISTENING??

It will leave dirty underwear on the coffee table when you are expecting company.

It will replace your shampoo with Nair and your Nair with Rogaine.

If the "Bedtimes" message is opened in a Windows XP or Vista environment, it will leave the toilet seat up and leave your hair dryer plugged in dangerously close to a full bathtub.

It will not only remove the forbidden tags from your mattresses and pillows, it will also refill your skim milk with whole milk.

*** WARN AS MANY PEOPLE AS YOU CAN. ***

And if you don't send this to 5000 people in 20 seconds, you'll fart so hard that your right leg will spasm and shoot straight out in front of you, sending sparks that will ignite the person nearest you.

Send this warning to everyone!!!

THERE'S A LOT OF SADNESS IN THE WORLD!

Right now, as you read this, 17 Million people are having SEX!!! And look at you - you're on the damn computer!

mammatus clouds

2007-06-01T10:44:00.000-03:00

Came across these photos of a rare type of cloud, over Nebraska...
holy crap, huh?

see more at: http://www.wtfsrsly.com/mammatus.php

Friday funny

2007-06-01T10:43:00.001-03:00

Thursday funny

2007-05-31T09:38:00.000-03:00

Spring and All

2007-05-31T09:34:00.001-03:00

Spring and All
by William Carlos Williams

By the road to the contagious hospital under the surge of the blue mottled clouds driven from the northeast-a cold wind. Beyond, the waste of broad, muddy fields brown with dried weeds, standing and fallen patches of standing water the scattering of tall trees All along the road the reddish purplish, forked, upstanding, twiggy stuff of bushes and small trees with dead, brown leaves under them leafless vines- Lifeless in appearance, sluggish dazed spring approaches- They enter the new world naked, cold, uncertain of all save that they enter. All about them the cold, familiar wind- Now the grass, tomorrow the stiff curl of wildcarrot leaf One by one objects are defined- It quickens: clarity, outline of leaf But now the stark dignity of entrance-Still, the profound change has come upon them: rooted, they grip down and begin to awaken

Wednesday funny

2007-05-30T12:02:00.000-03:00

perspective

2007-05-29T10:13:00.000-03:00

Tuesday funny

2007-05-29T08:57:00.001-03:00

mania (excerpt from "Highways Of The Heart")

2007-05-28T16:27:00.000-03:00

... There have been times in my life when I’ve been lucky, or blessed, to find myself on a road which becomes brighter and brighter as I walk. I have walked, struggled, out of foul depression many times, answering the call of the chemical imbalance in my blood and neurons as it rights itself for some period of time. I celebrate these times like a man who’s been walking the desert for days celebrates the sight of a clear river just up ahead. The river of light greets me like a long lost brother as I dive in and revel in its quenching, its healing. I slake my thirst for the light, and sometimes, often, I take far too much in and make myself sick. This amorphous river can and often has turned into a rubber room and a needle in the hip, and a slowly dawning awareness that yet another manic episode has snuck up and bit me on the ass, taking away my control, my sanity, leaving me gibbering and drooling and walking along hallways trying not to fall flat on my kiester from drug overload. It’s been the price I’ve paid, many times, for embracing the good feelings far too hard after living in misery for so long. It’s been a hard lesson to learn that when I start feeling good I have to share this feeling with a doctor, and risk having it taken away in the interest of retaining my grip on reality, no matter how tenuous.
My manic times. So many stories that can’t be told for lack of words to describe the magic that is mania. My last time in psychotic mania, well over four years ago now, was the last time I experienced personal apotheosis, that state of mind in which I was convinced that I was the Messiah finally returned to make everything better. I convinced myself, in the space of a week or less, that I was Jesus and had been in hiding until just the right moment, just the right time to reveal myself for who I truly was. Timing became all-important, and it became very difficult to hold everything in until the cosmos gave me the signal to stand and declare myself. By the time I was given the opportunity, I was absolutely crazed and stumbling around the halls of the psych ward, trying to bum a cigarette from the patients and heal those I came into contact with at the same time.
Always, in full-blown mania, I experienced on one level or another this amazing Messiah trip. I have been the Messiah a half-dozen times, feeling the power flowing through my veins to help me save everyone, correct all mistakes that have been made. It’s called psychosis, delusion, and it’s treated by drugs that are the chemical equivalent of a frontal lobotomy, in an attempt to rip the delusion away from me before I could hurt myself or someone else. I recognize the need for these all-invasive drugs, these massive doses of anti-psychotics, anti-manics. My, what if a manic episode was allowed to run its course? Permanent damage, I’m sure, but then fifty years ago, psychotics were everywhere in sanitariums and mental institutions, living out their fantastic delusions. And there they stayed, sometimes for their whole lives. I’m living in a time and place where I can walk free and interact with society, even though I’ve been convinced a few times that I was Jesus Himself returned to save the world.
I’ve met so many people while a patient in one ward or another who were on some sort of spiritual quest. Such a mind-set is so common among disturbed people, be they bipolar, schizophrenic, paranoid, narcissistic, or some combination or mixture. I’ve read that we are all born with an unconscious awareness of God, and it seems to me that this awareness has a marked tendency to manifest in those who lose touch with reality, and are, whether they’re aware of it or not, trying so hard to get back to bedrock sanity.
I’ve touched on those times when the light gets far too bright, and I’ve failed to react rationally. That’s part of my reality, my life. As I get older, I suppose I get wiser, confirming the old axiom. I’ve caught myself at least twice in the past four years starting my spin upward to the roof of the world, and was able to stop the trip before psychosis and delusion set in. Way back in my mind a small voice says, “And too bad you did, man, look at the fun you missed,” as I type ‘able to stop the trip’. That’s the penalty I have to pay for maturity, for sobriety. I have to stop having fun, or at least the kind of fun that involves delusion and insanity. One can only play these games for so long, before reaching the point of no return. I came so close to reaching that point, I think, a few times - it was like a drug, like a Nirvana that I just had to get back to, regardless of the consequences - back to that dizzy world of mania, where anything was possible, any prize was attainable. Oh, my, there are stories, but none that simple words can touch.
I’ve started to soar again, just a bit over the last few days, and I will have to watch myself as I continue to take that new anti-depressant. I find myself at my word processor, actually writing something original, and not re-writing some tired old short-story outline for the tenth time. My experience in the woods a couple of weeks ago was an indicator that my mind is opening up somewhat, not having felt quite that way in a long time. I feel hopeful that I may be coming out of depression and crossing over to the manic side, but there are old warning bells going off as I think of the transition, or the possibility of it. Despair is a sticky old bastard, and can’t be shaken off so easily. I wait, and I beware. I beware the return of despair, and I beware the return of that fast elevator trip to the top of the world.

Monday funny

2007-05-28T06:51:00.001-03:00

Sunday funny

2007-05-27T12:16:00.000-03:00

Beauty 1, 2, 3

2007-05-26T17:53:00.000-03:00

for the kiddos...

prison of personality

Spirits of my past shine from my children's eyes, reminding me, glaring at me, showing a picture of me when I was their size. Some nameless rage wells up - how much like them all I was before I fell, my personality woven through them, so like me in so many ways; but all shades of gray of themselves where black and white is all I see... one in quiet, violent withdrawal - Beauty: another in stoic confusion- Brilliance: and one, perhaps, crash-bound in excess of joy- Love. My children, and that nameless rage at myself hitting gut-level, for helping make them what they are, not knowing they'd suffer so. Call that rage guilt, call their love for me forgiveness, call their mother and I a quilt, a cover that surrounds them - and call their similarities to us sharp things to use to cut themselves free from this prison of personality.
Love them back, because that's the quintessence of Being, living and breathing: the Love that seeks a return of love. God take care of my children. I do love them so.

August 1996

on this date in 1951...

2007-05-26T09:45:00.000-03:00

happy birthday to me
happy birthday to me
happy birthday dear Perry
happy birthday to me.

At least I remembered :-))

Saturday funny

2007-05-26T09:23:00.001-03:00

Friday funny

2007-05-25T08:42:00.001-03:00

Thursday funny

2007-05-24T09:49:00.000-03:00

2007-05-23T16:11:00.000-03:00

Global Personality Test Results

Stability (63%) moderately high which suggests you are relaxed, calm, secure, and optimistic.
Orderliness (40%) moderately low which suggests you are, at times, overly flexible, improvised, and fun seeking at the expense of reliability, work ethic, and long term accomplishment.
Extraversion (50%) medium which suggests you are moderately talkative, outgoing, sociable and interacting.

Take Free Global Personality Test
personality tests by similarminds.com

found this site while blogsurfing. Pretty accurate, I think.

Wednesday funny

2007-05-23T11:34:00.001-03:00