Archive for the ‘prose’ Category
I’m not into self help.That enormously popular industry…I refuse to put my money into their self inflated paws.I don’t buy into ..”every day in every way I keep getting better and better”..
what alot of these authors seem to fail to mention is that we are indeed hurtling towards are own deaths.
Passed an accident tonight on the road..I heard a crash in front of me/ I don’t know the outcome…someone could have been dying..and I find the spectator mentality to such things..the roadshow zoo..irreverent. But it was a reminder.
I read a profile recently..I do not recall whose, but I’d like to thank them. Somewhere in the text was something to the effect of looking for someone…
“who will love me in all my glorious fucking humanity.”
Wow. I love it.And I would add back..and someone I will love in all theirs.
Right there is Kingdom Come.
As regards getting better and better in every way, everyday..the commitment to the calling and art of dominance or submission does require learning,mastering, and improvement.
It is one ancient recognized form of the Way…
As long as we keep in mind that it is in the journey where we find ourselves …and not in the goal…. that we are “gloriously fucking human.”….
and loveable in that humanity, failures , flaws and all.
It is strange the appetites.There is the appetite for lust. Then, there is the appetite for Beauty….
Beauty being subjective and happened upon in the oddest and ugliest of moments.
Beauty being that strange hunger that mixes with sorrow and catches in the base of your throat, making a little sound escape.
I cannot speak for a man, but I DO know this..you hunger for it also. It cannot be owned or it eludes.
For me, I bow in reverence to Beauty/ it humbles one.
I have a whole body response to its mysterious appearance..I ache from somewhere in my core..I feel in its prescence the urge to cry.
My fingers tingle..the desire is to reach toward..to close my eyes and feel the shape of its message.
Beauty humbles the visual sense to take it in almost begs a lowering of the eyes , so that one might FEEL it with the other senses.
In these things have I found Beauty..
the Misfit on the streets..
a twisted tree stripped of bark
a teasing child begging to be chased
a word hovering between your Mouth and Mine
and the cast of Light, everywhere ..
in Aesthetics, with photography and other
artistic mediums one is taught to
look beyond the surface
to look at the space that surrounds an
object, to see the negative prescence..
the tricks of light..
The Phantom is always Present..waiting
to be revealed..
I cannot imagine living unaware of the
Phantom, and not paying homage to it.
I watched dawn this morning alone..
momentarily a line of telephone
poles stretched as a row of crucifixes
silhouetted against the hills..
a trick or the Phantom? the reality that
lies behind all things?
Does it Matter?
It moved my throat…
Beauty ..that strange
Silence/that moves me to the
smallest of Sounds..
What a scrumpdilicious day here in the heart of downtown!
I bounced out into noon, in my brooks brown worn runners, my son’s stretch ribbed navy t..my soft as flannel denims, sloping off my hips, and my ubiquituous blackshades, copper hair in a top knot,falling, falling, curling..
Skies baby blue, sun white as a silver dime, and laughter like some frolicking god resounding off the curbways, clapboarded chaos of history, unsung joy from the rooftops, echoing back and forth across the harbor between the hills.
I am a postcard, winged feet, heart on a string, streetcat for my loves…
some days, some days, it just doesn’t get any better.