Sometimes the simplest of unplanned things, have the most beauty. My favorite song right now, an ear worm in my head, is a simple a capella song I discovered because of facebook. I think the girl singing is more of an actress than a singer. The song is supposed to be a cover, but when the first time you hear it, you hear it by the cover artist and you've never heard the original AND love the cover - guess which version becomes the song for YOU?
A girl walks onto a stage to perform, after much dragging of feet and procrastinational delaying tactics, the music starts and the solo female performs ......... the doo wop background of a scarcely known song. The audience stares, confused.
Sometimes you may only be a background singer to the choir.
The sound of an isolated piano key
Tap tap tapping
You can taste the ivory in your fingertips
One repeated note that has a temperature
Suddenly I realize everything is reflection. Everything. Everything you project is what is reflected back to you.
Harpo Marx's famous mirror gag IS the meaning of life!
That wildfire I was talking about the other day? That's how it spreads like reflection. As if each of us has a special mirror, imbedded in us, hidden to the outward viewing eye, that picks up another's light and transmits it to yet another.
In the background, Anthony Hopkins voice speaks, a character from the movie Hearts in Atlantis,
“And then we grow up
And our hearts break in two”
(and I suddenly I see everything so clearly - our hearts break in two at the loss of the ones who don't reflect)
You should have heard him just now
Saying, “I opened a savings account?” In absolute disgust
There are signs everywhere.
Where your mind is, is another thing.
Graduated light reflected in a mirror.
Rich undeniably unfocused beauty
The inescapable truth of those who see cockeyed
Oblique to the truth
The questions we ask
A mirror darkly
Always looking for
That one companionable rhythm
With its beautiful potential
Going off in our good intentions
We walk with a blind man's stick
Are you there?
Are you there?
What if we are not here to save our parents?
What if the one sheltering home
Available upon our arrival
Was less than sheltering
Not our job to post groom the incubator
All is reflection
What shines off from you
The truest trues expose themselves
In bright light
In the background
“And in the darkness
I see your light turn on
I need your inspiration tonight”
Light drawn to light
Nature's lite brite set
Those who try
They cannot hide
Yourself with a hammer
This feels good
A really good wave
You feel the rightness
Through your feet
And your legs
It seeps from your pores
No need to label
No gods to thank
The cum blast of this moment
And this moment
Back to back
Would think to die
From such joy
All is rhythm
Get the rhythm wrong
The next layer fails to happen
A Rube Goldberg experiment
Left on auto play
The larger universe
Encapsulating our universe
A dead and deserted world
Loss ball bearings
Sometimes life flows
It is as if you have
God's hand up your ass
That one isolated color
We see what we see
United in our
And the tingle
At our best it is us
who powers the universe
drive the little ball bearing
to the next domino drop
why things never happen
when set into place
things must fall
an airborne moment of trust
the second between
and the known
not fought for
nothing that can be taken from us
honestly . . .
does the last domino to fall
question the hand that started the motion?
or does it simply skid and slide as momentum carries it
across the table
I read the other day that the signs of the big bang are disappearing. Cosmology is going away because there is nothing left to study. Who is to say, then, of the sciences that never were because man’s brain was not yet large enough to perform the act, to study?
All the answers of the universe, there at your fingertips and you, just, not prepared. Not ready.
The most brilliant of people, reduced to Rain Men, when their intellect is aimed in the wrong direction.
So much beauty.
All of the sorrows of existence
at the feet of those dampened
their beautiful reflective lamps
as if painted with mud
but you and I
here in our special and private corner
a child’s special fort
we have everything we want
everything we need
a special gift
Why is it so hard for some? Why so hard to realize that beauty and art and passion can be light? Can be joy? Why the persistence in seeing the cold blue shaft of icy pain as truth and beauty?
Must work be hard?
Why not effortless?
Why not what simply what extends outward naturally, with ease?
Why is what comes simply and easily, assumed to be crap?
This is shit. This is shinola.
Learn the difference.
Learn the difference.
Humans the most discriminating of creatures
Hold still so I can slip on your label
and put you on your shelf
with the others like you
Why is it good to have company and be in a bad neighborhood
rather than be brilliant in a room by yourself?
Prefer to slip your label on yourself?
Rather than to remain uncategorized?
and in the background . .. Black Eyed Peas
look at me look at me
I will not be ignored
the cries of those who do not reflect
but only absorb
you know them, they’ve sucked your breath from your mouth while the world burned around you, they push you down like you’re their handrail
and you try
you are the very best handrail money can buy
rigid with purpose and intention
Bobby Darin . .
“the world delights
in magical sights
when I can gaze
in beautiful eyes
life is full of beautiful things . . .. “
so much beauty
the tender bits you hide
release them to the light
air out the mildew and lack of use
saving your best for the right time
as if you’re a precious, limited commodity
you’d rather waste than misuse
bewildered by the lessons taught to you by those who could only teach
what they had learned
Boundaries penciled in by cowards
afraid to use felt tipped pen
assuming they know
assuming there is nothing more to know
than what they know
the very large fish in the very small bowl
nothing to challenge
better in that crowd in the very very good part of town
with no surprises and nothing to think
everything planned and simple
a pageantry of synchronized living
Did you know humans tend to find agreement in things they have already seen?
“This must be good. I’ve seen it before.”
All growth. All expansion.
Slips in those mis-steps between your steps
the things slipping in
and yet those are what we would prune
label as weeds and throw
in the brown yard waste bin
while trying not to feel guilty
for including a weed
into what is sure to be next years compost
An optimist and a pessimistic walk into a bar
sit at an undersized round table
a glass in the center between them
the dead center
a waitress walks up
she looks at the two of them
she picks up the glass
jerks her hand
tossing the water
a shower of individual drops
before she walks away she says,
“I give up.”