journal-5, I walked a violent beach

 

I walked a violent beach tonight. it was raining, I wanted it to rain harder. it was windy, I wanted the wind to blow me the fuck over. it was empty, I wanted somebody to be there. I wanted to be murdered

I heard the waves from the parking lot and they didn't disappoint. five to eight feet I'm guessing. chaotic. nothing at all consistent about their shoreline approach. storm driven wild and mad. we cursed together. they threw sheets of turbulent foam at my legs. I took heavy steps that sunk into the soft sand and fought the suction to pull them back out. I hadn't a fear of combat tonight. when you walk fearless, the terrain is easy

a few hundred yards in, I stopped and faced the ocean. not a soul to the left of me, not a soul to the right. (the sane ones have souls in hiding.) nothing but dunes and grass behind me. in my stance, with feet sinking in and arms crossed, I stared into the sea, into the sky, into the wind. a mix of grays and blacks and silvers marbled. rolling fiercely, crashing together, drifting fast overhead. and there, a spotlight that came and went through the passing clouds, the waning gibbous, but mostly hidden

mind set free (and a little crazy) I didn't move from that spot for over an hour. the waves came against me from time to time, but I didn't budge. the wind was a constant push and shove, but still I stood. the storm clouds let loose for a moment, and then another, but it didn't matter. I came here for a fight

realization (when footprints disappear under a wave or two) that I matter not. my existence is fleeting. here now... gone then. no witness, no distress call, no loitering ghost of mine haunting this shore. pull me moon, into your glow. how meaningless to be a rock in this majestic universe

I never got my fight. all of that violence there before me, yet there was only peace. it took a while to receive it. it started when the rain fell again. lightly this time. a measured distance between each drop. I closed my eyes, unfolded my arms, let them hang out from my side, palms facing the force of the wind, and tilted my head back... somewhere on the edge of fear and courage, I felt the change. neutral at best. no need for religion, no need for science. this was experience. absorption. becoming a part of. I didn't know it or want it when I arrived. I didn't go there seeking anything. that's why I received it. I opened up and let it

there were tears, a few

its ok to cry for things that are gained 

and overwhelm

Silver Fox Lane

carcass of a hog 

eaten by vultures.

the dominant one

hops on top and

pecks at the neck

just west of Farm Rd.

I slow down to witness

the day-to-day 

life/death

the clouds drop a mist of

gray downward upon the

street, the car, my mood

everything somber.

I side with the hog as

I am feeling dead and 

eaten by opportunists

superior in their nature

how calm the scene of

decay in the rain while

the hog is silent and the

birds are feeding

further down the lane

the greenery is broken up

by a patch of yellow flowers

above a runoff stream

in the dirt

I spread my wings and

try to fly but the mist is

heavy and I haven't got

the strength

not today

(My photos)

dichotomy

                                         (Image from mirrorsinner.tumblr.com)

down comes the bright night

but like a black acrylic sheet

I emit soft light as this being

I absorb darkness in whole

many suns flock toward me

many moons drift fast away

this heart is a giver/receiver

this mind is a killer/creator

this man is a beast provoked

this man is a garden cared for

come to me with ire - be shunned

come to me with love - be cherished

(Art by Melting Miltons on society6.com)

the room

pleasantries 

and paltry platitudes,

the room was filled

with fake

injected cheeks, lips

frozen smiles

enhancements and

exaggerations

I drank to enjoy misery

I drank to kill company

I drank to be someone else

anywhere else but there

the clock, the fucking clock

wouldn't move fast enough

so I decided to die instead

she looked at me

she smiled

but I was already gone

(Night Out by Victor Ostrovsky, exposuresfineart.com)

journal-4, Saturday morning at the auto shop

in the waiting room

there's a table with an

open box of crayons

and a piece of paper

with the outline of a

child's hand in blue and

five completed tic-tac-toe 

grids. X's won four of them

the sun comes through the

southern window and reflects

off of a single housefly that

periodically lands on my

forearm and knee. its little

black shiny body is elusive.

we play a game of fly away or

be killed and it remains 

undefeated so far

outside the window, large 

lizards chase small lizards. 

the store phone rings eleven

times before its answered. 

every entering customer has

a legitimate problem that 

needs attention asap

I'm in love and I want her to

be here so I can ramble off 

these nothings with her. she

would be mad at me for 

playing the fly game. she

would adore the lizards. she

would play tic-tac-toe with

me and probably win. she 

would make these little 

nothings into something so

enjoyable

I took a crayon from the box

and drew a new grid for a

tic-tac-toe game. I put an O 

in the top right corner

its her turn now

(My photo)

tender torture

moments tender

moments torture

moments hang from the

gallows 

beaten and broken

I swing with my sins

blindfolded by

parchment and papyrus

an ancient wind swirls

a hymn turns blasphemous

  no god saves

  no belief cures

fall out of body

and relive another

undetermined day

(Image by Joe Gemignani on barewalls.com)

stargazer

I was a stargazer

thick-witted and nescient

below one fantastic light

after another

I was a sifter of dreams

collecting the gems and

disregarding the ones

that lacked promise

I was a roamer, a vagabond

a wide-eyed know-nothing

guided by a tempestuous

echoing mantra 

until Love took my hand

and laid it upon her breast

and looked into my eyes

welcoming me home

(Image from whisper--of-the-sea.tumblr.com)

beyond

thinking

beyond the now

of things

overthinking,

the mess that is

a thought.

the shell is empty now

old home, vacated

barricaded

its cold out here

skin broken, blistered

inexperienced.

its ok to collapse

implode, shine brightly

but hidden

maybe untouched

is the blessed form fit

to live beyond.

(Image by ninazdesign on deviantart.com)

helium

somewhere out there

I'm away already

in another bubble

a similar stranger smiles

bouncing jubilantly 

through the multiverse.

somewhere out there

the invisible witness

describes love as brevity

and pain as fleeting reality.

snap the finger and leave

and arrive and leave again

overflow

before sunrise

I trail in her overflow,

the residue that resonates

licking the excess into a soft

grindswirl between teeth and

tongue

a mangled mosaic,

imbalanced perfection

delicious,

delightful

(My photo)

journal-3, a few stray thoughts

the city fell asleep before

I did. its still raining and 

the continuous drizzle is 

quite enough company for

one. I own nothing right now 

but a few stray thoughts 

tangled in a sleepless mind. 

the boom is thunder or my 

heartbeat.

the dream being dreamt next

door is oblivious to the dream

across the street, and the one

miles away. we play like frigid

ghosts in isolation. but take us

into dreamland and we warm up

multicolored and dancing.

I am a virus tonight, mutating

in a war I have fought many 

times. there's no death solution

for something not alive. feast 

upon the host, the war rages

on. the drumline, the frontline.

march to the beat with worn-out

boots and restless DNA. 

the drizzle is slowing down. the

midnight puddles are settling.

I want to give pieces of myself

away to something in need. the

storm drain takes the water from

the street, but what's nearby to 

take the me from me. the boom

is thunder in the distance now. 

I am calm upon a cold pillow 

and a few stray thoughts still 

tangled.

(Image from mirrorsinner.tumblr.com)

a light in the window

petulant silence

in the cavern of I.

art carved into the

walls that lead from

beginning to end

(I'm half way home now)

the sky is hard as rock,

I dare not fly into it. but

walk upon these ancient

sands that just seem to

be getting colder

(there's a light in the window)

my young hands have

aged with every breath.

voices of those who have

passed... how nice it is to

hear them again

(incense burns in a thurible)

I long for one last love,

the greatest of these.

life aches for a remedy,

soon I'll be on my hands

and knees crawling again

(I'm not familiar here at all)

(Image from artworkarchive.com)

walk

its about belief

and the will to do

anything

declare your denials

declare your obscenities

declare your truths

obey the curiosities of

discovery

walk on water 

with confidence,

walk on stone 

with fear

the appetite grows

into the unknown

with each step

momentum carries forward

and you

walk on

(Unknown internet source)