
Dense fog in the air
All we see are our own views
Rise above it all
If I could funnel my energies into one thing
That lightens my life and makes my heart sing,
Would I set up my tripod and click-click away,
Storing photos to freshen my memories someday,
Or plunk away, tapping my keyboard all night,
Trying to come up with a story just right,
Or study psychology hoping to find
The missing connections that weigh down my mind?
Would I read all the classics or find something new?
Would I try an inventive new recipe or two?
Would I play with my dog tossing Frisbees and balls,
Or paint pictures to hang on my many empty walls?
Would I tinkle the ivories or strum on some strings?
Oh I wish I had time to do all of these things!
But it seems every chance I get when I’m alone
I’m a virtual prisoner to my smartphone.
My truths are
Magnetic North,
My compass
Tried and true;
Yet in your orbit
My needle wavers,
Fluctuating wildly
Confused and confounded,
Leaving me
Directionless,
Adrift,
Disoriented.
If you dare
To tug,
To pull
On that loose thread,
In a life so carefully knit,
You may free yourself
In the unraveling.
Your words fall
Like stacatto vibrations on my tympanic soul,
Deafening drumbeats
Falling in percussive waves
That in the ensuing silence
Still ripple and crash
Unseen
But not unfelt.
Golden sunlight pierces a rift
In draperies drawn closed,
Warm photons passing through floating motes,
To land upon a fallen streamer lying
Coiled in a graveyard of listless balloons.
For a brief moment the hovering dust
Swirls and eddies
As a figure slowly sways through the light,
Stocking feet shuffling
Back and forth,
Back and forth.
Eyes closed in reverie,
Softly humming,
Moving in time,
Her graying hair shifting loosely
Around thin shoulders,
As she sways
Back and forth,
Back and forth.
Arms opening wide
As if in expectant embrace,
She slowly twirls
Out of the light
And resumes her swaying
Back and forth,
Back and forth.
The balloons scuttle heavily out of her path,
Carried on disturbed air.
Streamers whisper as they form new entanglements
On the wooden floor,
And as she makes her latest pass,
All becomes quiet again
As she continues
Dancing in the dark.
Life can be
Two all beef patties on a sesame seed bun,
Wan, plain, and always the same,
Served up with the requisite colorless potatoes
And washed down with an artificial cola drink,
Often eaten on the run,
A daily fare
Lacking in substance
And flavor,
OR
Life can be
Apples and brie,
Red curry paste,
Tom Kah Gai and Dim Sum,
Shared experiences,
New and exciting,
Exotic and strange,
Stuffed with nuanced flavor and
Always to be savored.
That moment when you realize
You are a passenger in the car of life
Experiencing a Chinese fire drill
Where nobody returns to the car.
A great blue whale glides through the evening sky as sparks from my campfire rise to tickle his belly.
poetry, thoughts, quotations
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Random musings on life, society, and politics.
Mainly through the lens of a Nikon
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