helena

I am not going to stress the point
as the flow of unopened parcels remain concealed 
and what the present has in mind thus still perpetuates.
The love I carry for you is indefinite,
you're being immaculate and complex.

Then the hound-dogs bark
and the coyote's whimper -
and still you will stand there
with a halo  around  your head
defeating atrocities from  without and within.

And by the movement of a thumb
you can clear the plate, clean as shining diamonds. 
Those are the good days, the days of bliss
as they radiate in brilliance,
immaculate - overseeing all situations once again.





.

fall haiku's

Answer from Seraphin
one could assume then
when sunflowers learn to cry
kisses become seeds

  lindsaylobe said...
Sunflowers true seed lies within the kernel.
Sunflower seeds fruit of the plant
Ripened in the sun
Seeds hidden in kernel husk

I like that one

Particle Physics

by Julie Kane

They say two photons fired through a slit
stay paired together to the end of time;
if one is polarized to change its spin,
the other does a U-turn on a dime,
although they fly apart at speeds of light
and never cross each other's paths again,
like us, a couple in the seventies,
divorced for almost thirty years since then.
Tonight a Red Sox batter homered twice
to beat the Yankees in their playoff match,
and, sure as I was born in Boston, when
that second ball deflected off the bat,
I knew your thoughts were flying back to me,
though your location was a mystery.
______________________________________________________________________________________________

I had some weird comments lately with Asian scripture, hence I temporarily had posting restrictions on my blog. Well, they are ALL LIFTED now, with the exception that I will moderate comments who relate to a post that is more than 14 days old. Sorry for the temporary inconvenience. 

harvest

Haven't been around that much, have I? Took that Chevy to the levy - but the levy was dry...
After a rainy June and the half of July, we had a fairly decent August. But the weather turned now, there is chill in the air at night. Melancholy about summer's days past.
But then there is the harvest, and it is a good one this year, the labor in spring payed off. The fruit of the earth accumulated the energy of the sun-season and is ready to be harvested as a healthy bounty.
Obama speaks a lot these days about health and health-care, how we could invest in it so that generations after us also receive opportunities of healing and growth. I believe it is the right push, 'cause what you sow today will once bear fruit in the future. In this debate, Republicans in the US act like a bunch of rednecks participating at a street corner binge-fest. Once the swine-flue hits them, they might change their minds ... and it will hit them.
Maybe they have the "mind-flue" already, who knows. It is just incomprehensible, that in the largest industrialized nation/economy health care is on the bottom of the list and provides the least effective coverage for those in need.
While politicians debate, I can only wait...

   

see you on the other side

to say the truth, those pictures are mine - but who cares, we all share...

I'm sucking on your sagging tits of mercy...

...this line popped up in my mind when I gave notice to quit my job just yesterday.
At 6:30 AM I roll in with a beat up Ford pick-up truck,
she rolls out whenever she wants in her Mercedes Benz.
Twelve hours later I leave.
That was my day.

She cares little what I did - or did not do that day.
She is all about protocol, procedure, inherited traditions
Beyond her written memos all stays blank
Creativity is doomed to recipes of frozen foods
Did you follow each step by step?
Now see, you did good, yes you did!

I gave notice to leave, until they can find
an other one who can suck the sagging tits of mercy
and drool upon lost droplets of grayish milk
__________________________________________________________________________

of course the above is the "dramatic" version; the people in question are actually very fine people - just couldn't stand the vibes anymore from the only four (no man) running the place, their mental state - or should I say instability - have a range from bi-polar manic depressive to borderline Alzheimer's . If the "caretakers" are such, it makes it less enjoyable to take care of the actual "tenants" who are shizophrenic and live on heavy drugs and love alone.
I will find a new job now.

dog days of summer

Praise the dreams
that fair laundry wears
touched by light breezes
in late summer warmth.

The stain is gone, so is the sweat
sweet smell of flowers to be instead
waiting, turnaround -
dog days are here

Young girls turn giddy
the boys act like fools
and before you know it
they are back in schools

Every last drop I savor,
as it's dripping from my skin
the salty dog days of summer
did finally move in.

Saying goodbye

... was cut off the internet for days. Need not to explain what that means. Said goodbye to fair friends today. Drove home by a swamp and then took a picture of my painting, and the one that is to come. That's all.

Appendix

Why do so many people cut out their appendixes in the western world, as this fair woman in the photograph did?
Why not sweat through a fever and keep it?
Blows my mind.
All auxiliary items cut for the benefit of pain reduction.
A typical "western" behavior. Cut out the evil culprit, eradicate the symptoms, reduce pain with drugs. Who needs an appendix when the road without it shines gloriously.
But a thing to remember is, that an appendix comes in handy in times of need.
Sure, we are not built like cows or sheep, though we act like them at times. We don't need an appendix to double-digest lettuce and grass. We simply eat the cows an sheep. Bloody carnivores we are. But in the back of my mind I still remember - appendixes are useful for something, otherwise God would have not created them in the first place. To just cut them out because you feel pain is a travesty to me.
We are such whiners.

one step at a time

This blog has no consistency. It rambles on about this and that.
I wish I was a heroic and a passionate fan of some kind of sports, a deliberate specialist on a pinned down issue, a professional with attitude. Then I could talk to you about specific things, follow the calling of the one and only theme of choice. Since this is not so, my steps continue to fumble with the accuracy of a "renaissance-man", someone who is interested in too many things at any given time. It's a curse really. All people who are passionate about only one ore two things have it much easier in life. Devotion becomes focused. They follow their their sports-team, collect stamps or other things, are addicted to their fitness workout program, watch their favorite show on TV, are ambitious and happy with their jobs ... and so on. I am jealous of people who know exactly the one thing in life they wish to foster. It seems so easy, you just lock-in, end of story; whereas we renaissance-people ramble from one thing to an other.
One of my brothers lamented about the same issue the other day. He is passionate about music and makes his living that way. But he plays more than just one instrument. Fair enough - he is also interested in splitting firewood, gourmet cooking, philosophy, politics, yeah and sex, good movies, sports, playing pool while having a beer, renovating houses etc. His ambition to become the next Pablo Casals ceased, when he realized that life for him is like a stain-glass window, many facets and multiple colors. He also carries the curse of a "renaissance-man".
Life would be so much easier being a butterfly. You live a couple of days, and towards the end of your life-span you rise up to the stratosphere and disintegrate into multiple particles of colored dust.
Humans only have the choice to advance one step at a time, and sometimes it feels like the journey takes forever, lead on the soles of your shoes... not diamonds, as others wish to think.

competition

Competition, the survival of the fittest, the Darwinian doctrine of bullshit is everywhere.
Except in my garden, there I nurture other aspects.
The sunflower poses for my pole-beans and doesn't mind to help out, blooms and shines anyway. The beans I do harvest, the sunflower-seeds I leave for the birds. Maybe it is not correct to say that fruit and seeds are in competition, perhaps they merely supplement each other.

In human terms one could observe this on many levels. You plant a seed in a growing individual which later on might bloom and finally bear fruit in years to come (teaching).
The millions of seeds from the sperm of a male specimen are on a mission to find that one "fertile fruit" that will enable new life (reproduction). Co-existence is the key in nature, not survival of the fittest. The latter is just a bi-product of materialistic thinking. But we do have competition.
Love - what is love? An expression of co-existence beyond the thresh-hold of egotism, again defying the imposed laws of Darwinism.
Sex is a bit closer to Darwinism: Fun for the one who finds the most compatible prey. A drag for the one who downgrades due to limitations of any kind. So again, a certain kind of competition.

I don't preach peace, peace is an artificial state of mind (concept) fostered by a frightened human condition. Co-existence should replace the idiom "peace". We don't' need to all love each other in this competing world. If we manage instead to just get along though and learn not to trample on each others pathways by intent, then the roads of our journey will be bordered by sunflowers, smiling in bright yellow.
That's almost perfectly peaceful!

give me a break

I am stuck,
I miss island life so much
I can't bear not to be surrounded
by the ocean - oh fuck
that it must be such,
I'm grounded.

So I paint
the missing piece
colors scattered,
but no stroke flatters
my fancy at all
there is no way
to replace
the real thing with
pigments on a flat face




At least I have a fine pool at my work-site, and I can plunge in whenever needed. Not everybody can share such luxury. But it is not the ocean, that's for sure.

So yeah, I paint to create the inner illusion that I am there, that I can smell and feel the salty breeze. This is my placebo for the real thing. Carving wood or chipping stones has to be put on hold - for now...

OK, so this is the stuff I do in my days off.
And now you know, and now you know also that I am a sick puppy catching up with life, limping down the alley called 'Atlantic Avenue' in search for the shores and the endless expanding horizons of a real ocean.
One day I will be free to call it "mine". And trust me, it will happen. I say this with confidence, because only artists are visionaries. The scientists (limp, LOL) scramble to catch up for every step done ahead by persons with creative intuition.
Scientists define boundaries, artists break them.
Scientists analyze what is, artists depict what can become. Scientists content themselves with mostly dead matter, artists observe the living world.
Scientist define chlorine as a deadly substance for living organisms when assimilated in certain quantities, artists just jump into the pool head on, no matter what.
I have a pool at my job-site.
But it will never replace the ocean.

the actual yodeling clip

Focus- Hocus Pocus (live '73)

...its worth a peek!

What amazes me is, that in the early seventies, sound was still generated by genius and skill, where-else often nowadays sampling and technology gadgets replace the human condition.

The machine took over and talents are sparse.

Yeah, there are fine troubadours today, the folky and sometimes punky radicals; they make fine sounds, and sometimes they are even entertaining. But most of mainstream pop, rock, hip-hop, grunge, techno and what have you not, seem to fade compared to the efforts of earlier bands. There is no breaking grounds in the commercial sound production these days.

... unless you find me some good examples I will stay convinced, that within the genre of popular music, there is mostly rehash of the old and no new ground braking explorations.

Where are the Beethoven's or the Hendrix'es of present time???

634 posts later

Dear occasional reader of this Blog!

I admit it, I did run out of steam and out of stories/pictures for the last few weeks, though there would have been plenty a tales, at least on a personal level, work related and so on. But everyone has those sagas, over and over again. Life often throws us in a dead end one-way street confined, that's the repetitive story really - and unless you are willing to take the chance to step into a side alley once in a while, decrease the inevitable lust of escaping on the highway and instead trust this desperate maneuver to exit, the one you had never planed for in advance, then that dead end turn-around in your street might become a possibility. This is never a comfortable solution, but the only one. Isn't that what it is, in a nutshell of all peoples stories, work, eat, sleep - work, eat, sleep ... and then you wake up one fine morning and ask yourself: Why?

That little clip, done with a shitty still camera, still shows how spontaneous you can improvise, and step into a side alley with ease. It happened just today.
My friend, who is presently visiting, just proved this fact. Take a movement of the moment and dance to it, even if you have to improvise to yodeling to Hokus Pokus from the group Focus, An early 70's band from Holland.

VEGETARIAN?

Fifth of July the day after 4th of July, also known as
Independence Day - we celebrated having a barbecue, listened to patriotic music and songs, some good ones, some rather faded ... and gobbled down tons of meat.
Question - could you do without it, would you be able to eat only vegetables and perhaps dairy products, and then once in a while a couple of eggs mixed into your food? Could you do it?
I know I could, and often I follow this kind of diet in long stretches, feels just fine...
You see, if you are even only slightly concerned about food distribution around the globe, and perhaps world hunger, then you will know about the fact that it takes about ten times more acreage to produce one unit of animal protein compared to growing - let's say beans, or other crops of that nature.
So, all your non-smokers, and diligent which-hunters, could you imagine to be a vegetarian?

Tell ME!!!

I couldn't decide

I couldn't decide if I should cut my wig or stop smoking, or both. So I came here to make a compromise - cut my hair with one of these buzzing machines ... and continue smoking. It was the fourth of July, Independence day here in the US. The Brits got booted then, but they still have a grip on our throats. Colonies never change charisma, and face it, the US is a colony at heart. They never parted properly after the tea-party in Boston was spoiled. Sure, Washington and others did a great deed, the modern formula of Democracy was born, retrieved from a concept that was inaugurated in ancient Greece. Where am I going with this? I actually don't know.
All I know, is that the State of the Union on this 4th of July is still shaky - that Democracy in the general population is still phrased with that "what can I have next?" question - instead of looking at the slogan "how can we share sensibly what we have?"
But fireworks will distract that mission, let us not come to our true senses. And forget the smokes, which oh so insensitively escaped from my cigarette and escaped as whimsical puff into the bedroom of my brothers wife's son. I got reprehended twice for smoking outdoors "close to vicinity" - while the grill was spewing monoxide and other goodies into the air.
I hate nerds, especially on independence day, when all the people of New York State payed a fair price to finally get back into the crown of the statue of Liberty. It is now open again. But climbing stairs just a bit higher leaves no warranty towards freedom. You see, the difference between Democracy and Freedom is such: Democracy is a concept, Freedom is a vision.
On that note, Happy celebrations for Independence Day.

in between fractions

I guess he burnt his heart out, so Michael Jackson made it to be 50 in human years. Pretty good record. And some of his early stuff was brilliant, no matter if you liked his genre or style. You got to give him one thing, he was a sensitive, skillful artist who strived for perfection, both in dance and music. His pedophile charges of recent only reflects on his psychological and physical loneliness, his alteration of skin color and his other bodily changes, a sign of permanent insecurity and maybe also the fact that he had a rare skin disease that would have left him blotchy after the pigments go on a rampage - hence his effort to turn "white". Oh well, I wish I had the ability to whisk out 60 or 70 records and get away with it at 50 in my lifetime. So, bless his soul - he did good timing to die when he did!
John Lennon died with a bullet and Jackson bought all his rights and also the one of the Beatles catalog. Perhaps dancing with the devil only brought Michael a heart attack.
The only one who survived so far is Mick Jagger, he greeted Satan: "Pleased to meet you, don't I know your name???"

Noe for mine Norske venner

Det går en strøm av slitere fra verksted og kontor. I huset venter fruene, å får kjøkkenet som mor. De få som er igjen har kun en chance, og går i heksedans.
De tusen marionetter spreller inn i tusen hjem, med teddybjørn i senga og små ting å vise frem, men ute maner månen uten stans: Kom til heksedans. Lalala ...
Jeg ser en naken kvinne, hennes tro er uten tvil. Hun bærer ingen fane, som et sverd er hennes smil, hun varmes av sin synd og sjette sans - og går i heksedans.
En mann i mørket roper at hans kirke er en skog, at stahet er hans styrke, og at hans våpen er en plog. Han vandrer som en Kristus uten krans, ut i heksedans. Lalala ...
På gullstol sitter biskopen og nører sine bål. Hans himmel er en vakker drøm, hans vilje er som stål, men ute synges sårt om skjebnen hans, i en heksedans.
De følger kun sin egen lov og sår sitt eget frø, mer religiøs enn paven og mer radikal enn rød. De spår en bedre verden med sin glans, fra en heksedans. Lalala ...

__________________________________________________________

Yes, I have been absent for a month. Oh, by the way, press the pause button on the player below before you get too annoyed. That will stop the circus of blasting sound.
The song is from a friend of mine - he recorded it late 70's.
I am not going to translate this whole Norwegian "Heksedans" song for you, but I will translate one line:

A man in darkness shouts out that his church are forest trees,
that stubbornness his only strength and his weapon a plow with ease,
he walks like Christ without the crown of thorns - into a witch-dance breeze...
____________________________________________________________

The creativity at my new job is limited (taking care of war-veterans) in how to cook soggy fish sticks because many of them refuse to wear their dentures, if they have any in the first place. So there is not much to report from that side.
I could tell you hilarious stories of the characters and their behaviorism of those four woman I work with. But general decency, and a certain refusal to blab out personal info into public domain, restricts me from telling the juicy bits.
On my own personal avenue, I gradually and cunningly systematical clean up my work space. Now that I have four days a week to my disposal, I might even get a second wind and start to be creative again -
All is well, but transitions come hard ... at times.

(picture: one of my clients as we celebrated independence day)

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Peace Through Music

The eighth session "Playing for Change" is good. The link is below in case I don't manage to embed this thing. Enjoy!
Playing For Change: http://shar.es/MYQ
...for change

Last frost (I hope) the day before yesterday. Covered my tomatoes, peppers and beans. They all survived.
I am such a "garden-nut" these days. This actually represents my present ways and tranquility, the prime choice of drug, my only salvation. The hardships of keeping a chemical balance, a rescue remedy of mental health - this activity neutralizes the brain, immediately, while digging into the earth (that's a fact) and then speaking to flowers and vegetables alike and so on. You will then notice them prosper and flourish. I wish I had the same ability with humans, dig into their dirt, shaking it loose, and watch those new blossoming buds sprout. There is a long way towards this goal, but I will keep trying. In the mean time the "blogshere" will receive the pulled out weeds, my sarcasm, spite, and the never ending mission to provoke - and sometimes positive things.
You see, without occasional disturbance, we might as well be dead.
Cheers and regards,
Zee (Lukas)

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...more later