view2021/10/27 #poetry
So, there it is. Other poets do write the same things as I. The same ideas at least, with different words, at least. It is still worth it to write, but I feel if I read too much too similar work it would be demotivating. Inspiring too, but inspiring to be different, always. Capture something new. It can only be alive if it's new.
This is new, & this is true, but is it interesting to read for you?
I'm here at the writing workshop on the last day.
I really really really can't think of anything to say.
My time to write is over now, much to my dismay.
view2021/10/26 #poetry
Warm warm warm. In from the storm. The wind was a bluster. The rain was a lot. It's nice to be in with the radiator hot.
Clean dry clothes. Steaming food. The weather may have got to you but these'll fix your mood.
Big wet drops down the windowpane slide. It is so fun to watch when you're safe inside.
view2021/10/25 #poetry
Today is done. Tomorrow waits. If I don't do what I intended before my day has ended then there will be appended as much time as it takes.
Priorities take precedence. Sleeping will come too. I'll just have to sleep in later, until my resting is thoroughly through.
The bed can wait, but not for long. My abilities start to falter. I'll just finish quick what I said I'd do. I'm not one to palter.
I'll do better next time round. Start earlier in the day. Have time for fun as well as work, once work's out of the way.
view2021/10/24 #poetry
At the top of the arc
There is weightlessness
If you expect it
It can be quite enjoyable
A fully encompassing feeling
A sort of pause
Of stillness
Just a brief moment
Nothing you have to endure
For really any time
The things that stick around are what weigh on you
The things that don't change
The things that you can't change
The things that you wish would change
Those things that only transform with acceptance
Not effort
The momentary things
The feelings that abate
They're all ok
Easy to deal with
Just so long as you remember
Just how quickly
They will change
view2021/10/23 #poetry
It's beautiful. The experiences that you have, if it weren't for the heaviness that you bring, they're just beautiful. I'm out for a walk, thinking about my problems, discomforts, lacks, I miss it. Sometimes it breaks through and it astounds me. The heavier my mind, the more astounding it seems. Lately, it's been obvious. Everything is beautiful. I've put my problems aside, I'll be somewhere new soon and they can wait, besides I might not bring them with me, all possibilities are open again. Since I'm not carrying them around, the beauty is everywhere.
view2021/10/22 #poetry
I saw the funniest thing today. Oh what a joy to perceive. But what was funny as I was there will not be so funny to read.
To capture the joy would take skill I don't have. A pity since the joy was a lot. Still, I'll do my best to bring you abreast. You'll make do, it's all that I've got.
The puddle was dark, by the side of the path, filled with mud, but fresh from the rain. The Golden Retriever pulled on its leash, the owner, resigned, did not strain. The dog started drinking, tilting its head, to get more water in faster. To get closer still it stepped off the path, despite the protests of its master. I watched as it stood in the puddle, continuing to drink without pause. I balked as it sat with intention, then it lay down ignoring our 'awww's. The owner showed this was expected, she groaned but she took it in stride. The dog kept on lapping and lapping, as much as he could get inside. “He loves the water.” she told me, when I asked if he does this a lot. I wondered why he would get in it, perhaps he was really hot. Then he stood up, belly a sponge, full of mud and other debris. She whined “You're sooo dirrrtyyy” in the most endearing tone and boy did it fill me with glee.
view2021/10/21 #poetry
Nick Wilson is so unbelievably toxic. It is unfathomable.
I should be glad. There would be no wonderful people if there were no despicable people. No people who light up the room if not for people who somber the mood.
I don't mean to cast shade upon him. It's not that I take issue with his existence or resent him for his behavior. I don't disparage him unfairly, there is consensus among many people who know him that he exudes quite the unsavory character. I've even defended him at times. He has undoubtedly gone through his own share of discomfort, even if he does most of it to himself.
There was a point in time when he got sick. Deathly ill. On the brink. Hospitalized for months. Salmonella or some such. In the building he manages things were relatively peaceful in his absence and proceeded along somewhat better without him, from what I heard and saw. When he came back, and this is the point that is interesting, he had lost around 100lbs of weight and looked great. He seemed happy. He actually smiled. One could be in the room with him and not feel slightly choked. Sometimes he would say something polite and you might actually feel good.
Time passed though. He gained weight back. The lightness left. As before, he still says polite words when it would be appropriate, but now his tone makes it feel like you've been hit. This is a skill that he took decades to develop, and it shows.
I do well know that change is possible. I also know that we, and our habits, are products of our environment. Still, foreknowledge or not, seeing it firsthand is inspiring, even when it goes both ways.
view2021/10/20 #poetry
Just start with a pickle. It is very green. Too green. So green it must be artificially colored. Perhaps its not even a pickle but a plastic pickle. Why do these even exist? I have one. I found it on the street. I like pickles. I thought it could be a nice desk accessory. I took it. I don't think that just because I would rather keep a plastic pickle than let it get washed into a storm drain that they are meaningful or useful items. If I could advise a manufacturer of plastic pickles to stop, I would. If I could do anything at all with the plastic pickle other than store it or display it or throw it in the trash then I would. This isn't a great set of options. The almost unbelievable reality of the pickle, the sheer ridiculousness of it, is what makes it interesting to display. I might have a drawing of mickey mouse on the cross, it could cast other social realities into a similar light. Of course, the drawing would be obviously commentary, while the pickle is only commentary for those in the know. Even those in the know wouldn't necessarily know that I had intended it that way or if I just liked it or if I'd just not noticed that someone else had placed it on my desk. Of course, because it's me and I notice everything that wouldn't be a possibility, but you'd have to know me to know that.
view2021/10/19 #poetry
I wonder about what I can't appreciate. Am I missing as much as I imagine others who can't appreciate what I appreciate are missing? I don't like certain forms of entertainment, I'm not skilled in math or physics or other sciences, there are many languages I don't know, most perfumes seem overpoweringly noxious to me, I don't value nationalism or patriotism or where I was educated or carry identification with any other groups or institutions, I have particular tastes in art, fashion, and food.
I imagine that those who are missing a sense or ability to move or are illiterate or who have terrible taste or a degenerated palate due to consumption of junk food are missing quite a lot that I enjoy. But I must be missing most of the map of possible human experiences too. After all I only have this one body of a certain stature, sex, age, and network of relationships. I only have the perspective I've gained through my own particular learning and experience. I'm me and I should accept that I'm uncomparable as well as everyone else.
view2021/10/18
As is the way, now that I'm committed to being in another place I find and notice all the very nice things about where I'm at. Today was very nice outdoors and I had a very nice walk. It was incredible really. I found so many lovely garden alleys. I pitied myself for having lived in a place for so long away from such lush beauty. I then reminded myself that there are better places to live that have access to forests and jungles not just postage stamp sized gardens. That doesn't mean they aren't nice but they are somewhat exclusive and they are somewhat cut off from most peoples experience of the city. Only the people that live there actually go through them every day.
Tourists on the next street down had no clue what was just out of sight. I felt sorry for them and rushed by, not even glancing down Lombard, but then I went up some steps to another interesting street and to my horror found myself in the middle of the section of Lombard that people gawk at, dodging tourists. I had to admit that it was pretty nice there too.