So, considering cranking up this old blog again. Interested? Drop me a comment or two to let me know what sort of discussions you’d like to see and I might give it a shot.
Farewell
I’ve decided to move on to other things, so this will be my last blog post. If you liked my essays, the entire collection of them is now available on amazon.com. The title is simple enough “K’s Pensées.” You’ll also find a few other books I’ve written as well as my art and photography. (At some point I might put all the latest poetry I’ve done in a collection, but I haven’t done so to date.) By all means, buy all my books, I could use the money. 🙂 No, I don’t do e-books so don’t bother asking me about it. I know they’ll just end up on all the free download sites. If you want to rip off my work, at the very least I want you to get a backache from standing at a scanner for hours on end. I’d prefer you be tarred and feathered, possibly even disemboweled (especially if you make money from something you never created) but hey we settle for what little in life we can control, right?
Thanks to the one or two of you who ever read anything I wrote – you were appreciated. For those who tried to sell me stuff – I’m still laughing. For those who never bothered to click on this blog to begin with – which judging by the stats was pretty much 99% of the known universe – your loss.
Signs
There are signs continuously indicating a shift in time.
A tummy swells well in advance of an impending arrival.
Soil is noticeably displaced prior to a shoot bursting through.
Eyes glisten and widen upon recognizing their soul mate’s heart.
Tears marking the moment when someone well-loved forever departs.
Clouds darken and brows furrow as ferocious storms begin to brew.
Birds nest anew as smoke clears following contests for survival.
The burial mound’s swell marking the last milepost you’ll ever find.
Nests Within Nests
People are the soul nestled in a cocoon of their concoction.
A reflection of their taste, complete with glass eyes and walls that hear.
Frequently fluttering in and out, their lives bubbling with options.
Aware without care of infinite nests laying well beyond here.
All packed into a liquid globe that doesn’t spill when tipped by time.
Beyond which lay possibilities unpredicted by sibyls,
as life within life begets life beyond life – always in its prime.
From the windows of Hilbert’s hotel we’re nothing but a dribble.
Social Media
Just an old piece I had lying around…
My chronology preserved in a little black box,
First steps,
first words,
first day of school,
first kiss,
first dance,
first car,
first graduation,
first job,
first drink,
first love,
first marriage,
first child,
first divorce,
last multi-generational holiday together,
last words of father,
last words of mother,
last attempt at true love,
last step on career’s ladder,
last visit to childhood home,
last time wearing a bikini,
last time reading without glasses,
last travel photos,
last school reunion,
last deposit of a work check,
last smile showcasing one’s natural teeth,
last time behind the wheel,
“Liked” and commented upon by thousands, yet known by none.
Composted by the state when at last all is said and done.
A Drip
Precariously perched upon the thinnest of precipices
Oblivious to its origin or destined destination
Unknowingly anticipated by all craving life below.
A spotlessly, translucent, microbial sphere conceived in air.
Its molecular meeting convened on a passing dust speck’s spine.
Randomly snagged by the tip of a sun seeker’s chlorophyll tongue.
Fiercely engaging in a playful tug-o-war with gravity.
The tension is soon sliced by a solar sword ripping through midday,
catapulting the oracle towards a predestined demise
Its end sustaining or resurrecting those upon whom it bursts.
When We Get It Right
We are not entirely beyond redemption…
Sticking out tongues savoring fresh snowflakes.
Making castles from sand washed ashore.
Carting wayward turtles across busy roads.
Loading goods for those in need.
Smiling at small children without cause.
Pausing to admire a pink sunrise.
Listening to raindrops like cascading pearls.
Twirling on tiptoes, despite our age.
Putting out nourishment for all birds.
Wording our feelings with tender care.
Bursting into song, because we can.
Standing for hours, watching whales breathe.
Basking in sunshine, despite its burn.
Learning to turn the other cheek.
Taking time to cuddle furry beings.
Seeing possibility in every little thing.
Holding onto wonder until the very end.
Poverty
A King looks admiringly upon his impoverished people,
praising their hardiness in navigating such treacherous times
likening their weights to the crown he, for love of them, acquired.
On weekends all flock to their mount of choice – temple, mosque or steeple.
From those before and above, cleansing “crimes” while seeking the sublime,
angling for a good spot in eternity’s queue – as required.
Prophets, saints, the practicing pious and penitents are always poor.
Most claim to covet the same until asked to enact their desire –
while indigents place hope solely in an invisible beyond.
As the King lounges luxuriously amongst golden décor.
His flock begrudgingly grinding, grumbling and groaning through the mire,
as all prostrate to pretense in proclaiming their faith is their bond.
Black
A palette’s colors heaped in a globular stack,
eventually lead one to Malevich’s black.
All germinate in darkness swaddled in water,
then returning to darkness sooner or later.
Lovers snuff candles at stroke of assignation.
Mad geniuses crave caves for finding creations,
while thieves hide treasures in the darkest of places.
Asphalt veins conduct us to unexplored spaces.
Mascara flags down countless incoming guests,
as pupils grant entry to final destinies.
Boxes deemed “black” protect the deadliest secrets.
Whilst magicians wands conjure up wonderous feats.
Ravens patrolling the grounds of London’s tower,
safeguarding the empire’s prestige and power.
The key to unlocking each and every dream
lay in letting darkness illuminate the screen.
Transition from Translation
Despite disparate dialects,
we’re unabashedly united,
in parroting to one another,
flippant,
antialtruistic,
anthropomorphic assignations
uncharacteristically categorizing
flora and fauna,
mammals and microbes,
mobile and immobile,
spined and spineless,
sighted and sightless,
cognizant and incognizant
as incidental, fragmentary, pale imitations of us…
in lieu of comprehending the incomprehensible,
by explicating the exceptional,
contextualizing with lent lenses.
Rendering impossible the resurrection of Babel
to befit all drawing breath
in a universe none have created or control,
into a lingua franca all can extol.
K's Pensées 