The Next Great Epoch: The “New”

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I should be putting more work into what I’m attempting to do right now but, I can’t help but think existentially about what’s going on in the U.S. and the world,  trying to figure out how all the pieces fit together based on where it all came from and where it’s all going and blah blah blah.  What future scenarios are most likely to occur?  Just trying to figure things out.  How will things change?  Whatever.  

WILL life change significantly?  Change is inevitable.  Life will never be the same.  I think we need to face that fact.  Incremental circumstances create change that’s incremental.  Far flung circumstances bring great change.  Great change can be expected; the challenge is life threatening and we’ve never faced a similar threat before.

At this moment in time, life is an ‘Unknown Variable’.    

Life will never be the same.  The Modern Age we’ve lived in for all our lives is coming to a quiet end.  What’s interesting is that those of us Boomers who were born at the birth of the modern age who spent our youth growing up during the Golden Age of America 1950 – 1965 so too are WE slowly coming to OUR ends.  It’s as if our lives and the Modern Age have been inextricably linked from the beginning up until the present time.  

How beautiful that we lived from its birth through all the complex historical events beginning with the fifteen innocent years we lived in complete freedom.  We were privileged to have lived with the freedom to discover, to assuage a child’s lust for knowing the world and interacting with it, free to enjoy the pursuit with a level of comfort, unlike any generation of youth has ever known.  

I think it’s swell that the whole country is returning en masse to the only true place of refuge; the place where family lives.  What’s great is, we have no choice in the matter!  We can’t be for it or against it politically because it’s nature who has made the decision for us and I don’t think nature HAS a party affiliation. It’s more like a higher authority has declared, “Get your asses home and start all over again and this time, do it right!”  

My concern is, will the knowledge of that ‘golden age’ be passed on as a model for the future since, future generations will know little about America during its Golden Age and they will be called upon to make the creative changes that will lead us toward the next leap of faith.  

The next great epoch.  Or the late great planet earth?  

If they don’t know their history, how will they have any semblance of a ‘road map’ to lead them into the future?  

Wow!  Forced to face a new world built on family units, to pool resources and talents in order to get through the next couple months and move into the future.  A LOT can happen in two months and I expect a lot WILL since we’ve never been to this “place” before.  

Bottom line is, this could be the best thing that ever happened to family and country and maybe the world during during this so cared Modern Age, a fitting way to end the Modern and begin the New.  Maybe the whole span of the Modern Age was a run through so the same mistakes will not be made in the “New”.  

I look at it this way.  It was OUR actions that brought the virus into the world NOT through some cockamamy conspiracy rather, through deforestation; by invading the eco systems we are releasing countless pathogens into the world from where they’ve existed in stasis within their environment for tens of thousands if not millions of years, bringing them into contact with a world crowded with humans who have invaded the barriers between.  So it’s our job to deal with it and to deal with it right.  

We’ve forced these pathogens to interact with us by the decisions we’ve made.  But we’re not allowed to blame this on nature.  It’s human activities that have done the damage and humans who must pay the price or change our ways.  Either that or,  this virus will only be known as ‘The First”.  

We are at a crossroads of history.  We must evolve or go back to the old ways and invite more catastrophe to come our way.  Our eco systems can’t take much more.  They have already started to fight back.  It’s up to us to find creative solutions that enable us to live in partnership with nature and … with man.

Return to family means people will be forced to live life styles from a past age when all relationships were centered around the home; when this was the ‘norm’ in America as it was when we Boomers grew up during the Golden Age of America 1950 – 1965.  

The humble beginnings of the Modern Age streamed from the “small town ethos”, a kind of ‘mind sharing’ that can only happen in certain group settings but when it does, a kind of magic occurs that runs through lives much like the electrical currents of a social network except the mind sharing of the small town ethos exists in ‘real’ terms.

Maybe social networking needed to come into existence to fulfill the vacuum created when the small town ethos began disappearing. 

continuing …. maybe .,.. ks

The Day the Earth Stood Still

If you are visually or cognitively allergic to my more esoteric/abstract writing skip over this piece, take two aspirin but don’t call me in the morning. 

From the pristine air I’m finally breathing at the cottage the movie, “The Day the Earth Stood Still” emerged from the fog inside my mind I carried along on my 1,200 mile voyage away from the ‘real world’.  

Remember that movie? “The Day the Earth Stood Still”? In it, Michael Rennie portrays an “alien” being who emerges from a space ship that has landed in Washington, D.C. to give mankind one more chance to avoid annihilation .  

I see the character of Michael Rennie as a benign positive force trying to PERSUADE world leaders to work together so as to amend our ways or be destroyed if we make the wrong choices.  

On an abstract level I see the character of Michael Rennie giving world leaders the choice to live in harmony or be destroyed by a greater force … the force of division … if they don’t work together to amend their ways. 

Since for every positive there exists a negative I see D.T. as the negative force attempting to DISSUADE mankind from amending its ways by DIVIDING mankind into warring factions, thereby taking AWAY the choice to amend our self destructive ways.  

I’m NOT writing about an invasion of influenza. I’m writing about an invasion of thought. An attempt infect mankind’s thinking by the same sick drive for power that has infected the minds of mankind by tyrants skilled at manipulating the masses responsible for the deaths of millions upon millions of humans from the beginning of time.

Look around, as Michael Rennie encourages us to do. See the symptoms of the sickness already upon us, infecting us more each day; concentration camps within our national boundaries responsible for the deaths of hundreds including women and children, denial of hospitalization for people with terminal illness, arrest and imprisonment without due process after breaking and entering homes in the middle of the night, ripping families apart by forcibly removing fathers and mothers WITHIN SIGHT of their children justified by lies, always dividing; dividing parents from children, imprisonment of children, separation by social status sick people from the care they need to live, partnership with old friends and allies broken, murder, kidnapping, conspiracy, threats, hiding the truth, shouting out words of manipulation to further the cause of separation and the destruction it leaves in its path.  

This is the real virus that the alien Michael Rennie warned us about when he came to earth to give us a second chance; to amend our ways or suffer destruction.  

T’s sickness has transmitted itself into every person on the planet some to a greater extent than others but we ALL feel it within. His words and thoughts are the invasion of an ugly black virus that has spread to dangerous proportions. 

I revile this person who has sowed the seeds of our destruction; who has put this ugly, black, twisted virus inside of me. I wish I could puke the ugly black bile and the disgusting tape worm consuming who we are by words that have sown the seeds of our demise.  

But I don’t think it’s possible unless we all puke it out at the same time. 

I think It’s the choice Michael Rennie hoped the human race would make.

REMIND ME HOW TO DENY ANOTHER PERSON’S EXISTENCE

I realize there’s a better way to do something.

It feels good to figure something out, to solve a problem.  Comes the epiphany?! Bamm!  The light goes on!  You want to share the light of the discovery.  So you tell about your epiphany.

     The driving force behind an epiphany and the need to share is that you’ve made a connection that needed to be made or that created more awareness, more light, more memory, more connections.
     The spark is the ‘ah ha moment”.  It’s a brighter spark then the one that resulted when you remembered where you put the sugar.
     Realizations give extra light!
     When there’s EXTRA light there’s enough left over to share.  Sharing light is the best.  It’s the only requirement to love.  It can happen on the lowest level … a brief nod between two people at a four way stop … or the greatest display.
     Or, there can be light shared and darkness.  I feel like my innards are pulled out sometimes.  The light fails to sustain itself.  A candle in a corner of darkness sizzles to it’s extinguishment.
     Eager to share the light, I tell of the realization.  I see a look of perplexity.  The light from your eyes wanting to be received as a spectrum of light surrounding some beautiful thought that could be shared does NOT generate perplexity.  Light misses its mark falling into darkness.
     You WANT to share the light then see what form of light you’ll get in return.
     It’s the game two lovers play.  Badminton with lobs of thought conveyed by unusual spectrum.  If there’s laughter there’s socially accetable orgasm.
     The socially acceptable tool used to fend off the return of light was, in this case, a look of perplexity.  Light shared creating perplexity? Perplexity is the force field that won’t let the light get through.
     People have all kinds of reasons to keep the world external.  They may think they’re in love or loved, because they exhibit or display or accept the correct kind of behavior but won’t allow or don’t realize there’s no penetration on a personal level.
     People develop sophisticated ways to deny other  existence by exhibiting socially acceptable totally appropriate behavior that maintains distance.
     Words and gestures that don’t draw a person in by acknowledging who they are, what they’ve said.  Skirting around a response while maintaining ‘distance’ saying positive words banal but expected by the general populace since impersonality has risen in defense of a world that otherwise might be overwhelming?
     Or of course, if there’s pain below the surface that must be kept from being exposed to the world and we all have pain and we all keep the world at bay but some of us don’t realize we do this even though we don’t have pain because it’s the way we were taught but …..  what is life without real connection?  Two lights magnifying each other?
    These socially acceptable responses to a comment or thought are banal but required on a basic level but don’t contain statements that acknowledge the COMMENT, the thought behind the comment or the person who makes the comment.
     Has the word, ‘you’ been used?  Was there a follow up question after your statement which, would indicate the thoughts of the listener were captured by the thoughts of the speaker.
     This is one way to hide behind those words but, it’s another way to jab.  To hurt.  In fact, invariably
     After the attempt to share, when the light is not received by the ‘other’ and is in fact, denied … I feel deep sorrow that may last a brief second way down in the depths behind my sternum.  I feel alone.  I feel abused.  Like I’ve been slapped in the face.  Confused Disappointed.  Betrayed.
     This is just one example.  Conversations resemble broken fragments of thought and words, laundry lists, personal comments, transpiring necessary information all day day after day but, these exchanges can contain NOTHING of a personal nature.   … no recognition of who the person is they are anonymous beings saying the appropriate responses so that lines move on always lines even if they’re broken lines or lines yet to be constructed walking across the parking lot at walmart.
     To pay compliments is one of the most sincere sacred and easiest ways to acknowledge another person by finding their best thing then, commenting on it.  It’s saying, “I see you as a person who at this moment is special for this reason.”  It says, you are able to see that the other has done something well, that it has given pleasure and in return wants to give pleasure back.   recognizing that YOU have done it.
     Ironically, one can give compliments all day despite their disappearance into the well of bottomless words and thought where all unrecognized thought and feeling descends never to be seen again … Ironic?
     Frustrating to the ‘giver’, the one who yearns to see light taken in and returned it’s the sharing quality that means both people can experience a moment of illumination … smile and say … yeah … cool.
     Unfortunately, light given but not returned drains the life force.  It’s like,  if you’re prospecting for gold you’re investing a lot of energy NOT finding it but for a gram here or there that gives hope there will be more.  At what point does one stop prospecting and assume the character of ‘banality’ in return?  How awful, not to make connection!
Acknowledging people’s existence is what defines our essential ‘humanity’.  Giving light to another person and receiving it in return is the greatest gift as, it’s the only perpetual motion mechanism in the universe?!
     I give light all day in my personal life but, seldom get it back.  Under well defined situations there occasionally ARE exchanges.
     I try to create awareness by focusing on the aspects outside of myself worth paying attention to in the other person in my life that can be seen and returned at the moment then, as a memory can be returned to the ‘other’ later,  at the appropriate time.  A memory  recollected that MAGNIFIES, the power of the present if the light is allowed to be received without the banal, off-putting barriers that result in darkness.  How depressing.
     Memory is captured light that can be turned on at will to be used in the future.  It should be returned.  Is it returned?
     No.  Is it important?  Yes … but no.  Why?  Because, I don’t EXPECT to get something in return.  My only expectation is to keep throwing snowballs of light at the yaw of the hungry beast hoping some day to hit it’s mouth or eyes or deep into the recesses of its brain … if only for a moment …..

Gile Steele On Tape

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The Gile Steele Tapes; 12:15, Thursday
… She walked away from that maternal relationship with deep resentment for the way she was treated, unfairly, she was punished because she withstood the attacks on her self confidence, her self possession her intelligence.
 They became rivals and it was the only way she could defend herself.  They were her tools of battle.  They played their games overt and covert the old lady never really ‘lost’ and She never won but, she was as adversarial as a child can be without full scale abuse the result and anyway, their’s was more covert …. warfare.
What results is, firm imprinting on the purpose of life lived every day a war of wits and the knack for closing the door on black feelings as the closet or bedroom door were locked with her inside the dark where fears were meant to grow.
Maybe when we are under assault from any power we have to identify with the power of the power that threatens us even if we don’t use the same THRUST,  or for the same purpose, it becomes part of a person physically by constant imprint when those moments came to pass and those critical, nasty, intentionally hurtful feelings are in the air …. Seldom if ever were there tender words of kindness from a mother figure more to show how it’s done and how it feels.
And yet, she parlayed her upbringing by being an fantastic mother despite the lack of leadership along those lines.
I’m beginning to believe that the strongest motivator is the desire/need impulse or whatever to ‘compensate’ for the opposite of the things that plagued us when we were growing up developing self awareness … seeing ourselves as people for the first time though fucking skewed as hell because we were seeing ourselves  through the broken lens of our parents eyes.
Perhaps this realization deep below the surface is the driving force … the little voice that is determined to win that battle, discovering by steps and increments that, the energy that drives that desire is the propelling force toward acquiring more knowledge to move forward.  Using that energy energizes.  It feels so good.
About sharing your laughter?  I shouldn’t feel alone when I tell a funny story even if it doesn’t do much more than cause another person to smile.
I tell her I have a new look it’s wearing a baseball cap with the Camel cigarette logo.
Why is that funny?  It’s the irony of wearing a hat that promotes smoking multiplied by the fact that Camel is perceived as the strongest cigarette.
I laugh while presenting the idea.  The laughter that’s generated brings energy to people rescuing them from the lonely doldrums.
LONELY DOLDRUMS … Who WAS that guy wearing the Camel hat?
She doesn’t see the irony.  I make an analogy to the Lone Ranger and “Who Was That Man Wearing the Camel Hat?”
It’s easy to deny the existence of another person when they tell you a story they think is funny.  We smile and listen and make remark to acknowledge the humor.
If you don’t laugh it’s as if the words didn’t exist.  She tells me to leave her alone before I’m finished telling the story.  There’s no laughter.  No sharing.  In essence, nothing you’ve said, or done has made a personal impact.
Two people laughing means, you’ve penetrated the personal barrier on a highly personal level even when it happens with a perfect stranger.  Sharing laughter is the highest form of ‘connection’.  Laughter is the bodies release of tension.  The relief of feeling safe.
It’s feeling safe with another person or a whole bunch of people.
I tell her I’m finally getting a haircut at ten thirty.  The reply, ‘’Aren’t you lucky.’’ I respond with humor, “No, I’m the lucky one, you’ve had at least two haircuts during the time I’ve had none.’’
She turns and with resentment attempts to disprove my claim.
I raise my hands!  It’s supposed to be funny!
She turns, without a word and walks away.  Not a word about me personally .  My long, unkempt hair doesn’t exist.
Gile Steele

Naked As A Jailbird

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Photo by Skitterphoto on Pexels.com

I can’t believe that one single person has not stood up to T and told him he’s naked.  

But I CAN understand why no one wants to tell him he’s naked.  It’s his mouth!  

He “shouts people away” from telling him the truth because he’s ALWAYS been naked and he hates it but he can’t help it.  Poor guy doesn’t want to ADMIT he’s naked.  He has to keep trying to prove he’s NOT.  Which is ridiculous.  Just take a look.

Beneath the swagger and the downturned mouth and that stupid fucking hair that history will find as iconic as that stupid fucking ‘stash’ that H wore,  is a fat laden paunch of a belly creased where it hangs at his waist, an ugly little penis, spindly legs holding up his frame and a flat ass.  

We’ve all seen it!  Detailed descriptions abound.  T’s nakedness is a shared vision.  My grandson Max is fascinated by it and talks about it all the time.

T’s nakedness is the best kept secret that only WE know about.

T’s nakedness is an unpleasant truth we all share.  He’s the only one who doesn’t know.

But I CAN understand why no one wants to tell him he’s naked.  It’s his mouth!

So, I just keep wondering, who’s going to have the balls to tell him he looks so fucking stupid walking around naked as a jail bird?.

 

Hey you …..

He ceded Syria to Russia thus, enabling Assad and Putin to join forces against the U.S.  One less vantage point for the U.S. to stave off all out war.

China … was a useful ally between Russia and the U.S. since Kissinger.  Never a trade war or otherwise.  We supported each other’s market ambitions favorably.  Our political views?  We didn’t discuss.

There was balance of power.  Not so now.

T started the trade war forcing China to lose face.  Putin appealed to China to form an alliance.   The two largest communist countries both rich and powerful in their own right unable to win a war against the U.S. by themselves, now united against a common foe.

China’s closest friend Russia has ambitions for the U.S.  China, a valuable ally in his quest.  Beneath China’s thriving economy old school feelings of animosity.  The communist party hates the U.S. for standing in the way of them spreading their brand of governance, since the 1950s.

They’ll work in league with each other perhaps splitting the spoils in an equable way.

The scorecard?  Russia and China those two huge communist countries partnering  against us.  Russia is a strong player now in the Middle East the balance of power there, turned upside down.  Russia united with all the bad guys against Israel and the U.S.

Assad will be P’s oligarch off choice to rule that region.

Iran’s economy has suffered since Trump broke the treaty.  There’s a bitter taste.  They hated us then.  They hate us now.  Another vantage point the U.S. has lost.

Saudi Arabia the biggest arms dealer, could be a winner or suffer much with defeat.

Not an ally of the U.S. he’s part of the supply chain.  T’s the one who’s taking in the big money with the latest sale of armaments.  Lining his pockets with blood stained hands.

He made that deal within months of taking office, remember those pictures of T on his knees sucking up to the crown prince not long after taking office.

Back then, T knew we’d be where we are now.  After all, his job has been to facilitate our demise from the beginning.

Watch the economy as, eventually it becomes superheated, lacking the necessary labor pool to keep it growing, it implodes.

Where do we stand now Trumpies?  Are we great again?  If you say yes, you ought to be committed.

Can you deny,  that the greatest powers in the world are united against the U.S. by his decisions?  Can you deny we have no treaties to give us leverage, by his decisions?  You cannot deny that everything he has done,  has made us weaker.

We stand alone now.  Without the U.S. as allies, NATO forces will not be up to the task. That beacon of light on the hill, may be on the verge of being blown out.

We are outgunned 360 degrees.  We are on the brink of war all made possible by decisions from the one who will be seen as the greatest traitor in history.

Keep your money liquid.  Watch for the signs.  Have a plan.  Decide where to meet.

 

The Further Adventures of Gile Steele

Further Adventures of Gile Steele

So, there he was at the hospital exactly a year later at the same time, same place having the same procedure performed, by the same doctor, in the same room, next to the nurse’s station where a year earlier several factors came together in the middle of the night causing  an unexpected event to occur after his nurse gave him a tiny pain pill to alleviate the fiercest, most relentless pain of his life … then told him the next little pill would NOT be due for another four hours … (four fucking hours?)!  What was he to do?

After the nurse left his room he thought about what had just happened then, in a drug and pain induced brain fog pulled the tubes from his left arm and, using the food cart as a walker made a half assed attempt to escape the hospital for some unknown reason.

From that point forward the “real” world fell away was rearranged, reconstructed and put back together again when  the strange figure of a man appeared moving down a darkened hallway away from the nurses station, at two a.m. looking very determined, pushing a food cart, wearing black shorts,  t-shirt and a pair of white TED hose, where he stopped and was seen telling two nurses, a CNA, a security guy (with arms crossed over golfing shirt … NOT proving that he was a bad ass),  that he had every right to leave the hospital if he wanted to.

Soon after the exchange he returned to his room and fell asleep on a lounger that gave great comfort even though it didn’t take the pain away, after the charge nurse downstairs (an Air Force Academy graduate) convinced him it would be better if he DID return to his room.

And so, he did.

As to the significance of the occasion? He told me, “When an unexpected event occurs, you get startled out of your senses and if you’re lucky when this happens, unusual forces from all over the place join together, making all kinds of sparks and new connections and shit that gyrates, that sends light out crossing other paths, pinging, making, striking all colors never seen, crossing, drawn from people normally grazing grass turned brown, bored, lonely jolted awake by something worth seeing having never seen before!”

I loved the way he described it.

“Most of the time we steer ourselves along on rigidly separate flight paths,” he said.

“We are all far flung variables of differing spectrum with varying degrees of heat that would NEVER have crossed paths, becoming heat/light broken/arcing/tapping new rhythms, twisting smoke like colors never seen before, sparks and brief waves of light thrown into the void of all their dark spaces, the light of “being” allowed to exist if but for a moment, during the event that ends with people usually returning to their grazing.”

“They go back to their separate flight paths but with fundamental change.  Maybe startlingly singular unexpected conflagrations of attraction coming together such as these, reach into our genome level based on intensity,  the genome makes a recording of the event using stripes and numbers, the recordings are a measure of intensity.  They’re probably color coded constantly building, writing their own individual formulas, reflections of time and light twisting, building, building intent to reach some point in time to ‘build out’, anxious to accomplish the task or just doing what’s necessary to move about?”

“A recording of events totaling itself within the endless array of neural connections it has been branching off and growing,  we see evolution as a result.”

I must have looked perplexed so he explained, “Everybody every day has experiences that impact and startle them awake, that affect them on a fundamental level.  A split second after surprise comes the relief of being safe.  We laugh in relief that we are still alive.  People love to be scared at least momentarily.  It’s what we call ”funny” hahaha” … it’s a part of the primal instinct not to get eaten called, self preservation.”

“War is the most powerful experience bringing about change. Self preservation reduced to it’s fundamental opposition, boiled down to black hole level.  But war is no laughing matter.”

He loved the absurd humor of these startling, suddenly wide awake situations producing laughter in relief, the sight of people’s faces,  the startled first time behavior, the wide eyed, surprised looks, a brief return to childhood face, a re-creation of the 16 year old smile, faces dripping smooth then frozen in time with white teeth and sparkling eyes, adding color, filling in a few of the voids within,  awareness boiled down,  distilled and rendered into pure unadulterated laughter.”

He joked, “The opposite of war?   Haha ha ha ha …!”

Comments On Second Birth …

“Second Birth” tells the story of the rich and the poor; the depravities and blunted feelings weighed down by greed and the need to dominate the “Outliers” willing to fight for false values and lies

I’m always making polar opposite distinctions; the ugly extremes of greed and the hungry souls despairing of life.  People on the street with disorders, the potential for violence that surrounds us, money spent on killing and death instead of meaningful, humanitarian measures.

More meaningful, easy to implement approaches with small expenditure …. perhaps one percent of the military budget, could be used, if used right.

A tiny fraction of the defense budget, money spent to kill lives could be used to save lives and keep the fabric of our society from being ripped apart.  The success of a  simple humane approach, would spread.  It could get into the mainstream because of its effectiveness.  The returns on the investment in terms of human life, would be huge.

With a twinkle in his eye, Vladimir Putin recently pointed out to Fareed Zakaria that the United States is no longer a democracy.  He’s right.  As he pointed out, in 3 of five elections presidents were elected with a minority of votes.  How could we let this pass by unnoticed?  We ARE no longer a democracy.

Putin’s narcissistic need to draw attention to himself made him careless recently but, no one picked up on it.  His statement that we are no longer a democracy was a taunt that in my mind was an admittance of his participation in our election.  That cocky face told me that, “We proved you are NOT a democracy.  That your system is weak,”  alluding to the electoral college which, it was the electoral college that elected our president even though he received a minority of the votes.  Putin’s cocky smirk was to me, an admittance of Russia’s participation.  His smarmy smirk telling us our democracy is weak.  He’s setting us up.   There IS a conspiracy.

Oh well, overall, I think this poem is bullshit.

Way too many words with too little meaning.  Nicely written but contrived, narcissistic.  Nothing new,  a theme I’ve used many times before, the realization that real birth comes when you go back to where it all stared; a blending of the child and the adult fully integrated.

The piece?  A piece of crap I think.  Mediocre I think because I let my “self” become too involved in the creative process.

Just for the hell of it, here’s how I write.

I start by throwing down words and phrases that come to me, like clay thrown onto a potters wheel or a block of marble to be sculpted.

After moving things around certain words or phrases create a flash of light and momentarily I might find a spark of meaning.   It could be stupid meaning or, something colorful and thought provoking or fragmented and abstract or, worthless to pursue like discovering you’re on the wrong path to the Emerald City.

When I find something with viable meaning I start to work on it like a sculptor would work with a slab of marble searching for the forms hidden inside. ( Only with me, it’s the search for ‘form’ within the words thrown down.)

I like to build my words with sound and color and definition and beat, all equally important for me.   It seems poetry can be abstract and meander but behind whatever form it takes there needs to be a good rhythm section.

Sometimes when I’m really lucky I can play the words like Thelonius Monk!

At other times I wax in story telling mode, happy if it’s even a fraction as good as Stephen Vincent Benet, my favorite poet.

Now I’m working on a jig saw puzzle and a paint brush adding details or erasing sometimes endlessly.  Faces and shit emerge from the fog.

I try to write ‘in reference’ to or one step removed from the obvious.  Why should I make it so easy for the reader, it seems so sophomoric to me and boring.   What’s the use in being too concrete if it doesn’t rouse within the reader thought or wonder or a sense of freedom?

I let the ‘abstract’ carry me along and often it feels like I’m channeling from some source of creativity way below the surface.  I don’t know the place.  All I can say is, it’s a river of creativity and it has to do with dreams and occasionally it overflows its banks or rains on us and we get to glimpse something beyond the so-called ‘real world’.

As I struggle to make sense of my words I start seeing events from the past when light sparks for fractions of a second and I see exchanges between myself and many people or circumstances I hadn’t thought about for years; catching a grounder at first base,  bedroom scenes, the time I met a friend on the street I hadn’t seen for a long time or, the hilarity  my best friend Buzz and I felt when we heard the word “bullshit” spoken for the first time by two older kids, while we were walking home from school one day.

So, I keep working, dabbing some purple there, striking long lines for simplicity.  This goes on and on until I feel I’ve found and formed something from the words and should step away.  If I don’t, I often spoil the freshness even though the words might not be grammatically correct.

The writing in this poem “Second Birth” isn’t so bad but the words and thoughts are extemporaneous, spoken or done without much preparation.  Not well thought out.

The distinctions between the poor downtroden and those ‘outliers’ with guns and misunderstanding guided by forceful rhetoric spoken to them in Hitlerish fashion from the mouth of the beast throwing fire onto the source of their dogmatic thoughts are separate from each other.  .

Too many distractions blow a hole through the finality of a pretty good ending.

Maybe I’ll go back in and throw it in the trash.

Thanks for all you are … ks