|Sunday, April 12th, 2009|
a glimmer of a something disc.
And i care.
Glance left, and I should say
three hands turned to one,
but i know not why.
Outlines do not move,
yet I can see them.
And there are discs.
There are discs.
There are discs,
and they are falling.
|Sunday, December 17th, 2006|
age begins to touch her grace
folding skin untouched.
and i, i trace the outlines of
gentle curves just being
i laugh when you stare and despair
how you - so she - applies an ounce of dye to shade the shadows of her eyes
and wishes,so wishes, they were not there.
but I'll and poke you on the thickest part
where black vipers make their nest, and you hate so dark
|Friday, December 15th, 2006|
its past before its begun yet lives in you with each dying sun
blue eyes - green eyes - brown eyes
locked and broken are the moment's token
|Thursday, November 30th, 2006|
i drink to be free or perhaps i drink to forget. WHat am i here for? i don't know, but i'm here maybe because i know there's a odd chance something miraculous will happen. Thats why i'm here. Because if i'm not then i've killed its chance - and i need the chance for it - i need it's hope.
we speak, we walk, we do many things which are not us. I mean the thoughts in your head. the moment that comes by ever so lightly as you think without effort and observe without words
that thoughtless moment of reflection when you look at a dark crack on the street and hear a bus rolling past
thats you - that is more you than anything you've ever said to anyone - and it is those moments that make the whole of you
but its here that i can express these thigns most clearly and perhaps for that reason it is those that read me know me more than those who see me.
but i won't be the same in life nor will you - my thoughts are here and they are there - but they are not in life
|Thursday, October 19th, 2006|
The occasions are few but when they draw near i do well to find they right keys.
There's a thing about christmas that as the years progressed had made it less of one thing and more of another. These days i find myself more attuned to giving than to receiving. I may give in order to receive, thats true - i've not really thought this through.
Others have said it is the 'magic' of christmas but by what name shall i call it? Or dare i call it anythign at all lest i deprive it of that which makes it so dear to me. Is it an idea, a desire, a love, or a hope that things will be but for a short time as we want them to be?
That on this one day the world will act not as it does but as it should.
|Wednesday, August 23rd, 2006|
I didn't expect you to come.
Hey. I thought.
I thought she'd left.
I offered you a drink or some bread.
I did all those customary things
which require no thought.
You touched my hand
there's alot in that
i don't understand
|Sunday, August 20th, 2006|
For all of ability, I cannot write without feeling.
I tend to say perhaps and maybe and i'm not sure.
These are all true.
Someday i'll say.
I don't believe we have to make sense when we speak.
If you can feel,
but thats just a word
|Sunday, April 23rd, 2006|
Three keys turned to one
one to sky, and one to lie
They played on amber plates,
the last, a bit too late.
|Tuesday, April 18th, 2006|
i never spoke to her, just observed from a distance.
Another years or so passed and i was asked by mr.kim to represent him. I was deeply honored. i always had dreams of mr.kim finally taking me under his wing to receive personalized training and when it came - it was absolutely unreal. LAter i was made an instructor and put on a of a select few handpicked by mr.kim
the team i was placed on was full of good people but somethign was missing in all of them. jenny, the girl sammy had taught, was there too .
they all got better over the years doing the same forms over and over and over.
i got bored, tired, restless i jsut sa on the sidelines.
I dod not think the solution to personal growth lay in the repetition of the forms - i beleived it lay in each individual attacking one tecnique, concept, or motion and jsut drilling it in for months.
I didn't have to meet to do that, we didn't have to meet to do that.
I think two years into the training jenny started to show - i don't know what to call it
but it was ridiculous.
i can't really expalin to you how amazingly it was to see it in jenny.
LAst weekend i dropepd by the school to give myself a study break
Jenny wento n at the end of forms class and performed Yu-shin, a 3rd dan form.
I started smiling before she'd moved,
she was awesome.
everything was aligned, the stances were right
but it wasn't just that they were aligned - they were dynamic
they felt right
it was as if someone took the hollowness and filled it with life
it was smooth, slow, then fast
her strikes, precise and powerful
her rythm near perfect
and all just amazing
I could have sat all day watching her practice
|Thursday, April 13th, 2006|
I am not sure - that i know for certain
yet i believe this may be alright
|Tuesday, March 21st, 2006|
i wake up seeing the same room
i wake up thinking the same things
|Saturday, March 18th, 2006|
and If you're not on my list its because, i decided against
having a reminder of all those things, that once seemed
good now seem so very wrong
Cherish memories for what they were
and let them live in their own right, you may say.
How right and proper it sounds,
and how wretched and canniving i must be to say the other way
|Sunday, March 12th, 2006|
shadows made of nothing
wake me from restless sleep
to wait these nights with me
for that which does not come
A circle beneath me
shakes so terribly,
and i wonder if God did mean
|Sunday, January 15th, 2006|
If you could uncover a smile to see what lay beneath
what would you find?
I rememeber that warf in a most vivid of the second recollection
what shall i tell you?
that it was long and empty yet had everything?
That I was careless, carefree and of a thousand other emotions,
which seemed to suddenly rescind their abscence of me
if i had lived - i had lived without living
sure i existed
but not even in fighting was i ever really there. it always
felt as if i was observing someone else
i was too calm - even in heat - i was too calm
but i suppose we can all go living long after a part of us dies
I went to pamplona to try to fill in what was not there.
THere i hoped to find something to dislodge this splinter of
hollowness that had placed itself in me
so i ran - and although i breathed heavily and was bruised
- i did not feel any more alive than the
i used to dream about going places - because i thought the
place would make me happy
now i can imagine myself being in every imaginable place in
the world - and i have no interest in going
i don't want to know what my life will be liek next year
or next week - i don't want to know - because i don't want
to know what to expect
|Sunday, January 8th, 2006|
There was wind
that swept its long fingers accross the warf
a current of momevement
brought a breath of freshness
to all my senses
I was alive, I felt it.
|Friday, December 23rd, 2005|
it has always happened so,
that amid a strange silence
eyes themselves catch sounds
if ever they were,
|Tuesday, December 13th, 2005|
looking here and back it seems quite clear
that i have run from many things,
even those i held most dear
how is it,
and how does it come to pass,
that an object once so inspired
could nudge these feet, to speed,
|Friday, September 30th, 2005|
its late - again
whenever these times come up - i cannot but help think a of a person
a person once so central to me
that i do not want to think of it
most of you who read this will not understand what i speak of
because most of you will never have had the opoortunity to experience what i did
a pause here
for what i feel i lost
to someone or something i could not understand
but while it lasted - i could outsing-outplay-outwirte and outfight
every player of this world - because I alone knew which strings this lady loved.
|Sunday, August 28th, 2005|
|The Price of Wit
Those who have read john Donne's work and moved on to perhaps Petrarch, Rumi, or Neruda will likely experience a shift in the object of their admiration.
It is Shakespeare who instructs us that " Brevity is the soul of wit" and this is indeed the case with Donne. His poems are an intricate display of clever thinking. It is in The Flea that his genius of manipulation is perhaps most apparent. Who would have thought an image of a flea could give birth to an such an unnerving sea of passion.
We are left in fascination at these writers, yet I would question if that fascination is derived from the same source.
Petrarch's poems brim with the very core of infatuation and desire but they are quite simple and straightforward.
" When Love within her lovely face appears
now and again among the other ladies,
as much as each is less lovely than she
the more my wish I love within me grows.
I bless the place, the time and hour of the day
that my eyes aimed their sights at such a height,.."
having read sectiosn of his work, many of us are left in wonder, in awe, or amazement. With him the cause of our fascination lies in is his ability to convey emotionally his sense of suffering or enjoyment.
With Donne, however, we are left awe-stricken not so much at his passions than his dexterious display of complexities that he relays them with.
so i guess - in short - good shit - is very straightforward.
no explanations - just feelings
you could write stuff that doens't make any sense at all
but if you can feel what they were supposed to make you feel
well then you've succeeded very well
|Thursday, July 14th, 2005|