Poetry, Random Ramblings and Rants

A moment of midnight

“Hey, look guys!”…

the pain comes shining through

Sanity fades from sight

& no one knows why I’m blue?

No, no one knows

What makes me blue

Sitting alone in the dark

thinking about what I had

until the theory went bad

Staring

out

a window

Into the night

Impulsive, this always hungry shark

No sense of Wrong or Right

& can you tell me the difference?

It’s not black or grey or white,

dawn midnight twilight

Only shades of blue,

shades of blue

No one knows just what we had

something went bad

‘cuz now you’re sad for

or mad at me

A chain of pain

I try to forge a key I’ll try to be content

I’ll try to be content

like a cat sleeping in the sun

I’ll try to be charming

I’ll try to be fun

the future can be alarming

a moment from midnight

what’s done is done

Moments in midnight

tell me about Wrong and Right

impulsive always hunting shark

swimming alone in the dark

a moment from midnight

Crystal birds

Blasting sunshine 

I’m drifting way past sleep

Sometimes mourning 

Comes when morning comes

Oneself must give oneself 

Time to weep

& Sometimes nothing comes

 & nothing goes

Find myself staring

Into empty space with 

nothing to give or keep 

The Cacophony Calliope

Never slows

Shaman drumming ancient vibrations

Calling from within the deep

Dimly lit cavernous echoes

Of perceptive cellular memories 

I watch the world

And wonder how many stop

To feel what lies beneath 

The surging surface emotions 

That we act upon 

It’s sad, we could be so much more

if we tried to reach that unseen door

Strange delivery

a smiling girl

a smiling sun

in a crystal sky

Summers’ Divinity

A pleasant breeze

Flowing hair

laying in the grass

heated air

Silken touch

childlike innocence

shining eyes

Under flowing hair

Give to me

Let me see

your Summer’s Divinity

Beaches and tans

lovers holding hands

Heaven’s golden stair

on flowing heated air

A ravaging wolf is Howling at the moon

Swallowing darkness in the hunt

Passion driven blood lust

Hunger hunt or mate to find?

Caterpillar, weave your womb

Emerge a butterfly

from the tomb

Graceful wings of God’s device

Gifted to live twice

To also see God

in a bird in flight

in summer starlight

Whispered in the wind

Never to recind…

Worship life

I abandoned aspiration

Somewhere

in an off-white hall

Then

Last night

Poets held court in the park

& somewhere

Among the red blue and green

Haired leather

A spark or two awoke,

Danced w/ punks junkies

& other assorted fans

Of the darkness

That gives light to art

I know what the monkey can do

Got my share of demons too

Smokey shadows of shattered

mirror dreams

I look forward to the past

Hoping to find

The piece that’ll make me whole

The peace that fits

Where I

Tore out my soul

The other day was a beautiful day. 83° low humidity. Jill rightfully wanted to go out for a while. We started on a drive, ostensibly to Princeton. On the way, I mentioned that there is a nature park pretty close to home. She agreed to a walk, so we pulled into… Crystal Lake Park. With a mindful eye kept for Jason, we got out of the car and started our walk. We passed a sign notifying all that the park was closed dusk to dawn. Now I’m thinking “Great, vampires too.” There’s a nice paved walking jogging and biking path running through the woods, and since I didn’t have bug spray in the car, we decided to opt for that path as opposed to the ones that were just mowed spots along the woods and fields. Neither of us is in great shape, and I’m still recovering from knee replacement surgery, and walking with a cane. Moseying along, we find a shady spot with a wood railed fence overlooking a small ravine, so we stop to take a look. I’m mentioning something about wildlife when I noticed a beautiful dark butterfly. I pointed it out to Jill, and another one comes to view. Then another. Sometime between that and me running out of fingers to count with, Jill turns to me and asks “Do you have children?” For those of you that are lacking in knowledge of my present history, Jill has Alzheimer’s. And we’ve been together for close to 20 years. After answering, “No” and reflecting on being asked a question usually reserved for a first or second date by someone who once upon a time knew all about me… It’s so sad

Then I think about how things could be so very different. No ex wife, no ligation over alimony or child support. And the butterflies keep coming. Jill wants to go, so we amble back to the car. Jill, of course, wanders towards the wrong car, then gets in the driver’s seat of our car. It takes a little bit to coax her out and into the passenger’s side, and I ask if she knows that she can’t drive, she answers in the affirmative, with a mournful yes that breaks my heart a little bit more. She was so independent, creative and adventurous when we met.

After asking what felt like 57 times with no answer, I made an executive decision and headed for Princeton. Driving through town was very strange. I lived there 28 years ago, and we both spent a lot of time there back in the day. It was so, so different. What used to be here was gone or something else, over and over. Some of the old places were still there, but it was still a little surreal and sad. At the same time, there are a lot of happy and fond memories attached to the town. It reminded me of the butterflies and the changes they go through. I chose to take the longer more scenic route home after we decided not to take a walk. Meandering towards home, it occurs to me how Alzheimer’s is like a butterfly in reverse. You start with a beautiful creature and sadly watch as they retreat slowly into a cocoon, losing themselves and the things that made them enjoy life. It’s painful and frightening to have to stand by watching, knowing that there’s not much you can do. I can’t even begin to imagine what it feels like from the other side. Jill’s still aware that she’s losing herself, and she’s scared and confused a lot. She’s always telling me “I’ve got to figure out what’s going on…”

So I guess in a way, I’m always watching butterflies.

Greg,

What was your last living thought?

You went so peacefully, quietly

the way it should be done

but not at 28

It’s so very hard to think of you

as Not

So different, you and I

We were a gentle riot

you and me

You were such

a gentle giant

Always had a minute for fun

you’ll always be Great to me

Don’t think I’ll ever see you smile

Again

So if you get restless

Come see me once in a while

my friend

I miss you more, as the daze go by

Almost been here or there before

I’m still mad at you

& it’s still sad

I couldn’t cry as you walked out that final door

but I love you, Brother

& you’ll never be just another

Another dead friend

Somewhat

Like a midnight mystery lover

w/ the drug things we had to do

undercover

we understood each other

My errant almost twin

Soul Brother

Worlds of words

Oh, to think

If the people were

All Poets

Or could Almost understand

Holiness would bless

caress & undress

Yield w/ wanting

to the word “Yes”

So set desires on fire

seek them with innocence

Need not be a thief

or a liar

Poetry is sacred to me

&

Genius is within humanity

But, damn! You’ve got to look very hard

To begin to see

What would set us free

But I will start with

Poetry

“Lose the fear of pain

Walking in the sharpened rain”

Willie B. Good

I was looking for a particular notebook/journal… Part of the reason was to find the poem containing the lines above. Willie B. Good is a pseudonym, an alter ego, old blues man. I found the notebook, which has some good stuff, but the search for the referenced poem ended in disappointment. It was, how to say it nicely… Shit. I was 21 and doing too much acid and drinking, as well as “partying” in general, tho at the time, “too much” was an alien concept, at least to me. I was doing a lot of writing, but a lot of it looks/sounds the same. I guess that reflects the repetition of my daily life, as it were. I think acid can, and did for me, expand consciousness. It can however make everyday reality seem, for a better way to put it, lacking potential, which drinking was probably an attempt to blot out, which I was aware of. My mom sent me to a drug and alcohol councilor when I was 16-ish. One time he told me ” This weekend you were found, no coat, shirt half off, in a puddle that was freezing over. That doesn’t sound like fun.” He continues with “I can see going out with a girl or some friends and smoking a joint or two, maybe a couple drinks…” I looked at him and interrupted “Sometimes It’s not about fun, it’s about oblivion.” I didn’t see it as a problem, I saw it as the only reasonable solution. I believe that the episode he referenced came about when I invited a very attractive young lady to help me drink a fifth of whiskey, don’t remember the brand. Long story short-ish, she didn’t show up which I responded to by “sharing” the bottle with some friends. We were in a shed behind the arcade that the owner put there so we didn’t have to party in the elements. Sharing this particular evening consisted of passing the bottle around, except my turns were an impressive guzzle. The bottle only made 2-3 trips around the 3 or 4 of us. My friends were like “what happened, it’s empty already.” The answer became obvious a few minutes later when I started wobbling and weaving…

I’ll probably use Willie’s lines somewhere else, or maybe attempt a rewrite of the original material. Right now, I’m not working, recovering from knee replacement surgery. One of the things I’m s’posed to be doing is working on my book, which reads about like this here thingie, ramble or whatnot. I did at least start this blog, tho I’m still having trouble with the paperwork I should be doing. Guess I’ll work on my procrastination sometime later. It’s a cross between amazing and borderline idiocy, the distractions that I manage to find for myself, all the time telling myself that I’m doing the best I can. Circumstances, circumstances, home all day with Jill, who is suffering with Alzheimer’s when I’m used to (and sick of) going to 40 some stops 4 days a week. We have helpers coming in 4-5 days a week, and Jill’s friends call and/or come by. My friends, not so much. They do call, but as hard as it is to admit, I’m very lonely, haven’t even seen family in years, starting before the pandemic. Even had a couple friends come back to visit, call to tell me that they’re around, be great to see you… Told them to call when they had some time, then… (Sounds of crickets chirping) I didn’t call back because I know that they certainly had plans and I don’t want to be a pest, but with everything else going on, I took it personally, and again, hard to admit, it hurt a lot. So, complications with the incision healing keeping me from being too active and bathing with waterless soap that I hoarded up over the 2 months I was in and out of the hospital last fall keeping me from feeling quite human, depression, loneliness, being broke emotional and financially, not to mention losing Honey, my 3 year old puppy dog to medical issues right before surgery are taking their toll. I’m a survivor and I’ll get through it and come out stronger, but it sure as shit don’t feel that way, and hasn’t for about a month. I do get moments of sunshine, like when mother birds bring their babies and feed them in front of my window by the bird feeder, waking up in a good mood for a much needed change, enjoying a meal, or sharing a laugh with Jill. Ah, and life goes on… So if you like, you can wait here as I take another walk in the sharpened rain…