Thursday, September 14, 2017

The Moon Rock that Pined

A love of mine
Has never felt closer
She walks with dignity
In the world of dirt that is life

And yet, I've never felt lonelier
Or more isolated
That.. isolated, from opinion or judgment
But also just from the messy thing life is
That I've studied...
That I am...

Like a piece of moon rock,
I reside sterile and forgotten
Having been ejected from some cataclysm
To rest on ground upon some forest floor
Non-plussed with the sticks and close views
From each of my nearest neighbors

There isn't a we, here
There is a me, but I rot here
With the rain and snow
With the sun and the thunder
Slowly splitting to dust
An ancient relic of foreign lore
An ancient wisdom, too

And this little moon rock
Feels alone
While a maiden nearby
Forages for her rock garden
Having passed me by
For easier, cheaper, stronger, better

But I come from the stars
I have watched nebula explode
I've seen the rise of man
And continents collide
I've lit up the night
And rest now, watching empires
Of ants marching along a deer trail
For the love of a queen and a scent

I wish I had a love of my own...
!For I am Moon Rock!
With a longing so alone for companionship
_Unrequited... Even_
As I rot to rubble, under a leaf by a beer bottle,
In the great Emerald Empire of the carpenter ant.

Tuesday, September 12, 2017

For My Food is SPARTA!

My house is still after long nap
Oddly the dreaming continues
And the conflict..
    Takes presence.

An old arguement resurfaces
As I peel a tomato into my bowl of rice with rosemary
And the food has centered me.
Cleared the agitating smoke
       From within my room.
Without having digested a molecule of ATP
Without really having absorbed anything, yet.

Somehow knowing I'm o.k. is enough
While I'm not waiting for it to be o.k.
Okayness is on it's way
Where I'll meet it, with a bigger belly.
And my mind is calmer, and seeking comfort.

Is that heretical?
To seek comfort.. calm... silence..?
It totally isn't.
Just like fun in of itself isn't a sin,
Or a laugh somekind of putdown.

Its the quiet, at ease with itself, Night
That spreads rest at no cost to one
The relaxed activity that says why bother...
Comfort, that boon of health,
Even the sick have an ounce or two of,
And the cool night has enough to shake a stick at
While the crickets mark it's passing tide of calm.

How ridiculously harmonious
Should I have a small bowl of rice and tomato
And two slices of cheese every supper,
Would my time always feel velvety?

Wednesday, September 6, 2017


Not much to say to an empty room
But I just saw a man and also a woman
Shrivel to death instantly
After placing a small amount of sand
Into their mouth.
Sounds like a plot bunny

Their bodies blew in the beach wind
Away rolling up the hill and away
Over and grey, clothes tattered and frayed
Until a man came to say you must rest on packed earth
"Because it's hard!" he claimed as I poked my finger into it
Leaving a hole, and scooping up a chunk to show
Him how soft dirt really is, packed or not.

Was he another of the kind of nefarious creature
Whom abhors the taste of Earth in their mouth?
Another, whom dirt is poison Extreme! too potent to portend
Too real to be mitigated?
And what's up with his need to make me uncomfortable,
If I just magicked him up to keep me from being lonely

I've heard the calling Reason on the borders of this world
Whispering, "come back, you're too sensitive"
Whispering, "come back, these are your imagination"
Whispering, "come back, that is all in your head"
And I in my loneliness and humility have invented life Extrodinaire!
While some of the people I invented, hate me...
With long days spent undermining their priviledge to be here.

Forcing me to endure yet another day with people of my unchoosing
Though every therapist everywhere for all eternity will claim otherwise.
That I do have a choice! I have a choice...
It doesn't feel like it, just as one does not choose the family they're born into,
Or pick the genes one enters into lottery for.

But perhaps I live because it is one complicated environment
Hard and difficult for whatever seeks to devour me as food
With lots of hard to reach ideas and books within which to hide
And I in my fecundity, will outsmart the naysayers,
Like a crow, and enmasse...  To one day feed on them, whom eat on me.

Thursday, August 3, 2017

The Heavens Having Stooped

I'm to the movies today
The frantic chase of moonlight
The brief touch of black
The recycled glasses in 3d-sight

It's fun
Who pays what
a paper stub
That fades to nothing
A million or more

Popcorn peppered floor
Sticky pop stained carpet
Dimming lights, staring eyes
Arm-rest sharing and fights

Mom and pop movie nights
Holiday season release
Trips to town pay-per-view
Netflix and Hulu, DVD too

Then home alone or maybe food
With stars in one's eye
And the moon hanging lower
The heavens having stooped to fake you

Saturday, July 15, 2017

The Exit Cycle

I want to leave stage left
I'd like a faster than light economy
One wherein we synthesize the iron
For a foundation of galactic empire
I'd like a moon colony, too

Somewhere way out, say Hercules
Lifting grid iron up into sky

And if water is life,
Maybe we can make it...
Take the hydrogen and synthesize oxygen
And back with the gasses we're energizing
Put down and grow up the grasses
Corn, wheat, what have you
And harvest with the electricity
We generated
  making the water for the plants.

The energy of stars
Can take as long as one likes to sow
The world has no end,
     Why shouldn't we go!?

Friday, July 14, 2017

Drippy Moon

The moon so full
It drips into my life
With camera brimming
The moon fills the sight
And down spills some Moon
Bathing the lands of night
Making silver black...
And blue, silver sights

And when we hear the sylvan call
Of chirruping from every bowery
The silence is merely interrupted
By our own footsteps powering
The crush of leaf, the stir of dirt
The brush of branch, the curse of hurt
The dogs of hunt, the cats of meow
A scolding squirrel, an alarming bird

The paths slap back with every footstep
In magic and fantasy, and in science and fiction
Superstition being outpopulated and overcome
Afore they competed, and now lie battle done.
The mystery and dreams are still powered on
But the elves are scattered, the lore despun
Robots and Computers and Machine Guns and Ammo
These, were all but dreams someone loved
For gnomes too dream in Ages of Reason, you.

And so with adieu, the moon drips lower
The crickets grow quiet the night gets colder
And two lives snuggle
                       a little bit closer

Wednesday, July 12, 2017

Step-Wise Beginnings

My projekt is not done
Every key opens the door
But only to another door
It is a puzzle piece only leading
To three more pieces when fitted

And like an arduino
This projekt can be built upon
For I guess I'm making tools
To satisfy my pleasure of making

Say I fix my car, now what will I do
Say I make a weather station...
That in of itself won't give me what I want
And the TEG projekt, generates electricity yes,
But where will this carry me in the future

So I'm still left to my own designs
The shed a shed
The supplies a supply
At some basic level, a squirrel preparing for winter
Endlessly running around for little more than survival

And I, a self-described polymath, enjoy the successes
Squirrel-like in my puzzled brain with pumping blood
As I seek acceptance, companionship, and opportunity
Whether that's meteorological, geological, or astronomical.
The physicality of these I cannot escape.
I wouldn't want to, making is release,
And variety is the spice of life.