The anniversary… the birth… the beginning… the recurrent knight mare… dream… the occasion of the regularly occurring time… a dance… for a dancer…a song for a singer… some music for the musician… a few words for the writer… a stroke for the artist… a gentle reminder for the lost that they will be found when they least expect to be… a positive reaction to the negative situation… a light in the darkness burns… and once the candle is lit… they are the pioneers once more… of the joy filled sound… the seeds shall be thrown… and where they land… only the heavens know… and the reasons why and what for are what they are… but reason is not complete… and the complete truth we will never know until we cross into the next life… sow the seeds together and let the how longs be put to rest… slap at the hands that reach out to hold yours… ignore the present… and in time their will be only that witch was… it is not from ignorance that shy people remain shy… it is from failed experiments… when the good ones are gone we are left with the best of what is left… unless we go after those that slipped off… and we need to find them once more… find them in the darkness with the light they gave to us… for it is a beacon knot only to light the path in front… it will light the path to the one who sparked the magic to life in the very first place… you need only remind yourself of them… it was never about me… it was in all ways about the connection of others to the magic that dwells within them… to light the fire… bring the match that sparks the kindling they harbor within… wet leaves can be engulfed in the heat if one possesses the fire that will first dry and then consume… a specific heat for each weary traveler… the lost soul searches… the artist paints… the writer writes… the love rekindled… the soul sparked… and what was lost was found… does it have to make sense… of can we skip that recipe and go write to the art… write to the core of what makes the reality a dream… to the center of what brings a fantasy to life… an orchestral arrangement makes the words more powerful… more interesting to the ears… but true words can be spoken as well as being backed by a symphony…

The song remains the same… until it is altered… alterations can be in words… tempo… key… they can be by design or by impatience… the like of one… pushed to the fore front over the need of another… the often left to the imagination of the less… comparisons have nothing in common… in time we find the one who matches our one… the twists of life’s threads make its an eventuality… the process of nature providing the perfect fit… if we are only wise enough to know… if we are only fortunate enough to be the same… to be in the state of being alive when they are alive in our present… so much of life is lived with the blinders on… in a state of certainty… blind to the world… hiding behind the fortress us… building the wall… comparing what we have with what others have and making the numbers pile in one direction or another… nothing is worth comparisons…when one does so they injure the relationship they have deeply… for they can never justify the reasons for the comparison… the world is an illusion… if let be… it clouds and leaves us in confusion… I place I enjoy for its less they clarity… I like to add a bit of something to each person’s view… I wonder what is behind the image of the eyes so clear and shimmering… the tip of ones tongue… the glance over… the shy turn of one’s head… all relationship plays… and the play moves on… and further on down the road we go… the more likely we are to find another one who really wished we could… another wasted day trapped in looking for meaning in another’s actions… bad ends to bad steps… the wall is confusion… look for meaning some place else…

Older now I am… wasted a lot along the way… some of it productive wasted… some it non-productive wasting along the way… the water and summer heat tended to bring out the youth filled dancers… the ones who desired the festival of delights that could be imagined just over the dune in the sands of time… so much of life is taking the turns… making the cross roads… going over and under the bridges in just the write sequence… and when it is time… let the waters carry us… let us drift away…

The records play… the music… my music… the notes of me… pass on what I have learned… I sit with head phones on lost in the embrace of the musical abandoned… I sing out in an endless cascade of instruments… knot one can hold me… knot one completely defines me… even as the art takes on the instrument as being one… it does not completely define the who of me… I am more… even in the depths of the best trance of artistic wonder… I am more…for the dancer… for the endless child… for the art of fingers painting… for the love of words written and described… for the meaning behind and before… for the meaning after… for each day… for dawn… for dusk… for the joy of awakening… of falling into slumber… for the wonder of a shared lust… the music is part of all that…

I am looking for that one word that will inspire a sudden and complete flood of the intangible thoughts that are running wild within my mind… a rash decision made even more… a desire that comes to settle in… a passion that filters into the magic shared and lingers as a scent on the wind… the music climbs… higher and higher still… I can knot stop it nor will I attempt to end its combination with the notes of others exchanged willingly…

Until the music stops… by its own chord…

The knight calls silence…
A hint of vanilla swirls…
Confident is she…

Rain falls in silence…
Absorb by the earth it drinks…
Feeding the parched minds…

A dream is a wish…
Kept private and whole within…
Some day it will be…

A series of days…
Expand the mind endlessly…
Today is just one…

Picture perfection…
A fantasy to be sure…
Fun to imagine…

Try to imagine…
What another possesses…
You will never grasp…

The bird watches me…
The forest wraps an embrace…
Nature has its way…

Off the remnants fall…
Scattered about the cabin…
The scents lingers now…

Wet tears dried in smiles…
Passion burns to dry the wet…
Desire is the key…

The day is off and the start… is one step higher then the end of yesterday… every time the blindness captures me… I look… and the vision fades from the clarity of knowing into the wonder of imagination… a ride to some where… wet and wild… wet and dreamy… I could close my eyes and forever wonder… replaying the moments over and over… for I have been to these woods and this place in the shade of these trees protected by the branches from the wet… from the elements of the world… witch can not enter this secluded place… to enter here is to let go the reality… it is to give in to the magic of time… to allow the times fences of reality to disappear and return to another time… it is an acceptance of the soul connection… of a rebirth of the old with the new learning… the plural one with the singular two or three… or more as the voices climb back into mind we see the first glimpses of those who are part of the hue… part of the forest… a familiar reaction… a knowledge of being part of the trees… the water… the earth herself… each step into the illusion becomes more real… more a part of the who we are… less of an illusion… more of a reality… a dream stepping into the world of our imagination… a wish coming to terms with the spirit that dwells within…

The hunger fed… the passion burned the candle to the end… both sides lit and glowing… both ends racing to find the last bit of the wick… the wax drips away as sweat from the heat… the air is filled with the fragrance… the laughter… the intensity to cut a peace… a slice… a juice to drip… and stir the magic of minds focused… feed the hunger… and sue the wonder it stirs within to change the reality in witch one resides…

We are the person we are destined to be to connect to those we need connect two… the question is one of awareness to the process of the comings and the goings… the listening to the stories… the teaching of yours… the message that each has one for the other… difficult it is to share lessons… to share words… expressions… and then in the passing of one second… all barriers fade… who we are at any one time is a culmination of the lessons we have taken to heart on our adventure to this place we call now… There are a lot of I used to be… butt I am better now in my language… I was this other person because I was blind to knowing better… I believed it to be the way… until I found my way… a more interesting way for sure… but then I believed the other one was right… it was however a lesson I needed to know more of…

At one point time is not an issue… at another it changes to being the one we deal with most often… the space within a day when we can do what we desire most… we have endless time for other diversions… but little for those that give us the most wonder and open our minds to the creative…

It is interesting to me that people who call them selves some thing often profess traits counter to the label they so proudly display… The history of any religion is filled with examples of actions counter to the beliefs… A view of a way eliminates other ways… while decisions have to be made individually… within a certain set of boundaries… a number of alternatives exist… In my life recently I have been witness to some actions that defy those who define themselves in values… for their actions are counter to the label… proof once more that a label is just the cover of the book… what is inside… defined by the actions taken… is what one should judge… and in each of these steps I see less of the ideal and more of the same general disregard… it reminds me of the line from the movie Arthur… where Arthur sitting in his bathtub says to his friend… I often wonder if fish get tired of seafood… I often wonder if people get tired of the labels and the burden of holding them… When did hurting others become a trait of religion… from the dawn of their creation… we fear the beliefs of others… especially those that are counter to our own…

Let go… the embrace… the ecstasy… the thrill of time standing in the stillness of it… a second being an hour… each ripple exploding along a certain line such that we feel the trembling of the muscles… the reactions to each touch so completely our eyes are glued to the other… the movements… the anticipation of and realization that the minds are connected so that to think it becomes the reality… the sweat drips… not in slow lines but in passionate flowing… drenching the skin… to cool the flames of desire that are threatening to consume… give in to the dream… let the heat envelop hue… in one sudden… passionate glowing burst…

If the question is on profession… know… if it is on pleasure… if one considers what I write… art… then yes… when I dabble on a musical instrument as music then yes… I consider myself a user of art forms… would I publish my words… well maybe one day… my drawings… well best leave them to the confines of my imagination… that does not however limit them… or my ability to use the creative process to enrich my own… often I find alternatives to situations when I am allowing myself to think outside the boundaries… this occurs most often when I write… or should I say ramble… with some music playing and a room to myself I can rattle off a long thought or two and never bother to use the punctuation… when I left formal education… a long time ago in a galaxy far… far away… I was knot known as a writer in any form… in fact I was told to consider the sciences… for you and words just don’t mix… I find that comment more humorous today… then I believed it to be true… while I did have a vivid imagination… it never seemed to come free of me… over some interesting times I found the muse… and she has remained a part of the process… reluctantly at times… but she is there… I did my best to cultivate that wonder within my children… who have a good appreciation for music… literature… art… as well as the sciences… and the ability to question… a desire to knot just accept on face value what another says… witch tends to lead into rather interesting discussion on religion and politics…

Art is what ever one does to express themselves in a meaning full way… it is part of the triangle of hue… in fact I believe that the truly spirit of a person is missing until they learn to give themselves over to a creative influence… is there anything more wonderful then a creative trance… one where you become one with the art form… one with the instrument…?

I say this to those who correspond with me… when you sit to write… just let go what you think you want to say… and write what you desire to say… explore the avenues of your imagination that you have not pushed… pushed hard to the edge and let the sharpness be dulled by the movement of your hands… by the exploration of the smiles… the laughter and the joy…

People find me… I was asked some thing the other day… the why of knot going after… of knot seeking out those who have wondered off… there is a simple answer to that… it is knot my place to follow… only to spark the light for them to follow… where they take it… where it leads them… is up to them… they will forever remain part of me… it is up to them… if they wish me to forever remain part of them… and the who they become… I let them be who they wish to be… and some times that some one is knot a some one with me in the picture… a lesson…

It is difficult to get in touch with me… the forest does not allow for the trees… the signal is scattered…fragmented… and only some of the words get through… the rest fall onto deaf ears… the first taste is sweet and then bitter… the tongue tipped… asks for more… begs for…

The relief is in the exhaustion… in the total collapse of the heart and soul… the body worn out by the thoughts slips into sleep… a passionate… deep sleep… a night time comforted with music… with images of the paradise created… of how one is pleased without a spoken word… the only sounds those of complete surrender to the touch… the moan that escape the lips light with the anticipation of the senses… the movement of one… coupled… a singular dance… complete relief penetrates the body… the mind… the soul… it becomes the drug of our choice… the pure pleasure of ecstasy… a never ending ripple… pulsing through hue…

The hands outstretched reach some place… it is what we do with the passion we know we can create… what of the art of hue… what of the songs within… what of the purpose… the new dreams… that wash away the old… what of the new pleasures… some times the passion is a spark that ignites the desire to be anew…

The place exists for your imagination to run wild within… once a part of a reality… it exists as a dream… a location… a subtle reminder that wishes do at times come true… I use the trips to sharpen the finer points… to make me realize that pushes to the limits of ones imagination only expand the limits… the intensity meter at times has to be slipped down a bit… we can put up other dials so that the in joy mint is savored… one need knot give up when they change… only notice now how wonder full it is to feel once more with passion… how we use that passion in the art of us… knot in the art of everyday feeling… butt in the expansion out beyond… we are so good at feeling down after a high… how can we maintain the high and when the time comes to step down have it be one step… knot a stair case… the place will in all ways exist… you just have to want it two…

Songs are heard in ears… hearts… souls do seek the meaning in the music that lingers in their mind…a single note plays in harmony with another note… and so it goes… it circles… an orchestra is made up of the single notes played by the many… pulled together in one movement… one expression of color filled sound…

What are the notes that trip my imagination… to play with the letters in such an exacting sort of way… interesting it was to over write the letters I have already written and watch them disappear into a different font… The strangest sound is the one where we hear our words spoken in a language knot our native tongue… an experience we should all have at some point in our life time…once a word is heard forever it swirls in ones mind as the word spoken…

What one believes more often then not colors the world they live in… for it is belief that allows one to see…

Certified…a criteria for being what it is suppose to be… another aimless wander this will become… the ritual of my unfolding my mind upon a canvas white with words hidden underneath… I take out my paints… the water colors of my rainbow and bathe the page… words appear as if by magic… my coloring lets out what is there… what is already on the page… I uncover the letters one at a time… a creator I am knot so much as a discoverer of the words left on these pages by another… like an explorer I simply dust off the rusty strings… pass the old bottle around and sing… after a time and enough whiskey the sound of my voice sounds melodic… even to me… the page will turn in time… to be in tune with the ever expanding nature… the flowers bloom… the trees reach for the heavens… the lost are found… yet we never speak any more… just speak… as friends speak… there is that never more place we dreaded butt knew was just beyond the door or turn… we hit that at some point… and the silence of the last years have taken an interesting toll… the distance has grown… shine on… the diamond… the rough edges yet to be polished… shine on… it can be seen even if the light eludes your eyes…the reach of the branches escapes the confines of the forest… the canopy is made up of a series of intermingled arms… laced together in an umbrella of security… even in the full light of day… the darkness is complete… certified I am in this round about dream of catching the clouds as they wander on by… the diamond… as rough as it is… is still a diamond… one only has to look beyond the rough edges to see the true jewel inside… I paint with simple water… and the words find a way to mean some thing…

The ignorance of what the silence does is not an excuse for remaining silent… the hand gets extended… ignorance of the custom is not an excuse for ignoring the hand… the words sent… ignorance of how ones silence will be interpreted is not an excuse… in time the ouch cuts to a depth that bleeds out… spills the last remaining drop… when there is no longer any more of any thing then there is know more to wonder about…

I can be trying to read… trying to over stand… trying to have a conversation with… I have this tendency to put on the pointy hat and pontificate… I am after all a pope in my own church like surrounding… and I have a card to prove it… some where in my cards over there in a desk drawer is a card that makes me a pope in some congregation or some thing… however it does not get me anything… not even a good table at a restaurant… imagine being pope and you can’t get a table… just goes to show you…

Most of the time as I ramble on… I am doing so… to just let the steam of this or that come out of me… today was an interesting sort of day… the water lines were shallow… yet the rain did fall… I had the cigar… I searched for Pink… I found neither here nor there the remnants of any… I wonder how and why… I rambled on about some thing in particular until I was informed of my general preaching tone… it was of course me… at my very best and worst… the game some times takes on a life of its own… a twisted sort of logic that confounds even the best minds… you think that and this happens… if I thought other wise then that would have been the end of it… call the game… what it is… just a game… and let the little boys play… the song is one of ever increasing amplitude… the volume… of my experience increases… I am surrounded by the sounds of silence… the darkness my old friend… I have fallen… away… to the write… to the music that softens and cradles my imagination… I find I have difficulty writing with others in the room with me… I am so easily distracted… while the antics of the dogs are part of the white noise that plays along outside of me…

I have knot written a response to any one comment… it is not that I have not thought of things to say… it is some thing else… knot possible to tell all… it is proper to tell some… so that a Miss Conception can grow even more… just enough rope to hang oneself… so I read the words so extended and have not yet found the words to respond to the kindness… they will come… they will find root in the fertile ramblings of my mind… there is one who over stands me… in the far off silent seconds of pseudo reality… they are but a dream… a fantasy of imagination… some other time maybe…

Some come for the excitement… others for the sex… me I am here for the art… the art of the dance… the court ships that wander the waves… there is the excitement… the sex… but the art is what I get the most from…

I have spent another period of time writing rubbish… uncovering the words from the clean canvas… maybe I should wash my canvas out with soap and water… for the language is not so wonderful and I have not used punctuation at all… other then to push one part away from the other… maybe I should just stop and crawl into the void once more… maybe I should use the silence… take my wanderings to some other palace… forgive the lunacy… maybe it is the moon glow… the summer change over… the heat… humidity… the starvation of one voice… maybe it is the end of the beginning… and time to start the middle anew… I have climbed a long way out of that particular walled in hole… I remember… forever and always… I am as I have always been… I remember the peace… the showers… the tears that flooded… the kiss… the embrace… the tears… I remember most the tears… I have not shed one since…some things we should never admit… for it sounds like a reach for a hand… when it is a confession of a loss… a confession of allowing the shadows to cover over me…

There is much in the riddle of being in all ways two and never one… for it speaks of me deeper then any one person realizes… until they have walked within the frame work of my art… to be in that state and know that will all ones heart and soul… the reach will fall shallow and short of the mark… that the one who watches over will fall prey to the dark shadows and when needed most will fail to be on guard… so I will choose to be within the hue… on the edge of this reality dream… and linger here till shadows fall and the last breath I breathe… the past haunts me less… so I will stay as one of two… and never have the pleasure of being the two that become one… and that sin air eye o will play out in endless steps in my life times of connections… I know they arrive only to leave… only to move on… some… lately… actually most lately… touch and flee… the iron is hot… and you know what they say…

All this talk of food has made me hungry…

Music tends to lead me to places that my mind wouldn’t usually go by its lonesome… the lonesome tends to be the sentiment of change… of distance coming and going… that life is beginning to begin once more… in a new delight of wonder… ifs are less frequented… less said about the edges the better…we know they are there… the places where we slip… where we fall… where we stand on shaky ground…where the darkness comes to play… the flip side to the light… is an edge where we are at our best… but also a place where we can slip… and take the slide down… an avenue that leaves us absent of substance…

The music plays… a reflection in the store front window pane… a crisp cross of alternatives… and the mind wanders in artistic license… taking a little bit of each to another way… another series of alternatives to pursue with wide eyes and open doors… another trip down the lane that holds more then just the memories of having been this way before… for even if we have… this one is a new journey… the harmonies of the singers… grasp the past… pulling those threads into the present…into the now of my reflection… I wonder… what directional changes would have done to the person I am now… I wonder what alternatives would have stirred the same only different me… the lady lingers at the door of the lost… choking on the words… the one’s two’s three’s and four’s of hue mingled to form one another the same ring that binds them all… speaks of the commitment one to the other… be it gold or silver… of a ribbon or bow… it ties the elements of each one to the other… certain lyrics… stand on their very own… sung without accompanied instrument they are as powerful as if backed by an orchestral movement… the same is true of the purity of the music that reflects the mood such that words are unnecessary… the combination of stills the time… freezes the moment… brands the memory for all the times I will return…

I was a fool for so long because I believed I knew… I believed I knew the answers… had them… had a plan… had a way… to get to the end without difficulty… without the rise and fall… and while my road is the road of much ease and less dips… I took the wrong one… I took the easy avenue… instead of the one that called to me… preferring to be safe… to avoid the possibility of Miss Step… who I feared then as much as I fear missing those who walk away to be who they are… leaving the emptiness of time lingering in the air… a slice of reality in the fires of my art… the fool believed in the ever more… the forever beyond the now… the endless tomorrows and yesterdays that ones mind trips over in deep meditation… we can believe a lot of things and never be correct in any one… but those beliefs still inspire us to go beyond the reach of one arm… to push further the edges of our imagination…to step into the place where flight is possible… where… the fall is cushioned by the hands of the many… where the best of who we are is still just there… in front of us… the fires burn away the fuel we feed them… the art takes its toll… in costs of time… in payment for the colors… the words… the music… that we feed it… we get to be the artist of our own tapestry for a time… molded by the hands of some divine wonder we can only see in our dreams… for the hand is there upon us and the power of life it gives rests within our souls… I was a fool for the longest time… but as in all things we get better at being that witch we are meant to be… and when the tide rises once more… the ship of my state will rise and free itself from this sanded bar… and with boat drinks in hand the waters will call… the sails will fill… and the oars will row Jimmy… row… and if I never see you again… I will see you in the dreams I already have…

A sentimental journey… one filled with places to sit… waters to pour over… and times to remember… the muse stirs the ripples to pass in endless circles… at once harsh and then easing their way out… out once more… to cover the endless pools of choice… each toe that touches the edge… touches one another… what brings such thoughts to mind… feeling alright… not feeling to good myself… sing along… a little Joe in the Cocker… a bit of this or that… take the words and manipulate them in tune to the music that steps the feet in time… take the musicians place… a little air guitar… drum solo… I guess I am better at doing the air quartet of the New York Philharmonic… a lot of canned music being played to the hand sync of the artists pretending… feeling alright… take me out and lets go for a ride in the rumble seat… the place of dreams… of boyhood interest… of getting some one in the back seat… the passion pit… the windows fogged… the heat… of the moment… the pair of dice lingering by the lights of the dash board… the singer urges one to go for all that can be taken… the giver receives the taker gives… and the smiles turn to sly grins… we did knot as Van told us… there will be days like this… where know needs or hurry… would be required… where slings and arrows would knot fly… peace full are the notes that swing us to days like this… a horn plays in the distance… a cry… a solo… a reminder of the singular soul… living the day like this… over standing time as he gives us days like this…

Clarity confuses me… a clear image leaves nothing for the imagination to take root within… when details are so plainly seen the imagination has little to grasp hold of… the hint of something more hidden lets the mind wander off… lets the dreams escape with the possibility that we can improve on this or that… a dream of high quality vision leaves out the possibility that there could be more to stir… more to grasp hold of… that there just might be some thing behind the some thing we see… clarity removes a lot more as it reveals what is… be care full of two much clarity for in the end it cuts and dries the alternatives one has… reduces them to the select few… I prefer the haze of unfolding imagination… the cloudy images of mind altering figures just beyond… the captured glimpse from the corner of ones eye that spurs a dream… a wish…

The crystal was clear… as was the view from the top… a sip of some thing… a reversal of fortunes and one is swept into the web of leaded glass designed to refract the delight in rays of color… and to look up into eyes… the pools of the soul reveled… as one falls in to the grace… falls in ebbs and flows of desire… the words are a way to let go so completely as if in the throes of passion…of fulfilling an endless desire to be the art itself… to roll in the words as they are created on the canvas… to change the colors… to modify by ones body the placement of each… to change the texture… the intent… the creative avenues by the plastering of the images across the sun lit skies… dipped in the inspiration of the muse… one finds the path to run… to accelerate… faster and faster until the stillness slams into hue…

If I had the answer I wood Shirley give it…well maybe knot… but maybe I would… who knows for sure… the truth is I have know idea where the flood came from… I just know to ride the wave and ignore the reasons for why… I have learned knot to ask… butt to accept the easy flow of words… two much self analysis at least with me is knot a good thing… I never question the muse… I just jump into her arms…

Sure is a way of over looking… sure means one can over look… we are truly at our bestest when we are sure enough to be unsure…

Personally I never try… it is shall we say trying… I like to do… or knot… I decide and I do… the trying is what gets one into that tentative mode where desired outcomes are left out because we tried… it is okay because we tried… do what you desire or knot… either way… never should we try… experiment with alternatives… with possibilities outside ones sphere of comfort…

The twisting of my mind from front to back… a series of turns… revolutions… expressions… exasperations… a longing to find the end degree… the last place… a coming to rest in the shadows…a need… a want… crossed over… an X to mark the spot… of where it… was for a time enviable… time that is… a question marked… a thought provoked… a message sent without words… the sort of expression that one is intuitive about… a look across an open space that locks upon the one other set of eyes that one has in view… the one that spots the color of yours from a galaxy far… far… away… the more one tries the less they succeed in moving away… such is the intensity of such glances… the head turned just so much that the eyes meet in slight shadows… the pools to ones soul open… and the water falls… in an endless cascade of wanting to spill every detail of a life… of all the life times imagined shared… a sudden need to grasp hold and hang on for a ride that one knows is an eternity of some thing interesting… the line spins round the pole… the pole around the line that entangles the web that is part of the tale being weaved… we embrace the teller for the price of telling is to feel the depths of each word…to live the story…

What we are knot interests the reader more then what we are… or believed to be… the why knot of course theory of relative space… why knot be that witch we are knot to those who will never know the true reality… of course it goes without saying that the one reading assumes that the words should be taken with grains of sand… salted and heated till the pane is clear… then placed in a frame of reference for future daze… the musical instrument… chooses hue as much as you make a conscious choice of witch one it is going to be… welcome the notes as they cover hue…

At some point we get back to where we once began to start… for in the beginning we are cautious and aware of each step more then when we have traveled the trail once two often… three times is usually the charmed step… threes are magical numbers… letters… figures… symbols… the ways of magic sparkle in the three points… the monster… the team… the pulling together of the name… the name… the train follows the track… it is pure… simple logic… when it skips a beat there is no easy way to put her back on track… a large crane… and a lot of patience… to put the chew… chew on the track once more… we have the technology… the ability to pull them from the jaws of the death they are about to experience… to place them in the throes of the winds of swirling opportunity… none of witch makes any sense what so ever… only that the love of one other equals more then the love of ones self… but must begin in truth with an over standing of the love one has for themselves… a bit of heaven exists in every thought of hell… the telling is in the story lined up in paragraph form… a cool breeze blowing the change across the fields of each ones dreams… do you believe in the telling that there is peace… that the wish of bring them here comes true… do you believe…?

I live in a fish bowl… fenced in to the ritual of this day into the next day… into the next… a cascading water fall of daze that come… go… change direction… weather cycles… a seasonal year in one day… a day of seasonal change… the heat so hot… the cold so deep… one world is not enough… one sky knot sufficient to satisfy the craving for being one above the other… some one has to be first and it must be a national choice… who cares..? Obviously at least one person does to some extent… a series of musical interludes captures the mind and takes it where the mind will knot usually go… a truly amazing journey… all that we should know… we do…

From this point on it is one track at a time… one set of words placed over the music to see witch one fits it like the glove we are wearing… a musical exchange of ideas… the sensitive side brings the tissues… the other side the shirt sleeve… each lets it all hang out on some thing… one to wash… the other to be thrown in the away bin… the mouse is free to roam being less the wire… the same reaction… on a different day… the process of gaining control of the crazy… and letting the diamond shine…

One set of drugs plays with the imagination with color… the other sets your speed to low… as the actions happen they are suspended before ones eyes… splitting the real time into sections a thousand increments of change within the one tick… the one tock… the singular movement of time measured by the human eye… sound waves at us from the ocean shore… over the rush of birds and water moving… the call… the drawing… the pallet awaiting… the words sitting in anticipation of the flood… there is knot time to think… never do I imagine the degree to witch the end has come… but all is in the well now and the time has arrived to cover the water’s edge…the magic comes and then she goes… a gentle rocking of the roll that handles my song… cradles it… keeps it the same… to remain for me the foundation of where I once was…

The here is now… a simple conclusion… for here we are… the first kiss lasts longer then we can imagine… a life time remembrance… of that… for each life time the fire burned… the desire filled the void… the please… the thank you… the forgiving for the emotional wave… the denial… the ignoring of the ants… the simple turn and walk away… the solitude and silence that fills the space… the phone that sits still… the screen that is empty of words… the avenue of sentimental occurrences… in the darkened nights… there is the one that shines a delight into all that… and the wheel is whole with the one that makes it all come together…

When speaking in a tongue that is knot native to ones own lips… it is important to know the interpreter intimately… for it is knot unusual for the tongue of the reader to slip…and project a false image… stranger things have gotten in the way of solutions than Miss understanding…

The feeling of age is a rather odd set of affairs… to feel age one must put it in tangible form that one can put their hands upon… that one can knead between their fingers… feel the texture of… and while age is represented on ones face… skin… the wear and tare are evidence of life… the age one is… is but a place we keep on the all two unyielding wheel of daily life…

The body is exhausted while the mind refuse to rest… the solace is some where within these words I have yet to place on paper… or maybe it is in the music playing of the dancing I am doing in my imagination… of perhaps in the process of the art being taken care of… the collapse is near… eminent… just a matter of moments… a swirling of intuition… a cast into the ocean of possibilities… like shopping in a market place… a place like any other… painted with signs… so we know the hue… the one hue… that is harmonious with the one particular hue…

Enough… is plenty…

To awaken… to shift from side to side… a choice… at least when we were younger… or maybe knot to exit the comfort on one side or the other… when sharing the comforts of ones sleep… the side we exit is the one we most like two… it is our side of the bed… the launching pad of us to greet the day… this side or that is not in question… for our alternatives are limited by the occupant… of the other side… and even as youth filled enthusiasts…we have our favorite places and ways to slumber… the side that is wrong… is often the side closed to opinions that differ from the ones we hold dear to our hearts…

The worries of leaving have been left behind… replaced by the worries of the day to day… the new… the making… the creating… the bonding to others as we have bonded to those before… growth in this way is difficult as we grow more aware of what we wish in those we surround ourselves with…

Age is butt a measure of ones time since birth… it is in know way a measure of ones maturity… actions… speak to ones level of maturity more… the rule of shit happens tells a lot about those involved… there are many escapes from the shit… and places to hide the shit… eventually the smell gets the shit found out… the mature ones never hide the shit they deal with the shit…

There is much humor in the institution of marriage… if it is lived at all… and it is… by a great many… there is much wonder in the living… to know some one so intimately is a wonder in itself… but to share the little wonders is special… creative and ideal… all those small smiles… whispers… particular preferences… likes and dislikes that make time seem to stand perfectly still… the joke about marriage is that it is an institution… when it works it is quite the opposite… it is the world of compromise at its very best…

To be an artist we have to be the artist… a strange sort of reflection… to be a painter we must paint… to be the writer we must write… and the use of the brush or the pen is but a choice… but if we so choose we should use it… a daily excuse to be alone… to set time aside for the wonder of hue to come forth…

As Alice sat…every one moved one space… a mad hatter’s idea… an unbirthday party of sorts… a happening on each and every one of the other daze… who wishes tro celebrate one day when we have all days to celebrate… a merry unbirth day to you all…

Most of what happens is truly idle prattle… the kind of nervous talk that people poke at one another until they get to know each other… I believe a lot more goes on behind the scenes… but on the surface there is that dog and cat environment… one side chasing the other running away… in a way it is sad to read of all the lonely souls butt on the other hand… after a time I realize why they are so lonely… I believe in the unfolding mystery… of letting one know what they wish to know… but knot so much as to reveal everything… My experience has been that once people find out certain aspects they stop… for example the fact that I am male is a immediate negative… that reduces the number of people willing to talk to me by 50%… if we add that I am married and have children… the numbers reduce further… add to the list that I will talk about anything and everything… and the numbers get even less… the strange part in all this is that… often after some one has written and they get all the information and maybe we have exchanged a note or two… they disappear for a time… then suddenly some thing will happen in their life and they ask me a question… me being me I usually answer… and we correspond for a time… then they disappear… once more… a humorous side effect of being me…

The nervous prattle of people getting to know what they can or can’t speak about… I believe most find it easier to speak with total strangers then with people they know… I have read some interesting stories… but then people tend to tell me stuff… I get into those categories of that is just a little bit two much information…

Take heart there are those who wander space and time that are not in all ways interested in fighting or nymphomania… there are times for that… and places… what two adults do in their own space and time is up to them… do we have a burning desire to know..? Well as you can tell some of us due… and the wilder the story the more people want to get their two cents into the flurry… the situation is far more difficult for women… as I tell my own daughter… men are pigs… if you feed that basic instinct they go there… and it isn’t a large jump… for men always have one foot in the sewer… so if you want to play with the pigs make sure you keep the upper hand… and it isn’t fair or right… but it is the way of the world… and since we live in the reality we have to know its limitations…

The fun in life is in letting the art come forth… in what we do… what we learn… what we share with one another… My interest is in exploring the limits of ones imagination… of allowing them and encouraging them to push the extremes within their minds… in a creative way…the theory of threes… the physical… emotional… spiritual…person we are is generally accepted… but we forget to pair them down even more… each of those elements can be split down once more… in general what is interesting to me is how as children we have endless creativity… that falls away as we grow older… because we stop making the art of us important… we stop drawing… painting… writing… for the pure joy… we stop the music… the sculpting unless it is for a particular some thing… what I pursue with people I meet along the way… is the peace of mind of being… that comes from being at peace with oneself… in the art of who they are… I have found that only is apparent when they are alive artistically… so what interests me is what the other has to say… about what ever they wish to talk about… as long as they allow their minds to wander and I will respond in kind to some thing they spark within my imagination… and they can deal with my unorthodox style of writing… my unlimited use of ambiguity and my off color and some times unusual sense of humor… I believe that by corresponding people get to know more… and in time they begin to over stand the world from another point of view… we learn… we teach… we pass on our experiences in the art of our choosing… choose one… two… five and express yourself in endless ways… the words are just a crude representation of what is going on around me… the paths of two collide and then careen off in another direction butt for that won split second in the universe of time the entire history of each was exchanged… shared… mingled…

Let your ranting be the start of the process… let the mind go easily to the words and set them free… I once heard writing described as the art of writing everything down you can think of and then editing it with scissors… maybe that is what I am doing most of the time… using the empty page as a canvas for my wandering imagination… creati8ng a place to encourage and inspire… and wanting nothing more then to be inspired… what greater thing can be said of another then they inspired me to be more then I believed possible… they made me believe in me…

Being on top gives one an entirely different perspective… the top allows over sight… a much broader view of the surroundings… the top gives one a sense of having reached the peak… of having climbed the highest high… being on top is a place of control… of being in the charge position… on top is the leader… as the reactions can be seen as they unfold before your eyes… the expression unhidden… the answer unspoken in words… expressed in eyes… or the sighs of wonder…

The shadows are best left to the company they keep… some times the best one can do is linger within the quiet shadows and hope… some times know matter how much we love it will knot be enough… in those times it is best to love from the far off place… it is best to be the protector… the some one who watches over… until they find or reach the one who can satisfy the void within… some times there is know place to wander to… for the light heals not the wound nor does the darkness… some times we all have to live in another’s dream as a bit of a shadow… a fig mint of their imagination… for it is best to be the illusion… the less then real… for the reality is much to harsh for them to come to grips with…

Love is an emotion that more often confuses and disturbs…love is an endless lesson on being true to ourselves and those we care for… there is more difficulties being within the realm of love then without… but life is so much richer… so much more enjoyable and happier when we are surrounded by those we love and who love us in return… even if that love is from a distance of continents… or times past… it sustains us… encourages us and inspires us to be more…

The only one we truly wish to change is another… though their consistency is appealing it often comes into conflict with our own alterations… while on one hand they become the rock of our foundation… on the other they are reminders of what we used to be… a prior time in our development… often those rocks see more into us as the person we were… ignoring the people we have become… those reminders are often more altering then we wish to let on about… some times though they allow us to remember the true nature of ourselves… it is a self fish need we have… to be loved… to love… to share and be shared… all flows from the most sell fish of desires…

All happens in the time it takes to dream… a life time for one is but a few seconds in the life of another… time ebbs and flows… crosses over and back… time here is relevant… in another space… irrelevant… one plays against the other… time… space… presence… gifts of one another in relation to the other… all this and more… for the space of time is endless in its demands… and hope full in our sue of its luxury…

Two often a pattern we use that brings us highs and then lows is continued for the wonder of that high… even when we know the lows will arrive… the reach for the high is enticing to the soul… I am fond of saying the lowest low we need to experience today is the highest point we managed yesterday… so take the high from today and use it as the lowest you will accept tomorrow… move forward… for there never has to be a low… low… point… or a place where we fall so deep we find it difficult to see… yes we can have the all of emotions… and life will send us obstacles… like deaths… and accidents… and emergencies…we need knot take them as reasons to plunge into… but rather as opportunities to reflect… possibilities to learn… times to question and seek answers in the solace of coming together of family… friends…often in these times we learn a lot about the person we believed we knew… in general the high of this day is the place to begin tomorrow and the movement is forward… upward… for the sky is not the limit… your imagination is…

We learn to trust by listening… by asking simple questions… in decisions… does this make sense… body… mind… soul… the physical me… the emotional me… the spiritual me… the balance of these questions all three a positive from all three is a good place to begin… ignorance of the balance will lead to making decisions off balanced… and some times they work and some times they give less then wondrous results… we know when we make a good decisions… it feels right to us… in body mind and soul and we form a picture of it working for us and that picture is within the wonder of any good decision we have ever made… at the same token we know of our bad decisions… the ones that simple didn’t work out… the image of that is in another location in our minds… usually opposite the good decisions… a simple way to know is to make an image of a decision you are about to make and see where the image goes… it will fall to one or the other… or in some cases it will linger in the between… that is because some information is missing… I believe in the wonder of the unconscious mind to fill in those spaces when we learn really learn to ask the questions… and listen to the answers we get… knot the ones we wish to hear… but the true answers… trust is built upon the listen to… from there is blossoms…

One still exists… for one will in ways stand out above others… one is a series of comparisons… a string of choices…a logical progressions… time spent imagining… a selection process occurs even when we wish it knot two… we seek out the one that makes us whole… complete… and often we find that one knot as the one of our dreams but as another who fills in the blanks… the voids… the open spaces… our life times are filled with soul mates… kindred souls… and others who give a little bit here and there… we find one who gives a lot… asks a lot… that we share a great deal with… it is counter to our selves to be intimate with a great many at one time… we select one two and let our imagination run wild with them… for them… a series of wonders propels us… and we walk within the frame work of our desire… one still exists… the one that makes us complete… whole… the questions… lead us toward them… until we are surrounded by the hue… and embraced as home…

I am reminded of the white rabbit… as one pill can make you larger another makes you small and the one that mother gives you doesn’t do anything at all… go ask Alice when she is ten feet tall… the thought of being a knight for some reason lingers in my imagination… maybe once long ago a part of me was noble in that way… certainly knot in this life time… butt maybe in another life time long ago and far, far away… my sense is more of a black night in shadows lingering… a protector maybe who wishes never to be seen… heard… noticed… who is just there removing the obstacles… before… a some one who from a distance watches over another some one… the story of their life unfolds not in tales of daring… but in images of a phantom…movement in the shadows… a mystery… in times of the knights of old… the last thing sought after was fame… fortune… recognition…a noble death in defense of a ideal was often the reward…one pill makes you larger… one pill makes you small… and the one that mother gives you never did anything at all… but I do remember in flash back form the ones that took me places and show me images of time before times I realized… and I do remember the peace of being whole and complete… and I do remember Alice… in the wonder land of dreams… her name of course was not Alice at all but another more serine to my way of thinking… a use full avenue of dreams… that carried me to places and held my hand in night mares and illness and spoke to me of the one… of doing more with the words then I could imagine… the one who walks in silent wonder at the very edge of my imagination… a whisper of illusion… the some one who watches over me… the knight to my armor… the image of my wandering… the fig mint to my imagination…take the pill that Alice gives you it does wonder with it all…

Some times the white noise becomes black… and interferes with the process of thought… in those moments one has to concentrate on doing what is before them… in time… with time we learn to use the stimulus of the activities to spur the art within… the music has stopped… the noise black come through the screen of white placed before it… a small annoyance to the process of thought… a surrender to the awakening of the home…

There is one quality of life that exists within those who are capable of over coming the obstacles that life places before them… that quality is hope… without hope we are incapable of going forth… hope is a quality of faith… of persistence… of courage… of determination… without that bit it is impossible to continue… hope allows for that… faith and trust in the divine strengthens hope… determination feeds the hope we have that be continuing on we will bring forth the desired result… our lives are a series of challenges… some people seem to have more then others it is true… their highs and lows are much more dynamic… I believe that is because they take larger risks… some leap when they should step… some jump when they should ponder before they do… they risk it all and when one does that often the trip down is as wild as the sudden rise when they connect…

In my life times I have been more of a gentle riser and user of the soft ebb in the tides that wander through my life… that could be because of the calculated risks I take… maybe I am more of a coward in relationships… taking the safe road versus the hard road… maybe it is because I was not the wave maker but the rider of the waves created by others… either way the highs and the lows I have learned to keep them gentle and rolling… as opposed to steep and spiked…

When caught within the muse of ones art… they are lost within the creation… a depth of creativity that is not as conscious as one would imagine it being… for me there is a trust in the words as they are written and then suddenly a letting go of the conscious mind… of the logic of words placed in any one particular thought or form… in this state of mind… the words have a way of finding themselves… and after a time… with minor adjustments in hand they are in a place where I find them use full… if I was to think of some one… I would let my words flow out and in that flowing there may be some thing they need to hear or an expression that I have held that must or needs to spring forth…I only get to be the shit or the knight once in a while… most of the time I am just me being the me I am as I pursue the me I wish to be tomorrow… butt there are split seconds when I am not me… but another me from a long time ago or from a time yet to be that happens upon my dance of words and settles in to talk to another they know… I trust in the wonder of the art that I express here and leave it to fate that the perfection of the words I use in the form they take is the perfect expression of me at that moment in time…

I look to the east… to find the answers in the eyes of those who can aid in my quest… a large number of who live east of me… in a sense the world lives east of me… the movement of the earth allows fro all things to pass by a particular point and direction of answers arrive from all directions… I look to the east as dawn rises to catch a glimpse of kindred souls in the fabric of time when it is thinnest and I am most aware of its nature… it provides for me the perfect opportunity to see beyond the limits of my human self… to the state of my spiritual self… it is in that state of mind only that I am capable of connecting so deeply and honestly with those who know me… the true person… the one beyond the façade of my human existence…

A point in time arrives when we are faced with choice…we have stepped out of our way of before into another way and been amazed that we are the same person… yet we carry the same face… heart… soul with us… only now they are more alive in the life we have… as we sit with time we realize the good things are not in all ways given… they must be taken… in the large and small dose as one eases the need… the art calls… the hue and muse stir within your soul… create… create… create… the work of our means to do what we desire has founds its place… the joy of our time is finding the times given to be wonder filled… balance is being played out and our life time is beginning its journey as it should… the sacrifice of before times… of family… of occupation… are passed on… and we begin the growth of the spiritual hue once more… the more you are seeking is in the state of happiness and love… as much as you fight the sensation it is falling around you… on this day… a day of endings and beginnings one should engage their mind… their heart and their soul and add more to the foundation of the wonder that hue bring… your choice is an easy one… in joy the steps… in joy the time… in joy the pleasure given… taken… shared and revealed… pass on what wonders you have learned… find the spirit within and let go the restrictions… so that the art of hue is in all ways present…

Pictures it is said are worth a thousand words… as our the measures of ones dreams… ones wishes… desires or passions… what we take is equal to what we make times three… so make wonders with the pictures… you have… and three times those wonders will come to roost within your life… it is time to balance more within the limits of your daze… the spirit yearns and the art calls… find the measure and means to set them free… for it is within the spirit that we do the most wondrous of things… and within the art that we leave the legacy…

We give know more then all that we can… we give what we are capable of giving at any time in our life… and so it goes…