The next greatest adventure… the one after this one… the one to follow… it is not the greatest adventure… just the best alternative to this particular one… since we all have to pass through the door way… in my opinion we might as well see the passing as some sort of expedition into the unknown… it is the least we can do…

The quiet of night folds over… there was a craving for some thing I could knot have or put a finger two… I dislike those… they steal from me the focus of doing what I intend to do… with fleeting purpose I am forced to seek out the source… it is a test of character… a temptation… and I am easy…

Privacy is for us… know one has a right to know what is within our walls… butt we have a need to know what is inside theirs… at least that seems to be what a great majority of people act out… they want to know what is being hidden from them… and the speculations and rumors will run… a fact of lines is that they move slowly… especially the one you are in… and if you change the one you left moves and the one you jumped two stops dead… best to stay in the one you selected… you will get there in the time it will take…

Listening is an art that few master until youth has long faded… one of the joys of growing is that we learn to hear with our hearts and souls as well as our ears… in this way we hear the meaning beneath the words that one speaks…As I sit here tonight I have in my thoughts a great many who are wondering what tomorrow will being… I am unable to imagine such thoughts… lucky I have been in my life to live in the state of New Jersey… it is knot just a place… rather an attitude…

In life we often has these notions of when the right time is… fate ignores such wishes and places before us in time with time what we need… more and more each year I know the inner meaning of you can’t always get what you want… but if you try some times… you just might find… you get what you need…life does seem to give us just what we need to have… to open our eyes… I myself would like to avoid the grand being added to my name for another few years… being that my children are still engaged in school… and neither of the two who have reached the age of adult hood… are presently focused on one… I feel relatively safe that at least for a while I will be grand less… I know it will arrive… be plac3ed at my doorstep… my children will have children of their own… and I will get to full fill the parental curse and fill them with sugar and create monsters and then go quietly into the good night… I look forward to the those wonders… that for now I am content with them being future wonders yet to be… a fragile line is being walked in that regard… but it is a purpose full one…

Some things should be copied and pasted in all the write places… feel free… to let the walls be covered with notes and ideas on who… what… where… and when… with whom ever you choose to bring along… the ride will be an adventure that eventually takes its toll… butt having been off the road for some time… I figure I have a number of rides to enjoy before I have to start paying again… for now I will let the fun be my guide… letting the chips fall where ever they may… the sounds of water falling shakes me to the core… the hardest part… laid bare before the one… exposed one is frozen in the delight awaiting the response…

Frozen in place… time… a second or a moment… an ideal… a wish… or song… that trips a fan two see… a swirl of delight is conjured up by the thought… one can imagine being the object… of feeling the sinsations… of giving in to the desire…the passion of the moment and melting the frozen treat… savored and appreciated…

The ring is just there… a little up to the right side of things where the image of what is and what can be mingle in the after glow of wondering… we can have the content mint to savor while we look forward to more of the same yet different in that the next step takes us a bit higher now… as children we now the way to play filled happiness… for each day we feel none of the effects of life’s attitudes… we just play… be that with sticks… stones… or ball and glove… a tree is a mountain to climb… an empty lot a field of dreams… the ring is right there and all the other distractions are to the left… each person needs to take the steps to reach out for and gain the hand that takes them higher still… happiness is not a singular place… it is more… a moving target of wonder that stretches across our life times… a mystical ring that we wear… that we grasp… that we open and step through… the high of this day is a spring board for tomorrow… a nice place to start… to stretch our imagination to find the next foot hold in the mountain of happy days we have to experience… the dream is in the steps we take… in the experience of holding the hand… stirring the magic… pointing the way… finding the peace that satisfied knot only your heart… but your soul…

Ignorance of a way of life… does not demean the way… just our experience of it… we are capable of multiple levels of experience… the less we are ignorant of… the more possibilities we are accorded…

All the skills required are available to you… the journey brings them out… the road shows them two hue… it is the experience that churns the magic to life… the river to run across the rapids and the oceans to wave… stagnant are the dreams of individuals… who sit on the shore and let the mysteries pass on bye…

A question of morals… structures… the guides that hold us to a particular path… there are some universal truths… universal morals that people of good heart use… these are not as much limitations as they are use full tools for living… any structure limits… yet there are those limitations that are uplifting to ones soul… and those we should bring into our lives… to help us in the balancing of the physical… the emotional and the spiritual… we are the many varied hues that shine forth from our soul… and each one is fed by the peace we are able to maintain and generate within… our moral code builds this… it is the foundation of our life…

Unfortunately morals get a bad name as people use theirs as a standard for another… the universal ones harm no one… cause no ill effects… allow nature to maintain its balance… treat others as you wish to be treated… does not interfere with another’s rights… unfortunately some believe they have the upper hand and use morals a s a mirror onto others… the area most focused upon is sexual… and to be truth filled it is a place where people can be persuaded to wander… what adults do they do… actions breed reactions… keep to the universal morals… instill others as they fit perfectly into your lives and life will become more…

Yours are not mine… at least not all of yours are mine… some we will share others we will knot cling to with the same enthusiasm… what works in your life and in mine may differ for a time… they may be the same for a time… we will cross and re-cross limits and boundaries modifying our ideas as life challenges us… all the time building a moral code within us… that at its core contains the universal standards… each has their own set of experiences from witch to draw our lessons…

A child sees wonder in everything for they are not limited by the can’ts and don’ts and other words of limitation… a child has the wonder of being allowed to go anywhere without a barrier to their imagination… a child sees… hears and feels the wonder at the first crack of delight and never ceases to be amazed by the sound of a wave… or the rustles of leaves… a child can sit by a window and watch the snow fall for hours at a time… when did it stop being a pane and turn into another challenge… the ease at witch a child maneuvers the path of wonder is an inspiration for the artist within… keep the child… loose the adult…

The radio does play at the songs long forgotten… we hear them… and switch to the tune… to get into the beat… the rhythm… the moment before now when it was so deeply ingrained… find the right word… the set of words that meant so very much… that struck the chord within ones soul so brilliantly in that moment that life stood still… from across a room filled with strangers we danced… roll away the dew… the clouds parting… the embers placed to ignite the passions fires… roll away the dew… for the rain must fall… and with it the embrace of the life stored within… the radio plays those forgotten songs… in some far off place called memory or yesterday… a place of total recall… a bench marked with delight… that when we sit upon its foundation we can stir the magic within us to the very core… the planting of everlasting seeds in the morning dew… roll that away and the clarity of the shinning sun brings hope to the wonder that each song rekindles in our hearts… for we do remember the sentimental ones with such warmth they can burn once more… and fill the space between the yesterday and the today with smiles for all the places we have been and all the roads we have since taken…

Performance… as if it is an acting dream… to perform to the highest expectations and standards… to be everything that another wishes or dreams of… to appraise the performance as full filling to ones needs or less then that… did it meet ones expectations… a lot of things deserve a performance appraisal… and a lot should never be compared… performance is a criteria for a car… in the world of people… performance is a non-issue… for as long as two can manage the length… breathe… of what ever matters knot to who ever comes next… or the time after that… or the one after the last one witch followed the one when the counting stopped…

More daze come… they go… they are formed from the larger picture… a perfect reflection of the mirror image…one stares back at themselves and notices the daze… the clear unclarity… the diamond in rough hues that shines the penetrating delight in all directions… more daze simmer in the summer heat… more daze to sit and swing to the music that plays in ones mind…

A farm looms in the passing light… a stand outside sells the fruits of manual labor… a true gift it is to grow from the land a bountiful crop of ideas and reflections that one can draw in the sands of time… the land gives and takes away… a balanced struggle of planting… harvesting and growing with the times and cycles of life… each year a new challenge… each year a few paths to use to reach the goal set aside… a farm is life in its cycles happening… the spring births… the winter deaths… the lazy times of summer… the busy fall… the rebuilding times of winter… the promise of spring…

The daze is just perfect… one that can trap one for a time in the escape loop… that can pull one in… splash foam all around and play in the waves as they wash over… a perfect daze… deep… reflective… use full to the imagination…

I will have know morals knot worth having… nor vice know worth repeating… if one has to have one or the other I prefer the ones knot at odds with the others… so let us split our fascination with morals in two… for a vice can lead some one to a very sensational experience… just the same as one of a high moral fiber can be led to a sinsational one… when one holds others to a high plane they have to take the ride with them… what is good for the goose is often knot what the gander had in mind… the moral code is held high by those who under the surface miss lead the majority… we all lust at times… or covet of what ever… it is the action that corrupts the soul and the in bare assed response that comes from the high and almighty followers that prevent correction… people prefer to hide the dirty laundry then parade it on the fence… I prefer my morals taken with a shot of whiskey and a smoke of the illegal type… they are wrong and dangerous and that is what I like about moral characters… breaking them is wrong… and the danger is in the chance of getting caught in the act… so light up another one… just like the other one… and pass around the whiskey bottle… and we will sing and dance and say screw it till the day fades into night and the moral majority has gone to bed… and the rest of us can come on over and play…

The best morals are those some one is able to live by… without harming another along the way… all the rest is window dressing to appease a senseless fool who made them up… because they weren’t having the same amount of fun… and Godde nose the moral majority frowns on having fun… especially if fun includes some sort of sexual activity…

Guards patrol the edges… poking and prodding for the soft spots in the defenses… once found they can be taken advantage of… we have weak spots… places where we will fall… where another can slip inside our protective barrier and lay waste to our best of intentions… the jagged edge… the slippery point of know return where we wished to go but some how never get two… the view of witch we are exposed… twisted in our ideas… projected upon the screen as a model of behavior or as a demon of the other sides effects on ones fortunes… either way proves a point… that being a variation of critical mass… influenced by a folding of chairs in the distance summer’s dream… we are lost to the waters and found by the old mill… churned in the wheel of our less fortune to be spit out and washed ashore miles yet to wander before sleep will find my eyes wide open pacing the clouds for a sliver of light as the rains pour out and over me… the guards helped for a time… until one found their way inside and from that moment on… I welcomed the warmth… the intrusions… the distractions… the moments in time when all time stood perfectly still and I could smell deep the roses… and feel the winds of change upon my cheek… it is for me butt a dream… an illusion of sentimental wandering from a time long since gone to the now… when reality forced the diverging of paths… and each went their own way around the obstacle… and now I am wondering how the others managed… for my trip was challenging to the soul as well as to the heart and body of mind… I sit with drink in hand and feet soaked in waters that flow over carrying my dreams with them… for the tide crests in time and carries me away…

Comparisons… the process of seeking in one another… of finding fault with one over another… of seeing the likes and dislikes… in inanimate objects comparisons are natural… for we develop our tastes for color… food… entertainment… by experiencing one or the other… and making a choice… with people it is different… for unless we are experiencing people at the same time comparisons are a means to destroy… for once one begins to hold another up to the light of a previous one they one now will pale in comparison… the same is true if the new one is unlike the old… for once a slip is made they will be held in the same frame… best to say they are different and leave it at that… likes… dislikes… we know what we desire… positions… and attitudes are used in selection of a person we desire to spend time with… once that choice is made… the less we compare… the better off… we get… for the preconception will get you all the time…

Life is chaos… an endless stream of activities… it never stops… until we stop it in mind… to take a picture of an instant… one worthy of remembering… one that we will cherish for all our moments… life is that chaotic series of things flying in all directions at once… and we can find peace in that activity… for life brings upon the living a desire for more… such that we strive never to leave the face of the earth until we are weary and worn thin by the passion of our desires… in that moment we are willing to slip aside the one veil and move through the open door… to the greatest adventure after life…

Much was written before now… well at least something was written before now and left upon the other pallet… my wanderings of the early part of today will remain until the morrow brings the vehicle of their possession back home to me…

The rains came in torrents… all the water one could ever need and more… all those cries for more and when more arrives we are thank full it avoided us… so much pulled into the directions of destruction… and the path widens and travels further and further… a path of wasted dreams… and tossed ideas… and the waters will follow… and the floods will come… nature wins the battle along the edges… all we can ever do is get out of her way…

The general things must be taken care of before the specifics… the worm turns on itself… and one side leans to the one side and the other to another… it takes one to be happy is all… and that one is all that one ever needs or so it appears on the surface of things… in the dirt there is more… a process of ingestion… and movement… of the turning of something back to the dirt from witch it rose…

The use to be… is a long way off… and except for the sentiment associated with it… was not such a great time when we were living through it as children of adolescent ideas and age… youth is a wasted time for ones so young to appreciate… youth should be held in reserve for the ones who can use the time a bit more effectively…

The wet and wild thought crosses my mind… the sitting naked at my age is a scary prospect… there was a time… butt that is far from now when I could manage a smile instead of a dash to and from… if the lights are darkened and the shades pulled tightly one may find me able to let it down so to speak… some things are best witnessed with touch and the older I get the more I fancy that approach… of course with my eye sight it is like the blind leading the blind any who… old hats in new heads… new head under old hats… it is not the hat that matters butt the head…

The words are not at all lost… they are there all around you… one of the beautiful things about writing is that one can place before them all thoughts in any myriad of ideas that pop into their head and then simply edit out what seems a bit off… or rearrange those words or letters that need to go hear or there… in time we learn to use more and more words and ideas to create… notes are the means by witch we open the present and solve the mysteries that are before us… know one steps into the forest unaware of the trees… they may knot see them yet as singular… but they know a forest when they see one… a word is never lost on another… unless it is cast in anger…

I believe we are all more then we imagine… easier it is to believe less then more… easier to stay along the edges… when we begin to emerge from the hiding places of ourselves… we find a lot of untruths we tell ourselves… in time when we allow uncertainty to question the time… we find answers… and while most find it by the third decade… we can and often due ignore the answers… so easy it is to ignore… to push aside the creativity and believe the lies we want to… You are so much more then you can imagine… but until you do imagine… there is little any one else can do… short of a spanking… witch I have been known to do…in a twisted sort of way… my logic in these matters is to allow for time to run its course… in time you will be pleases to find out that what you need was within your grasp… and the sad idea is one that while use full for a time… serves know porpoise… it is in this light of knowing… having walked a similar sadness that I say… get over it… strip off the wall and run for the want of a better term… naked into the light… and let the sun… bathe you in warmth…

In some ways we are all credits to the gender we represent… some in a good way… others in rather odd or deformed way… what credit we bring I guess deepens on the point of view… that particular twist leaves a lot for the imagination… to let my mind wander… and ponder what is meant by being a credit to ones gender…

Singular is an impression or perception… singular is when the mind closes… the idea of art or the thought of the written word is more a metaphor for changing and picking up ones expressive tool… the more ways we use to communicate the better our message comes across… Miss Interpretation sits with those who have one path they use… one avenue of opportunity… when one art form lacks clarity use another… and so on until what is in your heart glows openly to all those around you… when we learn… really learn to control how we react we begin to influence how others react to us… and in that way change how they act around us… the other ways are varied… they span the range of ideas… that our imagination can develop… they are multiples of thought… scattered to the four winds… they rest in the grass and find fertile ground before sprouting… what we believe we lack limits us… the reality is we lack none of the skills to do what we wish in terms of expression… the quality differs… even that changes with time…

Toys are not designed to be assembled by adults… they are designed specifically to be dealt with by those who play with them… having assembled my share of toys from infant gear to video game systems… I have to say that who ever does this stuff is a bit of a sadist to the parents… what a child see so clearly an adult will struggle with for days on end… the adult mind is so cluttered with how things should be… they often over look how they are… or how they go into place so effortlessly… eventually we learn to bring the stuff home and place it on the ground and just watch as the children with a bit of help from a parents effortlessly assemble their toys…

The challenges we have in life often frighten us… as we step in uncharted places our feet are unsure of what we will find… until we learn the wonder of being sure enough to be unsure… As we live we surround ourselves with routines… we allow our life to become comfortable with these pathways…While change happens in this comfortable area… that is inevitable… the changes are felt slowly… until they are dramatic enough to shake us free… I like being unsure… I like the feeling of stepping on new ground… of walking in places I have yet to learn about… when I am unsure I am watching a bit more… aware of the sun rising and the colors at sunset… aware of the green of the grass and the blue of the sky above…how often have we arrived at work and forgotten the ride completely being lost in the routine of our commute..? Our opportunities to grow never cease to amaze… they happen all around us… a word in edge wise that trips our imagination… a strong believe in a greater good helps one to walk a path… it gives life that little bit extra wonder… yet there are other wonders… and other ways to reach the same peace within… that is what being sure enough to be unsure does to each of us… we can be confident in our ability to learn for ourselves… and use that witch we know to stir the magic within us… so that each day becomes an expression of joy… with eyes wide open aware of the beauty… step forth and bathe in the delights of the present… in this way we create a past that is filled with happiness and forge a foundation for each day yet to be that is strong… wide and flexible enough to deal with what ever wonder life has in store…

Every line gets a bite… eventually that is… until maybe it is buried in the sands of time… yet even those are found at some point by seekers of the truth… who with modern minds and ideas attempt to piece together another time and place… A thought can conjure up many responses… inspired some may be… altering others may be… so when we throw out the line… and the bite takes hold… we are anticipating being the one who reels in the catch… when in fact it may be us who is being pulled in two the water… and dragged off to another place… exposed to a completely different set of ideas… encouraged to write… to draw… to express ourselves with what ever creative wonder we can employ… what we believed to be a chance becomes an opportunity for more then just words… more then just a casual exchange… we become inspired to take the magic stirred and use it to fill the world around us… we dive in instead of being pulled… we cast our lines to grab hold the possibilities that are floating bye in the knowledge we will catch one and hold on for dear life as we are pulled deep into its wonder…your thought inspired another… thought… that is cast into the other thoughts and I wonder if you will bite back..?

In stepping away… we allow time… to open a doorway for us… what eludes us is that way of taking stock of the shape of things… and then to see the doorway in witch that shape will easily fit… there are many and they are varied… this is true in all aspects of life… some times we do force ourselves to fit into a specific opportunity that is not really for us… it is some thing we want desperately… what we need awaits us… the doorway just needs to be sensed in among the chaos and clouds to our minds…

We all have lives… what we do with them is the quest… you have a life… you live… perhaps you would in joy another life… another past… present… and future..? Would knot each one of us want a change in some aspect of our lives..? To that I say… what about today..? What about the wonder of exploring today… it is just dirt eventually… all of this… so why knot get down and play… let go of the structure that says you are this and that… who cares about the question as long as you grasp the answer… it is just dirt… until it is knot… until it is enriched with your imagination of a plant growing in the garden… until it is filled with flowers or vegetables that bring a smile to your lips… we all have lives… use full ones that are surrounded by wonder and opportunity… the fact that we are blind to them… only means we have some thing yet to learn to kick our ass into gear… it is easy to sit and not then it is to stand, move and do… either we do it with a sense of wonder and joy… or life does it for us… dragging us into the tomorrow… I have done both… and I can say from experience… the former is much more then the ladder…

Difference is that knot what we seek…? Is that knot the wonder..? I am often told that… that my style is poetic or that one is unsure what to write in return… as if I am holding up the words I get in comparison to what I write… I judge not the quality… quantity or frequency… I enjoy each note I receive… some will spark a long engaging thought that twists and turns and bends the imagination… others will ignite a passionate response… still others may get a one line answer to a specific question…I am sure enough to be unsure of how exactly I will answer or respond in kind to any note I receive… I sort of let the inspiration of the moment land where it may…

We gain confidence by doing… our hesitancy in doing a creative something is often that we compare ourselves to others… as if to say… I’m know Rembrandt… so there fore I shall knot paint… well I am sure Rembrandt painted a lot of crap… as I have written a lot of crap… it took time and patience on my part and a lot of diligence on the part of those I correspond with before I tripped up on my own unique style… and believe me… If I can write… any one can… it is just the transformation of ones thoughts from thin are to tangible form for distribution to those we wish to share with… it is also a historical record of where our hearts… minds and souls are at any one particular time… I have also used the art to relieve the burdens I some times feel surrounded by… it is more then a corresponding dance with another… it is a place I can go to release the wonder of each day… and share it with some one…

I encourage you to just let your mind go and write what ever comes to mind… I enjoy many varied thoughts and ideas… pick one that inspires you… and let your fingers create a work in progress that will grow in time… the beauty of computers is that we can return to update and cultivate the seeds we plant this day… tomorrow and each day from this one on…

There is a scattering of students in my family… and they are as different as the sun and the moon… each having their own unique style or sense of what to do… and when to do it… often the youngest… who has just entered the realm of teenagedom… the place where all things are known and parents are subjects to be tolerated and used for transportation… food… clothing and little else… finds that little effort is required to retain the words read… and numbers positioned… My daughter the jewel between the two thorns… being five years older and a bit more focused in her studies has a very clear idea of what is required… the oldest… who has just recently escaped the perils of teenagedom has come into the awareness of a young adults life… responsibility… actions… reactions… the cost of decisions made… two have traveled to the places of higher education as of the other day and one is left home with the parental units to endure their love and overstanding as best as he can… the others are for the school year on their own… in a relatively safe environment… nestled away from the parents who for so long protected and nurtured but for the last few weeks seemed to be the cause of so much angst…

A right word puzzles me… for to seek it is a quest all writers of consequence have… the right word however is not some thing that one captures of finds… the word sort of finds us… it is a combination of time… place… and people… it is the music in the air and the soft sounds upon the wind… the perfect right word finds its way to ones lips as they part taking in all the seen and unseen elements of a persons’ unconscious as well as conscious ideas… so much is nonverbal… in relationships… in correspond dances… the line thin that each walks… that to do it with out falling is miraculous… as we are witnesses two… the fall can be deep to depths we never imagined… the rewards however are words that lift ones soul to heights never imagined reachable… the right words some how find their way into ones heart… your soul… and then they find voice in your tongue and lips…

Have you ever noticed that certain music inspires long winded cascades of words… while other styles feeds the shouts of single words…? I have noticed the ability of soft tones to feed a melodic adventure… the pulling from the inside out… and once the investigation gets started we open the port hole in and the water inside flows out… the tears we never cried… the words that would have made us die… in bare assing moments when we felt so naked to the world… that we ran and hid within ourselves… wrapping ourselves in the forest of similarity to be lost to the eyes of others… unable to be seen as a singular tree… only as part of the forest… part of the waters of the raging stream of youth… the melody pulls the angst of youth… our clumsy attempts to get close enough to a certain some one because we had this image of them being so special… only to find they were as out of place or even more so then we were… the difference was not as great as the canyon we were told it was… more a crack that could easily be jumped over… if we could only have seen… what eluded us was obvious to those who have walked the path before… but our sense were closed to those who had gone on before… preferring to listen to those we huddle close two… the music was the sound that pulled us closer… that locked the moments of triumph in our minds… that played passions… that stilled desires… and when we hear those melodies play we are reminded that youth is a precious time wasted on the young… and while age has taken its toll on us in a physical sense it has enlightened us to the joys of exploring our opportunities and taking advantage of those that come up on us…

Imagine there is all we ever wished… that the rituals of the structures of our life are illusions we created… imagine that the limits we sense are the fantasy… and the reality is that nothing holds you back from flying to the ends of the world in search of the spiritual hue… imagine that the dreamers are the realist and the realists fanciful sculptors of ideals… the boundaries of language and confidence are imagined states… that exist only as long as one stays within the boundaries of them…

I over stand the lust of living…having lived in a state of lifelessness for a lot of my life… I now seize the opportunities as they approach… perhaps more then I should… there are times when the caution flags should fly high and be heard to flap in the breeze… still the alternative was an early grave with health related difficulties that have some how disappeared… I over stand the lust… and want to have it feed my life… to point me towards those places that fill the wonder of each day as opposed to those that take away… While stuck in the structure I was battered and bogged down by the religious ideals of another place and time… I still struggle with the structure having found the wonder of the underlying message… one can often find me in debate over the methods of the madness and the wonder of the meaning being buried… life is for the living to explore all the possibilities… to share them with as many other souls as is possible… to cultivate their being to be the gift to one another that inspires great achievements in the art of the individual…

The comfortable feel of being content with today… is a pleasure most thought never to reach… and yet it is a sign that we must… that we need… that we can grasp more… that the work in progress of our lives is not complete… and today this present is before us to plant the seeds that we can reap in later days… this day and night is a culmination of all the yesterdays we toiled and strived to put our art to proper use… each time we take up our artistic tools we are contributing to the joy we will experience in a tomorrow yet to arrive… we are planting and cultivating the art of our release… the art that sings within us… the art that plays a melody so rich and so stirring our soul rises up from its earthly confines to sing with the angels for a time… before returning to us… and often we are amazed at the words we write… the pictures we paint… the songs we sing or the melodies we create… we are touched by the muse of our creativity and inspired to reach beyond the façade and pull forth from the canvas the picture that is trapped in the white crying to come forth into the delight of this life’s existence…

As I roll in the colors… of this present… I let my imagination roam free and wild and open to the course that emotions will wave over me… I set myself to drifting on the waves and the water and giving into the hand of fate to lead me to some place… or a some one who will touch my soul so deep… that words will flow in endless cascades… into the pool of my resources to fill page after page… to help in some way to inspire the perfect picture… the perfect melody of sounds that step forth from the ecstasy… shared and desired…

To each their own ways come… the pleasure is what the pain is knot… one works to achieve a certain level of some thing… that certain level becomes the goal… once reached we some times find the place less then what we imagined it to be… a common Miss Conception… is that the greener grass is a better place to be… while enticing to the eyes it may hide a myriad of other opportunities that the place we are in or path we are on offers little of… the knot knowing is what often leads us to stay where we are… that fear is captivating to the mind… it stills the desire to move forward… restricts the responses and holds the imagination to within a certain level…

Some words just mean more then others… some we take for granted others we hold so dear and precious they tare at our very souls… perhaps it is the voice associated with the words more then the words themselves… or the wonder of who speaks them… or what we have blended into the words… the common way to go… is often uncommon in another’s minds eye…

The songs we choose to listen two are an intermingling of the unconscious with the conscious… as we search for an answer our unconscious directs us to a possible solution in the words of a song some where in time… we some how manage to hear the words in the chaos of our day as loud and as clear as if spoken directly to us… I was lost in the rain and the song speaks of paths to the right and suddenly the road I want appears on the right… in the midst of activities that push and pull and stress at my very being… the lyrics of let it be float to the very top… yes we are tied to the words… to melodies… to the processes of our conscious and unconscious minds as they navigate us from one port in the journey of our life times to the next…

The songs that are playing in my mind at this time are varied… I let the voices of the moon howl at me for a time and the strings be gently strummed by those who are interested enough to inspire a note… or to reach within the walls of my fortress and walk the gangways with me… once some one has a key to a wall it falls away at their touch… in the last few days I have heard a lot of varied sounds… soft melodies that retool the imagination… spark the past memories of the sentimental variety… I shared a number of tunes with my children and while our tastes are different they can listen to the likes of dad’s eclectic tastes easily and readily… wasted on the way plays on the computer… each word seems to find a spot within the wall of me… so much love to make up every where you turn… love we have wasted on the way… let the water come and carry us away… at each switch of the songs… my mind wanders… and finds the place where I can relate to the music within… I am some place and know place in particular… I am here and else where… some melodies need know introduction… while others I struggle to get a reflection up on…

The true difference for me between the fantasy and the reality… is that in reality each dream must be satisfied… so there is a lot of compromise that does not occur in the land of dreams… there it is mine or yours that is culminated with little know effect on another… we are filled with the wonder of our dream and we live it fully in the confines of our safe place… in reality we have factors beyond our control… distance… space… time… families… responsibilities… knot to mention we have to limit our dreams to what is sort of possible in the time we have… we can dream about being transported instantly to a tropical island… in reality we have to plan a trip and travel there… our dream can transport us there in a second the reality can take a bit longer… that is why for me the reality is limiting while the fantasy is limitless… in there it is a soul to soul touch that is beyond the reach of any ones reality…

We can choose to ignore the possibilities and let the world influence us… the opposite is probably more truth filled… that is that we have alternatives with better outcomes… and we can influence the world around us… often we are the force that pushes the trends in a direction… of change… of opportunity… so many just stop and let the wave flow over them… better to be buried within… lost under the mountain of water then to swim… to fight the current and reach the other shore… the hand of death embraced… ignoring the hand of life stretched out to live… to in joy scream… to be an inspiration… to be the some thing or some one that others use to guide them home… it is and will continue to be a false success each day you are silent… trapped in the silence of your own making… that you are allowing to swallow up the beauty… the joy of who you are… we choose to ignore the potential we have… easier to believe we have nothing of value to offer… nothing compares to you… each flower… is a blossom unto themselves… a wonder filled creation of life… waiting to explore the limitless reaches on their own…

We don’t get to have our dreams until we risk taking a step in their direction… until that moment… only the conscious mind is moving us in a direction… conscious direction speeds the progress… when we dream and allow the unconscious mind to wander freely by its self we will gain the dream at some point in time… if we add into the mix the wonder of the conscious we gain our dreams in a more reasonable time frame… a body… a mind… a heart and a soul set on reaching an objective will reach it faster then just a mind working behind the scenes…

The Ramble on Rose Part…

A nudge is all we ever get to have… a nudge can make all the difference… in a life time of chaos one nudge off or out of the way has often led to a more satisfying place… if knot for the grace of Godde go I… how often have we been measured by the degrees and one off in either direction takes us closer two or further away from… the nudge making all the difference in our choices… a gentle slip… or slight movement that stops… diverts or persuades us to take a step that a way… out of the reach of harm…

A song can become stuck in our minds… or a series of tunes locked into the mood we project for a time… then just as suddenly as they are so much in tune with us… they over stay their use fullness and are pushed aside… to be replaced by another… in time we develop our favorites or ones we delight in depending upon our moods… these songs can turn back the hands of time on us… or just settle us into a memory we hold close and dear…

We all operate in the safe place… even when we step outside the realm of our comfort we do so in a calculated way… we take risks that we feel comfortable enough to take on… we are programmed that way… the logic within us… prevents us from placing life and limb in a dangerous place… for any reason… knowingly that is… often times we do place life and limb in dangers path… we do so in times of war… for a cause… but in terms of individual life choices we only do so from the security of a place we feel safe in… time after time it takes more courage to live each day then it does to jump from day to day… a lot of so called hero’s fail to live each day… the true hero’s to me are those of us who day after day go about their life with a smile and an attitude of wonder being true to the person they our…

Stripped of time and left to wait I sit… patience being the virtue I have gained from experience… though not an easy lesson… one can never force another to freely do what is in their heart… and coercion while a use filled tool at times… over the long run leaves a trail of regret… a legacy of angst… that cast a shadow… I prefer to wait out the words… to be patience enough so that in time with time the river will flow once more… it is easy for me to say… for as in all things… the words come easier then the actions they describe…all on the even keel a measure is taken as to the depth of the waters that we glide into… when the bottom hits there is no way to turn back the waters that will stroke the sides and pillage the souls of those at the rows… time waits for know one… and he is late as usual…

A point in time arrives where we are once more singular… we have walked our length and breath and now we after so many eons of placing others before… get to place us in a fore front… so that when we wonder if… our desires and wishes are tolled in first and fore most before allowing others to place themselves before our wish… we have passed the test of youth and survived… we have climbed the ladder of responsibility and cared for our children and gotten them to the place where they can assume the task of caring for themselves and now as we wonder about travel… about spending cash… we know longer have to consider the off spring… just the fancy full ideals of the one off times forgotten…

The late night sip has found its way to my brain… and the tide deepens… the darkness wavers at the crest of the fallen day and I wade into the darken pool… and soon I am immersed in the dark waters… praying for my soul to keep and the darkness to take me away to another place in time… the sands in my hour glass for this day are numbered and thinning out mercilessly… I shall go to the depths of the morrow and do so in the early stages of dawn…

They caught the drift of me… a page out of the ordinary… one full length away from the rest… within the shadows of the tree… a link missed… a full floor short of the top… some thing was missing… and yet it was in the stillness there… hidden in the forest by one tree… clearly in plain sight for those with eyes to see and ears to listen to the wind and the rain… so much is learned when we listen… when we create the opportunity for insight through the mirror… the glass reflects as much as it absorbs… it shows us through our eyes what is there and often we Miss Read the image… seeing the defects… the less then what we desire outer shell… if we step into the view through another’s eyes we are gifted with a sensation of their soul touching upon ours… and the wisdom of their vision… for they bring to our eyes a wonder we have looked over… the Miss Road… the view from the other side is mystifying… a clear conscience… we see the wonder of being the object of another’s lust… another’s passion… another’s love… caught in that delight we can stroll and wander and feel the pleasure of each glance of their eyes… so when a peace of me is measured and captured… by the light of another’s present… I feel the honor of being with them in spirit…

There are moments when I allow myself the illusion of being able to go that extra mile… of being able to reach out across miles and drift into the room and sit off to the side and watch as the art takes form… many times as I write I imagine myself in deep spiritual conversation with you… nestled into a room as you paint… and I write… and the passion of each for the art fills the enclosed space… I can feel the heat rise and fall… I can feel the anticipation of each word bring forth the dream from the folds of my imagination… the anticipation building higher and higher still… until the paints fly and the words scatter in a rainbow of energy that bursts forth to fill the room with delight… and in the time spent in the trance of the artist dream… we awaken surrounded by words eloquent and true… a room filled with canvases all completed… all filled with color… all telling the story of the time locked away in the art’s embrace…

I wanted to say… that I wanted… the lust taking root held my tongue in cheek… never… is a long time… I spread the language out and tickled the fantasy more… building more then I could imagine and the roots held firm… the shaking of the tree cast me off the branches on to the grass… a nice place to land if one has to land some where… I do want more… I want the magic to spark up and feel the tenderness… it is difficult when the one that saved you is beyond being saved by you… isolated I am… trapped in the desire of my passion… stuck in the round hole is this square peg… knot in nor out… in a limbo… knot in one place or the other…

The new order begins… I have made my peace and now I can deal with the present of now… forever is a long time… I hope and I pray… that the journey to then is as delight filled as this one has been… one can only dream…

The pick and poke… the reach and then the talk begins… mysteries we are one to another… even when we know some thing there are elements we are unaware of… friend ships are built in the sharing of the minds… the chat is at once the small talk of initial meetings that for some winds its way to the in depth discussions of life… we never know where each contact will lead… until we find ourselves there… some times we are covered with that contagious smile… some times we are the ear… and some times the voice… and it all begins with one asking and one responding…

Creative craziness… the play space set aside to be oneself… to let the magic of being who you are pour out and onto the canvas of the day… to then roll in the delights of the art you create leaving forever your imprint upon the day…

Insight filled and engaging conversations… are a worthy cause to seek… when most of the world is engaged in the strains of this or that… it is difficult to find those who love to dig deep and let the winds move them…

Searching for the spark… the ignition source… the face or thought that will occupy my mind for the rest of the best part of this day into night… the nest has emptied a bit… my finances are scourged by the demons of higher education… so I will eat baloney for a few months… tough to sit and speculate on where it will all end up… in some one else’s pocket I am sure… butt for now the means are there to grasp hold of a ring and pull tightly… maybe I will win that lottery some day… for now the toil will be done to fill the vault so I can pay off the accumulated depths… next year will have to occupy next years thoughts now I am just glad I survived with my shirt the sending off and luck wood have it that a golden opportunity to wander off appears just as we settle in… one we are unable to avoid so we are off again in some time to experience the land of happiness and wonder with the youngest of the tribe… the spark is in here some where…

Long notes… the musical ones I can some how master… any old fool can hold down a key on a board and let the music ring out for as long as the sound can carry… a master hits the right notes… and holds them to that perfect level of wonder… it is this we seek… the perfect height… the perfect inflection of voice… the perfect combination of movement and sound that conspires to leave the one hearing it in awe of the flawless movements and effortless perfection… long notes… short notes…

One could ramble on about the weather or the clouds… about the religions or the politics of the right or the left… one could stir the magic of words and fill the bowls with letters… filled to the top and each side with a message that must be deciphered from the illusions… or they could plainly speak in native tongues of times yet to be… what is a dream if it is not possible…

Long notes are a search for the write word… they are the flood… the ravaging storm waters forced down a particular avenue… long notes are the gates of the reservoir opened and set free… and won the waters come to cover all the land within a certain area… the ones who can take to boats and row… others scatter to higher ground to find shelter form the storm… still others are trapped in the torrent and left to wonder… or carried away by the water and deposited on down the stream on pushed before the deluge into the ocean to drift upon the waves at the mingling of the seas… long notes allow the time for the mind to find the word it is searching out in the midst of the confusion… that surrounds the present state of mind… the artist within knows that the more one writes the better chance they have of finding the write word to use… the right combination of sounds to utter in a storm of wonder… the joy of the company of like minds seeking the unusual solution to a usual situation… long notes… short notes… musical in tone and timbre… the unabridged version plays out in the orchestra pit before the first act begins… the chorus of strangers come together right now over the one note that begins the passion play that we await… that we desire and have passion four…

The tide of change rings… the note lingering as the bell is toll… for thou art for whom it rings as a notice of the times changing… one last long note of questions… followed by the notes as one answers another… an exchange… a debate… a series of expressed music… the singers… ready and waiting… anticipate the movement… and spring into song… the song ain’t worth one bit if left unsung…

It has been one long strange note…

Politically incorrect I am… probably a good thing… conservative by nature I describe myself neither one side or the other… I work two hard to have what I do to want to give any of it away to anyone… yet I over stand the need to help those who find their circumstances difficult or impossible to deal with… a moderate or middle idealist I guess I would say about me… dislike all the back and forth arguments… prefer the art of the compromise to the art of the dagger… that however is just me…

Swimming in ones own imagination can be rather full filling… especially if the imagination trips ones physical being into awareness…

Lust is often seen as an emotion with a dark side… it is an emotion tinged… charred… one that flirts with the fires of passion and comes away being burned… to me a lust when placed in proper perspective is a necessary wonder… In my mind we all should have a lust for life… a lust for living… a lust for more… a lust for change… and a lust for learning that are insatiable… lust is magical when poured in the correct amounts… over the proper areas of ones life…

Take the stirring of the magic and let the canvas portrait the image that swirls up and out of your dreams… add the colors that play across your senses… let your mind wander as your hands find the rainbow filled pallet… dip your fingers in the colors and taste each sweet morsel as it is reflected up on the tapestry…

My time is dwindling… as each day passes the time of my gift wanes… in a very tangible way… each day I strike out to find one more and each day I seem to find know one… it just means that I am missing some thing… my time in the light of things may just be fading for a time… I do feel the need for less…

The light… is what sparks an inspired response… a single word… phrase… a hint of some thing… that is what lights this place… in my real life it is my wife and family… what else is there to delight ones imagination…

Each one that wanders off and never looks back releases me… each one that takes one moment and changes their life for the better releases me… each time change is more such that today is a better day then yesterday releases me…

Leaning is some times what we do best… easy to do… often a ear lent will hear more… one can learn a lot from listening… one can sit and lend their ear and it is the highest level of friendship… at other times or moments one needs to lean in the other direction and let the words flow out in a torrent to free their soul… to lean… as well as to lean on…