Some Paragraph Poem: For The Kids

For The Kids

Well a Mini-pop version of Human Rights is now available for

Free Download for your teenager.

I tell you here that in truth

The teenagers wrote it themselves see

And to the best of their young-people knowledge

May know some things even better than ourselves

Because somewhere

Along the lines

We taught them what was actually proper

And the idea of possibility.

Tiny Poem: Swell Water

Swell Water

Up from under the grass knoll

Comes water

And it does Rise

The pressure forces

Outward.

I do not know the physical calculation for water force

And swell

But it does, it is and it only grows.

Poem: Your Black Satin Jacket

Your Black Satin Jacket

I am going to make you a jacket.

It is black with gold threads

I will hand stitch it for you

Slowly

Each stitch at a time.

I can't wait to see the pictures

That will appear

In the work

Up the sleeves

Across your back.

Perhaps dragons

And swirling clouds

I can stud the eyes for you

With large black shining crystals

And brocade the edge in some scallop.

The lining of course

Is heavy black satin

The kind beautiful magicians

Wear like your formulation

A clear design in space.

I help you put it on

It fits you like it should

And suits you

Even though you don;t think you're fancy at all.

Poem: Ebb and Flow

Ebb and Flow

The blue main frame is still my favorite

How the currents rise and subside

Don't raise your nose in disgust my friend

There are more dimensions that count than just this.

Night and twinkle twinkle little satellite

I appreciate your prowess, your tigress your fight

But I sigh the same, balls out but I would like a breeze and a bird

Maybe something tasting of transcendental bo-heme-ia.

A cup of fancy, a drop of thank you.

It has been twenty years already. Half my life next month.

I am still the same but the stories on my desk have multiplied

Indefinitely.

As Promised: How To Love A Woman

How To Love A Woman

It's my turn, in step and without the powerhouse that you posses I use what I have

Word.

I told you I would show you 'how to love a woman'

And I'll try my best.

Perhaps knowledge was lost along the way, Like many cultures

Obliterated by more aggressive notions

Like spoiled and greedy immature children

The world became one of entitlement and gorging.

Or perhaps the situation never was; ask an old woman about love and she may tell a story of

Compromise and sacrifice in financial circumstances without alternative

A tolerance of things she endured for the children or a false front of societal pride.

A woman is first person

Like a man, or rather not unlike a man

And the quality of character is where love is found.

It is 'I can't live without you anymore'

And 'I need you' yes, beautifully said.

It is a kiss

And trust that like you she is desirable

And that is wonderful

And that you need not be jealous

For if She is also of quality the place beside her is taken by You.

That famous six minutes the old ladies lovingly joke about requires only

Consensual compatibility

And for those knowledgeable on such subjects

A tongue-in-cheek understatement.

I hope this will suffice for time being.
The days run quick and there is work outside to be created, imagined, practiced, delivered.

Believers will make up for times suffered, love is coming and the packing is F.I.N.E.

Poem: One Dark Rose

One Dark Rose

I have been -AWAY- I know

Out on some panic

From my desk

It felt like hard toffee in my

Brain gears

All my thoughts wiped out

Feelings too, rather ones of battle

Wars that are not all my own, subjects best left for others.

It's a creep in the yard

The world a little more than a bit murky

And the man wants my opinion

Okay but why now after twenty-thousand rejections

I may have to commit to one year or two

But it could be worse

I can speak up for us

After all the flavor needs changing.

The dark rose itself

Sits alone

The last velvet petaled one I have

Its colour near black

Surrounded by blowing trash and shopping carts

I guarantee its authenticity

For nothing of its sort could grow otherwise

Sister says glass-scry

I see in the black reflection now

I see my own skeleton with blowing hair.

I hope for some logical conclusion

To the strangest episode ever written

The spangled series

Wrapped in flags

And questions

And the fun of mystery that frightens some so much.

Harbor the deep red pulse, boom-boom

Deepen the waters full mysterious, no shallow ends.

You Need A Hobby: The Disconnect of Self and Environment in The Industrial Age @square

You Need A Hobby: The Disconnect of Self and Environment in The Industrial Age

This is not a new idea among artists. Having been part of a group of lateral thinking artists at one point in time I believe this idea was raised and talked about. It is a common idea among artists as they make most things as opposed to buying everything.

At one time people made everything around them. If they could not make something trade was available by the local specialist ie. Blacksmithy. For the most part every person in the village could make something and did as their contribution. This was not only a means of pride but necessary to survival.

With the onslaught of the industrial age this element of contribution and skill set was removed from the human hands and household. For some complex modern products the production will never be limited to one set of hands. (For most of us anyway- see supergenius) The automobile, the cellular phone for example. Most of us would never possess the ability or desire to make such a object. And considering the time involved, we would face starvation in the process.

I was asked to sign up with a new website that was about objects that you own and what people had in common by means of co-relation. As it turned out I owned almost all original or handmade items. The digital products I have are not fancy but utilitarian. I joined because I like pioneer ideas and the people who created this one but for myself I could not share.

Let's return to the idea of the home environment. It is a human need to feel pride in one's surroundings. Perhaps the re-discovery of making things with your hands is, for any reason at all, one of self-esteem. You say, I don't know how to make anything. You may add, I have no talent. Both statements are untrue. I say this because making things has become a lost art. It has been removed from human hands and increasingly so over the last few generations. I recommend heading to the craft store or taking a course with one of the last standing artisans in your community. You need a hobby and there is always the community market on Saturday.