Human Encounter... Life's Passages

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

A Beautiful Plain

A beautiful plain lying beneath the protective shadow
of a high range of hemlock crowded hills.
The village set there in sunlight.
It’s red tile roofs gleaming.

The ocean wrapped itself around the headland.
The waves hurled themselves upon the rocks.

The bed was handmade and the polished cherry gleamed
in the reflected light.
His hands held an onion and a knife.

The car passed by the window.
The curtains shuttered from the breeze.

The park was full of people.
There were lots of voices
and childlike movements.

Bricks are a common shape, but
they can be formed differently.
The sidewalk has cracked from the years
of roots heaving underneath.

She entered the store by the double doors.
Moving across the shining floor, she found quickly__
What she was looking for.

The child’s eyes were teary and very open.
Her mother crouched before her, and
wiped the tears away_one by one.

My Grandmother was happy once, but
I never remember her laughing.

What is a safe?
Are banks on the edge of a river or
full of other people’s belongings?

I see you across the room, and I don’t identify with the feeling.
A letter to Mom and Dad would be a nice gesture.
Would a letter to both be the same?

How do I qualify to enter a course that can help me?
Even as I appear helpless.
I change the two dimes and a nickel for the quarter in my pocket.
The glass wall is full of advertising for beer and cigarettes.

The light changes to red, just as I enter the intersection.
What is content?
When it appears to me__I don’t even know why I am here.

Employment or personally requesting the job meet my needs.
I am full of the old ways and beginnings, that can’t lose.
I am ending with the same. Truth lies.

I know you live somewhere.
The sand in your shoes tells me you live near the beach.
She went to school, when she was young.
Long before she met her final fate.

How do you feel about the presence of love?
Don’t ever quit__not even for a moment.
you can stand at the top of the hill, and
watch the cars one after another_passing.

Describe a life worth imagining.
Mine is for sale.
Wrongly put__I regret to say_
that I am passing on to the other side.

The other side of what?__the page.
The newsprint on his hands is one addiction.
He didn’t know he had.

Integration for me is the ability to see life,
as a whole work that enjoys existence.
Together_ I would be more than I am apart.

Part music, part words, part lies, part truth.
Pour in water, add soil and sunlight,
and there stands a moving creature waiting__
for light to fill his bones.
Spirit voicing matter.

Skin on an arm. Part of a body.
Non-integrated wholistic self.
Can’t be anyhting else.
Thinking_ as a function.
Reaction to what you want to know.

It is a light shone into darkness.
Eyes are blind, when they see__
everything to be of the same value.
I need to see opposite__ to what I think.

It is what I see__ that isn’t seen by me.

Punk_in a word_is style. Yuh!
The word is greek to me.
Nothing means less than zero.

Qualitatively speaking_your hands are lovely
And sensitive__in their holding of my apples.
The grey, green kettle boils excitedly on the vintage stove.
If I said everything in my thoughts is other, than what I wish.
That would not be true. I love it all. Afterall.
Seventeen years, since I became one day.

Today is dark, cloudy and wet.
The mist is wet with cold foregotten
Remembrances of the sea.

Today’s format is no different,
than yesterday’s or last year’s.
My day’s are only my own,
if I do somethingI hope to do again.

I am numb, but I am clothed.
My clothes are shredded newsprint and flickering cathode rays.
__from the dark night’s viewing.

Nothing there__I see I am addicted to mouth thoughts.
I am mashing toast and buttered sugar between my teeth.
Pledging my_ self to swallow before the teacher takes away my test.

Waiting for nightfall, I turn my back.
Lightbulbs, bare and flickering, beneath
insulated floor joists_ just above.
Head here__The comfort of not feeling anything.

Integrating traditional concepts of what is real.
I know I am kidding myself__sitting and
fooling with my contrasting aspects and pain.
Pain so bad__There are no tears or shame.

So many unrelated things__some don’t even qualify__as things.
Farts are a pleasant noise and
they (may)escape to become
a part of the real world.

More credit needs to be given for the endurance
that describes__
what has become of reality.

Life may not be an existent course
on the real aspects of what goes wrong,
If you don’t pay attention.

Just commenting__
but I am an interactive bloke, afterall.
The softness of her breast encouraged his heart to let go,
and be with her__his soft light_without.
Politics being inadequate to the caress.

Language__that is not your own.
Who can blame the interpreter.
Don’t exist in me.
I won’t claim my part,
that was you.

Which is exactly__ my point.
It is time to carry on.
My whole life has been real.
Even the parts I faked.
Can’t claim_
I didn’t know.

So for all of that,
my seal is,
I now love __
everything_
I didn’t claim.

May God bless every memory,
and forgive me
for my lack of intention.
I am reclaiming,
what I called the death of me.

To know __
That life is real.
Breath of You.

Trust the Rust__Oct,1990

'Perkiomen' DarylHall'sBand & FitzandtheTantrums

Monday, February 20, 2012

Collating Zoom Desire

I wish to extract a piece of a part_of a place_ that was a moment.
It happened_ at the time_to be the thing, that held me enthralled.
In summer swings a connection_thrown_ that almost gets lost.

Relative wonder_ upon the service of life_
All that at once_ comes due… Certainly wakes_
To find a place where you… Are the one who ultimately decides.
This way or that way__What proof does it take?

Always comes back to you_ believing I can be found.
I work the art of me_ To locate the service of time.
The space in the current _The action of place_ takes Time.
I need to gather this deal_ to the wheels, that roll up under.
I am a friend to myself, and the way of this_ becoming.

The mechanical breath of review.
Seeking new questions to hold.
I have the answers of my own extrusion.
It arrives on the seed of memory’s host.
A day away from the first page...
I see a derivative deal along the column.

Left apart_ I could walk away and leave the heart of attack.
I thought I was done _ The courage to live the truth.
I was certainly done_ I believed I was truly through.
I’m not making this up. It comes from the whole cloth of me.
In some ways I wonder _ at this kind of review.
It is certainly strange for anyone to read.

What kind of life_ does this guy see?

Well, maybe this is where it gets real. I had a thought about _

Reviewing the summer past_ as a place, where I could begin.

Somehow, I was dissolved_
at the loss of your space_
and the toss that I spiraled_into_
All_ because I got scared.
It was life with a special design_
that became all of the sea and sky…
Thoughts could take you anywhere
_ and it was sublime.

It is quite likely, that_
Noone can read this, and know what I mean_
Or if they do_ it is another version of the loss_

becalmed that begins. To unwind
I went a bit crazy_ for the words
_ that could not save at ends_ these actions.
I was plainly dissolved, and surrendered.
I gave up more than I knew.

I took a short break and tried to re-establish_
a certain blink and dimension.
I was seeking something true_ outside of my dimension.
My time warp was…
I was seeking love _in another’s space’s.
I had a real life_ I had failed to appreciate.
You gave me back to that.

It was not an intentional act.
It was the natural flow of events.
I am here to attest. I have come a long way.
and the due diligence of certain persons...
has certainly shaped this request and answer.

This is the tale that begins. My wife had asked me to prepare my
vehicle for travel in June for a trip over the mountains and across the

desert climate of Eastern Washington. A journey of 300 miles in each direction

to Walla Walla, Wa., where our fourteen year old would be going to

a summer dance intensive. Rich speak_ for_’ an expensive three weeks’.

Of course I did my best to remember, but the night before

we were to leave, and it was the weekend_ I still had not changed

the antifreeze/coolant mix or determined… if I needed to change the thermostat,

and that is the crux of this revelatory tale. I was seeking certain ire,

and I was most probably due, because I had been running off road for quite awhile,

and no one seemed to care. Okay, It was about to get trying, but I was not worried.

Furthermore, I was somewhat prepared. I had purchased everything I needed to do every conceivable action, that I might have to do... ’To git ‘ur done’.

I had just wasted so much time and good will ... so now it was hell on earth

and the woman in my life saying….”We are done.”
This means we will be divorced.

Soon.

I was not scared. I just needed to get it done in the late hours of Saturday July7th, the day before… we were to leave. Sunday, the 8th, four a.m….we’ll be pulling out of the driveway. Those were my marching orders. Oh! that’s easy. I had the weather and the light on my side, but things were taking longer than I thought they would. My march to success was taking big chunks of time. I was falling behind.

I declare to the world…I am not a mechanic, but I am a zen artist of the mechanical bent, and I have experienced at least as much success as I have had failure. I was ready. I proceeded forthrightly, and with all of the positive reinforcement I was getting/Not!…I was quite confident. As a matter of fact. My spirits never wavered. My wife only held the light, as the hours were waining, just before midnight. I was all _but through. Then it was done.

Two flushes with fast drives around (to heat the brew),draining,and connecting hoses and disconnecting hoses and continuing onward and upward… toward a clear running system,…I discovered and surmised that I should probably replace the thermostat. Of course…I knew that…I had known that…I was really thinking about not doing that…but I had no choice at ten-thirty p.m.. It became the only course I could take, and I had no book for this vehicle and the harness and straps and emission crap layed over the whole top of this machine and I was screwed or was I ?

Come on, oh! imaginary person (not ever named)except as… TR.
Divorce sounded so final.
My only hope was the magic tool box of the neighbor down the street.Mike loves tools. Long story short…He’s asleep.
His wife doesn’t want to wake him up. I go to their front door and knock…only low tv glow in sight. I am reminding her(now in person) of all the times my lovely wife had fixed their computer problems. And the many times her kids wait at our house…waiting for them to get home. Not so much lately, but there must be a goodwill bank. Working on wrapping this up. Stay for the close.

Quickly now, my wife,’M', is home, and she likes to get on this machine.. to play Mah Jong…so as not to disappoint her…I will get off and say this is over. It is all, but. Needless to say, Mike’s magic tool box provided the way for me to succeed, beyond my wildest dreams.
I imagined such…a perfect tool, that could reach under, and around, and he knew what one that might be. The job was soon complete. By any calculus. This was love Supreme!

“Okay! I am out of here.” 12:30a.m….I was done. Everyone was abed,… I showered and slept and woke at 3:00a.m. We were already packed. I helped. Right! I did. Really.

When this cold icy dream of success was forged…
I believed I knew all was perfect, but I couldn’t be sure.
I tracked every thought and sound of this car, as we drove.
I was the only one awake.
‘M’ had so little faith.
We’re driving up and over the 5,300 ft. pass next to Mt Rainier.
Once we were up and over, I was purely ecstatic. At that point…
Just over the top, I woke my passengers to share in my delight. She said something about 103 degrees today. She would wait until then to give me an answer. I was already a success to me.

It would be a long time to wait, but…(by the end of the day)_ she granted me that accolade, You did it!
Even going it alone,… I was high on faith and the flame my heart breathed freely again. I was back and there was such happiness in my domain.
I was king of the world, but I was being responsible and humble.

This is so long__noone will read it. That is okay. We(I,me,mine) are developing the voice of the vein__ of_ ‘me’ being ‘me’.
I believe in what I do. I have confidence, and in those following weeks, while daughter was away__I gave all of my time...
to our marriage connection. We did nothing spectacular.
But certainly, there was a necessary adjustment.
I had been too much online. Away_ from the life of real.

We did things together again…Cooked and ate, and watched movies, and walked on trails, and went to the ocean, and relaxed on the set. It was an evening /sunrise, and the days of time, that hold the truth of_ who, we are yet to become.

It was a perfect time.
That is how_ This is here, and that is all I wrote,
but I will be back_ to bring on the rest.
I want to thank you for your indulgence.
I am looking for the right path for me.
Good night and have a nice day! TR

Saturday, February 18, 2012

A Vast Thank You To Rainyman/Blogstream

The following is a “thanks for the welcome” gift to you and your family.Lives – The Gestation of Being j.b. bergstad aka rainyman In my first life I heard sound and saw only blur. I felt pain and discomfort. I knew hunger and thirst. I could move, but had no control. Sensations my mind had no name for assailed me. Large things pushed and pulled. They tugged, lifted and squeezed me. I knew fear, but not its label. Sometimes terrible smells came on wet slimy winds and smothered my top part. Gradually the blur began to clear. Big things I’d sensed took form. Wondrous objects appeared, then vanished from my line of sight. Colors exploded in front of me. There were smells that brought a rumble to my middle part. And surprise . . . a gurgle to my open place. A big thing, the warmest one, heard my sound. It screeched so loud, warm smelly matter filled a wrapping that held me. I made the same screeching sound . . . in terror. In my first life there were so many wonders. And The Xanadu was an instinct deep in my awakening mind. Lives 2 In my second life I invented motion with purpose. Gone was my random flailing of before. Everything before me I saw with astonishing clarity. Two Big Things seemed to inhabit my world. One was with me almost all the time. It was the warmest, softest one. Soft One made funny noises and took away the warm smelly stuff. This squishy, squirtie stuff seemed to surround me constantly. The other Big Thing was scary. Hard. It made sounds that rattled my world. Scary One came when the dark came. Scary One lifted me high and squeezed me. Scary One pushed hard, blunt, bony things in my middle part. Scary One pinched, tapped and wiggled the lump above the hole in my top part. Scary One covered my top part with a prickly wetness. The smell, most times, was hard to tolerate. I invented retaliation with a goop I brought from inside. The goop smelled bad. Scary One went away. Soft One made happy sounds. When my middle part was empty it bubbled and lurched. I made the screeching. Soft One covered my top part with something spongy and very warm. A hard knob was pushed at the hole in my top part. With minimum effort warm, sweet nectar filled me. The warm sweetness found the growling in my middle. I was content and disappeared; quite sure I was about to find The Xanadu. Then the warm smelly, squirtie stuff suddenly appeared. I was back where I started. But The Xanadu was there . . . I knew. Lives 3 In my third life my brain began its miraculous storage of information. I invented learning. It was apparent things in my world had labels. The Soft One was Mama. But I wasn’t ready to get that all out. The Scary One was Daaadie . . . Daaa . . .Much easier. Scary One suddenly became Smiley One. Growing took all my energy. My middle part grumbled constantly. I learned my screeching sound brought immediate attention. I learned my screeching sound brought sweet nectar; pats on the back of my middle part. I learned my screeching brought warm, dry wrapping. In gratitude I gave my smelly air. My screeching sound fulfilled all my desires, but it bored me. It tired me out. To amuse myself I invented rolling. I found the stalks on my top and bottom useful for my rolling. Soft One made happy sounds when I rolled. I decided to reward Soft One. I let her hear my new sound . . . Maaa. My roll invention, with my new sound, was wondrous. Both paid great dividends. Maaa and Daaa held me . . . Rocked me . . . Cuddled me and snuggled me. And then I disappeared. I think I have found The Xanadu . . . I’m safe . . . Warm . . . Content. Loved? Lives 4 In my fourth life I invented invention. My learning was rapid. I invented new things one after another. I learned there are different sounds that describe my parts . . . My world. I learned these describing sounds are called words. My Being was called Body. Maaa and Daaa liked to play with its parts. They tickled its chin, pinched its cheeks, tweaked its nose and kissed its face. They patted its back and butt. (Daaa’s name) Bottom. (Maaa’s name). They tickled its feet, pulled its toes. In desperation I used my screech. My screeching, I’ve learned, has a describing sound called crying. Crying changed my environment. Crying got me what I wanted. I used crying often. I have recently invented coordination. It helps rolling. My rolling has led to rising up. My rising up has led to sitting up. Moving my arms and legs has created motion. Maaa and Daaa saw this and happily said I’m crawling. So be it. To investigate my world I crawled. My world was truly miraculous. Everything was strange . . . New . . . So much food. This then was The Xanadu. This wonderful place I’ve invented for me. Tomorrow I’d go. I would taste everything. My body needs fuel for the task ahead. The Xanadu filled me. The Xanadu is me . . . I am The Xanadu . . . The Xanadu must grow. Lives 5 In my fifth life I invented walking. A necessity to save my knees, hands and toes. Necessity is The Me of invention. During the light time I patrolled my world . . . I tasted it. I found all types of interesting, sometimes savory, morsels in the fuzzy surface. I found more on the shiny, hard surface. I gathered as I crawled. When my knees, hands and toes hurt I sat. I rested. I took this time to taste my gatherings. Suddenly Mama was there, taking my gatherings away, shaking my hands. Mama made a loud describing sound: NO, NO . . . NO, NO . . . NO, NO. This was a new word . . . Loud . . . Powerful. I didn’t have an option, I cried. At dark time I was tired from my labor. Sore from my exploration. My stomach was full. My diaper, clean and dry. Mama laid me in the soft place with bars and the woolly thing I can’t eat. I was supposed to disappear, but I couldn’t. I was infused with energy. My hands found the bars. An instinct cried: PULL. I was upright . . . swaying, but upright. I looked down. My feet were gone. My feet were so far away. Lost in the tangle of covering Mama calls blankie. A new instinct showed me how to move my leg. I took a step. I fell. I was back up in an instant. Stronger. My feet were closer. Free to move. Holding on I stepped again . . . And again . . . And again. I made a sound, half gurgle, half screech. I was upright. I had triumphed. In my fifth life I invented walking . . . I AM THE XANADU . . . THE XANADU IS ME. Lives 6 In my sixth life I invented reason. I used my reasoning to modify my learning. I found my first truth . . . my world was part of a bigger world. This bigger world lived and thrived. Not because of me, but in spite of me. In my world, of course, I was King. I learned there were other Beings like me. And still other Beings like me who looked and smelled different. I learned quickly these other Beings wanted the same things I wanted. That was impossible. This was my world. I was King . . . wasn’t I? I used my Power Word . . . NO, NO . . . NO, NO. When my Power Word failed I learned about hitting. Hitting worked well . . . for a while. I grew quickly. My reason brought me understanding. I learned I must progress. I learned how to run, to jump and go potty. I learned to protect MY THINGS. Finally, to my terror and dismay, I learned I must go to SCHOOL. Here I learned the most painful truth. Here there were many Kings . . . even Queens. My absolute rule was challenged. NO didn’t work. Hitting didn’t work. Crying made hiccups and sometimes wet pants. I learned sharing was easier. This existence was cruel, my importance no longer important. I learned the bad thing that made me cry is called pain. It came with hurts of all kinds. Cuts, skinned knees, splinters and bangs on the head. Sickness found me. Measles, Mumps and Chickenpox assailed me. All manner of discomfort seemed to follow and surround me. My world was gone. Right and wrong were taught, but mostly learned by example. Bad or good. Hard and easy. Popular and unpopular. All begged for my attention. My reason told me all choices were important, but something was missing . . . forgotten. My unique-ness. My special-ness slipped away. Buried by the cruelty called reality. My reason told me I was never special. Never unique. I was not The Xanadu. The Xanadu was never me. My reason taught me The Xanadu was . . . Never. Lives 7 In my seventh life I became increasingly bored. There was nothing new to invent. I‘d seen life’s mysteries. I’d conquered them all. I was cool. Smart. Hip. School was the ultimate boredom. Teachers taught garbage . . . stuff that didn’t matter. They gave homework, wasting my Hanging Out time . . . Not cool . . . not near cool. My parents were worse. They gave me parent shit. Tried to make rules . . . I should live by? They preached, pestered, threatened and punished. My parents were assholes . . . a pain. Parents, teachers. Like, they’re pets sent from Hell. They feed on your misery. They shit on your freedom. Then piss you their grief and forget you exist. Never mind. . . How’s it going? Feel Okay? Need some help? You too busy chasing life? DID I ASK TO BE BORN? The coolest were my friends. Guys like me saying, What’s the big deal? And the girls . . . Way pretty cool . . . Way maximum cool. They looked good. Looked fine. Sometimes when they saw me they’d giggle. They whispered behind their hands. What’s up with that? That ain’t cool, kind of put down. But sometimes one would wink. That one, the winker, was really fine. She’d say Hi . . . I’d mumble cause I was cool. I grew. Years passed. I found I didn’t know it all. Suddenly my reason was back. I’d lost it somewhere during a strange time called puberty. I’d missed it not at all. Now reason found reality. My perspective was illuminated. Education beckoned me forward. Some teachers I learned to respect . . . those who challenged me most. Some teachers I viewed with contempt . . . those who curried favor with gratuitousness. My parents became loving allies . . . the wise ones . . . the two I could trust. The Winker became a confidant, a friend. As my lover, she touched something deep in my mind. With the sweat of her lusty body, the hot blush of our breath, an old memory found life again. Something was out there. Something I missed. A tool to build life from the chaos. But here and now craved the importance . . . and the flesh governed the soul. I paused to reflect. I stopped. Closed my eyes . . . and quite suddenly forgot to remember. For then I dreamed many dreams so sublime and I wept as I fell in love. Lives 8 In my eighth life I invented a most incredible adventure. Blithely, I performed the profound. In my eighth life I offered my Being. I committed to no turning back. With consent of the Winker, we married. And LIVES was BORN again. I didn’t realize. Life whistled by in slow motion. No time was left to take time. My inventions were prolific. Multiplying exponentially. Each unit of time overfilled. There were jobs, but no money. Education, but no learning. A bed . . . no moments for sleep. I didn’t realize. There were arguments. Fights. Mad and make up. Failures. Life’s lessons learned? There were ragged apartments. Old junky cars. Macaroni and cheese and Spam. There were seconds of rage. Moments of fear. Minutes of laughter. Hours of love. I didn’t realize. Children were born. Some good times . . . some hard. Sickness and booze and lost, scary times. There were fun, lazy days and mean hard-work ways. Dark days of sadness . . . despair. Yet we grew and we thrived. We were down, all around. We were boisterous and stingy too. I didn’t realize. Every moment of life that passed through my space was invention unique unto me. I consciously fashioned what I would become. The triumph or loss I would taste. All my creations, so simply made . . . I passed to the life rushing by. I didn’t realize. What power I held. That I wield yet today. I’m amazed I just didn’t see. For I pull in a breath and expel the trapped air. Pushing all in the mouth for form. Articulated by tongue, shaped on teeth and gum. These lips give birth to my destiny. All-powerful. Invaluable. WORDS. The beginning . . . the end of us all. YES . . . NO . . . NO . . . YES . . . I NEVER REALIZED. Lives 9 In my ninth life I invented time. An intrinsically valuable most remarkable discovery. Time makes it possible to experience, not merely live. Understand, not simply exist. Time gives me complacency; therefore contemplation. I am free from a need to explain. I find no desire to justify time or fill it with extraneous excuse. My invention needs no measures to contain it. No casing of plastic or red glowing face. Reality is here and time is life’s scavenger . . . a gift of the aged to the old. A static marauder, but at once full of motion. This invention is maddeningly fickle. While it gives of my memories. Adventures. Disasters. It seeks to measure my worth. And it watches this vessel. As my life nears its brim. The cycle of participation absolute. Through all the years my inventions were many. Drops of life in experience’s cup. And my YES’ and NO’s still fashion the key that will open My Xanadu’s gate. Yes, I’ve found it again. But it always was there . . . Just obscured by ego and greed. The Xanadu is in us, a Bright Shining Energy. Pulsing clearly at birth and with death. These pure seconds of life are the soft clay of innocence. Prepared for the fingers of God. My newfound invention has sated my spirit. Brought enjoyment, great peace and a smile. I FINALLY REALIZED.		\|< << >> >\|
by rainyman (PM , CC

Simply Said_"Dream No.17"

The Dream #17

Simply Said

This trap door entered and I lost my introduction, blip all gone. This is an apology for the lost voyage which ended on this page. I came with ideas and was swept off the table and that is okay. I have no idea what disappeared. It really was the best part… of the way this began. I had a serious note to deliver, but it became anything but and I will not wonder if it was not for the best. Gosh it was an amazing rush of words. I wish I could get it back, but this being written just prior to posting is only glue on the page. For a moment I flowed like verse in a prose context. It was artful and fulsome and I have certainly had enough of this audacious journey.

What is there? Was that what is here? It has all that I need for now. I wanted to come back without a wimper or pain. There still is some latitude in my attitude. Forgiveness and acceptance have finally arrived. I am pleasantly surprised. I am not going to even attempt to explain. This is all I have without explaining the missing derivatives of the equation of presenting and retracting and pushing and pulling and getting to the next breath and breathing the context and patrolling the boundaries and preparing for the day when it all comes together and this doesn’t need explaination. I will be happy that I made it back. Anyway… I could.

That would not have been the drive of my arrival in times past, but my locus now is of a higher and more defined aurora. It has the halo of light that I ascribe to the breath of the angels of my existence. I am the most ordinary and common soldier in my measure of earth and air and sky.In the midst of all is the watery veil of light that holds my sight.Existence. Like everyman, I work for my day. I have for many years only wandered on and off my track. It has been the sad casual of causality. When something defining would pop up_I would run the opposite way.

In the end it is all for good and this is only a mission statement in the sense, that there is nothing to lose anymore. I am a feeling friendly kind of guy. I have only the best intentions and my attitude is that of a prayer to everyone who is in this life and the wanting of all of our potentials to be melded into heaven on earth, where we can wax poetic and exclaim joy and kiss the earth and jump in the air and declare. I am here… and I think __’This is It’

I just took a break and read through. This writing. This was not my intention. I have been away for a good while and I knew that a few had wondered why… and that I was gone was not any problem. I was here of course, but I was not here in this life of the art of you_ dear reader, wherever you are …I have the highest regard for anyone who chooses to fathom the fathomings of one who is most humble and believest in the reasonable facsimile of the renderings of each of our breasts as we inculcate our rhythms and thrumb the strings of the heart at the core of our being.

I can’t imagine that there is any other reason for being here. I lost my go pod as I read this and now I am doctoring the equation and wondering not about whether it is or it is not. It most certainly is everything I have at this crazy moment in time.

I say who I am even as I try to hide it. This is my place to quest for the interactive organic breathing being that can’t type, but will because he can, because he wants to, and now that I am moving again. Let’s see where this goes. It has to eventually arrive at a place where I can take a break and relieve my need for the news. I need my daily fix of the worst that life has to surrender. Where are we going when all we relive are the failings and futilities of another day of the major dominating spew speaking gargoyles laying on the crash, the crush and the pain of your fellow voyagers.

I am hooked up and hooked in and I know it is a drug, but I want to know what the driver sees as we drive off the cliff. It is uplifting.
Lots of crazy things going on over here at my place this summer. I had thought I would come back with a piece on the end of summer at the beginning, but I didn’t let the downers get me down. I plodded through and my attitude is really a quiet celebration. At my young age, I am finally getting the drift of playing it for laughs. I see the humour in the demise of control. I am no longer renting out space in my brain, except to the daily news, but that is certainly now on the way out, and I will be taking care of that soon, but not tonight.

Only a few minutes to go and it will be time for the six o’clock national bathing in the dirty water of all of our mistakes and transgressions and the supplication of the sycophants of the higher order of breeding and fortune who certainly have our number as they will tell you everytime. They have polled the minions and they speak with the fishes and find out who we are everyday and they go there with a vengeance, because we still buy what they have to sell and how is it that these words can possibly go together, because I have no idea what I just said.

All to the good. I wanted to make a crazy entrance and being a peaceful boy. I want to be happy and do something good. Like get off the stage. This be: Practicing the art of being real…. and I toast one and all for their efforts and their joy and their focus.
We done good. I love you all,TR

Friday, February 03, 2012

Wonderful Pictures of Virginia Visit_August 2009

Thursday, February 02, 2012

Secrets Of The Universe/cosmotonerecords

Sunday, January 29, 2012

Fantastic HeroVideo of Human Kite Flyer

Wonderful Version of 'Hallelujah'

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Name Me-So I Can Be Seen

Versions of Synaptical Control- Revolutions in Frames.

Let out the truth of context and control
Pull down the wheels,
that roll up under.
Lift the wings
that tear at the portal way.
Ahead, to seem, arrival
Has been found.

Should I understand what I have wrought.
Knowing not the dream. Has mute calm and breath held.
Telling statement told. Linking, remanding my proof.

I have answers sworn.
Beliefs that do
'Adorn'
and grow
within.

Miracles are plane and simple.
Perception is
received.
I am man,
being here.

Listening, Listing lines.
Words spoken
Received, volume
Up
Quiet Motion.

The feeling is believed.
I am Me.
Satisfied for Now,
because I risk the loss
of Center.

Knowledge of Truth.
Not Perfect,
But Proof
Of Life.
Formed,
Received .

I believe
in You.
Believe on
Me.
A lantern
for
Alive
Drawn to life by your command.

Sunday, January 15, 2012

'Adagio For Strings, Op.11'

Wednesday, January 11, 2012

Ron Paul_ What If?

Fear The Sincere/Gary Hesketh

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

Enjoy This All Rights to The Creator

Saturday, January 07, 2012

Written On the Firm

So let's just say, I am now...
Without question_ One lucky boy.

I am in fact_The featured creature....
and the proud possessor of this wondrous machine...

My step-son, Dustin, brought me this electronic device for the lap.
_This evening, and I am feeling like a million bucks. So nice!

These keys just pop and sing so quiet...just like, une bella piano forte.
Right now in the midst of our preparations & back to school _
whatworx decisions
We are relaxing_ And look what entered here.
This party atmosphere.

Just there they are playing table games & I AM COMPLETELY DAZED.
What can I comment to this...What is happening here? Happiness...
How do you measure a change in circumstance? It almost seems as if....
The clouds are parting and leaving me_ To see my way_through.

For every reason I can imagine now_ I am in a state of utter gratefulness.
I am reminded to make the best of this and through expression- Connect.

At the turn of the new year, I had committed to write something every day.
And on days when I didn't feel like it; I would write four pages of scripted method-ish.

Just to begin... again, and arrive on the other side_ To change
from not doing...
To what is my natural state.
To discover the word within and uncover What?... my evidences are thinking_
It out or else...
I'm Over

Here is the question??_ What if I were to succumb to the delight of doing??
And just return...
again _ To where I'd left off___

What and whom?... could best select what is resolved? _ I will breath out
Through what opens and never rest.
It will show me_What I trust could be the necessary revenue. To imbue

The dreams I lasted in opposition...To the facts.
There are no excuses now, I will be Full_ as I imagined.
All that is left - Is to light the match and rekindle the fuel.

I am down for this test.
What is best._
Is What
Is.

What is
Here_
Now.
Is How Far
I'll Go.
Tonight.

Surely
Go.
With
What
You Believe.

And Trust and
Be
All Here.