he called her thursday

How I long to write you in all of your shifting
but its interminable nuance is impossible to pin down
and these glasses like tunnel vision are cramping my mind.
I could take off my glasses, I suppose,
but maybe you are just not meant to be written,
only spoken,
and probably in an ancient language’s complexity
with those musical scales we don’t even use anymore,
and that celestial spectrum our human eyes fail to see.
And then I started thinking about Jesus cooking breakfast on the shore after everything he had been through. If anyone’s profundity and humility came close…

He thought for a moment, that he was over doing it. But he wasn’t sure because of the compartments in his mind.
She didn’t have those compartments. And it moved him. Moved him.

He decided he wouldn’t work on his rhyming on Friday, afterall.

 

Part one – wednesday

 

Today a friend just sent me some information on “Smart Meters”  (we have just had one installed recently, not our decision as we don’t own our house). When we first started using wifi in our home, I noticed an increase in headaches, neck aches, brain fog and fatigue, memory confusion and loss (in myself, not generally 😝) so I made sure to switch it off at night. Since we have had this meter installed, those have increased, and I have even been  feeling burning sensations. I had heard bits and pieces about how suspicious these meters are, but I guess I had no idea just how bad it is until doing more reading about it today.

I have just started watching this documentary and only ten minutes in, I was so alarmed I thought I should share it.

*Edit. I have finished watching it…all I can say is, please take the time to watch it.

 

 

WordPress Anniversary… holy…

Here we go, just doing our thing. Living in bewilderment as we bump into each other stepping out of time machines.  I just did so tonight, when I looked at the calendar and realised it’s been 2 years since I started blogging. I am pretty sure it was only a couple of months ago I wrote a post for my first anniversary. This post actually:

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“So check it out, it has actually been a year today since I started my blog!

And I am a little drunk right now for all kinds of reasons, so I don’t plan to wax long and lyrical about what a freaking honour it has been. Okay, maybe just a little…”

via WordPress Anniversary… holy…

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I’m sure there is a perfect song somewhere to capture this credible moment in time. But it is almost the 8th now, and who cares really?

And, I also have glasses for my astigmatism and blah blah. I do see things differently. It’s been startling, to say the least.

IMG_1141 (3)

This is me with my glasses, not looking startled. I texted this to my husband one night when he was working late, to show him I had started the fire. It made him laugh. I am not photogenic. But I consider this my “all I do is win” look. Which kind of goes without saying. Which also goes with the song I posted last year. And in case you can’t be bothered even looking, and who can blame you really, I will repost it for you. I love it.

(I have cut to the relevant moments).

 

PS, in case you didn’t know this about me, it’s not about winning. Unless, you consider not tripping every time I step out of that dang time machine, winning. In which case, I have been quite the winner lately. Could be my glasses…

Peace, love and perspective, Everyone. Thanks for enriching my life, I am so appreciative.

forget you (k)nots

(originally posted Dec 2016)

~

 

attempts to alienate confusion

decaf, a necessary intrusion

I miss you.

 

float me past the contusions

the knots in my shadow crave fusion

I spill you.

 

the fragments in frosty perfection

arranging the shards of reflection

I see you.

 

memory’s space incandescing

cauterise weds convalescing

I place you.

 

the pieces not lifed in competing

the peace not in ice but the heating

tapestried sensed in the meeting

I love you.

 

 

 

paperback rider 1

Another series of Steve’s I’m loving. His creativity appears to be infinite 😁

inconstant light

the_old_library_s

Before the new days, ancient currawongs
hammering bells awoke me.
The new birds want my moto perpetuo,
my clockwork drive to nonexistence,
to eternal giving up before beginning.

~/~

I was seated at a table in bibliographic
co-ordinates, aligning ping-pong balls
in rows, to start and finish with the first.

View original post 260 more words

Lazy easter weekend share

I have been spending some time with my lovely mother, and we just had a great time laughing at this. I thought I would re-share it.
It pretty much left me thinking, what the hell am I doing writing this crappy poem? So I am sharing this instead.❤

say no to clowns

!cid_001c01ca2c98$416acd50$0300a8c0@blucher

This looks lazy. Although, remember, looks can be deceiving. Well, except in this case. I am being lazy.

But, this is worth your time, I promise. It went around a couple of years ago, and because I’m so obviously filled with love for fellow humanity, and not just chocolate, I thought I’d bring it back around. Maybe counter clockwise this time.  But when you get a chance, do yourself a favour and read it. For all of its philosophical poignancy/hilarity/downright jocularity.

the most important cat pictures

View original post

 

She sighed.

“I can’t write like you,

with your weaving wrinkles

and dime shaped gold

your nesting tableaux

in colours that fold

so neatly in parameters

that have never been told…”

said Lily to her bear. Her very first bear. Still first after wonderful, adventurous, fun filled, pensively shaded years.

“Well, that’s because you aren’t a bear”.

 

 

Drenched… (revisited)

 

in lost.

 

Willing sacrifice

to the haunting of nature’s

ephemeral linguistics,

so lovingly stripping

mind’s creases,

ribboned into staff –

the soft landing place for notes

beloved by two

abstractly wooded dreams.

Spring shoes of eucalypt scent

skipping through snow

and leaving imprints

I don’t want to follow home…

(PS. this video is mesmerising in full screen)

wednesday

It felt so much like a Wednesday – porous and drifting…
It wasn’t quite cold enough to start a fire, which kind of threw him. It’s always nice to have a fire to work by, when the Wednesday dig starts.  But he reasoned with himself that the digs were getting shallower. Dr. _____ said that was a good thing – the need was lessening, you know, to build defences from the debris he found. They thought he was inching closer to jumping off and grabbing the drifting instead.

He wasn’t sure. He looked down at his journal. Apparently he had been writing in it.

those notes are soaring above me, but there’s blood all over my un-reach. This is the refrain. I need to re-write the refrain. I need to let it rain.

I also need to work on my rhyming.
Maybe Friday.

 

part two – he called her thursday

 

 

anti-bio resistance

 

“Your iron is low, oh so low,

just take this supplement, it will help the tempo

because you’re not losing weight as your thyroid is slow,

so if you just lose some weight, you’ll help yourself glow

with vitality, and something else French sounding…”

no, wait, that was my mind screeching

to a day dreaming side step

and I have a few questions now, about the sound of us pretending
we have the time matching
this fee that you’re charging
to “bedazzle” me with reasoning
cyclical
while just reading something
from the back

of a sample drug pack

 

“why is my iron low?

Is it because of my liver, that it just doesn’t know

that my thyroid is struggling

with what doesn’t grow

our minds and our spirits,

and I would go on

 

but I’m tired”

 

 

it’s time to sleep

the reckoning and the reasoning and the ripening and then the sneezing

the forces unmeasured in the revolt and then the squeezing

of the music into lifelines that drip with hoped unheeding

and she’s covering her ears so no one sees the internal bleeding

with the streams of the thoughts she cannot appropriate

and the dreams and the oughts that she cannot estimate

within her fevered running soul that’s forgotten where it’s been

the itching of the scratch is not at all what they said it’d seem

and she holds the words in front of her in hands that shake with dread

they’re in her own heart language but unrecognized instead

in their current configuration that has come from somewhere other

and if only she could sleep now…

 

 

 

He was on his knees

rowing around her,

tears pleading,

she floating,

her lips silently

moving

composing her symphony and compiling literary

moments he was desperate to understand

the ache to the point of unbearing

but she knew he just needed help hearing/hearting/breathing…

she ever so gently

throws the life ring