|El Embarcadero- Life Intimates Heart |
Posted: Mar 3, 2012 - 10:11pm
I'm not claiming to be a good writer, or artist, or poet, or musician; but I can tell you where my heart has been left...
|From The Origin |
Posted: Mar 3, 2012 - 2:40pm
don't forget to remember
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Posted: Sep 30, 2011 - 12:37pm
In the early 90's My Father had a 1954 Chrysler New Yorker that he traded something for and he messed around with it for a couple of years but didn't like it because even though it was loaded and in great condition, it was hard to start and left him stranded a lot. He left it in my driveway to work on, and like many old cars, numerous would be mechanics had tried their hand over the years. The wiring was a mess, so I made an entirely new wiring harness and worked the bugs out of the starting/performance. He seemed genuinely pleased but while looking it over one day he proceeded to tell me about having to put his cat down due to it's age and generally bad health. My Father began to sob, and it shook me up so bad that I couldn't even look at him directly. I had never seen that before, ever, and didn't see it coming. Anyhow, I haven't seen it since. Don't try to understand the significance. Just understand that still waters do indeed run so very deep. ...
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|David, A Good And Gentle Man |
Posted: Sep 5, 2011 - 10:19am
In My Place
This mornings muse carried me; past present future
Down the mourning country road; misty precept
When there, by the warm green pond; aquatic fodder
A Host for all ages; mighty rivers bend
By the timber and chink abode; pink granite stepping
Resting stalwart barracks; fosters children gathering
Founders of the feast; soldiers of fortune
Historical mile marker; open arms a castaway
The long maroon carriage; Show full text and comments (12) ]
|Umbral We Came, And In Becoming We Go |
Posted: Nov 20, 2008 - 7:36am
For who knoweth what is good for man in this life, all the days of his vain life which he spendeth as a shadow? For who can tell a man what shall be after him under the sun?
Ecclesiastes 6:12 KJV
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|Interpretative Moralization With A Lemon |
Posted: Oct 1, 2008 - 5:59pm
I like the idea that politics is, in part, identifying problem areas and characterizing and contrasting your opponent's stated solutions with your own, and then, without malice of forethought, presenting reasons that your ideas would better serve the people.
This is of course, idealistic and even unrealistic (dichotomy/conundrum/synonym?), especially with the hyper fueled machinery that constitutes our modern electoral
process made up of less than candid and far from introspective party agendas and less than honest media onslaught.
It all reeks of hypocrisy to me, not that I am the one to judge purity of motive and motif. It is the reason that I have come to detest all the so-called "debates and discussions." I mean, I'm a sponge for information and I try to sort through it all, but it has become so dishonest that I just can't let myself be pulled in any longer. I love life. I love my ...
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|The Staircase Debate, Jacob's Ladder Notwithstanding |
Posted: May 22, 2008 - 8:43pm
"No, the serpent did not
Seduce Eve to the apple.
All that's simply
Corruption of the facts.
Adam ate the apple.
Eve ate Adam.
The serpent ate Eve.
This is the dark intestine.
The serpent, meanwhile,
Sleeps his meal off in Paradise -
Smiling to hear
God's querulous calling."
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|Private Message Subsequently Found To Contain Spinach |
Posted: May 22, 2008 - 4:41pm
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|It's A Secret |
Posted: Feb 14, 2008 - 1:21pm
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|Solemn Prayer |
Posted: Oct 2, 2007 - 3:41pm
With singing and righteousness
With strings and the bottomless pit
Conquer me with soul
Stirring my short sweet time
In that lovely sound
Practice me in the face of destruction
To bow my head, and close my eyes
And be conquered
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|Salvaged from threads past. So? |
Posted: Sep 27, 2007 - 8:34am
"Why Not Grasp At Straws Lest Last Gasp For Air"
As performed by The Jamirish Quartet with the always
solid and soulful Solid And Soulful All Ways Orchestra. Maestro Johann Von Krause conducting...
Dedicated to mediocrities everywhere in the monumental pursuit of a natural blend of Jamaican
hymnal extracts harmonized by virtuous accent in Irish brogue and complimented by strict if not sublime Germanic intuited arrangement. All with that certain something Polka backbeat.
Arrrrrr ya ready. A one...and a two... and
My lassie she went by the wayside lads
Und she fell to the buoy's wake
But when my Father he asked me for details
I got lost in what I couldn't take love
I didn't know how much I could take
When you turn your eyes to the front Mon
You know not what you can take
My lassie she go down to the edge Lads
And she gifted me a minder swell
But when the boat she listed to part right
I wondered who was ringing the bell ...
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|oldviolin - Jan 17, 2007 |
Posted: Jan 17, 2007 - 12:49pm
Verse of the Day
If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.
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Posted: Oct 14, 2006 - 9:02am
Right now someone needs your unconditional love.
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|The Haunting, Hunted Kind |
Posted: Jul 10, 2006 - 7:41am
I dreamed I met a Galilean;
A most amazing man.
He had that look you very rarely find:
The haunting, hunted kind.
I asked him to say what had happened,
How it all began.
I asked again, he never said a word.
As if he hadn't heard.
And next, the room was full of wild and angry men.
They seemed to hate this man.
They fell on him, and then
Then I saw thousands of millions
Crying for this man.
And then I heard them mentioning my name,
And leaving me the blame
From Jesus Christ Superstar
Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice
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|oldviolin - Jul 5, 2006 |
Posted: Jul 5, 2006 - 2:10pm
THE TOUCH OF THE MASTER'S HAND (Original poem)
By Myra Brooks Welsh
Twas battered and scarred, and the auctioneer
Thought it scarcely worth his while
to waste much time on the old violin,
but held it up with a smile
"What am I bidden, good folks," he cried,
"Who'll start the bidding for me?"
"A dollar, a dollar"; then two!" "Only two?
Two dollars, and who'll make it three?
Three dollars, once; threedollars twice; going for three.."
But no, from the room, far back,
a gray-haired man came forward and picked up the bow;
Then, wiping the dust from the old violin,
and tightening the loose strings,
he played a melody pure and sweet
as caroling angel sings.
The music ceased, and the auctioneer,
with a voice that was quiet and low,
said; "What am I bid for the old violin?"
And he held it up with the bow.
A thousand dollars, and who'll make it two?
Two thousand! And who'll make it three?
Three thousand, once, three ...
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|Self Portrait |
Posted: Jul 5, 2006 - 1:59pm
William Harnett 1886
The Old Violin
By Maurice Francis Egan
Though tuneless, stringless, it lies there in dust,
Like some great thought on a forgotten page;
The soul of music cannot fade or rust,
The voice within it stronger grows with age;
Its strings and bow are only trifling things
A master-touch! Its sweet soul wakes and sings.
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|Copy Coot |
Posted: Jul 5, 2006 - 7:49am
Another idiot sitting on the copy machine...
"There is no reality except the one contained within us. That is why so many people live such an unreal life. They take the images outside them for reality and never allow the world within to assert itself."
Hermann Hesse from "Der Steppenwolf, Magic Theater"
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|Chicago III, Sing A Mean Tune Kid |
Posted: Jun 25, 2006 - 10:06pm
When All The Laughter Dies In Sorrow
When all the laughter dies in sorrow
And the tears have risen to a flood
When all the wars have found a cause
In human wisdom and in blood
Do you think they'll cry in sadness
Do you think the eye will blink
Do you think they'll curse the madness
Do you even think they'll think
When all the great galactic systems
Sigh to a frozen halt in space
Do you think there will be some remnant
Of beauty of the human race
Do you think there will be a vestige
Or a sniffle or a cosmic tear
Do you think a greater thinking thing
Will give a damn that man was here
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|In The Moment |
Posted: Apr 15, 2006 - 4:02pm
"Hail to thee, blithe spirit!
Bird thou never wert,
That from heaven or near it,
Pourest thy full heart
In profuse strains of unpremeditated art." Percy Bysshe Shelly,1792-1822
from "To A Skylark"
In The Moment.
I never aspired to perfection. I dared not.
In the movie Papillion, Steve McQueen's portrayal
of the scoundrel and thief, Henri Charriere, hits home for me in one scene;
that moment in which, for attempting escape, he's held in solitary confinement to the point of death from starvation, and hallucinates the walk on the lonely road, in an endless desert. Before him appears an incarnation of judgment and he is sentenced for the crime of a wasted life.
The irony of the constant attempt to escape certain death, at the risk of death, to certain damnation, has always bothered me. Although sentenced to Devils Island (an effective and appropriate backdrop) for murder, he ...
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|A Ragged Beginning |
Posted: Apr 13, 2006 - 10:10am
........Thomas just laid there on the floor, while a stranger he couldn't see poked him with a stick...and with a smile. He was sure that his old nemesis, his doppleganger, would give up his hiding place behind hypocrisy and self righteousness, and then all bets would be off. Victories long accounted would become battles to wage all over again in an ongoing war of attrition. His hopes of a new start lost to anger and rejection .
With his good ideas gone bad and the word hate ringing in his ears, he dragged his anonymity and defeatism to the door and stood up straight, while thinking to himself, that at least his crutches were adjustable, lest the stranger catch him with uncertainty and push him over the cliff of the certain unknown.
Stumbling out the door he was greeted with all the promise of spring, and new starts. The hot sun shone in his face and the sweat blurred his vision. His reflection in the fountain pool was ...
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