the sun went down- evening- has crept up- the lights are for someone that does not know this house- earlier it seemed almost possible to go and live the way it should be done------------- here on the farm there is always 'broken shit' - and what is better than that for a junkyard dog-and junkyard dogs are busy like beavers at BEAVER CREEK
Quietly i feel myself drifting off into a place that is my own- white walls and colorful bowls - plenty of space- artwork hung and framed- everything is made by hand- amish furniture- and shaker style- wooden bowls- filled with fruit and sunlight coming thru the windows-fresh flowers=- that is what i think about- i think about painting with the sunlight coming thru my windows and my grandchildren come laughing in the front door= i think about my sons and the beauty they have shown me- and the love-and that road filled with all different kinds of kindnesses and empathy and compassion-
it will be cold soon- before that the lawns will be filled with leaves- i watch as the sacred flower blooms-amazed before anything is half way thru- there was a time when i was a stranger to myself- wanting to love so badly i abandoned that which fed me- for the illusion of you-you that i loved- i see the faces of my sons and the father- smiling- laughing- that is what i did - i think-
after some time on the island= and now back home- my body has a new voice- i am no longer smoking tobacco- and when i try- it is terrible- how long i have wanted this- yet - now- as usual there is something else to look at= and it is always a hallway- downstairs in the basement- i have to bring up the 'winter clothing-' the 'waterproof and the warm'= bring it on-then the trees will be naked-branches and twigs all intertwined like love in its quiet approach
i watch as the years unraveled themselves in the car- on the way home to the farm-the years when i walked with a pair of high heels, tight jeans and a strut - and all the women i knew were witty and DRY and full of piss and vinegar= i laughed- i was a laughing girl-
there was a time when i was each one of the people in this room tonight- the lights the colors and the bling-dying my hair one hundred colors to sunday-hiding out at ami s when the goin got rough-
and then that proverbial phone call- the one that changed my life forever- that italian -rain and a phone booth in humbolt county- 'COME BACK TO NEW YORK'
ok
the threads all made a family- and those threads were never severed-once woven- it can never be undone-
oh but we tried to wreck it- with our pride and egos and all kinds of arrogence and judgement- and then well- we wince when we catch sight of who we were back then-
pretending it was the other= that wrecked it-but we knew= no matter what was said
how things happen
like his parents wondered about things -
and the grandparents
this story will keep pushing its head out like a baby from the birth canal- it just gets born so many times- and then left alone to ferment like grapes
under my feet
wine
i miss the wine- an the sunlight on the dijon fresco colors of the houses in italy at sunset- all that rommance- cannot leave the place where it came in- romeo and juliet s house- the shroud of JESUS and people wonder why i am a bit strange- go touch some of these things- see the pyramids- so what are you waiting for-i have a hankering for cuzco peru- without experience- it is a hallow bone- they say there is alien skulls down there- they do not have the four bones in the skull the rest of us guys - a physic on the santa monica pier when i was like nine- taking the bus where i was not supposed to g- the gypsy lady took my two dollars and said'was your mother abducted by aliens/" i felt angry - i said' do you think she would tell me?" smile-
somewhere in that book it says' without love i resound like a gong-- corith 13 way back when i still believed in heaven and hell and the future- and sucess- and america and rock and roll- but i see what is left from too much love and war-
with out too much attention
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creativesoul
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with out too much attention
Last edited by creativesoul on September 26th, 2013, 3:41 pm, edited 4 times in total.
reason is over rated, as is logic and common sense-i much prefer the passions of a crazy old woman, cats and dogs and jungle foliage- tropic rain-and a defined sense of who brings the stars up at night and the sun up in the morning---
Re: with out too much attention
Good theme and story. 
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sweetwater
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Re: with out too much attention
not just good
but great
but great
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creativesoul
- Posts: 4658
- Joined: September 15th, 2005, 3:23 am
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Re: with out too much attention
well i invited all you faceless writers to a party here on the farm- we could fix up the barn with a stage and a micro phone and read poetry and laugh - it sounds like fun to me-
reason is over rated, as is logic and common sense-i much prefer the passions of a crazy old woman, cats and dogs and jungle foliage- tropic rain-and a defined sense of who brings the stars up at night and the sun up in the morning---
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creativesoul
- Posts: 4658
- Joined: September 15th, 2005, 3:23 am
- Contact:
Re: with out too much attention
i love you guys- seriously0 thank u- i love this site- and the whole thing- hope you write something that floats your style -lends a hand- ha aha aha ah-sweet 
reason is over rated, as is logic and common sense-i much prefer the passions of a crazy old woman, cats and dogs and jungle foliage- tropic rain-and a defined sense of who brings the stars up at night and the sun up in the morning---
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