Memory

I look at the one I love,
never changing, always the same,
by the hour, minute, and seconds.

Persistent memory,
root of permanence,
its fruit, illusion.

I look at the one I love,
ever changing, never the same,
by the hour, minute, and seconds.

Illusion of memory shattered!

Again and again, however we know the landscape of love
and the little churchyard there, with it's sorrowing names,
and the frighteningly silent abyss into which the others
fall: again and again the two of us walk out together
under the ancient trees, lie down again and again
among the flowers, face to face with the sky.

~R. M. Rilke~

Until....

Center Line

Got a pack on my back.
Highway under my shoes.

What's yours is yours.
What's mine is mine.

With a mountain on my right.
An ocean on my left.

I'm walking the miles.
I got the travelling blues.

Where are You?

What ever happened to the barker, bearded lady, fire eater, fortune teller with the turban, the giant, rubber man, snake charmer, strong man, sword swallower, the guy who could lie on a bed of nails?

Let me know if you're still out there.

I miss you all.

My Blog

Why the f**k are you reading this blog?

To read my profile, so you know I was born under the sign of Taurus in the year of the Rabbit?

What the f**k is that to you!

There are probably thousands of you born under the sign of Taurus in the year of the Rabbit and to those who weren't there are thousands upon thousands of you born under one sign or another in the year of some animal. What purpose does it serve to know that you're nothing special.

Why do you want to know about my interests! Photography,Painting, Drawing, etc. They're my interests not yours. What about my movies, music and books are you going to watch my movies, listen to my music and read my books? Bullsh*t! I'm not going to watch your movies, listen to your music or read your books; if I have it sure as hell wasn't because of you. Or are you looking for a "connection?" LOL!

I write on my blog for my own pleasure and read it for my own edification not for f**king you! Isn't writing on your own blog for your personal pleasure and edification enough for you? Is your imagination so barren that you can't imagine anymore and all you put out is drivel?Is that why you read what's on my blog to spark your smoldering imagination?

And in spite of all I said you'll be back, won't you?

Purple Shoes

I want to be dressed as a clown at my wake,
with a red blub nose, and a giant painted grin,
dressed in a lime green sport coat and lemon yellow slacks,
with oversized purple shoes, a huge flower in my lapel, as mourners gaze into my coffin,
have my huge flower randomly squirt water in their faces.

I want to leave them laughing!

Reality Street

Seeing-eye man strumming on his guitar.
Blind dog singing along.
Old lady shaking her tambourine.
Oh, what a scene to be seen!
On Reality Street.