Thursday, June 20, 2013

Thoughts from my head on my way to work . . .

we live in our heads,
tentacles of ourselves reaching out

my ex-husband stole my
to hire a man
to stalk me,
and then ultimately kill me. . .
When the man and his friends
were ready to snatch me,
from the street corner,
as I waited for the first bus . .
and then the police car
came up behind them,

from nowhere . . .
like my guardian angel . . .

So many years ago . .  and the tears still fall
when I remember . .
I try not to remember how I hated and feared men
after that . . .
The horrors of a man who could leave
a woman he once loved
destitute . . .

for I had nothing left,
but my life . . .
my friends
my child
my joy of life
the stars over my world
the air, flowers, birds . .
running water . .
my intellect
my spirit

my strength . . .

we live in our heads,
tentacles of ourselves reaching out

the beautiful girl
raced past me to get to the bus shelter's bench
She saw me with my cane . . .
my slow pace . . .

I wonder sometimes . . .

If the fruit of the tree
of the knowledge of good and evil . . .
was that verbal communication?
Was Eve the first human to talk?
Is that why men hate women so much?
because Adam had to listen?

we live in our heads,
tentacles of ourselves reaching out. . .

The workmen, in the building, gave me earplugs
to ward off the loud dissonant sounds
of the fire alarms
they were testing . .
with strobe lights flashing .. ..
it feels like an alternate universe
and I cannot quell the sensation
that I must run away. . .

the ear plugs are soft with pink and yellow stripes,
like candy,
I squish one down
and place it in my ear
where it expands slowly
tickling my ear drum
with its whispering sounds . . .
now I hear
only the sounds
of my inner self . . .

We live in our heads,
tentacles reaching out . . .

I walk towards the stairs
which lead up to my office

there is a lonely footprint
on the unwashed floor
bare and small
toes pointed
towards the exit. . .

We live in our heads,
tentacles reaching out . . .


  Royalty-free music for professional licensing
Massimo Vaccaro, "Meditazioni (EP)

Delicate flute and rushing water .  . peaceful and quiet . . .  gives the listener room to breath . . . 
My only complaint is that the album is too short . . . but I listened . . . forever . . ..


  Royalty-free music for professional licensing

GingerTom, "Music and the Movies 10"

With GingerTom's music, it is best to travel to Jamendo where he furnishes our minds with a delightful story to attend to the music . . . Even better to go to the beginning of this series and read the stories for all . .  in order:

I love the mystery of this musical story . . . It touches on something I would love to do . . travel through China, incognito and being touched by the simple lives and the beauty that abounds, both natural, historical, and human created . . . the Asian notes, and instrumental sounds in the music is quite nice, not overdone but tempting the heart of the listener . .. to follow . .. wherever it may lead. (This is one of my favorite GT's )

Please feel free to check out my music shares and reviews at:  
Thank you!

Sunday, June 9, 2013

House . . .

Halcyon Hall *

I am lost in your hallways . ..
skylights ripped like scars
through your skin . .
you have no joy in me
as I wander through the night
leaving temporary imprints,
blood on your walls
I am but a memory that clings
like refuse . . . waiting to be blown
into the ever waiting skies . ..
a dream, a bit of wayward dust . . .
a glint of glass reflecting hope,
for esteem . . . I stand and yet
I crumble . .  slowly . .. minutely
momentarily away . . .
melting like seaweed
on endless shores . . .  I am lost
in your beauty . . .
I am lost to you .. .. .
I hear a hundred thousand voices
resounding like planets
across the plane of time . . .

the foot falls . . resonate. . .
sliding warily
through memories . . . woven in delicate
arches . ..  backs bent, straining against the pressure
that releases life . . .
a spare coin rolls downhill
like thunder's deep echo
the voice of a god speaking
hidden behind the next corner . .  

beware of splinters
spearing deftly through the murmuring heart . . .
the fall of the house
frees the soul as pigeons
wing skyward
the timbers crash to the soil
and the stench of mildew
revives the community
to bury the body . .


Rune X -Natural Northern Darkness-,  "Paganstorm II (Album2013)"

Dark pagan . ..  black metal . . . joyless and droning . . yet mesmerizing and meaningful . . . responding and resonating with the listening soul . . .

  Royalty-free music for professional licensing

Red Dragonfly

 To lighten and brighten the mood . ..  This dragonfly was hanging on to the tallest branch in my yard, after taking several flights with a friend . ..  it would sit here sunning itself, the colors glinting from the wings were like fire, golden red fire with occasional glimpses of the rainbow . . . its little head would turn and look at me as I took several pictures . ..  but it posed magnificently:

* This picture of Halcyon Hall was NOT taken by me but was found on the Internet without notes regarding to the photographer. There are many pictures of this hall ( also known as Bennett College ) located in Millbrook NY . . . the latest pictures are of the collapsing in the middle section . . . it inspired me, this house, with its fancy face yet lost expression . . . its age and deterioration. . . its history . . .

Wednesday, June 5, 2013

again . . .

and one
displaces the wind
the wanderer, alone. . .
reaches up to the rain,
pasting teardrops on children
and wings on effervescent lullabies . . .
a ray of sun creeps through the boiling clouds
like streaks of golden hair
flowing into the eyes
of the observer .. ..
and two
beyond the tree
a lonely figure is bending over
the beating heart . ..
red like ruby roses
dancing on a silver river of mirrors
float the dreams of multitudes . . .
like burning ships passing by in the night . .  .
willing to be embraced
and three
an emblem, ululates
through golden plains
the wind bends the stalks
like horses
galloping beneath the cliffs . . .
singing the song of dolphins
tossed on a troubled sea . . .
the life entwined . .
    hope tumbles outward
through a universe
yet open arms
         of angels
              for love . . . .

and those of us who have died . . .
and returned
will always remember
the graceful dance
of that last amber leaf
in the last exhale
of Winter's breeze . .