Posts for June 18, 2019 (page 4)

It’s like I’ve been climbing this mountain

And I fell, and I’m not as far anymore

Now,

Laying on a ledge

I look around

The drops of dew on the trees sparkle

And the sun peaks around a cloud…

I can get up on my own

I just need some help,

A refill on water

Maybe an extra rope

Or another pair of boots

Because I’m not going back down

The peak goes farther than cloud 9

And I will get there

I have it in me

I am strong enough

No matter how long it takes

I just need to find my map,

Make a plan,

Tie my shoes,

And start going again.

Climbing my mountain,

Chasing my dreams,

Pushing past the limits,

Staying true to myself,

Striving for who I want to be,

And climbing while I still can.

“Chin up, charge the mountain”

Go play outside, it’s camping time.

Pack up your bag so we can
stack everything in
the car.

We’re here get
       the gear so we
           can set up the tent.
                It’s time for bed, don’t
get upset because  tomorrow we are
going to have some
fun!

Equilibrium
irreverent policies
contain destruction

Flooded rivers
will soon be coastlines loss
patterns adjusted

Anthropocene age
greed comes before the planet
logic is not present

Melting ice gives rise
to waves of incompetence
floating weak ideas

Enemy of reason
with our earths balance lost
oil is on our hands

The art is a Slow Motion Video with the Fujifilm XT-3 & XF 8-16mm the XF 8-16mm f/2.8 R LM WR(I love this lens) using the Acros film simulation. which can be found at https://www.ryankeinathphotography.com/blog

Your fingernails peel from the heat
And mewling, catlike demons 
Mark you as property of 
Wherever this place might be.

You sleep through daylight 
And wake in orange juice 
And that’s that, ’cause 
It’s just pink champagne on ice, yeah? 

Domesticated boars add atmosphere 
To the otherwise empty castle
The orange smell must be 
To mask the scent of manure. 

This is could be the place where
The fresh dead children play
A roadside stop 
Full of diseased, amusing tricks 
A castle turned ball pit of rot.

Becoming Her
My heart contains her–
This legend of my very death,
destruction, that kiss.

There is life in a wrinkle
a laugh that wants to stay
When I see gray hair
I see the silver moon 
who witnessed 
the first human
strike fire
sit across from its shadow
on the wall
and play chess

The runes writ on your blouse’s buttons
transmit a story to my fingers. 
I’ll relate it to you as we follow on
with the recipe we’re making.   

There is magic in the baring,
courage in its antonyms. 
Each requires the other in turn,
each lover to their own measures.  

Let me braid your hair by sunlight,
a fitting reverse of how it drapes
across my eyes and waiting lips
in the meager candles’ gentle glow.  

Full to the level
The rainbow drew true lines
and contrasted the earth into shaggy clouds.
The cardinal sang as haphazardly as dreams, 
careening past limits of time.
The water rose into the brim,
rose into a pearl,
swimming in color, leaping into our irises.

Someone said to me, “I’m 80.
It’s just a number.” I said,
“You’ve never been old.”

Here we have become petals
arranged around a center.
Light feet, no weight to them,
tickling the earth.

Oh Mother, you drew me forth
from black emptiness, found everywhere, 
into the electric pulse, the lightning bolt,
the blinking eye of this life.
How each second
becomes something that is parsed out,
how do hearts form and dance with each other,
how is laughter pulled;
how it escapes from the pull-
the heavy pull of compression, 
the stirring swamp of thunder,
the cracking smile of the sky
just as solid as this ball of dirt
and all of these two leggeds
from which music is flowing
like the astounding or miraculous breath of life, itself.

The snake curls in the roots of the great tree,
deafening trills and colors
drowning our madness with feelings.
There is something to feel –
there is something to desire,
to know and to consider, 
some things distant or unseen.
Forming is a feeling,
Forming is Love.

A contradictory greeting 

I figured there would be more synths
But looping and sampling are never as satisfying anyway
We walked to the booth, had a double-for-single-price
Banana Pudding was worth it, even with the stomach-ache