Archive for the Unanswered Questions Category

marisol gathers dead flowers…

Posted in Hysterical Romance, love n' luck, Marisol, Poetry, Unanswered Questions with tags , , , , on November 18, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

“waiting on marisol to return”

omphaloskepsis & marisol is gone.
yesterday i watched her gather
rose petals from flowers i’d
gotten her into a bowl before
placing the bowl on the center
of the table, disembodied flowers
& all. an occasional blast of wind
knocks petals from the bowl,
bleeding marisol’s work over the table
to the surrounding floor.

while she’s gone i’ve gathered
flower petals every time the door
opened, refilling the centerpiece
so she won’t see a single petal on
the floor.

when she returns the room will
have that cheerfulness that is mostly
her & some of me. i haven’t waited
for a first glimpse in years;
i’d sell my soul for a footstep
as long as it ain’t one of mine.

internal arguments against
predestination say we’re
together by choice; easily
enough everything else
flows from there. when she’s
out wandering i can still hear
her verbalizing action & close
proximity.

marisol will soon return to this
rose-petaled home. exaggerated
separation ain’t really her thing;
not with so many flower petals
waiting on her to arrive.

—————————-

I’d explain, but there seems no reason to stick my foot in my mouth again. Written for an audience of one. She’s very important to me.

plans askew, more to come…

Posted in afternoon requiem, JL Stories, Opinion, Philosophy, Poetry, thoughtful trips, TWTC, Unanswered Questions with tags , , , , , on October 2, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

greed of the suck-fish

gettin’ bombed watching sunday
untangle the last of her hours,
smoking cigarettes that go down
like water. rainfall outside fights
a rear-guard action keeping the
cloudy sky in place. the only
forward movement is in time.

whomever wanted it badly enough
could feel the electricity; inherent
in swallowed ovoid capsules.
transformational acrobats are all
the rage in this delicate town.
almost nobody watches the slow moving
grass waving in the foot-breeze.
short attention spans virtually
guarantee this misdemeanor attraction
generates moderate success.

by varying account, autonomics rule
the day as it constricts the loose
hours spilled out over the afternoon.
tomorrow is already given over
to a celebration of the old days;
today is the pocket the key must
pass through before being inserted
into the lock. pandoras box will
spring open on its own.

i am not alone…

Posted in History, Poetry, Sports, Unanswered Questions with tags , , , on September 29, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

about last night

found the usual post-mortem
in black ink but it doesn’t
matter (in detail.) pouring some
music & another cranberry juice/gin
cocktail & i’m laughing
cause that’s what you do when
the last feather is pulled out
& you find out you can still
fly.

late in the day considerations…

Posted in Cigarette, Descartes, Opinion, Philosophy, Poetry, thoughtful trips, travel, TWTC, Unanswered Questions with tags , , , , , , , , on September 23, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

& what are you, anyway?

if i laugh too openly whenever
the razor closes in on one of
those mainline highway tours
it’s only because i’m holding
out hope that someday i’ll
grow up & be a cigar-store indian.
i test myself for sanity every
time i wake-up having watching
myself catch river-water in a net
under semi-dark skies.
everything is plural here.

next to the impossibly blooming
cigarette flower were palm trees
lining a riverbank illustrating a
pretense toward chalice duty
had the the sky not been so cloudy.
forgetting such experiences is
one of my chief preoccupations
& the way i spend most of my
starting into space time.

it fades to a regress of half
captured images memorable only
for the gaping holes in each frame;
the rest is mist, something about
the sun god apollo, maybe a
pattern in the camel smoke drifting
past my eyes. everything dissipates
into the same extirpated landscapes
& actions as actual rainfall
weighs on everything trying to stand
straighter tomorrow than was
possible today. cigar-store indian
training continues apace.

————————————–

Dedicated to normality. It’s more unique (at times) than one might think or expect.

war as necessity…

Posted in History, Learning About Life, Philosophy, Poetry, thoughtful trips, Unanswered Questions with tags , , , , on August 21, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

war as needed

somebody is always asking
what kind of man Napoleon
might have been had he captured
his Corsican homeland instead
of burning the armies of monarchs
for fun & profit. maybe the
arsenic coulda been saved;
of course Bernadotte clan might
have something to say about that.

the rabble never tire of this passion-
play regardless of what Pitt might
have tried. historical role call
continues same as ever. Iraqi pr soothes
whatever an empty suit can’t
convince by blowing smoke. there’s
no shortage of bodies or donated limbs;
more that never changes in usefulness
to men with stars over shoulder
& dreams of fortunate valor
covering whatever limited
intelligence was there to begin with.

dead bodies can’t comment;
living ones can’t wait to replace
the fallen. as is, as was.
where else would a jobless fellow
find a paycheck & a chance
for future advancement?

—————————————

History as the past. Fun time to be 4F, especially considering what’s coming next.

sleeping through storms…

Posted in Philosophy, Poetry, Politics, thoughtful trips, TWTC, Unanswered Questions with tags , , , , , on August 18, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

waiting for a reason to move

perched above an afternoon
self-motivated as a coma patient
with much the same attitude.
everything waits on the arrival
of short term lightning-in-a-bottle;
what we need is the cosmic guarantor
to make good the promises so
freely given. even storm-laden
august afternoons know that.

instead just more silent acceptance
& serenity prayers both ack-
knowledge easy borne truth of
timely dis-intervention. when i
was asked to take it all on faith,
i smiled my best smile but
my answer didn’t change.

—————————————–

In honor of deities & starvation. Starting with an easy one does not bode well for those of us waiting for answers to even bigger, more complicated questions. I wish I was hungry enough to eat a burrito. Those kind of things.

1220

Posted in Ha Ha Funny, JL Stories, Laughter, Learning About Life, Philosophy, Poetry, TWTC, Unanswered Questions with tags , , , , , on August 11, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

1220

i didn’t wanna see straight
anyway.

another ant wandering over
butcher paper,
lost on the maze, or maybe
my imagination or something
in that vein of logic,
rationalized inebriation after
session’s end; all roads go
in the same few directions &
every last one of ’em
ends in the same place.

i didn’t wanna try too hard
or think too long about
unproven theory of an admixture,
this wasn’t time or money
or questions regarding either.
facets of the equation complicate
all the variables until the
known knowns are known, if
not longer. i’m dizzy
enough as it is.

we shared a few words between myself
until nothing was resolved. hysteric
education in the after-effects of
dynastic change; there used to be
medicine for this kind of thing
but nobody sells it anymore. now-
adays most doctors recommend
continued breathing as a cure.

i couldnt shoot straight.
i didn’t wanna see straight;
lucky for me i never had
to walk a line, least not a
straight one. what does
easy street look like
anyway?

all at once (we were saved)…

Posted in Cigarette, Extreme Spinal Pain, Friendship, Funny Morning Stories, Ha Ha Funny, Laughter, Learning About Life, Poetry, thoughtful trips, Unanswered Questions with tags , , , , , , on July 17, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

we were saved

so now i know;
everything scattered
will be picked up by the
time we gotta leave,
no harm to the birds or artists.

sixty thousand dollar
apologies flood the post,
all it takes for acceptance
is to see the larger powers
at play. nobody is dumb
enough to apologize to a
head built like a brick.
call the meteorologist
& ask him which way the
winds gonna blow. we’re
all getting the same
answer, no matter who we
ask. maybe i’ll sign.
maybe not;
post looks light.

numb-minded misapprehension
feeds our celebration. don’t
let the bastards getcha down,
don’t let ’em know you’re holdin’
big slick in the river face
lookin’ like a double deuce;
everything is gonna be alright
for those of us ready to bleed
& lick.

scars are tellin’ me cuts
have healed; when my bet pays
off i’ll know it’s time to
move. until then it’s 4th
starters to the rescue ’til
the front line guys get back.
i will get back.

————————————-

Apologies for the length, this has been a long fight that hasn’t ended yet though news from the front speaks of smallish victories. Better than routed defeats. This was a morning I woke to greet the sun without waiting for the sun to greet me.

poetry in richmond…

Posted in afternoon requiem, Friendship, Hysterical Romance, JL Stories, Learning About Life, love n' luck, Lyrics, Marisol, Poetry, travelogue, Unanswered Questions with tags , , , , , , , on July 11, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

poetry in richmond

if what’s being said is true,
luck don’t mean a damn thing &
we can all go home & kiss our
girls. background singers cross
into frame for a few bars
then disappear as the kettle drum
leads us all to desired wisdom.

i can’t help but follow along;
there’s nothing to drink but
the mob knows thirst better than
anything at all.

synthetics are taking a beating
across the board. everyone is
screaming for the real deal &
pulling in three different
directions. i lost my bead on
the kettle drummer so i follow
the crowd. by the time i’ve
reached a dead end, it’s too
late to appreciate anything
but ‘classical gas’ coming
through the speakers &
the beautiful girl learning to
daydream once more in my bed.

looking down at my own claw
marks, i can only wonder about
marisol. deep scratches
taken during the bear
rush, there wasn’t any time
to think. the “i love you’s”
were spoken in the dark before
collapse. dreamed we were
closer than ever; saw myself
through her eyes.

——————————————-

Something a little different this new morning. “Classical Gas” is a reference to the song by Mason Williams, so please don’t sue me Mr. Williams. It’s like they say… volatile, but kind. Love you everyone. Just do.

we’ll start here…

Posted in Ha Ha Funny, JL Stories, Poetry, TWTC, Unanswered Questions with tags , , , , , on June 19, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

elevenses

i lined ’em all up
by effect.
just go with
what you want;
opposite of
everything that
hasn’t happened.
that alone
s’enough for
celebration.

you can’t fall
from a wagon
when you travel
by boat.

oversize gag-gift
lighter was
all i could find
without searching
couch cushions. it
matched my smile
contemplating how
lazy i had become
to light this fire
with a joke.

between 7 tins
of legal madness;
i’m only a few
breaths short of
waking up
for the day.

my boat shimmies
in calm waters,
on beautiful days,
like this one.

—————————————–

Some know the delight in contemplation of the coming rains. Some never will. I’m not sure which I envy more sometimes. Ah well, bought the ticket…