Changes and maybe some resolution

Jan 93 is the source of todays poem ...

seems i MAY have resolved the profile photo issue. when i changed pictures (to a more recent one) i decided to store it on phtobucket (and somewhere else, i forget where now - but it didn't work either..) and the photo would never appear in my profile, or it gave me "invalid url" ... so, this morning i went back to image shack and it worked. seems the url length has something to do with it (though the notes in the Help section says they did away with the 64 character limit for urls before Nov.???) Well, the photobucket one was a few characters too longer than 64. So that may have been the issue. anyway - hopefully this will work.

you may have noticed, i changed a few things as far as backgrounds and colors ... no real reason, just change for the sake of change i suppose.

off to sleep soon, as it's night shift and all, so need some shut-eye, but i just wanted to post an update on the profile photo issue (any excuse to get another poem up, right?) .... ya'all have a great and safe and warm holiday and i'll see you next year, most likely.


PLUMBERS

the hiss of water freezing itself from ancient pipes
pipes caked in a stench of rust
pipes as old as a decaying city's dream

the water, black & orange at first, celebrates flight
dances & sings as it becomes clear
& seeks again the purity of ancient rivers

plumbers are called forth into a freezing night
magicians with wands of forged steel
chanting horrible incantations

the plumbers again become jailers of water
the hisses of freedom are silenced
only pools of dreams failed stain the walls

& eventually even these are gone

a short (relatively) montage poem

well, so much for new stuff. here's one from 10-92.

cold and wet (and a bit snowy at times) here in the Pacific Northwest. back to the happy papermill tomorrow night. Oh joys! Them old heavyweight orders await. Whooopeee. Can you say, no sleep and sore shoulders. O, yes, i knew you could.

not much else going on. Turning a grand olde 58 in the morrow as well. don't feel that ancient today, in fact, seldom do, except after work most days. at any rate, added a new photo, but couldn't get the link to photobucket to take, so had to resort to using the photo on my PC, and not certain how that will work when i turn the machine off at night, or when it turns itself into sleep mode after inactivity times.... well, we'll see, i guess.



THE BLACK CELEBRATION

1
the black celebration
of night & shadows
mingling

stars as if voices
to be heard

& the river dismantling
the mountain
a chip of wulfenite at a time

i walk the highway
between your heart & my dream
as if a prophet

2
the sound of daemons dancing in the underbrush
their eyes are beads on a rosary

the river singing songs of threnody
a flat moon casting spells over the dark water
spells that never materialize

i stand within the darkness
as if stone
reflecting the magic
between your heart & my loneliness

3
river stone cradling deposits
of gold & nickel

the conversation of owls
sentinel stars speak
to the bones

i am the incantation
waiting for articulation

a brand new poem, oh my!

a brand new poem - 1st draft - not that it signifies a reawakening of the Muse or a trend, or anything really, merely it's a new poem - the first in maybe 3 or 4 years (or maybe it's a fragment, or something to be discarded - who knows?). just thought i'd put it up here for evaluation.

on a few days off now, had an OK week at the papermill, though next week it's back to heavy weight orders and me plugging tubes. oh well, one fairly OK week is better than the averages, so i'll take it.



12:22:07

cripple cripple cripple
waits for jesus on the road to calvary
knows the price of redemption
the price of sin
remembers the sermon on the mount
& the chatter of hookers on 6th avenue

knows temptation is a horrible thing

Back to the happy papermill come morning

today's (well, tonight's) poem is from 10-:92.

rainy and sorta gloomy here in the Pacific Northwest. Typical Dec. day really. Poem is on the gloomy side (ain't that a shock?). Back to the happy paper mill in the morning, so i doubt there will be any posts until i get a few days off.

PC still working. so, keeping my fingers crossed and heading off to bed shortly. Ya'all have a good weekend and stay warm and cozy.




IF YOU COULD SEE THROUGH MY EYES

if you could see through my eyes

the cackle of the crow
wearing the gowns of disorder
& in his beak
the broken kernal of dreams
waiting to be sewn

the chameleon smiling
as he vanishes
upon his fingers
rings of magic
never to be transfered

the laughter of stones
holding the falling skies
from your window sill
& cracks more than obvious
filled with super glue

PC working so far .... new post from days gone by

today's poem is from 5:93. i really need to get myself together and type up - edit some more poems for future updates. i still have a few months worth (especially at the reduced rate i've been posting lately), but they are starting to sound a lot alike to me, and well, i think i have some others worth reading stacked somewhere or another. maybe after the first of the year???

PC seems to be working fine. Paula, mine too was relatively new. Started off as a software conflict that snow-balled into a registry issue ... anyway, since i went back to factory settings/configuration and reinstalled just what software i felt imperative, things are working well at the moment.

thanks for the comments lately everyone. And thanks to everyone stopping by, even if you don't leave comments. The counter tells me people are reading this stuff from time to time, and i am flattered. Ol' ZR, keep the faith and blogging along with those one word teases. Soulless and Paula, need to get back to your blogs and read your newer posts. i'll get there soon, promise. i do enjoy your recent work!!!

everyone stay warm and have a good season. Cold and rainy here in the Pacific Northwest. i get one more day off, trying to recover from another wonderful nightshift, then back to the olde salt mines on Thursday. No word lately the sale or merger. Since the contract was passed, things have been pretty ho-hum and quiet. They even hired another 4 people to cover the retirements pending early next year .... go figure.



FOR VOZNESENSKY

capitalization has made us dreamers
with no credit

shops closed
with iron windows

midnight fogs in pockets
& no manna falling

we starve
just like africans

in this land of plenty
for the rich

smog in our lungs
we reach god

with prayers of desperation
& designer drugs

the damned. the desperate
will believe in anything eventually

but poets believe in nothing
other than coughing snows

& bleeding ulcers. heroes
seeking no gold

only the unknown
unobtainable

working on the PC

another poem from Nov. 92

spent the day reformatting my PC ... seems there was a conflict with software loaded from my provider, and it just cascaded into a nightmare. So, tired of talking with HP techs, and being told i had a corrupt profile, or possibly a conflict in software, i just bit the bullet and took the computer back to original state. dead tired, and sort of close to being done, but not quite there. Things SEEM to be better at the moment, but won't know for certain until a few days pass.



I AM THE WIND

i am the wind (no bones) merely emotion through broken timber & eroded mountains
i am the wind through young girls hair & old womens hands (no form) merely emotion
i caress dust for company - salt foam for enlightenment
i carry birds on my sorrow - seeds for remote possibilities
i am the laughter of mountains, the moan of rivers
i am the whisper of morning, the scream of night
(no bones) merely emotion

#100 - hey hey hey

hey - it's my 100th post (according to the blogger count). Wowzers, and well, i have about half that many more in draft to add later on. need to get some more worked on, but who knows when that mood will strike again.

anyway, this is another introspective poem ... (ain't most of them that way?) written in the fogs of - Oct 92.



FOG IN DRAINAGE DITCHES

fog in drainage ditches
sentinel hawk upon wireless fence post

i watch the moon
caress a frozen wind

& wait on silent corners
for arch-angels in cadillacs that never stop

fog covers the yellow brick road
& vagrants lose the key to the american dream

i reaching for the debrie of comets
rub the face of gods lacking only names

expecting deliverance
as if i were daniel

the wind the rain and oh my, wasn't that a mighty storm!

todays poem is from sept 92 - just another poem of inner realization.

not much here. survived the massive wind/rain storms that hammered the Pacific Northwest. Actually inside the southern Willamette Valley it was windy and wet, but nothing like on the coast.

playing hookey from work this week. Well, had a vacation on the books i'd forgotten about, and decided not to reschedule it. Just relaxing and doing a little computer fix-work (replaced a dead CD burner, not without some issues - seems resolved now).

Now onto the poetry ....



I DRESS MYSELF IN THE RAGS

i dress myself in the rags of uncertainty
walk upon the waters of disenchantment
as if i were jesus gathering disciples

i erect no cathedrals
but my prayers are immaculate
to the dark vapors that gather along the dirty rivers of my life

i carry my dreams
as if a cross to Golgotha
there are no longer chariots of fire ascending the heavens

& my blood cures no diseases
but it stains the earth
as magnificently as any love lost