Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
http://michaeltaoblog.blogspot.com/2013/03/neighbors.html
2013-03-13

Apologies to all, but I have a series of small stories from my life that I need to tell over the next few days.  This is the first.  As always, I hope it makes you feel, or think, something.

(UPDATE, 6.12.14 - text removed; for full text, follow link)
there's a strange and beautiful light in the building this morning
as i walk down the hall lined with empty offices all dark
on my merry way to my morning coffee
it's dark and storming outside
sweet Summer rain
heavy dark, almost night
and that odd, grey-cast half-light
that is not quite shadow but neither true illumination
filters in through the tinted office windows
into the hall
into my eyes
blending on the way with the white bright from buzzing fluorescents
that draw a dotted line down the halls' ceilings
so that the colors from within and the colors from without
merge
to form a singularly beautiful light that glows in the air
only on days like this
dark rain
morning sky
fluorescent light
off-white walls
and i'm suddenly lost in that ethereal glow
drawn back in time to a memory i had forgotten when i was still young
of the time when i had first learned to love this light
though i didn't know it then
and couldn't have put it to words even so
i was still only learning how to read
and the school day still included a time specifically for "napping"
but i knew that rainy days were different, somehow special
and not only because we would have recess in the gym
but because everything about this strange new world that i was shuttled off to every morning
Looked Different
on these dark rainy days
everything glowed in a strange way
and it wasn't like that when the sun was shining bright through the windows
and most days were sunny
it was only sometimes, only in the once-in-a-while
that the sun would hide behind the darkness
and the wet would come pouring down on us
and the class-room would glow
and i would feel the strangeness of that rare and special light inside of me
my tummy would roll and quiver all day in anticipation of
nothing in particular
my young body would vibrate to match the frequency of the fluorescence humming above me
overwhelmed with exuberant expectation
i couldn't have described it, couldn't have said what it was
i was still only learning to speak
but i knew something was different in my world
i knew it was rare
i knew that it did something to me
i knew that i liked it
and i came to realize that is what the word "beauty" meant
and that is where "love" came from
and though i didn't know it then
couldn't have known it then
now i realize
i've chased that strange and beautiful light
every day since
Last night, I took a twenty dollar bill from my drawer
the last one
marked it with my words
in thick, black ink
grabbed a tack from the desk
and went wandering the alleys and backways and sideways of my town
scanning for the right spot
the right time
And alone on Cumberland, across from Potomac
I found a pristine telephone poll
sprouting tall and straight from the asphalt
like an urban redwood
Took the knife from my belt
the tack from my teeth
BOOM
BOOM
BOOM
and I walked away, heart pounding
hoping no one heard, no one saw
leaving the twenty hanging there like jesus
like a sign
in thick, black ink
asking,
"What do you REALLY want?"

I feel like a fraud.
 Aug 2013 Sarina
Fah
Untitled
 Aug 2013 Sarina
Fah
what we can do with our love?

well

let's not kid ourselves

lets lay down the law -
of our own relationship

and see what happens?


well


well


well


what do we have here?

what do we have here?

always gunna want more

this is the most dangerous drug i've ever touched

his salt kisses

and potent touches
are enough to breathe life into death

and death into life

we die constantly in the interchanging sections

and well - it's not exactly a simple plan we've constructed with the band

it's quite a few different aspects
to the way we love

1. we began with a trip

2. we end with one too

3. we keep our space when need be

4. we let each other be exactly as crazy as we are

5. we don't ever , ever forget how much love is worth

6. we play
36. love thyself above all

and know that it does crazy things

the whole of perceptions will change forever and ever and ever

and when the love is shared

well

well
well

well.....even stranger improvisations appear from null and void destinations and complications that appear to be inverse sensations


oh.

even more
the reflections of ourselves

are very very

curiously wonderful
new word!!!!!!!


shloom : Defenition

the feeling of a laugh that pervades throughout all the halls of time and selfs perpetual
sunrise


sinking into the smiles of solo flying

duel speed

we are astro monks sitting in our robes on a flying moth that guards the outer reaches of this universe

and well

earth sent out a very large warning cry so we know who needs us and when and where

and we are on the way

we are already there

instant.


we are not aliens

we are not scary

we look just like you and me and we know exactly
how we play this


very well done chaps

improv is exciting


heheheh


heheheeh
is this long enough ?


oh an essay?

you want a 4000 word essay on why i love life?

and DEATH??????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!­!!!!!




NO.


sorry not sorry.
Yes, I use violent imagery
Correction: I love using violent imagery
Does that annoy you?
Somehow set you off?

Is it because you wish
That I was a bit more 'normal'
A bit less pronounced, obvious
About who I am?

Are you annoyed because
You wish I'd feel embarrased
Of this part of myself?

Does it **** you off
To see me proudly display
My inner self-
all of it-
Without any of your foolish
Censoring?

Is it perhaps because
I am attempting to accept myself
Whatever I might be, its entirety?

Does it anger you
Because you
You bowed your head
And conformed when
Someone else came
And censored you?

But I
I refuse to do the same
For this is me
And I am not going to
Pick apart and,
Cut out
The bits of me you don't like
The shards
That form the complete picture

I refuse to allow
You to touch them
For this is ME
ME
Not you
Not your domain

**NOT under your control
This basically explains why I've been away
 Aug 2013 Sarina
Nat Lipstadt
Made the bed backwards

Just to hear your laugh,
I'm in the shower pretending not to hear,
Your return, your reaction,
But my grin stretching to the bedroom.

Afterglow, After-all,
All of us need a new perspective,
From time to this time.

But our life straightforward.
Got my eyeballs ******* to the
Solid white line
That we drive along side, behind,
Safe and sound.

Even when I park my poetry illegally,
Even when the pillows face an empty white wall,
We lie beside each other,
Straight on.

Where do I get these crazy ideas?

Remember when you picked me up on the internet when
You knew me by my anonymous moniker,
Still Crazy After All These Years?

Never changed, never will cause

I be who I be...

Stop that kissing, feed me, please!


10:21am
August 24th 2013
Postscript: came home,  I came out of the shower, we chatted, casually remarked, I made the bed,, she replied, yes I know, then she  looked and then hee haw hee haw hee haw nonstop 3 minutes.
The Art of Bed Making

Write they say, about what you know best,
Surely in the diurnal motions,
The arc of daily commotion,
Do we not all excel?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

First lets establish the fact
That
I hate making beds just as much as any man.
As chores go, it is the bottom of the
Totem Pole.

But having, unasked, once done the deed,
To surprise. And. To.  Please.
(What fools men are...)
The pleasure seen upon her face,
For my pillow^ skills and arrangements,
simply extraordinaire,
I have been incredibly guilted,
Without the opposing party saying but two words
(Oh my)
into
doing my share.

With pride of craft,
Then herein I reveal the methodology
For its art, it's poetry,
Line and stanza, meter and rhyme,
The Art of Bed Making,
If properly conducted.

First remove all signs of history,
Single socks, and itinerant underwear,
If you get queasy, get the hell out of here,
It takes a real man to make a quality bed.

With hands two, brush all and any crumbs
Onto the floor
Where they belong
And for which cleaning up ain't my job.

Then straighten the sheets,
After checking for fond memories,
i.e. wet spots, stains of glory, some old n' hoary,
And using the natometer,
Ascertain if they can make it one more day.
(Strange how they almost always can!)

Next, the coverlet.
Different schools of thought have discoursed,
Whether t'is best from the bottom or the top
To commence.

Me, I am, a top man,
As in most things,
I like to work my way down,
Nice and slow.

Extend one arm fully,
With broad, gracious strokes,
De-wrinkle the top,
Sending the waves and bumps over the side,
To their special hell.

This step most crucial,
For if the prior steps done in manner superficial,
This will mask you "inner" laziness well.

Pillows.

First sniff.
Determine which is yours, and which is hers, then
Render unto Caesar
The right pillow or accept the consequences dire.

Trust me,
She says she loves
Your manly odors,
But give her the wrong pillow,
And you may be a victim of a Pearl Harbor
Sneaky Pillow Attack...

Just as you are falling asleep.
And you are at your most defenseless...
"Hers" yanked from under your head.

If your woman is genuine,
She can't have enough decorative touches,
Like 6 or 8 pillows in a la carte shapes,
Which must be presented,
Ach Zo!

But here I rebel, my artistic manly resistances
Flare,
Makes me find new combos,
To which she says, delightedly,
Oh my!

Many details I have skipped,
For your safety's sake,
For if you master bed making,
Do not be surprised,
If many wet spots and stains will follow,
Making fresh sheets,
A daily necessity.

****.

August 10th 2013
Next page