#oldman
The Ghost House
The village folk say her owner was a grumpy old man,
He would curse at children playing in front of his beautiful house
Now it sits falling apart, rusty and grotesque.
In the corner of SisterBerenice Street there sits a house
Her walls cracked and her yard unkept
Her windows shattered and her doors battered.
Now the children stray further from the house
For rumor has it shes haunted
By the spirit of the grumpy old man.
But she stands lifeless and rotten
Giving testimony of death really is,
Slowly decaying and being forgotten.
Oct 14, 2024
Oct 14, 2024 at 6:33 AM UTC
I scanned the old man
Through my translucent curtain.
He stood before my door, hand raised,
Seeming ready to knock.
Wires ran into his large ears;
His waddle swayed over his crew neck,
Beneath a brown corduroy jacket.
Liver spots crowned his wispy head,
And the back of his hand.
He listed and bobbed
Like a Huron laker waiting to unload.
He had a distinct and not unfamiliar look;
A man with full faculties.
I opened the door to him,
But he said, "It's not time."
"Time?" I asked.
"To let me in."
Mar 11, 2022
Mar 11, 2022 at 9:57 AM UTC
Five.. four..three... A life depends
When the last leaf fell,
His life will end
But one day he was getting well
Two..one.. A heavy rain happened
He asked his friend for the curtain to be opened
The last leaf is still there
But the one who made it is not anymore there
One.. it's still one
His life was saved by that old man
That masterpiece changed everything
It saves life because of that painting.
Oct 4, 2020
Oct 4, 2020 at 9:26 AM UTC
His ample graying beard
nearly covers crinkled flesh
his eyes focus on the stars
that surround him
his hat with its spangled band
bent slightly down in front
seems to say: I am traveler of Earth.
I wonder what transcendence
dances behind those eyes
slowly moving like Zorba,
arms out gently waving,
an eagle in flight.
Like the old man
I want to bear witness to the universe
in the wave of my mind
to give flight to words
infiltrate, expand and release them
and maybe figure out my small part
in the great mystery.
Aug 26, 2020
Aug 26, 2020 at 5:43 PM UTC
To my fantastic friend Ronnie Lee
For being such good company
I am thankful for compliments you give
Flirtatiousness you ask me to forgive
But I know pick-up lines are all in good fun
****** sense of humor don't bother me none
I get your jokes
You get mine
Find some way to boost my self-esteem each time
A kind word
Wink
Or a "Hey pretty girl"
Instantly brightens my world
I like when you say "Where's my hug?"
Those days we smoke a tasty nug
When you go wish you'd stay longer
Conversation makes our friendship stronger
You do not gossip or start drama
You just want to have fun
If **** goes down you have my back and your gun
You may be old-aged but you're young at heart
Only thing that stinks about you is your farts
I hope this brings smiles to your face
You have proof of my affection (in pen so it can't be erased)
This is to say thanks for being a pal through the years
If you need anything know I am here
It is rare to meet an honest soul in this world of pretend
You are a one-of-a-kind friend!
Jan 16, 2020
Jan 16, 2020 at 8:38 AM UTC
Old man
Old heart
Stuck in his old ways
Losing his good days
Old man it's too late
to be loved
Olden
Golden
Youth has stolen
Your daze
Your eyes are blurry
Old and worried
While wrinkles cover your face
Old man turning gray
Old heart slowing pace
She'll never love your gray
Old man it's too late
To be loved
Old man
Old hands
Time has taken away
Any chance for your past...
To change -
Stuck in your old ways
Losing your good days
Old man
It's too late
To be loved
Jul 12, 2019
Jul 12, 2019 at 12:58 AM UTC
The old man at the bar
firmly attached to his seat
he'll not be wandering far
nobody to see or too meet
Day comes in, night goes out
just a fixture, part of decor
weathering a never ending drought
needing less, yet still, wanting more
He looks to the bottom of his glass
and thinks he sees her again
hoping the despite comes to pass
but who is he, too complain
Memories good or bad
a stroll down a well known lane
many more drinks to be had
dulling the thoughts
within his brain
Dec 29, 2018
Dec 29, 2018 at 2:43 PM UTC
Sitting on a throne of stacks made of poems,
He rules, or thinks he does, up on his mountain.
He hates a rhyme more than
The buzzing of a fly or scuttle of a rat.
They remind him of his paucity of skill.
He rolls a magazine tight
Swings it at the rhyme, **** ****
He shouts.
Up on the throne, he rambles onto paper
Vers libre, je crois.
Looking down, he sees thousands of admirers,
Coming to hear him read
His old poems of war and death, and lost love.
Only a daughter, who is “hot”, for him to ogle.
They pick up girls and eat chicken.
The past is a patchwork quilt to him,
Ragged, frayed and faded.
He screeches out memories!
Then doodles them onto the cloud,
He loves to brag
About his computers, his awards and his printed stuff.
It is all he has.
Old man staring out at the oil rigs
Of Bakersfield, he can’t rhyme about that,
The run-down houses and cracked streets.
Browned like toast by the driest air!
But he has been places, studied things,
Allegedly—what does he remember?
So he is proud, insolent in his old age.
Who can tell him what to write?
Only his publisher.
Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 11:24 PM UTC
news paper pages
scatter along a ***** wind
some caught in fences separating
some free to climb into the forever of
deep blue sky pure sunshine
washed clean of the sins printed on its page
only photographs remain
a black & white image of the old man
feeding pigeons along the empty path
that lead him there
news paper pages
forever silently burning in a collapse of worlds
so old the smoke has died away
pages with masterful words written
never finding lips to uncage their meaning
a beauty of phrase that has never faded
a chain link barrier between what its
long dead author spoke eloquently
and the world disguised by years of dead dust
only photographs remain
a faded image of an old man
walking the sunset
a scattering of bread crumb's
stretching back along his trail
leading not into the living sky
forever shifting between dark and light
but into the dusty caverns of twilight
forever twilight
by candle light
he will pour over the things he never spoke
wishing only for a voice once more
a way to tell her
about all those yesterdays ago
the why's and whatnot's
that he fiddles with
like wooden toys ever more finely crafted
never to knowing play
never to escape the gathering dust
here he sits
in his comfy chair
tea and biscuits gone cold
and his lips ****** with gentle care
words written on discarded news paper pages
like bread crumbs scattered for
birds that never come
© 2017 mark john junor all rights reserved
Sep 15, 2017
Sep 15, 2017 at 9:50 AM UTC
Now there he is, dying
In old age he suffers
from liver damage he dies
Though he suffers
He smiles.
His quiet thoughts
He thinks
He remembers
He smiles
There once a night
This is the night she dies
He cries
She smiles
His quiet thoughts
He thinks
He remembers
He smiles
There once a day
The day of their anniversary
It was there last
Though he know
He smiles
His quiet thoughts
He thinks
He remembers
He smiles
There once a night
The night his son
Had a son
He is very happy
He smiles
His quiet thoughts
He thinks
He remembers
He smiles
There was once a day
The day of a wedding
The wedding of his child
He smiles
His quiet thoughts
He thinks
He remembers
He smiles
There once a night
The night his son
Goes to college
He is sad
His quiet thoughts
He thinks
He remembers
He smiles
There once a day
The day his son
Have gone to school
He is proud
His quiet thoughts
He thinks
He remembers
He smiles
There once a night
A Night like no other
The birth of his son
He smiles
His quiet thoughts
He thinks
He remembers
He smiles
There once a day
They knew
He is a father
He have a son
His quiet thoughts
He thinks
He remembers
He smiles
There once a night
A sad night
They fought
A misunderstanding
His quiet thoughts
He thinks
He remembers
He smiles
There once a day
The best of his days
The day of their wedding
He is very joyful
His quiet thoughts
He thinks
He remembers
He smiles
There once a night
The night he proposed
She said yes
He remembers
His quiet thoughts
He thinks
He remembers
He smiles
There once a day
The day they met
She was beautiful
She still is
His quiet thoughts
He thinks
He remembers
He smiles
There are more memories
He could not remember
But in his heart
It stays forever
His quiet thoughts
He thinks
He remembers
He smiles
He dies in peace
Dec 3, 2016
Dec 3, 2016 at 10:21 PM UTC
Before I knew it the sun had come,
I had been outside before it decided to arise;
I watched the blue bird.
The blue bird was up before everything else
Rose before the sun,
It pecked at the ground as I sipped my tea
It pulled out a worm and went away
I went inside and thought,
“I wish I could be a bird. So free and elegant, a nomad of the sky.”
Before I knew it, I was up before the sun,
I went on my way with my instincts leading me,
I went to a grassy area and stood there.
I watched an odd man take a sip from his cup.
I pecked the ground and punctured the dirt. I found the worm that was buried inside.
The man looked at me with disappointment in his eyes.
I flew away to my branch and thought,
“I wish I was human, so powerful, they never have to worry about food,
Or a place to live. They get to stay in one spot and never have to leave.”
Oct 16, 2016
Oct 16, 2016 at 4:50 PM UTC
*Knock knock
"Anyone there?" he heard someone saying it while knocking at the door. That one knocking the door had a voice of a child. The voice was soft and with this the old man inside the house guessed the age of child to be probably five to six years.
"Hellooo" the kid said again. He was continuously knocking the door.
Child continued to knock for a little while.
"I know you are inside there, please respond"
Child said pleadingly.
"Go away, no one is here" the old man said furiously. He was frustrated.
"Oh! Here you are" child responded "Dr Adam, I need help, I am..." the child couldn't complete the sentence, and the old man's heard a thud which was supposedly bigger than a knock. Possibly his head had banged against the door. Something had happened, the old man knew.
The old man was a loner but he wasn't heartless to not check on the kid. He bookmarked the page and kept the book he was reading on the table. He stood up and started to walk towards the door. He put down the chain and then opened the door slowly.
The child was holding on the door. As the old man opened the door the child could barely keep standing for some moments and he started to fall near the man's legs. Old man was quick and he put his hand below the child so he couldn't fall on the floor.
The old man grasped the hand of the boy to check his pulse. The boy was still alive though there was something weird about his pulse. It was weak, he could barely sense it and the pulse was low to around forty per minute. He was still breathing. The child was unconscious.
The old man grasped that kid in his arms and took him to his bedroom, situated upstairs on right corner of the house. He placed that kid on the bed which was still as fluffy as a new bed would be. It's been years since that old man was back to his bedroom. He used to sleep mostly in his chair while reading. He placed pillow under the kid's head and went back downstairs to other room.
That room didn't looked like a room, it looked more like a library. The room was large and there were books everywhere. His hand written notes and research was all scattered in the room. And the old man grasped they book he left on the table and continued reading.
Some hours passed and the old man heard the door opening upstairs. The child had woken up, he knew. The old man grabbed some fruits lying in the basket and went upstairs. The kid was just out of the room.
"Hey kid, you can still rest a little, and if you don't want to rest, you can have these fruits and go"
"Dr. Adam!?"
"Yes"
"I'm dying."
The old man was speechless as he heard these words from that little child. Many patients had come to him before, knocking on his door, to help them but he had left his profession because of one accident. All of them had to go back. He didn't even opened his door to anyone before. But now he had a child in front of him, who said he was dying and this left the old man speechless.
"Go to the hospital kid, I can't help you. I do not operate anymore"
"I went to the hospital. The disease I have have no cure. Not a single of them can cure me"
"Then how do you think I'd be able to cure you?"
"My disease makes my heart weaker by the moment it beats"
The old man knew this disease. All he could do was just stare at that kid and listen to him.
"They told me that long ago, a genius researched upon something and came across a cure to everything. And in that time, a kid had the same disease as me. He could die anytime. That genius used his talents to give that kid a new life. He cured that child and that child lived for a day but something happened and the disease of kid returned. This time, a million time worse and the kid died."
A silence followed after the kid.
"That genius was you Dr Adam . You had saved that kid before, even for just some days, but only you were the one to be able to find its cure. Save me doctor. Save me."
"I... I can't..." for the first time in years, the old man was not rude. His voice was trembling. In his eyes was fear. His north had dried up. He couldn't speak another word.
He was taken aback. He was looking in the eyes of that kid and in those little eyes of that kid was hope. Blue eyes of that kid were same as that of Nicholas, that kid the old man failed to save life of.
And the old man went to a state of trance and started to wonder in the memories thirty years back.
He was young back then. He was a genius. He learned to speak when he was just six months old. At three he used to solve maths problems easily that were hard for child double his age. His parents knew he was talented and so they gave him best education they could. He completed his doctorate degree at the age of seventeen when most of the people his age would be looking for what to do. He was a prodigy.
He joined a hospital. And started to operate on people. The operations that looked hard to normal one, he was able to do without a sweat. He wanted to do more. And so he got a home for himself where he could work in peace. He started on researching the cure of everything. He would think, search and experimented alone.
One morning, two years later, he found that any disease can be cured using magic. The magic that provides energy and makes life energy so strong that the body itself heals itself.
He was happy that day. He went to hospital to break out the news to everyone. But on his way, he found a small kid, of five years, laying on the bed.
"Hey kid" he said to the child.
"Hello doctor..."
"My name is Adam. What's your name"
"I'm Nicholas, doctor Adam"
"What happened to you Nicholas"
"I don't know."
"Don't worry, you'll be alright. I promise you"
"Thank you Dr Adam" the child smiled. That smile was so full of feelings that it made Adam more happy from inside. That smile had touched his heart. He just wanted to make that kid more happy by curing him of whatever he had. He made a promise to himself that he would cure that kid before telling upon his research to everyone.
He ran across the hospital and went to the other room where the doctors handling the patients of that room were.
"Hey Robert"
"Hello sir" though Robert was ten years older than Adam but still he used to call Adam sir because Adam was a lot more senior than him because of his knowledge.
"Whats up with Nicholas"
"That small boy"
"Yes"
"Actually, we don't know anything yet"
"What?"
"We've never seen such disease yet"
"What is with that disease"
"His heart is losing strength by the moment it beats. A severe pain was in his heart for unknown reasons pops up whenever. And he sometimes loses his consciousness at random times. That's one of a kind case. He can die at any time."
The young prodigy was speechless for the first time. His thoughts took him to another world. He was broken because he thought he couldn't help that kid. And then he heard a scream coming from the same place Nicholas was in.
He ran back to there. Nicholas was holding his heart with one hand and screaming. The pain was immense. Beyond measure of one's imagination. The eyes were flooded with tears. This view shocked Adam. He had never heard anyone shriek that loud in his whole life.
He went near Nicholas and held him up in his arms. He hugged him close and said that everything will be alright. The child's voice somehow lowered. After some moments, that. stopped crying and just stayed in his arms.
"Save me Dr Adam! Save me" the kid said sobbingly and then collapsed under his hands and got unconscious.
For the first time in his life the doctor felt helpless. He realized how precious life was. And he could not help that kid. The young man started crying. And suddenly a bright idea struck his mind. He thought of using the magic he researched for to cure this child.
"I will save you kiddo, I definitely will" he said to that small kid and then turned to Robert who had followed him
"Robert, can you take him to the operating table please"
"Yes but first tell me what are you going to do"
"I will tell you later. Just trust me and take him to there" Adam gave that kid to Robert and started to go out "I need to go back home for a bit. I'll be back quick" he said to Robert hurriedly and ran back to home. He needed to see the procedure again. He didn't wanted to do any mistake. Though he had not done any experiment to any animal, he was still confident in his research.
He came back to home, took out some notes of his from his book and started to read them. Then after some minutes, he ran back to hospital along with those notes. He just went to the room where the kid was. Robert was there near the table and the child still knocked unconscious and laying on the operating table.
"Thank you Robert. Can you please leave us alone now"
"But what are you going to do now?"
"Cure him"
"But how?"
"I can't tell you now but I will surely cure him"
Robert was still reluctant but he knew that Adam may have come up with some way of curing that child
"Trust me, I will surely" Adam said
And with that Robert finally left from there.
The doctor begin the procedure and he placed his palm on the child's heart tenderly. Then he closed his eyes and then had his other hand up. The other hand was open like he was gathering something from sky inside his hand. He was channeling the energy of the universe too the life energy of the kid.
The man could feel it running through his body. It was like the kid's energy was faint green in color and the energy in his hand was vibrant blue which was intense. The blue energy went from his hand to the other hand was going to the child's energy and making it stronger. But Adam didn't knew why there were two colors of energy. There was something wrong, he felt but nevertheless he continued to channel. Gradually the energy inside kid began to grow and it was full again. Like the color of child's energy was not blue but with little faint green inside.
Adam withdrew his hand. Nicholas was still breathing and seemed to be in good shape. Adam knew he was successful but he knew something,even if it were a little thing, had been wrong. And he sank back in the chair nearby.
After some moments the kid opened his eyes and sat on the table
"How are you feeling kiddo?" he asked standing from chair
"I... I feel... I feel fine doctor" Nicholas said. He was touching his heart like he was wondering what happened. He felt better than before. He felt that he is all alright.
"I feel good doctor" Nicholas said "I feel great" he added. He had a smile on his face. He felt rejuvenated. He was happy. Adam had a sigh of relief.
"How did you do it doctor?"
"Do what?"
"Cure me. How did you cure me? They said that my disease couldn't be cured by any medicine or surgery"
"Well...." Adam didn't knew what to say
"Tell me please. How did you?"
"Magic" and Adam smiled. He had told the truth though Nicholas didn't thought it was truth. This made nicholas laugh.
"Thank you... My magician" and they both started to laugh again. They both were happy.
"Come on now. Let me take you to your bed" and he grasped Nicholas in his arms and took him to his bed.
"I want to go home, not this bed"
"We still need to keep you under observation for a while still kiddo. So be a good boy"
"Ok magician, I will be a good boy"
Robert was there. Looking for other patients. He looked at the boy and observed him. He saw no marks, and realized surgery or something had not been done. And he later real used that pulse of the kid was normal now. And the child was smiling.
"How did you did that sir?" he asked Adam
"Ask the kid, he knows" and Robert looked at the kid
"He did magic doctor" and they both started to laugh while Robert looked puzzled. But Robert knew that the prodigy must have made some discovery and that's how he cured him and Adam want to give surprise to others.
"Congrats magician" Robert joined them.
"Robert can you help me in observing this child. I want to make sure he is all alright"
"I will sir" Robert said
They both did some tests that day along with looking after other patients. The strength of the heart of that boy had returned and heart beat was normal with no pain burst or unconsciousness for whole day.
Adam said final good night to the kid and went to his home to get some rest after informing Nicholas they he will be discharged tomorrow.
Adam dozed off to sleep quick that night. But he had a nightmare. He saw those two energies blue and faint green that were slowly disappearing. Darkness was consuming them both as they mixed. And then there was complete darkness. He heard a terrible scream of pain an then he woke up.
He couldn't wait there. He had to go back to hospital to check on Nicholas again. He dressed quick and ran to hospital. The was doctor Jack at night duty near the bed of that kid.
And that kid was laying silent. Adam held his hand. But he felt nothing. He then tried to feel heart beats but nothing again.
"What happened here?" Adam asked furiously to Jack
"Some minutes ago, we hard a loud scream for just a second or two and we realized it was Nicholas. By the time we reached here, it was all over. His heart had stopped beating"
"No that can't be" Adam said. How heart had broke.
"That disease had no cure Adam. At least you tried" Jack said
"No I should have been able to save him, I could have if I knew more, I could have" the tears of Adam flowed like an endless river of grief.
He left his profession that day. He wanted to search for the answers. He wanted to perfect his magic. He wanted not to let someone else die like that kid again. He made his home a library. He got many books. He kept on studying. He studied so much that many times he forgot to eat for days. Some books he wrote himself while researching upon. And so years passed. Life went on till today when a little child knocked his door.
His state of trance was broken by the scream of that little kid. He was holding his heart as the same way Nicholas did when he was in pain. Adam got himself and got that little boy on bed again. Kid stopped to cry after a little while. When kid had a breath of relief, he said to the old man again
"Dr Adam, I do not have much time left. Please. Help me"
"I have not finished that research yet. I may need more years to finish that cure of everything"
"I do not have years, I may not even have today and you know it"
"Kid, you may meet same fate as that kid. My procedure somehow accelerated that disease because it was wrong"
"I have to die one day if it's a week or I am left with a day after the procedure. It won't matter. I have to die anyway"
"But..." he couldn't say anything more. The child was wise and he was saying up to point.
"Can you please just try. I promise I won't regret it"
Even though thirty years had passed. Adam had made little progression towards that cure to everything. In the meantime he had found out many cures of many other diseases that was thought to be incurable but Adam wanted to perfect his procedure of cure of everything.
"Are you sure?"
"Dead sure" the kid replied. They both laughed a little on that pun.
"Get some rest. I'll be back in a bit"
He was going to do that again. He was going to use magic again. He went downstairs and started to read as much as he can of his notes. He wanted to do it perfect this time. Though he didn't knew how. After some time he went back upstairs.
"Hello again" the child said
"Are you ready kiddo?"
"I am. And by the way, my name is Nick"
"You're still kiddo for me" and they both laughed.
"Lay on the bed and don't move or say anything. Just close your eyes. I'm going to do magic"
"Ok magician" boy said. He was so much alike to Nicholas, Adam thought.
Nick did what he was told. The old man placed one hand on the boy's heart and other hand in exact same position as before years ago. He could feel the energies as he closed his eyes. The energy of the boy was faint green again. And a little more fainter than Nicholas when he was on the operating table that night. Adam felt the same blue energy in his other hand. No he thought. He couldn't put that blue energy again inside that boy. He knew the consequence. He searched for the same green one in outside universe but he couldn't. And then he heard.
"Dr Adam"
It was
Jul 2, 2016
Jul 2, 2016 at 6:35 AM UTC
His finger tapped the book,
Encouragingly and gentle,
That old finger,
That had pulled triggers in the war,
That had touched his girls in tender ways,
He gave me a smile and tapped again,
Sunlight shining in his grey hair,
In his beautiful eyes,
I haven't looked down yet,
And he was still tapping,
I was thinking of his many crinkles,
Smile creases and frown wrinkles,
The day was ending,
I should leave soon,
I should look down,
But mesmerizing, was his teeth,
And I stared and counted,
And I observed his ear hairs,
And nose hairs, and beard hairs,
But the old man tapped again,
On the blank strathmore page,
I haven't drawn him yet,
His green eyes fail with the falling of the light,
I hurriedly drew him,
He paid for my work,
A work that dissatisfied,
So I went home,
And wrote about him,
Filling a page and a half.
from firefly
Jan 17, 2016
Jan 17, 2016 at 6:21 PM UTC
I'm still quietly rotting away,
I hope no one notices,
I hope no one prays.
This old soul requires no pity,
Ancient soul of no regret.
Dying mind, but still thoughts of fluidity.
I see the flakes, flying visible every sunset,
My skin is tearing away,
My heart fails too,
I hear less throbs each day.
Grateful am I, of the absence of tears,
The absence of fears.
I can willingly walk 'till the end of the light,
I can walk happily to the dark at the end of this tunnel,
Thankful, that I am not that old I'd have to crawl.
I feel, on this day, my last,
As if I was sixteen again, spending my first night right here, under the wooden bench,
'Lo how quickly 16 becomes 60,
How quickly does 60 become 0?
I know there is no one I've left behind,
No sentimental article of comfort; of value,
Except, perhaps,
The cold, wooden bench at the south side of the park,
Or that beautiful bluebird that sings from his fountain,
Or perhaps,
The stinging, black spots I see when I look at the sun,
Or the feel of warm earth under my fingernails,
Perhaps I'll miss it all,
And imagine I'm back at the park,
When I'd truly be emflammed; burning,
Or perhaps, hopefully,
I'd just be moving from one park to the next,
One life to the next,
Nothing between, but death,
A small, trifle thing,
The largest of fears that is to be overcome,
If I am to be rewarded,
If I am to finally be at peace, true peace,
If I am to belong,
Anywhere, but this park.
-firefly
Jan 7, 2016
Jan 7, 2016 at 12:26 AM UTC
Sunlight reaches your eyes,
to flicker,
forever rest or die.
Your air is of dandelion dreams
whispered in the distant past.
All smudged into
a dusty closet where they
roam endlessly.
Oct 24, 2015
Oct 24, 2015 at 6:43 PM UTC
I saw an old man,
Holding a can,
By the sidewalk,
He started to talk.
Seeking for some help,
I heard him yelp,
He’s broken,
For quite sometime he remained unspoken.
We are all busy talking about ourselves,
Reading it from our own shelves,
We just need to be open,
Rather than waiting for something that might not happen.
Looking at that man,
He made me feel like i’m in a can,
Trapped in a close container,
Hoping to get out of it sooner or later.
Aug 17, 2015
Aug 17, 2015 at 11:34 AM UTC
There was an old man
round my ends,
Looked like a cross
between Santa and a fisherman,
bucket hat and cane in hand.
And though it sounds odd
and hard to understand
As a child I was convinced
he was my guardian angel,
Was sure no one else
could see him but me.
And whenever I spotted him
I'd be filled with a kind of serenity.
He was an elusive being,
most likely a reclusive being
but he always had a smile for me
and in that smile
was such a sincerity
that I've rarely seen since.
Laughing eyes that would
be gone in a blink
And though I never
had a conversation with him
I never felt like words were needed
Cause all was said with a shared grin
Mar 7, 2015
Mar 7, 2015 at 5:48 PM UTC
I've always been in place,
in situ
Maybe (just maybe) ...
I'm sui generis?
When my lifeline intersected with spacetime on this continuum
I found myself moving toward a collision course with duality and non-duality
Moving towards a zero-point
What are we talking about?
Nothing (Rafelski & Muller, 1985)
As a geographer, the mimetic expression was dualistic
As one plane flowed through another;
as fiat lux flowed through Medicine Rock
I found wisdom
I further explored the duality @ this place
(also known as University of Lethbridge)
The U of L is an interesting duck
It walks like an Albertan university
It talks like an Albertan university
But one of these things is certainly not like the other
The U of L got its chops as a house of learning for the Liberal Arts
Follow those roots and you'll see conduits to another spacetime known as UCBerkley
U of L memetics share material memories from the birth of the Free Speech Movement (1964)
And as Arthur Erickson drafted up his plans for Canada's centennial gift to the Province of Alberta, I'm sure he would have been partaking in the pleasures of this particular spacetime
I'm sure at the very least that he was listening to Hendrix wax on about Castles
As Erickson designed this modernistic monolith called University Hall
There were influences such as Arthur C. Clarke and his novel 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)
He was certainly knowledgeable of the Blackfoot stories of the Old Man
And of course as an architect he would be versed in gravity and how built structures on a slope tend to creep toward base-level
Strange but true, Erickson's first degree was in foreign languages
So what I see is Canada's premier architect wrote a poem for us in 1968
In a foreign language
And that poem would be expressed over the next forty to fifty years
Some of those primary poetic elements were:
Berkley, California
Hippie Movement
Creep (or gravity)
Base level
Blackfoot creation stories of the Old Man
Jimi Hendrix poetry and his savage musical genius
"and so castle's made of sand melt into the sea, eventually."
So let's reinterpret that line to be more U of L centric
(through my glossy apertures)
"and so monolith's made by man melt back into god eventually."
........ ....... ...... ..... ..... .... ... .. . zero~point . .. ... .... ..... ...... ....... ........
Oct 3, 2014
Oct 3, 2014 at 10:33 AM UTC
You may be old, but you are not governed by fear,
Death comes and you welcome it,
You laugh at the few who cry,
Your heart still wanting to be alone,
I want to be just like you,
But is that wise, Old Man?
You hate the wind,
Is it because you can't be free like the winged?
You think love is a foul word,
You embrace resentment,
I want to be just like you,
But is that wise, Old Man?
Have you ever had a friend?
I bet you don't need one,
I bet you never had your heart broken,
I wonder if you have one,
I want to be just like you,
But is that wise, Old Man?
-Firefly
Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 8:40 PM UTC
The old fool whispers:
“The wind always lies”
His mouth frothing with spit,
Tongue attracting flies.
He pranced around,
As if in a play,
Arms growing towards the ground,
He groped his ***** mottled dress shirt,
Lifting it up to show,
His smirk suggesting a flirt.
In his cloudy gray mind,
He was in an oasis,
Looking on intricate desert, talking to the wind.
The wind,
Wild thief of old,
Wanted to steal the man’s heart of gold,
He wore many faces,
The dancer-prancer, the merchant, the *****
He danced with the old man,
Tying his brain with laces,
The old man was twirling,
Humming a tune,
Laughing as into the water he went.
-Firefly
Sep 12, 2014
Sep 12, 2014 at 5:49 PM UTC
She sat in the old armchair,
In the winter of her life.
The last of her sisters;
A once comfortable wife.
With bony white finger
She traced the pattern of her chair;
Withered from age
Like the strands of her hair.
For her kids had come and gone.
Her fears, she passed them on.
An ok husband she had;
A time long ago, a time not so bad.
'Love' and spouse,
Kids and house
Were the choices she made.
Unbeknownst to her,
The passion she had
Was bound to fade.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
That man in the corner,
At the end of his days.
A bottle of whiskey;
A familiar haze.
His cold empty house
Devoid of all life.
Followed his heart;
Never took he a wife.
Passion and success
(which he had to confess)
Were great (for awhile).
These were the choices that he made.
Unbeknownst to him,
His desire for love would never fade.
At the end of the night
All wrapped up in warm covers and plight,
He contemplated the answers to his
Internal fight.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tell unto me
Which one was right?
Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 6:04 PM UTC
The world was not what he knew no more
The reflections had betrayed him
All the pains were coming back
Inhibiting
Slowly
Reality sunk back in
Heavy and suffocating
Shackling
The music's changed
The party is still going on
Full of people he didn't recognise
Is he still a part of it?
Is he still invited?
What does it matter?
Everything
To him
Everything he knew of
Almost
And what it took to run was a blink away
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 1:18 AM UTC
The soft hum of crickets-
Made the gun shot sound like a canon.
And the old mans soft cries-
The volume of a giant.
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 2:36 PM UTC