“Waterfall, nothing can harm me at all, my worries seem so very small, with my waterfall. Waterfall, don’t ever change your ways, fall with me for a million days, oh my waterfall.” — jimi hendrix
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Here, where stood your earthen abodes, where you lived in hamony with nature, the voices of your elders rose with the night fires. It was a sacred chant, in rich knowing voice, as the flames roared, and you danced.
It was a hallowed blaze of enlightenment, warming you with the knowledge of your ancestors — the knowledge of the four directions. But the footsteps are but echos, while the sacred fire has died. Its embers now ashen, but still your hearts are aflame.
In a world out of balance, who will stir the fires of vision? Who will again ignite the flame of wisdom? Who will again dance the steps of knowledge? In this world so out of balance, we need your voices to rise again, blessing the land of your origins — the home of you, the original peoples.
we did not listen
we did not heed your warnings
now we pay the price
“Inspired by my year-long 1970 motorcycle trip from Ohio to the west, that later became a key part of the impetus for my wife and I moving to Oregon in 1990.”
Highway Flyer
~
the vast prairies
of my middle america
still in my mirrors
leaning comfortably into turns
breeze streaming my long hair
I begin to wind my way
into the mountains
into the golden evening
alive with two-wheeled freedom
master of the open road
not counting days
not keeping track
just feet up and flying
as I dash between shadow and light
the sun reveals itself
from time to time
from between the peaks
warming me
as it begins to settle
behind the western slope
of the mighty Rockies
I’ve shed structure
the heavy mantle of life
to venture into the random
into the unknown
to fully embrace life
the magnificent perfection
of simply living
in and for the moment
enjoying the thrill of the throttle
flying
without leaving the ground
twisting along the asphalt
as it snakes its way
upcoming curves often hidden
disappearing behind a rise
then surprising as I crest
roller-coastering my way west
mountain peaks soar ahead
enfolded in clouds
that roll snd tumble
through the brilliant blue
of the big western sky
I charge onward
transfixed by the wonders
that surround and astound
filled with exhilaration
just a touch of danger
to season this excitement
enthralled by the discovery
of what it truly means
to be free
~ Andy Warhol shoots his famous Campbell soup can photo.
~ Lou Reed and Nico partner in the famous band, Velvet Underground.
~ Mary Quant creates her controversial Mini Skirt.
~ Roy Fox Lichtenstein creates his two famous “Crying Girl” artworks.
“This portrait is a portrait of courage, written to share my belief that quality of life is a matter of attitude. The positive attitude that begets the gratitude to be alive. I am a writer, always drawing on fact and intelligent fiction to write meaningful works”
Taken in 2013 at a rock concert in Germany.
Unencumbered
~
unquestionably joy
in a most unexpected place
the eyes of a fighter
cruel society deems disabled
he may be immobile
legs withered useless
confined to others’ care
and his rolling metal chair
but he’s a dude
black nike high-tops
black denim slacks
skin-tight black t-shirt
black leather wristband
cool smile
on a rugged face
total bad-ass
but his gentle eyes
reflect a wonder
my jaded heart
has long since lost
by vanity
sadly extinguished
his spirit knows only trust
it pours forth from his soul
hoisted lovingly
above the crowd
he is enthralled
by the rhythm
enraptured
by the magic
the guitar soars
the saxman wails
the singer roars
the drummer flails
he rocks and waves
fist pumps and sways
joy’s so widespread
he throws back his head
fully alive
locked in the moment
consumed
by every note
every beat
every nuance
he experiences an ecstasy
at which I can only marvel
oh, if I could but feel
the purity of joy
this special being feels
NOTE: This portrait is a composite of 3 people. Two in this composite are real, and the third is my imaginings regarding the great courage of the man, unknown to me, pictured in the amazing photo above. The first in my personal life is Barry, my lifelong friend and former business partner, now confined to a chair with MS. He is a brilliant photographer. I have written about Barry before here on Image & Verse, and shown some of his remarkable work. The 2nd is a man I met during cardiac rehabilitation, following the 2017 implantation of my pacemaker, after my 4th heart attack. He is a physical therapist with a severed lower spinal cord. Both these guys are amazing dudes, and deserving of a portrait in courage.
Rob Kistner enjoying a Kandinsky at SFMOMA in San Francisco.
my despair is vibrant ‘neath the drawn bow
as chords of anguish resonate pained and low
my bent being reverberates a suffered thrum
regret plucks strung memories as teardrops flow
shadows slink in this dark’ning room
‘cross cold silk curtains soaked with gloom
echoes of a lover’s dirge enflame my sorrow
a refrain of grief in this gilded tomb
“This is a 55-word free verse poem inspired by the image below.”
Uncertain Moon
~
captured in the light
of an uncertain moon
I’m visited
by disturbing voices
drowning my quiet voice of confidence
which whispers reassurance
to calm the worry
that churns like razored knives
in my gut
time can be my deliverance
but time moves slowly
through this thick pooling light
Shoo, swat, smack, ouch, damn, scratch… it’s amazing! Seven people sitting here on the deck, talking and enjoying the stars — and I’m the only one doing battle with these invisible blood-sucking bastards. I look like I’ve been stricken with St Vitus’ dance, or in the throes of a damned seizure. I don’t mean to make light of those two unfortunate conditions — they are not laughing matters. But neither are these infuriatingly itchy welts rising on my flesh.
And mosquito repellent, what a joke. About the only thing this crap repels is my little Shih Tzu, Edgrrr, when I come back in the house smelling like a chemical dump. I have tried creams, salves, ointments, oils, sprays, powders, even a special hi-tech invisible electronic barrier. Oh sure, like that really worked!
The only thing I know for certain can offer protection against those micro-monsters is me, for anyone else sitting with me. You are safe from the attack of the Culicidae horde if I am anywhere near. I am the preferred target, and all my friends and family know it. There is one benefit to being “skeeter-magnet” me — I do get invited to a lot of summer picnics and deck parties.
circling overhead
blood-sucking kamikaze
and I’m the target
“Beyond a certain point there is no return. This point has to be reached.”
The Curious Elf
Dedicated to my 5-year-old grandson Alex.
~
An angel-eyed, velvet-clad, curious elf,
while sitting alone on the very top shelf,
said it’s strange, even if I do say so myself,
to be a curious elf, way up high on a shelf.
But I woke up this morning and thought to myself,
I wonder what is up there so high on that shelf?
Perhaps it’s a treasure I can keep for myself?
Curiosity made me climb from my leaf to this shelf.
I like being part of a family of elves,
6 sisters, 5 brothers, in all I’m the twelfth.
But it certainly isn’t much fun on this shelf.
This is just not a place for an angel-eyed elf!
Sometimes it’s hard being a velvet-clad elf,
I forgot to remember, climbing up on this shelf,
that I’m not big enough to get down by myself.
“Won’t somebody please help this curious elf?”
“Oh why did I ever climb up here on this shelf?
I think I knew it was hopeless to get down by myself,
but I thought, what the heck, it’s such a curious shelf.
It’s sure scary, being stranded all alone by myself!”
~ ~
So if you’re no bigger than this quite tiny elf,
don’t got climbing for things, high on shelves, by yourself.
Find somebody big to get stuff off the high shelf,
or you might get stuck like this curious elf.
NOTE: This is a Seuss influenced, existential nursery rhyme, inspired by the quote here at the top, from nihilist philosopher and writer, Franz Kafka. This is about an elf who knowingly pushed himself to the probable point of no return — and regretted it.
Click below to read more existential nursery rhymes at dVerse:
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