Where you been?
Current mood: Polished shiny smooth
Category: Polished shiny smooth Writing and Poetry

Where have I been?

8:33 AM - 11 Comments - 22 Kudos - Add Comment

Another by Lee(roy)
Category: Writing and Poetry

     Most of you know how much I love this writer.  This piece, murmers of those we hold close  by Lee(roy) reminded me of my own discovery of the word Doldrums.  Around 12, while reading Ursala K. Le Guin.  Growing up as I did in the violence of that action packed household, I thought 'the Doldrums' was a magical location on our real world map and I would wish so badly to go there, to be bored stupid, happy at last in a place where nothing at all happened.  I still wish I could find that place sometimes; to be trapped in a blue with no wind in my sails.

1:47 PM - 6 Comments - 10 Kudos - Add Comment

diggin in the bone box
Category: Writing and Poetry

Strange, how easy a simple malicious act can come upon you.

1:49 PM - 12 Comments - 28 Kudos - Add Comment

Uluru
Category: Writing and Poetry

Anchor-less, I breezed,

Loose one day,

From August Meggido.

A drear in which

I could no longer stay.

Churning, journeyed,

To the world down under,

Wizened with curiosities,

And dusty wonders

Across deserts and

Seven seas.

Until at once, adrift,

Alit upon the ancient

Inselberg, Uluru.

Older than the Earth

Some ancients say,

So upon that basalt, cold,

My head lay.

Atop that rock

The seeds still blow.

From the seeds, a

Fragrant Hope still glows.

In that glow

I have seen my God.

How curious to re-find 

Him so, in the Land of Nod.

5:02 PM - 13 Comments - 26 Kudos - Add Comment

Tricia Interviews me
Category: Writing and Poetry

Interview

Dear Barney,

I'm so glad you've allowed me this opportunity. Please let me know when you post your answers so that I can be sure to get over to read them.

Good luck, but most of all enjoy yourself,
Tricia. Thanks Tricia. These are Great questions. Hmmmmm. Le's see here.

Spiderman, when I was growing up, because of the nobility of his soul (and his cool powers). Nothing ever went right for that guy. The cops hated him and thought he was a murderer. Half of the people that he saved were suspicious of him, the press pounced on every mistake and ignored every victory but he still continued to do the right thing for no reason but that it was the right thing. I still think that is the definition of a hero.
2.) It is sometimes difficult to find qualities or characteristics in those who have hurt us that we find redeeming. What is a characteristic or quality that you feel you either inherited from your mother or appreciate in her that you wish you had more of?

My mom and I were all each other had for a long while. As she un-spooled it became harder and harder to forgive the stuff she laid on me but she did have great qualities as well. To be honest, the good things about the man I became, are largely because of her. At only 17 years older than I was, she was hippest mom in the neighborhood, louder than any mom on the PTA. She prepared me for dire emergencies, and she let me peruse copies of the Joy of Sex, Nancy Friday and Rubyfruit jungle when I was a preteen. (My wife, I think, thanks her for that kindness)

What I wish I got more of from her was her sense of adventure. Whether we were packing up at the spur of the moment to make a 6 state, 2 month long road trip after pawning everything we owned or boycotting grapes at Safeway with Caesar Chavez, she always seemed to sweep into an event, grab it and make it large. Growing up I hated the scenes she would make, dreaded manufactured excitement and always seemed to intentionally take Frost's other road for fear of more uncontrollable abandon and worry. I wish I could just say, "Let's do this!" and jump in the way ma did.

What I suppose I got from her that I admire most in myself, is this kind of filter-less way of talking to people. I have had friends, who for decades have told me that I was fearless in my dealings with people. Their heads shake with mouths open asking, "How could you have just said that?" Always puzzled, I'd answer. "cause its true." I rarely worry about where a conversation will lead me. A double-edged sword that has bitten me a more than a few times, but I still gladly wield it.Thank you Mom, for that gift of truth. I mean that.

     Her eyes shine. There is a luster behind them that speaks of quiet depth.

     We have been together for most of the thirty years next Dec. and so you might imagine I have pokets full of " I love her" stories. But your question reminded me of this massive blowout argument. Believe me, neither of us married Jesus Christ. Meaning that we are not close to perfect. We have inflicted two lifetimes of humanity on each other and this instance was one of those times. She had broken a trust with me over money. It was the kind of fight that ends marriages and that's exactly what crossed my mind until that moment you are asking about. Racing, my brain asked is this it? And all the flags were green until I got to those exact words in my head. " I truly love this person." Then like a flood all the horrible shit I have done to her in the past swept in on me. Stuff she raged about but ultimately forgave. I think her forgiveness was rooted in the same thing. Romance novels and Shakespeare talk about love in these glowing verse. Fabio sweeping her off her feet and they live happily ever after but I think love, the kind I am proud to have, is more about what the two of us do when the chips are down. So far, We have decided to roll up our sleeves and rebuild. I think its easier to do when the foundation is so strong, if that makes sense.

4.) I notice your comments on the blog pages of many poets, what is about poetry that speaks to you? Who is your favorite poet and why?  

     It's funny but poetry was never my thing. I never read any except the most basic school stuff. Men in my family were greasy from work or covered in sawdust, Macho. Our heroes were guys like Clint Eastwood and John Wayne. The idea that some frilly shirted, Oscar Wilde guy would get any rhythm in my house was absurd until my lil brother, Steve, just made me look again.

     After he made me appreciate them, I like the way words shake out when put together a certain way and I realize that I always liked to tell stories. Going through these myspacers, I found my favorite stuff makes me look through a lens skewed. The kind that tells me stories I already knew but didn't notice from that angle. Sometimes poet lines just teach me a new way to pray. I thank my first poet friend, Limary, for that.

     Favorite poet? No question. On myspace it's Lee(roy) currently and usually; its Lee(roy) or Le Roi as I call him because he is the king and never stops making me think ~hmmmm~ after a read. So far out there sometimes that I lose his thread but he still let's me dance to the rhythms. His words line up circus animals, crouch and tremble, awaiting his command. I think he is a real master. That and I dig the variety I get when I hit his link on my sub list. I never know what he is going to write about or in what style.

     On any given day, there are other close seconds. Stephen of course blows my mind, and when she was writing regularly, Seraphic Anarchy was the embodiment of what I thought the Poet/rock star was all about. Currently Jane Crown holds that position for her lazy, languid style that smolders sex, literacy and cigarette smoke.  She can pour booze all over it leaving that hoare and raspy laugh seemingly without effort.

5.) ...and now for my favorite question...If you could plant yourself and those you love in any time period which would it be? You would need not worry about health, wealth or danger. Why does this period attract you? What would your occupation be?
     I like now. My friends from high school, neighbors today and co-workers plus all my myspace buddies are scattered through this continent, Torch-legs is in Canada, Aleki is in Africa and France. SeraphicAnarchy is Down under. Never before could so many people share their lives with me, keep in contact or just breeze by than now and I think this is a really exciting time to be alive.

Kisses to you and good luck. I look forward to reading you.
Kisses back to you Tricia. Thanks for the questions. They were thoughtful and I enjoyed revisiting my thoughts on Mom. Love to you and yours. Barney


If you'd like to play along, please follow these instructions.

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4. In that post, you will include this explanation and an offer to interview others.

5. When readers comment and ask to be interviewed, you will send five questions of your choice.

9:11 PM - 9 Comments - 14 Kudos - Add Comment

Angie asked so...
Category: Writing and Poetry

You find me in mid-weep I fear,

5:58 PM - 24 Comments - 24 Kudos - Add Comment

Slant, Slant Lean
Category: Writing and Poetry

Maybe it's only cause I scuffed my scalp

(I swear my head musta grew.

And just like Grandpa said,

I am, "hard to learn")

Or maybe it's

That guy who needed

Just a little love laid

Down on him,

I don't know which,

But the slant, lean skew

Has dropped up on me

Again and…

I hope one day for some

Kinda kindness in kind.

Perhaps after I've

Drunk my own life

Down to its rind

And my juice dried,

Gutter-curb dance slides

To some similar halt.

Slant-slant, lean,

Yeah,

Fill me with dwell,

Like the kind in a

Battery cell

Cause the current

In this fluid is gonna

Lay me out one day.

Zap.

It just might…

Make me wonder where

My money went.

Make me call in favors

For the things I've lent.

Tell the guy on the phone

"That bill's been sent."

So…

"Yeah man, here.

And I…

Hope this change

Might make one,

Either in you or me,

But it won't be today."

5:01 PM - 11 Comments - 26 Kudos - Add Comment

one moment sign on

still alive and well, haven't been incarcerated or hospitalized,

just sorta floating through the day to day

and haven't a damn thing to rhyme or say.

 Love you guys and will back when I can get my fucking head together.

B.

4:30 PM - 17 Comments - 30 Kudos - Add Comment

rant
Category: Writing and Poetry

     I got this intense kind of relationship with Pepper but the truth is, like the tide, it can ebb and flow.  If I'd have quit when that feeling first left me, we'd have never made it past 1983.  I know, through later converstions that the same is true for her.  With all the treachery and humanity that we have inflicted on each other over parts of the entire 29 years together, we would have collapsed in dispair if we hadn't had the nerve and determination not to let it crumble.  People look at my good thing all the time and tell me "man, you are lucky."  Bullshit.  Well, truth too, but still I say bullshit! We work hard at being in love.  We worry about the needs of the other all the time and are constantly tinkering with and tuning up our relationship.  It is hard but the rewards come and when they do, they come in bucketfulls.  There is a touch of fortune, yes, but the trick is remembering how good it felt when it doesn't feel that way now, and knowing that it can feel that way again if we don't give up.  It is telling the psychs and lawyers of this country that they are full of shit when they sell us on the notion that  "You deserve to be happy, and if you aren't happy, you should get out"  That is crap, (usually.  I know there are times when violence or worse, indiffernce forces the other person to move on) it is like the madison avenue lies of what women shouldl ook like to be beautiful, or the lies they tell men about how sexy you'll look if youudrink this beer, smoke this cigarette or drive this car.  The people who profit from dysfuntional boy/girl relationships feed the lie.  We are shown fairy tales of happily ever after in books tv and movies and then like find our selves looking at our mates with critical eyes and find them wanting, when only moments before there was nothing missing.
     I know that not every relationship works out.  I am not naive about that.  Most are practice for the real thing though and shouldn't be dismissed as failures.  And the ones that produce years of joy and children before ruin can't be called failures either.  That would be like summing up every life by their deaths.  " He was a great philanthropist but...he died of cancer.  How tragic."  That is lame.  And further more...uh, where am I?  How did my finger tips get these keyboard blisters?  Is this really the first two days off I have had in weeks? 
  Whew.  rant over.  sorry.

11:22 AM - 16 Comments - 28 Kudos - Add Comment

Crack in the afterglow
Current mood: animated
Category: Writing and Poetry

Crack in the afterglow

Riding your tortoise shell rim,

A sudden stop that ends your roll,

Makes you peruse the titles

Of all your latest goals.

Seems like there is

A sliver of light

Coming through a new hole,

A kind of a crack

In your afterglow.

Betcha wonder now, if you can return

All those things you stole,

But since the subject are immaterial,

The only conclusion's no.

Maybe you could shake yourself out

And ask yourself again though.

If the Subject is immaterial,

Can it ever be too late for those things you stole?

6:27 PM - 13 Comments - 26 Kudos - Add Comment