Turning The Tables On Life

There is something remarkably soothing about listening to an old record. The intimacy of placing the stylus into the grooves, the warmth of the tones, the anticipation of hearing the needle scratch it's way toward that first note. I find myself up late at night listening to music that I have no desire to play on a cd. I don't know if it is the process of playing the record, or the simple nostalgia of the music itself. There has not been much in my life of late that has felt better than spinning the black circles of sound. I have listened to hard rock, country music, classic rock, and even a few Bill Cosby comedy albums. I lay in the dark, with the candle's dancing shadow on my wall. Some moments I ache to share this experience with everyone I know, and then the next moment, I am so content that I completely forget there is a world around me.

Helium Filled Happiness

A balloon at the birthday of a child.

Her name floats, drifts, and bounces across each day like a party.

Tethered to the wrist of innocence,

Pulling like a leash around the neck of freedom.

The sky calls, the world spins, and life feels like it never begins.

A balloon at the birthday of a child who never ages.

I can untie the string and let you be free.

Dancing across the sky 'tis a wonder to see.

On the ground stands a life that has not moved since you came to me.

A balloon at the birthday of a child.

A reminder of how cruel life can be.

It is most free, when not tied to me.

Johanna.

Beauty Is Not In The Common.

Sometimes I think of you as the perfect record. The kind you find in a musty, second hand store, in a small town. One that is not frequented by the classic collector. There you were, amongst the average, and the ordinary...the perfect piece of vinyl. And, even though I know that there are digital copies with pristine sounds, I love the way the needle scratches across your grooves. You ensure that the silences between songs never gets too silent. There is such beauty in a moment that is not typical.

Reality Is My Dream

I have been known, upon occasion, to let hope consume me. For an example of this, you can read the previous post. Sometimes I need reality to be my dream. Life provides me with more questions than I will ever have answers for, but each day it gives me the answer to a question I never would have thought to ask. I hope life appreciates me, as much as I appreciate it.

Diving Deep Into The Maybe.

I wish I never feared drowning in the unknown. The beauty of the abyss can be so frightening and exhilarating. I want to close my eyes, jump, dive, sink, swim, float and allow the "maybe" to do with me whatever it pleases.

I have always had a belief that people should maintain everything within the circle of their grasp. If each person ensures safety and security in the radius of their arms, the world will be a better place. My problem is that I now want to spread the radius of my arms to places that geography makes a challenge.

Your Environment Does Not Need You

Sometimes I worry about the glorious, green tree, and how he frets the big black cloud. Branching arms holding the flittering leaves, grasping them tightly to keep from falling in the wrong crowd.

The mighty trees

needn't worry bout

The precious leaves

'cause

The precious leafs

given life, by

The mighty breeze.

Theory Of The Grand Bang!

Perhaps this world was created so that we could meet.

Perhaps it is time to pack your sack and get a move on things. The random scattered thoughts of my brain have begun to bubble out of the cauldron of my mind. The music industry baffles me. Rather than write more today, I think you should just read these mere, few lines repeatedly.