Voyeur's Lament...

All things in life have their price, paid in hours spent if nothing else...

Side Note from a movie...

I rented a movie tonight, a foriegn film called  The Lives of Others, an engaging if dark film concerning an East German writer in the 80's, and the Stasi agent (the local name for the state police surveillance unit) assigned to find a crime to charge him with.  A dark film, but a good one.  A tour de force of the corruption and perversions of power found in a totalitarian state.  I'd recommend the film, should it cross your path. Surprisingly, both turn out to be good men, and the film had a strangely inverted effect on my depression.  Sort of like a tears in your beer whiney country song done right, the kind where when it's finally over you say to yourself "I'm not in as bad a shape as that poor fellow, guess I really don't need to be feeling so very down over my lot in life. 

Life Map: #18 of the Life at My House series

How can you make a map of life

    to show the roads need walked,

    people and places along the way

    and the lessons to be taught?

What color a pin marks the hobo

    who filled one beer soaked night

    with pirate tales of deals and sales

    smuggling opiate dreams of might

    consoling the angers of little men

    who bemoan their life's lost fight?

Find me a symbol for afternoon lady

    who mostly worked clubs by night,

    her wisdom of sadly sin sullied love

    from confessional pillows laid tight

    to comfort she vended in sexual ways,

    for both lonely genders same price.

Where is that line will twist and curve

    to be measure of courage and heart

    dwelled in a body so broken and frail

    just standing was championship part

    seen walking one morning a hero…

    laid waste to self-pities weak mark.

***   ***   ***

All three were real people, from back in the days when I lived loose on the land and life was an adventure, when a quarter on the sidewalk was manna from heaven and oh, the angels, those strange sweet angels...

Life at My House Series: #17 & #15

Undertone of tolling bells,

a flute blown sad and low

little flowers sway in stands

as mourning sighs will blow

to measured step of escort

that march beside a grave,

bugle call free last salute

leave flag all to be saved…

All of love lives in fear

the day they come to know

a spouse's little whisper…

My Love, it's soon I go.

***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***

A motive to mercy can bring many things,

healing of heartbreak, mending of wings;

Her motive to mercy will touch many hearts,

working the will of compassions' fine part;

Know motive to mercy will noble bells ring,

fly sorties of angel, glove hands of the king;

Yet motive to mercy must know of her fate,

successful of tenure diminishing state;

For motive to mercy to self holding true

lays herself down to sleep in the dews

by hero of sword when no tyrant in view

lest life overdrawn offer suffering anew.

In Memoriam

Mrs. Nos' passed from our world at 10:55 am, May 10th. She returned to say farewell to her children and myself, we all felt her presence, the life support monitors watching her body confirmed her return in real time. Her compassion was such she said farewell to her animals as well, the companion creatures who loved her as well, they who had been for years one of our greatest assets, they would know things before I, sometimes before she did, their behavior spoke volumes. They knew they were loved.

Many people have touched my heart, many have tutored and taught. But she, she molded my life, she built me, what I am today is as much her work as my own. I have never known or known of anyone who lived Love to such deliberate intent, with such a will to shut out and shut away all things not of love. I count myself blessed to have had her for my wife.

My life must now change, it must if I am to honor her memory and her legacy of compassion. I will mourn my loss, but I will not mourn her. She is now immortal, and once again it has been confirmed for me: there is more to existence than what can be seen with the eyes. To know this is to carry the weight of that knowing, the weight of the promise of sharing the hope, of sharing what it is to know that Love lives on beyond life. I will do my best.

Peace be yours

Bereaved...

Mrs. Nos is in the hospital, not expected to live. She suffered respiratory collapse this morning, a lung flooding pulmonary edema. The paramedics restarted her heart, but to preliminary evaluations to late, she was flatline far, far to long. Her body is alive, on a respirator, but I can't feel her anymore. And I've been able to feel her since we bumped into each other in a bar 33 years ago, and stuck... soul bonded without either of us knowing why for decades. I was never ...in love... with the woman, and I loved her from the moment our eyes met.


I do not ask your sympathy, all things have their time. All I ask is that you treasure those in your life for the treasure they truly are. 

Of Porno and the Muse

On UnbearableLigntness' blog the subject of artistic pornography appeared, and the title of the post was literally Artistic Pornography: An Oxymoron? The question went out, is it possible for pornography to be artistic? Of course, that becomes an instant set of uncertainties based around each person's subjective definition of the terms involved: what is art, what is porn, is it possible for them to co-exist in the same work? On that subject there's only so much I can say, my opinion, your opinion, how the next person to encounter the subject might feel about it, opinions like so many other parts of anatomy: one per customer per subject. But from the discussion a thought appeared on a tangent to the original question, a thought I'll share here so it is recorded before it evaporates. My thought has to do with the legends of the Muse, the feminine spirit of creativity, in relation to the subject of artistic pornography.