iceberg tips

Thoughts are hidden behind this mask;
behind the border of this mind.
Words emerge from this mouth;
from these fingers.
The only part you see of me
are the iceberg tips of my thoughts.
The vast world, within this mind,
not so easily apparent to you
not so easily understandable from where you stand.

And I grasp the handholds of your thoughts,
the words that emerge from your mouth...
that flow from your fingers.

Words that are reflections of the thoughts;
some of them mere masks;
some of them protection;
for you
or for me.

I misjudged
I fooled myself
I misinterpreted
I lied to myself

behind the mask

I can spin words
turn them into shapes
make you laugh, or make you cry,
but I can't make you come my way.

My world was changed in an instant...
a shocking instant;
when blinders fell from my eyes
and I saw what I didn't know was there.

I have been under an illusion
I have been under a misapprehension
I was following my need, wants, desire
I ask Why, why me, why this time

Stepping back into this corner,
the wall goes up a little higher.
my mask firmly in place,
another lesson learned.
Again, I bide this time...waiting

lost in chicago

I have the feeling that BETTER is just up ahead for me...
That happiness is waiting for the right moment to spring...
That I'll have clear cut goals and that I will meet them....
That troubles will roll off of me like water on a duck's back.

I'll find the magic words to say just the right things.
I'll be able to spin words into soothing remedies for me and my friends.
I'll be wise and know just what to say at just the right time
and unhappiness will be swept out the door
and bright sunshiney days will bring big smiles.

yes, that's what I see...a little far off...but there it is.

a view from here

there is a feeling inside, right here in my chest...lump in the throat;
looking out upon this world, and I see the things of life.
I see Humanity's waves of life...
fullness and happiness for some
deadly and dreadful for others
security and warmth for some
slavery and murder for others
assurance and confidence for some
doubt and fear for others

my struggle...in the middle of all of this
I look to be secure, happy, wise in universal knowledge

thoughts of God...making me look inward...to review where I am,
realizing regrets and missed opportunities
years of loneliness, laziness, incompetence and just getting by.

Just getting by with the small measure of knowledge
gleaned from books and ideas of other men.
sometimes glomming onto other men's philosophies
sometimes realizing things for myself

The desire is to be happy, secure, full, funny, well liked...
in full control of the Truth of the universe.
the desire of
understanding that Truth
of really knowing that Truth
at having sought and found.
Found, yet not been deceived by other men's ideas or lies...
by other men's manipulation
by other men's pride
by other men's faulty search for the truth.

6th Street near the Playground -- Wellsville, Ohio (a memory)

It was at the corner of 6th Street and Lisbon Street, just over the seldom used railroad tracks. The tracks that we would place pennies on, and then watch the slow moving train squash them big to the size of a quarter, and paper-thin flat.

The corner at Lisbon, the street just below Buckeye Avenue. The north corner of the intersection. A white cement block, one story home. A building that in my later high school years, me, Dexter Messer, Gary Rosenlieb and I can't remember who else, would enter.
Then, it was abandoned, due to be demolished along with all of Buckeye Ave. That street being replaced by the new four lane Route 7. We used to call that route Super Road. We had stopped in that house to chug a couple of fifths of lime vodka on our way to a band gig. A gig for the Martells, our R&B band. It was dark on a cool fall evening.

But in an earlier time it was bright sunshine and lush green grass. And fresh water was flowing down the hill, along the street's curbside gutter. It flowed down to where I stood at the corner of 6th and Lisbon. A clear memory remains in my mind of looking down at the clear clean cool water.

Across the street was a vacant lot. You couldn't call it a park. It was just grass in a recessed area, about one story below street level. A not too steep slope took you down into the basin of the lot. It was as if something had stood there, years and years before. But now it was a soft grassy place with some trees on the sides. It took up half of the block. Woods took up the other half.

We played football there. Mostly, I remember that we played "rough 'em up and tumble". Was that really a game? Did kids from other towns play that game? When there weren't enough kids to play a real game of football, rough 'em up and tumble ensued.

The ball was thrown up into the air and someone would be brave enough to catch it. The ball runner would then have to dodge everybody, running to stay upright. Everyone's goal was to tackle him.

so many thoughts

So many thoughts and the need to organize them in my mind.

The work is: grabbing them and placing them in order.
Kind of like the character in Steven King's story "Dream Catcher", the one with the head injury.
He was able to recreate a coherent mind after a severe head injury by keeping his mind compartmentalized.

A place for everything and everything in its place.
Small compartments and filing cabinets and drawers to contain all of his thoughts.

what I look like, what I think

walking through Life alone
mostly alone
my thoughts are keeping me company
On the periphery, my life is touched
for moments
fleeting conversations
acquaintances giving small glimpses
of what lies within their minds
not often the unmasked face
or unbridled thought.
I inhabit a world of voyeurs
uninhibited blog thoughts and
exhibitionist web cams
People daring others to look
showing a tiny look behind the mask,
or the very mask?
Saying, This is what I look like
This is what I think.

youth

she walks in her own world
she is delighted
smiles at thoughts within her mind
headphones playing her music, her style
handbag pink and white
wrist with silver and jewels
red painted toes
smiles of recognition my way
tautness of youth
then back into her world, her thoughts
she walks away, the Smiling Girl