Wednesday, May 4, 2011

Art and writing from the June is coming sessions Part I (Your forced sadness burns in the belly)

When has there ever been anything less than too much of you.
I can’t walk when you’re holding my will, hammers on my ankles
When has there ever been too much fuel to burn when memory needs no time to learn.
I’ll always come back to before you, when I was looking for you
But it wasn’t you, because it wasn’t me
Two worlds decide a false truth based on imaginary maybes
Now we lose, we
Now it’s me, because it wasn’t you.


Monday, November 1, 2010

Art and writing from the 'New hope' Series. Part I (Hibernation falls to love)

Separation brings a sense of peace in an awkward moment. Regale as you awake in a new approach to an old route. He can’t make anything you decide. What is hibernation except an escape from duty, and as such you sleep to avoid your need for him. He comes stomping, he comes in with song. He leaps and bounds through forest with arms out to smack on tree. Mud covered boy, moss creeps up leg. Dirt in your hair boy, love push you down your path. Her cave is open your voice is tired from yelling. Now is the time for the snow to melt, now is time for warmth and naked life. Together all things vulnerable are now safe.
Rise from your nestled bed now girl, pressed sleep is patterned on your skin girl. These markings are villainy and you can watch them dissolve by waking hour. Pick her up now boy, brush off wasted time with your good intention.  Can you see more with arms locked, can you lead a straighter path as you guide one another? As in all things coupled, you are now too; a pair of vocals and a twin configured energy united to bring the corners of your yearning puzzle like edges together.

Saturday, October 9, 2010

Rebirth (A story about life)

Seven years ago today, I was involved in a very serious bike crash. This incident which I will describe further, left me dead in the street (and I still would be, if it were not for my friend Ian) so naturally, today is a very special day to me.

Usually I like to go on, wax poetic about everything, but I am just going to get down to the brass on this one.

It was October 9th, 2003, my friend Ian and I were out on a late night bike ride around White Bear Lake. The night was clear, it was fall, so it was cool. About 3/4 way around the 11 mile ride I was coming down a hill, it was dark. I was around 100 yards in front of Ian at this time.  Still unexplained to this day, Ian saw me take a sharp left off the road; it is assumed that an animal, perhaps a deer, had run out in front of me.

At about 25-30 mph, I collided face first into a large mailbox affixed to the ground with two large 4x4 posts. I’d like to stop here and allow you to observe the photo. A few things to point out: 1. I rolled this mailbox into the ditch, broke one of the 4x4 posts in 1/2. 2. the middle mailbox is number 69. 3. Please to be observing the large metal shank sticking out of the side where I hit it (imagine your face on this)

Ian came up to me, I was lying on the ground, face down, Unconscious, not breathing, no pulse. Rolling me over, slapping me about and pumping on my chest, Ian was able to revive me. All of this, including the following are on his account. I remember nothing an hour before hand, to long after. 

“wait here, I will go get help” Ian runs to a house, slamming on the door. “Who’s there” says the startled home owner from inside a house at 1:00 in the morning “it’s ME” Ian says.... He gets them to call 911 and returns to find me, well, he doesn’t, I, in shock have decided to get up and start walking my bike down the road, I was trying to go home. 

He convinces me to stop, when the paramedics arrive it takes Ian, a police officer, and both paramedics to wrestle me into the back of the ambulance (gangster). This is probably a good point to describe the extent of my injuries for the best idea of why this is crazy. I sustained a very large impact which left me with my face ripped wide open. My lip was essentially ripped off my face. I ended up with 36 stitches in my upper lip, 12 stitches under my tongue, 10 stitches in my nose (which was VERY broken) a fractured chest plate, lacerations from head to toe, a stretched MCL and a brain contusion ( thats when your brain hits the inside of your skull so hard that it bruises)

I spent a good amount of time in the hospital, they had to keep me awake because every time I would start dozing off, I would stop breathing, and we all know you need to breathe in order to stay alive. I have pictures of myself shortly after, they are very hard to look at for me, if your really curious I can dig one up for you. Essentially my face looked like a big purple balloon that someone took a cheese grater to. 

So, what is the point of this? Well, I see it as rebirth, a second chance. Today, when I wake up, despite my differences, despite the pain and difficulty in my life, I know, in my heart of hearts and the depth of my being; that there is no excuse to be upset, because every day with a heart beat, is a blessing, a true and beautiful, wonderful, amazing blessing. I can walk, I can talk, I have a roof over my head and I have hundreds of amazing people in my life. I could not be happier to be alive. 

So what I want to say is, I love you, I love you all, thank you for being a part of this journey of mine. For what ever reason the universe decided it was not time for me to go that night, I am excited to discover why, I am excited in every moment and in every breath. 

So I walk around with joy, I rarely frown, and when I do I over compensate with a bigger smile. I sing and dance as if the gods depend on it, I feel every moment with vigor and I spread as much love as I can at any turn.

Thank you, your good friend

Saturday, September 18, 2010

You can, I can. (Art and writing from the New Heart sessions, Part I)

Walking in a world of wax you must be there for me, don’t get hot
Terrible storms and violence make fragile things into mush, we have to put it back

Swimming in the sustenance, it takes time to take it all in
use your arms, you need to use them, try to fly now it’s easy just grab hold of me, just grab hold of me.

There other things we can breathe now, there are special ways to inhale. I target your vapor, I target your mouth. Take me into you, take my exhale; sharing all that is life.

It’s more than blood in the vein today, it’s more than red in color, this wonderful experience given to us by mothers. We can pass along into the next plain with ease, we are wound together in a way that will keep us, keep us together. 

We are full, we are fragrant. We are now, we are forever. We are you, we are me.   
We are full, we are fragrant. We are now, we are forever. We are you, we are me. 

Not even you can keep me away now. 


Wednesday, September 15, 2010

Backing out (Art and writing from the BB sessions, End)

I didn’t bring the poison and I didn’t bring the pain, but I’ve been walking through windows my whole life.

Big words make for big wounds, speak small and softly and we’ll live forever.
I only have myself to blame, I hung it out to fly, my heart is starting to dry. 
You have taken me into a bind within my own mind. I don’t have the backlog and categories to handle this again; love is fizzing and popping with effervescence. Loss is not an option, so I choose to stop before it starts.  
I should have known better, I should have looked within the guarded letter.
I brought this upon myself, my emotions now laid upon the shelf.
Jumping to conclusions is a dialect of illusions, I made a movie in my mind of things I wished, things I thought could be real life protrusions.  
If only I could have you rest your ear, plant your thought on my heart, then maybe you could eavesdrop and give audience to it’s harmony and hymn. Each beat an adventure, an allegory invented just for your comfort and indulgence. A pump in and a pump out

I didn’t bring the poison and I didn’t bring the pain but I’ve been walking through windows trying to find you, my whole life.



Thursday, August 26, 2010

Motor hearts. (Art and writing from the BB sessions, Part VIII)

We can both keep driving, but let’s trade lanes, same direction just different inflections.

Grip the wheel, there are certain things from in our lives the wind might try to steel.

Nestle into the seat, the blurred vision and running speed, raises our heartbeat. 

Don’t bother with the rearview mirror, in front now and forward, everything we are hear for.

Side by side as we motor, I look to you as you look to me, beautiful, open and care free. 

The road will hook, the road will run, the road will bend and then be done. Be there with me, until there is no pavement to be. Two free hearts, not lonely but open and riding as one.


Wednesday, August 25, 2010

Truth (Art and writing from the BB sessions, Part VII)

You know....

A broken heart still carries a beat. Even the love that makes us sad, can never be bad. Even the pains of life that make us cry, are alright, if along the way; you learn how to fly.