The True Path to Esthetic Ideals, Heroic Acts and the Promise of Knowledge

The True Path to Esthetic Ideals, Heroic Acts and the Promise of Knowledge

I unremittingly yield to my absolute ambition

the true path to esthetic ideals, heroic acts

and the promise of knowledge

it cannot be achieved through improvisation

nor can it be obtained by reducing the arrangement

early lessons suggest I must squash the quandary

emulsify the vicious medium and expel the hazards

this route leaves me stranded at night forgetting how to breathe

confused about a previous chapter its loose and pithy margins

my trembling hands hold up reoccurring dreams occasionally lost

imaginings fostered by hard moments and the charity of triumphs

the seams stitched with explicit instances of traveled light refined

curious lapses that one so pensive would waste the secretive season

I assiduously harvest every single second of my struggle

for the true path to esthetic ideals, heroic acts

and the promise of knowledge

I stand gazing up into a sky full of beautiful words alight

what you cannot find with your will you’ll find on the wind

**

I couldn't sleep much last night so I got myself some early morning fresh air and then came home and wrote this. My head was jumbled up and the only way I know how to un-jumble is to breathe in and write so that's exactly what I did.

Venturing out for an adventure of sorts with my bud today. Hopefully we get all the things we need to get done before the menacing weather starts. Mostly rain here I imagine but we shall see. Rain belongs in Spring, yes? Heaven help us.

However you spend your Saturday I hope it brings happiness into your heart.

In propinquity,

Nic

All We Had

All We Had

in my own private maelstrom

I allow time to diminish me

& lessen the joy of all we had

you were so desolate after dark

grandstanding in the loneliness

of my long walks away from you

no apology was kindly offered

for your ill-starred behaviours

these transactions of hypocrisy

left you indifferent to desires

nothing need be imposed

                nothing was all we had

**

It's true, winter has defeated all of us here on the east coast of Canada. Sure, we expect cold, snowy winters but this past month with a string of nor'easter and flash freeze combos, we resemble the North Pole. Our last storm brought 60+ cms of snow and now we're all a coast full of hunchbacks slowly disappearing behind growing snowbanks. Ironic that the first day of Spring is tomorrow and we're buried in so much snow there will still be piles of it in July. The kicker is there is another system brewing that will introduce itself on Saturday either in the way of 15 more cms of snow or a whack of rain. Either way we are screwed.

So, I wrote a poem. Something cropped up and out came these words. After a peaceful coffee date with one of my loves, I sat down and banged this out. I had fun writing it because I didn't really think too hard, I didn't fret over the lines, I just wrote. Opened up, plugged my headphones in, listened to a cover of Neil Young's 'Sample And Hold' Matt Mays recorded on repeat (I am currently obsessed with this song) and I wrote something. 

Woot!

Tomorrow is Friday. I feel like this week has lasted a month but I welcome the weekend to rest a little. There's a bottle of wine chilling for me and my playlist will be waiting for me when I get home. Could get romantic.

In propinquity,

Nic

One Day I will Find The Right Words ...

Jack Kerouac was born on this day, 1922.

Beat Poet.

American Dreamer.

Romantic Leading Jazz Man.

Smoker.

Drinker.

Thinker.

“Nothing is behind me, everything ahead of me, as is ever so on the road.”

Happy birthday to you in the Heavens, Dharma Bum