thoughts that

thoughts gather in a profusion
of angst, anxiety, chaos

down the street a while back

and hope.

one can sit

one can sit in the muck
of what was and cannot
be changed.
one can expend far too
much  energies
trying to decipher
that not meant to be
explained.
one can wallow in
the sorrows,
and be by sadness,
consumed.
but all of that
steals time and
a life that needs
to be resumed.
yes there is the was
and the questions
that linger.
i prefer to focus
on the sweet breath
of our mother earth
on my finger.

a local beauty that caught my and i stopped

whirl around it all stands still

so fast the world
so slow
the heart.

i whirl around
until it all
stands still.

how the world...for mom

how the world seems different without your presence.
how all the familiar changes.
how ruts, routines and rituals ring in
a landscape without the echoes
of your being.
how strange it feels, without your
barriers, at once forbidding and yet
providing safety.
how all is the same, yet its timbre,
tones and melodies are completely
different,
as they seek to find a way
to fill the emptiness
around them.
how what is a natural
part of life,
seems so very out
of sync with what
we  wish
was.

ny botanical gardens

off

in our search to become hyperconnected and in touch, we have reached the great disconnect and total tune out!

what it feels like when nobody is really there

holidazed

outside the building

i wish a world of holiday cheer.
365 days of every year.
where merry is made.
wars forgotten hate undone.
where ALL beings
could live safely and
have some fun.
where joy and levity
were lifestyles not
just letters and words.
where prayers like this
were answered
and
heard

we still hear you

our ears receive no more
the tones of your voice.
but our hearts still hear you
and in that love
we rejoice.

the double edge sword

the double edge sword of
those hallmark moments.
swathed in forced levity,
at times constructed
by sorrows.

the proximity to nothingness

you are gone,
your presence
that was seen as
a protector from
that final unknown.
the proximity to
nothingness
and missing you.

mathematrix

somewhere i forgot but will always remember

one plus three
two and two
four minus one
five times six
numbers number
than numb can be.
dividing us
from
reality.

picklepuss

and now i tries to eat my food...
with camera in my face...
but i gets birdie boy
revenge...
i throws food all over
the place
clucksquawktweet
magic mikey macnoblebird king of macaws just beclaws
and now my mommy calls me mikey picklepuss

magic mikey macnoblebird king of macaws just beclaws
and now my mommy calls me mikey picklepuss

i am doing

in this new worldness
i am doing.
without you here.
not the same.
but nothing
ever is.

ny botanical garden

she lives her life in unaware

she lives her life in
tit for tat.
payback mode.
unaware.
the years and days
she devoted to this
waste.
the people she hurt.
and when the tally
is over and

queens botanical garden

done.
when it is time
to see who she
really hurt most...
she is number one.

from this view

from this view
i see the world
a safe distance
or so it seems.
but far removed
from living
one's dreams.

flying over the queens botanical gardens

i am their little man and now my mommy calls me mikey picklepuss

my mommy paints this picture of me.
to my humans i as pretty as can be.
my life was so hard before.
so many feathers i plucked away.
and now i am loved.
and squawks with joy
every day.
so humans out there,
please rescues and
adopts animals
who are weathered
like i.
you too will see our beauty...
all you has to do is
try...
ma

gic mikey macnoblebird king of macaws, just beclaws'

to find a smile

she looked within to find
a smile.
when all she had to do
was look with "out"
for a while.
and from within
she found
her
grin.

garage eagle

the reign of raintears

she stood as the
reign of raintears
fell.
cold as daggers.
she waited until
but what if
until never
came,
she asked herself
as the pelting drops
and wind assaulted
her senses.

on the way to

her little things

her little things
emptied on my bed.
mint life savers,
phone numbers
on torn paper.
a square of chocolate,
toothpicks, tissues.
lip pencils.
a book of matches.
every day items

all part of a once
very vibrant life,
now sitting on
a quilt,
washed with
tears.

miss you, mom

goodbye sweet earth

goodbye sweet earth
why do you have to go
would be so much better
to say hello.
why did the callous, thoughtless
hands of man
turn our paradise into
a drying garbage can.

arebut

we are but what we think we be
the past and present
our futurity.
we see what is and what
is not.
with all those twists and
shouts..
so sickens the plot.

across the street this summer

each moment

each moment spent
we seem to forget
that none are a given,
even if they
are not
over yet.
cherish all
as though
each were the last.
our present
and future,
will some

ny botanical garden

day
be the past.

we miss you, mom

looking for cheer

looking for cheer

will i find it

here.

or perhaps

a balm to calm

my saddened
restless

soul.

ny botanical gardens

the well

the well runs dry,
but for the sounds
of inner voices,
spoken
but not heard.

ny botanical gardens

our little corner birdie wall

our little corner birdie wall
filled with love so big
for our birds,
so small.
their images painted
with heart guiding
the way.
one still with us...
the other passed,
and missed each
day.

still

still,
we are
we try.
in
quiet times,
we cry.

kings point park

what the world is like

what the world is like
without your eyes looking
upon it.
your rapier smart vision.
what the world is like
in this quiet.
without the largesse
you so needed to
convey.
but never heard,
anyway.
searching for your
voice,
when i used to
run from it.
what the world is like
knowing that you
could love.
when you are not
hear,
to share it.

ny botanical gardens

open lexicongraphy

in the open lexiconagraphy
of our emotional being...
healing, learning and
loving
reside.

in the synaptics

in the synaptic,
neither here
nor there
state
of limbo,
rocking.

kings point park

looking for

looking for that inner sun that sustains

fingers typing

fingers typing
click clack sounds
trying to put words
onto solid ground.
wishing i could
anchor
what i feel.
another shift
that seems
unreal.

ny botanical gardens

i sit in empty

i sit in empty.
drained and sad.
lost in a world
that i never had.
overwhelmed
and undersung.
another day
has just
begun.

friend on a fence of metal

we are but

we are but
WHAT???

staten island birds

mikey macnoblebird king of macaws, just beclaws

my mommy paints this picture of me.
to my humans i as pretty as can be.
my life was so hard before.
so many feathers i plucked away.
and now i am loved.
and squawks with joy
every day.
so humans out there,
please rescues and
adopts animals
who are weathered
like i.
you too will see our beauty...
all you has to do is
try...
magic mikey macnoblebird king of macaws, just beclaws

mommy, take a better pic of your next painting, please

clucksquawktweet 

her last travel

she was travelling slowly through an open space.
a field of flowers caressed her face.
she felt her body lighten then start to
disappear.
pain would be no longer near.
she heard the voices of those
she loved.
she also heard other voices
from high above.
this was her time to
say goodbye.
she knew those who remained
would be very sad and cry.
she tried to look back,
but back was too far away.
she called out his name
when she realized that
this was her last day.
then embraced by
a warmth she needed so.
one last breath she gave,
then she

ny botanical gardens

let go.

macawlendar

♪♫monday to you i lifts my foots
so cute...
then i gonna bites you
with my beakysnoot.
tuesday you better be
careful, too...
cause i mights take
a chunk outta you.
wednes, no worries
my beaky takes a rest.
thursday i prepares to
do my bests.
friday i jumps and flies
with joy
then satyrday and sunday
i a happy boy.♫♪

magic mikey macnoblebird king of macaws, just beclaws

clucksquawktweet

the cinderella scavenger

not having a propensity
for greed and such,
she did not enjoy
being the cinderella
scavenger
very
much.

on the inside looking outside looking in

openshut

to open ones eyes
and hearts to learning.
to be able to grasp
and comprehend.
while our sad world
keeps on turning.
those enlightened
will teach and
mend.

autumnbeautycloudlight

autumn beauty seen
through eyes clouded
by mad time
and sad experience.
but autumnbeautycloudlight
still seen.

view from one of dad's windows

when

when words collide
with nothing to say,

ny botanical gardens

why do we keep
talking,
anyway.

again i post, don't ask me why...guess it cannot hurt to try

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we are, deeply

we are,
deeply.
past the thoroughfares
and twists.
we are ingrained
in the very essence
of who we
are and what
we do,
what is done
to and
what is done
with us.
in this state of
"we are",
we navigate
our emotional
terrains
and lifemaps,
easing the sharp
edges of life's
endless
uncertainty
and approaching
inevitabilities.

at norman j