see blurred jonathan: live from the pit

 pic by thorngrub

this, that

 

  never got a letter 

back more fool me 

   life's under going 

  a real growth spurt 

 hang onto your 

   bottom line keep 

    a grip on the rails

  of your ship as

 you're guided forward

   there's only one

  direction we go 

 onward in time

   abreast with the flow

   head above water 

 breathing air through

  the nose that, this 

 is the way that it goes 

Did You This That

Never got a letter back, more fool me.
Counting on the ginger root getting back to sea.
Having followed the Silk Road for many a mile.
Got a caterwauling holler at a cost
Not representing my last dollar

Limits of Vision

This restriction of perceiving ourselves as bipedal

beings with a split brain and only two hands
hominids loping along to score our next medal
thinking we're winning and conquering lands

What are we overthrowing if not our own sense
of real objectivity and knowing the difference
between seeing and believing that anything's real
like the pores in our skin or the craters of the moon

How may we secure our newfound perspective
If we don't keep in mind that later or soon
enough our misguided sense of directive
could use further adjustment to better attune

Ourselves to the notion we're part of a picture
much greater than anything we might imagine
if we just let go of our own patented scripture
the authenticity remaining we could examine

How strange to think that whatever is evident
May require faith to believe in due to its size
That our individual selves here as a resident
Remain a fraction of a colony of cells in our eyes

Westerner

  Back in tharm days, knob stirrups had it, they flocked rocks out on the plains. 

  The way I under heard it, twas sketchin' swor'n uppin' downy ken, thin reavers 

of the road ripped 'em. Plain shavings left to crumble with the passage of wheels

 in times to come. Red demon Sun inflamed and chasing us ever since one down the long 

stretched out shadows of the soul. So long as the whole planet keeps rolling, 

we gone stay on the ball, on the dark wrapped up path hidden behind sleep. 

   Our lurking black projections sliding tall and winding up into a darker ball 

of memories to disappear amid a crowd of stars. The cool morning breeze

 blows in the scent of licorice and lemon trees. A camp fire crackles from dusk 

until dawn. Its red embers render faint echoing old messages between constellations. 

 A Western poem's sidled up and been hitched to a post. 

   From here ya can't be goin' too far.

Picture

Sandwiched between smoldering onionskin tissues
favor it outstripping most topical issues
did you think for a second he still had it in him
were you carried away on the still running current

Could the dream begin wavering before evaporation
was that merely an overlaid fading apparition
had they really controlled our lives by attrition
does the fossil fuel industry fart in the wind

Focus on what's before us before the distraction
becomes magnified leading to the subtraction
of all that's important in most of our lives
peace on earth for our children and wives

Go ahead and picture a river of time
in a valley then try to see clearer
the terrain through clouds thinning
and the sheen of just winning

To understand one's self
first one must understand others
because when we look through someone
else's eyes we begin to see the whole picture

happen to visualise

The parameters of what we're doing here.
  It's a circumlocution to bring about the rejuvenated
oxygenation back around again in more or less constant
 circulation.  Some of the regulars come and go,
but the few individuals who stood out were never seen again.
  That's the way the miracle works.