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Logbook ( page 6 )

Odes to my coy mistress. Metaphysical poetry updated weekly. New entry

Fade into you

written by owen, Wed, 29th Jul 2015 at 3:31 pm

I got a lot to lose. Everyday we survive by the mercy of the cosmos. I had some other bits and pieces written down but I figured I should "wing" this one. I am not sure what I need. I often try to explain how it all works to other people but they do not understand. They are obsessed with their own worlds. I will deviate just a little bit today.

I have been listening to 4 gigs of Soca music over the past few weeks. I cannot stop. I must continue until I am a wreck upon the tracks. Like a train, rolling down a very steep hill. I am full of focus and all you care about is the little hope you have left. Put your lips to mine, put a little love inside. I know pretty hurts but I have to focus. I cannot miss you because I have too many hobbies yet unfinished. Hunger hurts.

As I said before I had previously written stuff down but I left them too long on the fire until they have lost all meaning. What is life without meaning? How can I set your soul at ease? You are either chasing something down, or preaching to the converted. I do not care either way because all is for a time. And soon all this will be a long time ago.

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Tami commented: Pretty does hurt....a little too much ... read 3 more

The Passenger

written by owen, Wed, 01st Jul 2015 at 6:51 pm

It has been a long time since I actually had the opportunity to visit New Kingston and let the time fly by.   My first impulse was to take pictures and then I bought Island grill fries, sat and watched the people walk by. The people were mostly the same. Too early for ladies of the night and the mad men were all a sleep as I walk by. It has all been done before The cycle of life repeats and I take a moment to sit and watch it all happen - again.  ‎ I am eternally grateful for this moment in time and hot season fries.

Right now everything I have is luxury bestowed upon me partly by  the gods up above, the karma police and  my own incurable faults which way me down like a woman's overized handbag.   There are a million places I could be right now and certainly another million places I have been before. But I am here now, watching people rush home, to a party, to the movies, a phone booth, to a place they have never been. I am here now and that is all that really matters.

I am now in a white room, full of people. I stood until I could find a seat, mocking the presenters.  I would try to patronize the bar but I have already spent all my disposable income on fries. I must save the rest for my future children - if they will have me. Be positive and stuff.   In a short while all this will be a long time ago.

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Mad Bull commented: >> In a short while all this will be a long time ago. True ting. Lets make right now a memory then. Something to look back upon and smile. Even though it might be quite simple, take note of all that a gwaan and write it upon your journal of life. ... read 1 more

Heavy metal and reflective

written by owen, Tue, 09th Jun 2015 at 8:50 pm

We all come to a point from which there is no return like when you step out onto a beach and your feet become wet with emotion. Sand is everywhere. Cry me a river or, let me swim in your tears. All we live for is comfort. We love comfort, we yearn for it, we try, spend our lives trying and starting over, and drama. What is life without drama? At some point it no longer becomes sustainable. Time passed cannot be regained. Move forward while our memories keep us warm at night.

The limit is the sky. I need to get back my primary mission of solving the problem of hunger in Africa. Or better yet saving a bus full of people so I can get a medal on hero's day. While you gone, netflix on your couch. I may have become too obsessed with saving myself, going back to the start, being cautious while crossing the street, a life of comfort. I need to get back to enjoying the moment, listening to the emptiness of time as it passes us by. Looking out for the opportunity to save a life.

Life is a shared experience. Take nothing for granted. We are on a journey to something. Some folks are born, made to wave the flag. I am not sure what. Shit happens. Hold me while I am here. Take the good times and the bad times, roll with the punches. We are all competing in a game of who can eat the most. Am I a bad person? Are you a bad person? Are we bound by our desires and our wants? Ball and chain to a brick wall. We both want it until one of us gets eaten or flung under the bus of life. I am a fortunate son waiting for an escape. Just another day that keeps me breathing.

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Love is stronger than pride

written by owen, Mon, 18th May 2015 at 4:21 pm

I have started noticing something that I probably knew all along, like a song I heard when I was a child. Suddenly sprung back to memory. You give me something. People like to surround themselves with things that make them happy and like to discuss things they believe in and avoid things they do not understand. Good times, bad times, they come and they go. Reflect back forward on old memories, over and over in a revolving echo chamber. Hoping for a better tomorrow. We want the world. Some times you are more of a friend to someone else than they are to you. And sometimes you are nothing. It makes us human. Balance.

I wonder how many times I have wrote this exact sentence. I may have reached the point of no return. May have run out of words to put to rhyme. I am never too far away when you feel alone. Publish or die is what I always say, no regrets. You would have had to spend your time in a place, somewhere, doing something or had to find someone to fill the empty space. Life is empty space, too short to spend it reading quotes on how life should be. Write your own. I want to read them.

We are connected by forever. If I told you that I knew what I was doing I would be lying. I have no clue. I am walking in a mine field and you are avoiding. Hoping the mines will go away. All I do is try not to fuck up. Fucking up is getting easier and easier the older I get, like riding a bicycle or more like fighting an uphill battle that I want to lose. We are war buddies. There is too much to do in too little time. Everyday is Christmas.

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Tami commented: Here I was thinking that fucking up gets harder to do when youre getting older because its assumed that you have learnt many lessons along the way to know what to do and what not to do. Once bitten... ... read 1 more

Sober

written by owen, Wed, 22nd Apr 2015 at 10:53 pm

‎Sometimes I feel that I should have given up by now. Moved on to something else. An apartment in outer space. I am older but basically the same as I was yesterday with a few more gray hairs. The weight of the things I know is growing. Love again, panteth.  Stranger danger. I miss comfort.  Old blossom in a new born flow. What is the point of anything at all?   If not to survive or be entertained  or to strive for some higher goal or suffer. Heights of great men and so forth. Forged in fire and brimstone.

It struck me as strange how familiar the entire place seems. It is as if I had been here 8 months before, died and returned in a dream. The city of endless highways and palm trees growing in the middle of parking lots. It is all very strange compared to everything else that I know. Grass and palm trees, grass and palm tree, super duty trucks. Endless parks, manicured lawns, perfectly round ponds full of ducks. Sidewalks all perfectly straight, grass perfectly cut as if by magic fairies in the night. Paradise.

It all begs to question whether this is all real or part of my imagination. Obviously the people exist is this present place, now and are alive like the trees and the bugs and the ducks so there must be a source of life. I personally have lost all track of time. The day breaks then the night falls. The fine measures of time that I have cultured over the years have been striped away and all I have left are cloudy skies and tired eyes. Sleep time.

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