Sunday, August 13, 2017

With low tones.

With the low tones the room he sat in, and out of  the bright flowers he looked at the the rings around them.
Who's are those ?It was next to had been on the fine American steel out of a room , to better than what had been before it . Up out in a dusty shelf, with a stone at the base of  the coal kiln and lightly scrolled on the under-side of the handle was set the name { deceiver }. From them in his anger - sturdy and bursting to face his fine glow - he scraped the pedals once more. In helping what he liked best ,with his hands bent over those  last  buds of a stem creased with sweat , and to up a bit the pedals curve en to the waters windows besides the tools - he then sharply placed the orchard inside the tinted blue water.
George folded the thin oblong box.
This is a curious thought of expression.
Who else but those on the off side , slowly slowly to the steel top of its corner at the pendant lock , he had been thinking it was a mistake. And then, to the door he walked out.
But for greed and degradation he exchanged ,the original  hell he was born into appeared withered on an old piece of paper. If kept till he died - so much the better , my life of those voices and recognized places with end's to the past where truth began , had sat in the room too , en as if the hardness of the walls themselves , had suddenly found him - staring at him as if he were a chair or perhaps a desk or dim lit lamp to console the dark pulsing rhyme of his heart just without by the nature of a happy song - he'd hum like old women resting from her talents and abilities.......Muuummmm oh da life oda old seas song calling in drowning tears to tell ya hes no more.

And once from over in which he'd read with the wide eyes of a guest , and drawn back to the cottage wall,
to more that then had been ,before the wars to somethings or nothing of true value, and to the drops of sandal's  foot prints along the paths of tall saw grass wavering in the summers evenings hue , or to the reflections of neighbors windows light adrift to by there fading stillness, to whom his lamps were lite or as a man who's soul drifts to the heaven's unpredictable logic of beauty, only to appear as mortal resigned from his works to continually begin struck motions to which he'd think - unlike to this - the delirium of Anna'liese who spoke words of a strangers unanswered  reasons or to beyond an announcement  to comfort the afflicted by the inducement if so to them in the timeless hours of there despair and through the morning hours deliver the melted ponds of prayers smoothly en grained to the engines Captain rushing downwards to a Ship. So still by questions then onto a list of tabs not thought if than cut awry out of hope from effects she'd
crane concealment till slashed and quietly unlock the pendant .......














Saturday, August 12, 2017

Intrusion into Houseing

If you live in senior houseing in stafford springs Ct - beware of key holders and maintance , Because they steal , acuuse you of things and Go into your place with out consent. Your best bet is your own integrity. Do not trust your neighbors or police. 

Monday, July 31, 2017

Drones of the land ship.




There eyes took on a deeper tone to entirely immerse themselves into 3d drone racing.
 Motor speedways and great corn fields once used in the summer for motor cross and Jeep races in the muddy grounds  had set aside in the months of late summer for the course's with in reach of every person.  Weather permitting......Yeah right knot he said - not to push against it , but we had found it ridiculous. As in sleep life that came from for the great square sails of the machines , to be upright and assembled; there was a leading to the amuse of those who had already in the points of there bits and goggles that had half in jest,  and by the point of the starting flags acted otherwise.
  If all patience in the time of waking in the first years of growth , which should have been kept to the modest model of parameters as if it were a new entertainment for the masses . BJ stood for every other way into letting hold of his blueprints.

Wednesday, July 26, 2017

His Steel and heart.



 Her body moved like a drum and guitars ting fro up above.
Acupunctures had relieved the pain.
Good people in commerce had paved the ways from the experience's of olden laws, a foundation to the foundation to the easement of the uneducated , which in turn became the students foundation to their destinies.
The prisoners who had lost their ways had in time said farewell to violence and their cradle grew in worthiness.
The circle had changed its shape - narrowing the circumstances to health and prosperity's.
And to what ever family there was or was not , to the best chances of life they lived - in the bright clouds' of life in one way or another through heavens grace , most people gained confidence in our country's sequence of chronological hardihood  and at in some part - if however small or great and like that of an blessed soul whom ate - their drew from the minds of many ,the offered of filled freedoms -allied with the great icons of industries and technologies in the stories and experience's of the unarmed .
In much easier to whom in history , one could be described as business men , content by mother to a child to a child a father as we have heard many say , was and is the precious gift of freedom that one as an adult can receive or is welcomed by.
The tower was the bridge and the bridge was the tower.
I had whistled after them in the resolution s of life, where the rapids of blood and nature wash the icy rains down from heaven designed into fashionable water bottles. The circle had formed an eclipse awakening the directions to feel in mind and heart the activities that led to enlightenment..
Land bound by violins and pianos' delights the old were youth and young became the drum notes enjoined to signals of earth resonating to the sun and the moon.

    In the states life went out for people to look at people.
Surprised at expecting something different each day , as summer still in azures clouds - summer's florals rose half way through each year bound to unlock  love , by coming out to dine at  festivities relaxing by the days in canoeing and swimming. There , where every street corner up and down to the lettered streets signs; wood and paper became the lay of the land for communities to stick up a sign , to fix a need to something aside , to our villages' betterments.
If arms and legs and hearts and minds were the functional - bright and strong as steel - so were the accomplishments' of our nations ethics and morals. Most had not thought of themselves - but of others in the coolness of international kindness. And perhaps the blame in soft or hard believer's if one rushed to this conclusion ahead of what was actually taking place - was the doing to only the perspective ruffle if then by institutions conclusion - of transparently to move forward besides the flag which stood for all. For us the world still smiled.

Hchapman 30th -2017             










 

It curious Nah.

Some time some how wrapping marching, to how again watching clutching or beaten forward by a giant ball in the loudness pinched but here on a hand , onto some plyers they circled through, and under the tree house to eat some skittles bits and pieces on a sleepy seat of van , to on the side of all her needs da - he told her some had lost there way;  closed to rise when sunny clouds you know stood in heavens dah dah dah orchards  said fools -to wait upon a nursing child to a gentle man of wealth.
Captains burning book of corn popped pleasure to the grill where knowing wrapping marching heads with two glasses in the house was raspberry beers - clutching watching child's sister about the mothers officer - to swearing on a wheel. An so 0n id on to belong to little Sid all done up on the tables pork to like the dinners party's songs like this said - Haws that whale !
When Al at once in lowliness a jumpy eye with addle lens , did peer to one of playful sleepy seat and prism to a chimneys voice to rally from the ravens black the spirit of the rivers back  in music glory on wooden crates to rise in odd toped slopes of da fogs gone down from hills off woodlands steeples  white solitudes by faith , on corners time and many souls bridged into thy friendly lectures matter - all newsfeeds saw the  shield and gun and if by masters law his fun to wrestle out the best - he'd dream about the curious floated in a bubbles cylinder and whirling to the East. Nah dat curious ...the other said its West..............................to dance hah summer servants place at to a birdy kinships - outlying da speedway short roar to then a standing glassed; and if when throwing dice upon young Sid s table - a staff with pen and paper purse would ride horses back to the statutes pressure acting oh on the eyes of many oh he loss his lover below the seas of ceremony giving love to what ever money bought. It was pressure to the last bell rung -- Tibia's then a shaved head , came back home.           
They had put a sell to freedoms rock -they filled a jug a week or so to the safety boy and the freedom did rock. Twig covered streets to the sweet way to bound flowers lite candles in the hotel travel center - and the great esteem of the garden had voices calling far away saying such a earthly place is much deserving of beautiful butterflies and exotic rabbits on thin plain necks fleeing into night fall to fire up da temples.....................................Curious said one - very interesting yey how is it man?

Monday, July 24, 2017

Lord long to strenght.



We will always belong to an age of turning out well - innate to our inner minds ,hearts and spirits that in which is part of ourselves by which we think to know is best .If their was sense in debating differences' , it has found in the diligence of each person  - its consence with the intent - an too- since the ages began - to move forward - putting aside the , malign fear of  defeat as the matter in case , - or as the learning tool taken in harm to ones self or another in which - is to how we think-  to a  - Feeling and thinking - that some are not ever so white or black to come at once in the moment to the vices of man , And  laden to the learning places in manner of experience's , or to which at most times is difficult to comprehend and understand. Is thus , to live the fear that I will die and live alone unto death. Yet I'm ok with it because it is reality,. I could have said the lion met the bull in which none could with - hold its gravity. , just as hate is tied together with my past. Or as love is to the olive tree. Mercy took a man and killed him. He said justice was done.
To start unto the subjugated as heard by all before - the task was done an over.
Every where we look to the past for solace - coats and buckles - shoes and shirts  from sleeping hours to dawn the list for peace goes on,. Yet about the world full of glee in great speed,  the magnificence of diversity with out the words to further the starts of new life , are placed to the illuminated  civilization as the benefit to mankind.

Hchapman July 23d 2017

Friday, July 21, 2017

Just tryen to live.

For those of you who have disabilities  in CT you are probably being discriminated by the local police who are serving the laws. And if you live in senior housing most probably their is illegal entries taking place within your residence. The only thing you can really do is to hire a lawyer if you can- and have them represent your concerns, It is a very sad day when seniors and war veterans are being  dissimilated because of a few very very bad people including most probably law enforcement officials who are just trying to do their job yet - are hindered by the very laws that our legislators' are passing. My personnel experience at senior housing in Stafford springs ct has been one of the worst experience's that one my age or really any age would  want to experience. IF I had better means  would have never moved here.   Or that you come across a cop that just has it in for you and that places himself or herself above the laws to screw you over. In any case do not resist - instead contact your family and friends and consider a lawyer to represent you - because their probably will lie to you any way . Race discrimination is one of the oldest moral outrages of our time going back to slavery - yet every time you turn the news on its their, pretty sad. Its the American way of making money off the less fortunate. Its nothing more then another blow to sovereign rights  of freedom. So what the state and local police use to arrest you is your health records . theses are suppose to be protected under the "Hippa laws " yet actually because of the sick mentality of law enforcement  they usually do not abide by them. There are a couple of reasons for this, number 1 - they are easy to access in in small communities where word get around in casual conversations, the other is the revolving door that DMAS has and advocate agencies where there is high employee turn over. An example is like a client gaveling over a period of years ends up getting four or five case workers. Now that might not raise any eyebrows  , but I  the real scheme of things A talks to b and b to c and before you know it when you go for help to the authorities --- well they just categorize you and throw you back into hospitals where all you wanted in the first place was a person to person conversation. It could be your friend died of an overdose or some ones sick in your family - yet because you have this stigma much like being black or of a different race , Americans first thought is usually biasness and discrimination and let me tell you its never going to change - Don't be fooled thinking that there is fairness in this day and age--- .just look what our leaders argue about every day as an example of the immature American politics taking place in a volatile world environment.
Hchapman Woodcrest housing - Stafford springs CT

Saturday, July 15, 2017

The spindle on the Balloon.

We all stood near mass of cars parked in the stadiums parking lots.
The food drones were busy at the long tables. As were those who urged the servers to draw up to the exceptions of the haughty sentiments of hate for the men who controlled them. After all 1000s of jobs were being lost through the strait paths of business and commerce .If something was not to their liking the interior employees just lobbied for more laws to govern the laws , which through the passages of time became outdated and never more enforced. Even the Spartans rarely aware of the utilities who constantly violated the data mines with there air of authority's had become paranoid at what had become of the military state of affairs that democracies had turned into......violating their citizens rights.
In all - yet I thought 'What is this nation now"/ over the dwindling middle class ?
The arbiter was just a pencil pusher . the poor were dyeing in droves and to most its game was turning deadly. Yet in the deserts some prudent folk in spite of the political out look got away to ride up in their balloons - much like the wizard of OZ---- IT is Ballooon! by God It is Balloon.

Thursday, July 13, 2017

One day it was super hot.



The thunder struck at awkward angles, they said to one another.
Rain was wet and wet was rain, yet it was business as usual. The cats were listening at the windows.
The youngsters' could not understand the maturity of grief unfolding in world around them..
I  in many ways saw no change in the moods  of other nations - It was as if each summer bought more of worsening anxieties' that grew ever louder through the electronic social medias of deafening  sounds above nature , then ,to at last in the faintness of the evening coolness he looked to the thoughts of the labors in life very far away - that rose up with each on- coming generation.
IT was brutally hot in trench - the fires decimated the western landscapes .
And for a long time the enemies - And that of vulnerable weather patterns - redundant as a entombed attacker in the vigor's of the most unknown, and literally nothing more then the attempt by another nation to alter the weather at first with what chance of being an effectual barrier to democracies freshness,  had then not united the council to a possibility of an identified intentness on behalf of eastern continents - to violate the pollution regulations intentionally through our own oil distilleries.
It was super hot , most creatures met the shade at night fall with the faint noise ...of a summer custom. And burning clear in the light house in the great ships small and large , approaching the Ct shores and long Island points of desires was the beacon's of hope and sight  set beam of land stretching forth its rite of way to the safe shore lands dwellings amid the woodlands shore. The refineries dropped anchor down along New Haven - where it made its way from the south western pumps abiding from the "blood of oil" and railroad baron's that had bought into food franchises with their fought for cash. It was super hot>                        

Tuesday, July 4, 2017

Away into earth





            Go down to the shore line and sitten along the waves take comfort in yah troubles.
I heard that she'd gone home her breathing was still in tact, and smartly on her knapsack you could here the music's mingled sound of bending guitar strings holler out onto the Hartford and Willimantic  streets. Drugs had left her no rest yet she did not think of that , the neighbor hood was darkly warm that could give you anything for a price. So one after one as it were they'd shoot down all cans set up on backyard fence . But she was not satisfied in the trails of the wood that led to the American dream. If one put on her sense of danger in the dusk of summer light asking to her grief  in a world that had suddenly been turned upside down - she 'd spin the words of an old lands song till morning sun glossed the morning mildew full of corn and small town girls. This land was made for you and me - there did she yell reacting to the shattered cans - I'll be dam if twice asking them . The aviator nodded upon the human souls - had no answers except for his despise of evil.
 The poor hated the rich.
The educated hated the un-educated.
The criminals and gangs hated the laws of those who upheld them.
 The fathers and mothers hated their sons and daughters.
The drunks hated life and its beauty .
The democrats hated the republicans .
The youth hated authority.
The military hated the genocides and dictators.
 The prostitutes and drug dealers hated democracy.
The churches coddled the masses.
The corporations hated congress.
What do you want ? Even the disabled hated Freud and Jung. Just look what they unleashed upon the world. The in-efficiency of capitalism To place the monetary gain into majority of the country.
It is till the wild west - yo each man for himself. In other words my friend their full of shit.
Them yeah that's right. so ya hear this guy just wants to get away- ha heh-- yeah he'll get away, says the rip- just put him em on  stretcher in Rockville  hosp. - so the pucken nurse- ratchet can shoot up and knock him out - for what ? he didn't do dam thing to any one or himself. . But you know bro - we just send the cops into his place when hes not their to get evidence - its all good - yeah like play en  both sides huh,
And no one gonna take the dudes side because he's in the category - get it?
You think if he says anything to management it will matter - hell we got his credit card already, and when he called for help - what think frog face said - well you know where were going now? Fjuck you and your fjuck familys.
Unfortunate yes most unfortunate my friend . Although we all come across people in life in which we do not see eye to eye with , we should not let their agendas or persons prevent us from doing the right things in life, I can say this with good mind and spirits because unlike you I was the recipient of a murderer whom went for decades with out being apprehended, in the end  I just learned how one must adapt to lives uncertainty's  .
Insanity takes many forms.
She was kneeling over a toilet bowl puking  her brains out.
They had not always been what they had become now.
Sexual abuse at a young age collided with drugs in her 2o s.
They never knew love as a gateway to peace , enduring into their adult years as
a faded picture upon a spotlights desk along with the many other victims'.
All the same they were mine. Some would say Of me that I was drowning in the integrities that were lost by morals and ethic's. - a foot in another's life yet all that gave me most peace in life was a dictionary and a paint brush - which crude to long ago saved me from blackness of peoples souls and untimely deviants that in the beginning of confidence became lost to the destitution of normal relationships  crime and corruptions. The make up of the common soul the American soul reassembled a camouflaged lizard eating up the cross belts of battering insurgents from different country's pounding at our doors. And it was all backed up to the monsters they had created themselves to finally ; at the right moment it reared its ugly teeth into the devil itself dismal to the false heaven that it claimed to have created.
And then it rose again.


Hchapman July 2017






 

Friday, June 30, 2017

Connectcut Muffins



      Who had laughed in spite of everything in jeans and shirts , to a suddenness of an early breakfast?
Nothing had changed them or really appealed to them , and humidity of early summer had been tilted by the rumble of the " Stafford Springs Raceway " on the weekends for any one needing recreation. The ride up to from neighboring cites was good driving day and was just something to do for leisure. A thought had entered my mind, flashed out my eyes - with one eyelid drooping a little more than the other , to which showed a curiosity and anticipated want; yet well concealed. Along the highway of small and large country houses their was a shiftless gap of time ,where the outdoors with nurtured gardens surrounded by tall trees and bushes and kindle' wood , it was and had had been , the basic heat source for many of residences' in the countryside ;  and for those ,who yearned to live by its warmth year - round.  What had change in the country - air though I figured, that appealed to everyone , being the smell of delicious food and beverages. And so in her embroidered  clothes and pleasant smile in the flickering light of the ovens heat   - with a few ways like this or that - she emptied her hands each week  of pastry's to watch her baked goods come to life.
      A customers letter was found in her mailbox.
She knew very well of all the homes that had received them , and that were talking about it.
And on the side - lines filled with  ( flour sugars yeast chocolates nuts fruits icing's ) or not to the exclusion of leaving anything out to the absolutely perfect blend ingredient's ,  in the mist of their best recipe's with their bake pans on the store counter , a customer walked in picking with his eyes
an endearment for the families appetites. He thought with a slanting conscious - with an anxious heart ,  yet it did not occur to me that his hands were trembling, as it was not very trouble - some to him or I.  Having had know him as the elder brother of his sister in CT, with a sprit of the likes of baseball player I remembered how once in the old land of which I was raise for a time the openings of a cake in a box to calibrate our Nations 4th of July..... so down in two lines you set the rockets box ; that was to blow up in gee Caribbean sky - yes -no - which was it man ? we all want know.

        He stood with his back against the sun.
His arching arms were aching with tattoo's since the night before. Dropping down into the 4th of July skies the hard en- trails of the fireworks in the late hours of the July moon truly marked the beginning  of the blistering ancestral get a ways , taking place through out our Nation. This summer could not last forever, ; as some bakers stretched out their sales with a gimmicks figure which was attached to the top of a 1970s Volkswagen beetle ;A huge chocolate cupcake atop of it breaking the summer activities  - breezed in an casual awkwardness - to hungrily make a traveler follow it to a house of which it served,  the long awaited foods of summer , including ice creams stand alone tables.
He remembered the smell of the summer cabins and the outside work sheds , the tobacco barns and the rigors of being in prison for a short time. His demeanor made one wonder how he might move in a local soccer game , or if dragged to a motor cross event by his girlfriend, to yell for the beaten looser to carry on their dangerous courage and by this too ,he would bring the courage to win ..I thought of him this way covered in hope and good will ; much like to when I was young and hoping to clean out my friends refrigerator to the smooth cold taste of beer - that was only bound by the ring of the cash registers digital ring onto its draw. There was only one need - the need to share ; so with this endurable ideal the stature of its character sprawled in the country side at gain , we  became far greater then the dawn of the wars - that were many - and by its own light of intolerance to which in I,  had no right to speak of ;  I patched up my wishes knowing that they were forever gone and forgotten much like the pleasure of having a muffin to eat for breakfast - it had partly been part of summer and the foolishness of goal piece thoughts.


 HChapman  July 4th -2017


                   








               







 

Wednesday, June 28, 2017

Oh Gypsy Moth

It was cool night and as most were poor with very little do, and talking of people of whom they new little about ; some had walked. It was a clear weekend day and the majestic clouds stood motionless above the landscape. Some old  , satisfied there imaginations by walking , some young played in the warmth of the yards jumping and rolling about. In the recess of the porch's with out walls or windows a door was open to let the sunlight in. The hills were crawling with gypsy moth caterpillars and the tress were bare looking and weathered.  80 foot high stumps just seeking a strong wind- tear and if their roots or branches could have an expression; then by its vilest end would it be seen in a hearth of a fire place and its nature to lure the tired mind in dream.
 The hills contained so many of these leafless branches , protruding like human veins of another world , that had risen once as the green cloth of forests in the wakening of summer , and with yet themselves no defense to the brown satin wings  and {mandibles} often infinitely and serenely
sustained by themselves to cover the rotten skeleton of wood and branches; up and down its growth of sweet repast. To living trees no more.
In the sacrifice of his mind it was simpler to shut out the outside world, and never the less as each day pasted in the streams of his biological clock much like the flowers respectable power do draw the (yes in a persons smile) the officer of the state hesitated to discover or be the maker of the infected trees demise. To many it was no better to deliberately uproot them for lumber or fiberwood. And so with out ill- will they stood as far as the eye could see, altering the hills with a solemn greyness that retracted amongst the living wilderness of enchanted woods.

                  On the splinters wood or spite onto the hands,
before the climate change - the native earth availed in shire paths
a useless trail to ponds, me there had gone a clime by waste,
under heads of broken branches calling out its wings of burden -
the glimpse of its own caterpillars , an being so much a source of larvae,
limpid on the trees spread swamp unknown to human life - I lite a lamp
in dusky darkness conquer of armies under leaf - to cleave upon the slaughtered,
the slaughtered place of feet - 16 by train of feet.
                    At length I came upon the child birth enigma as it seemed to I.
An in a pause of pointed breath it stood their too, thus monstrous an odious,
with out a color blue nor amber, it glittered on a thread so fine the meaning of its birth loss.
 And flickering to my lamp of light,  it spoke of things to come , two things between my thumbs.
Still subtler to the pond of bugs as far as I could tell it spoke again "The well ".
The stony well s with streaks of light ; reflections of its hell.

Besides these analogies their were a similar likeness's, including a greenish-black-frog sitting upon a portion of upright rock between a road and a farm house. Both legs were crossed and thin arms with its hands folded seemed, like a fullness to life as never before, if one called to it - all did was sit , as it held the flag of democracy flowing pleasantly in the lite breeze. Beside it lay an assortment of some short flowers. The pond itself across from more woods was too, unflinching with its heavy dialect of forest sounds ; approximately 45 feet long an 30 feet wide it hungered for the immersion of life not only to itself , yet all so to natures traffic passing it. During the short visit into the woodlands the light in the lamp kept saying to I and he - Ah the summer - here to stay!, then at length traveling through this strange environment fixed with a sense of light believe in the mystical I encountered the eyes on a door of a gate . It might be said it played on my nerves to a fitness in any order to the spiritual or to the familiarly of my knowledge and besides this the odious caterpillar hanging about off a branch which tumbled in and out of visions delighting in it words had gave me a great feeling of self - deception to whence I recalled its words " Reflections of Hell " with streaks of light that time , "at the Stony Well."  Concerning this I surmised to look deeper at the eyes on gate noticing a portrayal of carved butter fly's , snakes , toads and frogs and milieu of faces , their condition held both truth and beauty as if they had accepted what life had had- or offered them. On either side of the gate and I knew not why , their was a wall of stone the length and breath of some 30 feet x 3x 5, It had been constructed for war I thought no doubt and existed primary as the entrance into cemetery.
As it was to be I entered the gate under the edifice of iron scroll calmly with many of tall pines overlooking the crosses of thoughts departed  and in soft repose cried out in the splendor of their peace - Old human stones that dare not shrill in times that we have lived.
            Proud castles home of modern man electrified by science,
            Swarming like the snakes- in muffled citys trails of drift ,
             torn from sobbing touch of smiles an  counter sighs to life
            are all of last this streak of light - sweet life that swims above
            The things between our hands delight, to us the best we have?
            Or hasn't the news tonight bright office s above the clouds
            sleepy to the beating gust  the drums repast of now,
            blind sense was matched in comforts spend where peace
            exquisite peace endures , folded in thy stony well forever forming
            arguments to warble all thy thoughts I came unto a simple forest
            deep within the hills and listening to salutations call I magnified
            its life by flowers trees and breeze to only contort my mind
            as symbols to my lively years clustered on thy fringe for freedom
           ever so little by this I heard the "creaky door of well" as here to
           lead  this laboring life swept up towards this tomb - by well an water deep with in the
           hurried earth I heard immortal call - I looked on it as bugs and insects , frogs and snakes and
           more, till then I wander far in land and found your ancient law.
                

Hchapman- June 30th -2017


































    

Thursday, June 22, 2017

A solitude by peace.





He did not look as to the land , nor the dusky twilight under the motionless summer trees till he felt an urgency ; in a solitude of peace.
Bewildered by the on set of good weather like any enduring soul , he was ready to sit quietly once more. Filled with fresh air and soft breezes people had returned to the outdoor life. And his mind
was as he questioned it - the unfamiliar scrambling to end another night. He looked about and felt nothing to do. He was comfortable in every way , his sense was busy eating oatmeal and raisins. Nothing now as summer drew nearer in the shadows of bitter imagination implied his wish to paint , to the greatest skill he had had , and seen by more sides than one in the dead of misery or happiness ; like a mainsail it lingered in his mind. What a beautiful life , what a struggling life , what a world filled with everything cold and warm between the hearts of free people. If you are not any where else then where are you? More over he thought how he undid his life, to pass the days to weeks and the months to years.
Distractions in open spaces with the haze of monumental business were the greatness of a demerit ; claiming ones life above their own affections. And it slowed to its rest each night under the motionless summer trees and along the arch ways of families and to the silent volume of a democracy with out borders. Set in the profusion of this astral land he admired , the neutral steeples of churches which seemed go up about every where ; as a vortex to heaven , and up to a certain point as he looked about his library  , he had thought since he had settled down ; to take life in stride and have no reason
for surprise -  if at the doorways sphere to salvation - to why he drew nearer to the bark of a tree than to his pew - yet both were made of wood - one outside the other as a fundamental principle of mans intellect . It was clear to him producing a format to logic and like a large knot going inside round his head that it ; had fell asleep in a chair with him.
Go to the farm!
A pale of water fell off a bench
it made a splashing hearty fall onto a grin of dressed up men ;
below the porch of red.
.....

















 

Friday, June 16, 2017

The Dissibility and Degradation of the poor .



Time... Degradation does not accept its condition. Nor does he accept the roots to which it arose from. The "Tardigrade" was busy building a bridge between logic and emotion - between faith and disbelieve.  And of faith He was over 600 million years old, and I; belonged to the past.
Yet now old , The elevated characters' of degradation and poverty had become common place in the planes of the 21st century more than ever before. The political system had become polarized through threat of totalitarian governments' ascribing to the united states how it should conduct itself on the national platform. The eternal lines of religion were twisted . The democratic party and republican party were under the worst psychological conditions manageable through only the processes of cryptobiosis.
Yet hidden here amongst universal freedom of democracy - within all the democratic freedoms giving new rise to intellect and the right giving new rise for imperishable protectionisms for these rights of humanity - the moral laws found its self under attack through the myths of communism and socialism - that were godless.
Americanism could not accurately be described or accepted by the greatest country in the world.
The result was a great pause. A great clarity of what democracy meant and how the world had become jealous to the point of hating the philosophical convictions of our National constitution. And always there forever building was the tardigrade building up the secrets of our hearts by love and exaltation.            
 

Sunday, June 11, 2017

I fealt... tommorow.



I felt a burning sense of contentment my brain and heart were in my blue jeans.
The day passed as the evening abandoned its sleepy breath ; or as summer passed its sunset traveling into twilight outside, it was a novelty to write, or a serious matter for fire to link my reflections, in the burning embers of wooden coals. I whom lastly had crumpled up in my chair and removed from a late dinner had neither except for the chair. Between thoughts I thought the hour had come in solitude. And sitting to elevate my spirit through the unity of things being equal ; given to a world lost in chaotic reason I in vain - if  glimpse of thought advanced, much less than a caterpillar spinning its cocoon outside my doorway ; had under I passed the limit of artistic contemplations' from direct cause of my illness. I had, and thus led myself in sweet sickness. The truth of my gut was pure in the beauty tone struck eyes and by sound I burped I yawned I thirst for water as if it was a limitless fountain of youth; and thought anything said or done seen once as an expression bereavement to simple speech - had always led to the unwanted desire of universal needs, not so I though bearing in mind the most beautiful story ever told by a human and not creature. Yet creature it was.
The mossy lake green with water lilies - frogs , snakes , fowl and fish or better yet the "Tardigrade "
 
 
 

Friday, June 2, 2017

A slow walk in Sea.

Walk slow Jazzy walk , that brass echo of the bell ,come on come own.
Beyond thy stormy shores the skiffs of life and death.
Uprooted  hearts of chasms hell the shadows,
of thy laurels wars - stifled souls of clear blue day.
Slow walks ashore the golden sands - adrift in miseries.
The Sea in which its depths do relish ,  the echo of thy bells.
 Ghostly seeking winds own eyes and crescent to the stars ,
where burning lips thirst for water swelled by suns own heat,
Arch angel of descent 's our love till bore the bells own sound - came peering through the clouds.
         
          The tempest  sea's no sense of weight or vastness .
Of unto a point of pitch on waves quite violent in there lurching foams,
some apparitions' dream unfolded; then knocking at our freedoms doors
speaking mouths of horror - in minds of men the brass bell echoed,
 not upon the vessels planks but a mental visions of gods own strength
within their crimson shades of skin  a garnish to freedoms lands.
Oh jazzy hum of lurking fever filthy ragged man am I, one so aged - we old.
Retentive dreams own fears elapsed spun around da head.

                             Retentive memory of tear swelled eyes had looked upon our souls.
The great bells echoed upon each holder of its chord , the spirit of well or ill.
Surmounting planes of treacherous seas - solitude of emptiness -succumbed above its life.
Again and again darkness came the calmness of the hours night - the red sun set by glistening
birds blending with the sea of blue , as a halting wing of a jazzy hum , that had found its nuptial a -
father. And I late hours of the shadows night - tight ourselves and of the night a spoken truth of old
looked up , to reach these sounds I heard , some flutter of a light by not less then joy I uttered it
- save my dreary life ! And final to a radiance shot forth from mountains' clouds , I walked ashore in waters, feet occupied my mind - reflections of my ebony left gales of wind in fright - swept overboard to a precipice - a lower ridge of stony shore we hung on da rafts , till we heard that brazen bell ring out - the surge of life itself.

Hchapman 2017 June 11th











 

Sunday, May 28, 2017

Would I were not voice.

Would I were not the past at last
To ere the days in labor; or here a place ten thousand years
as lake or sand en bare as glass, roar by twilights fires en
resting in thy coals of wood to pass thy embers warmth
so added by thy aides of how I slept upon my fires.
thinking by the twinkling or wrinkling shapes of light or dark
the sense that eyes perceived or to wonder by its origins
so on thy soul exclaimed to offer thy only love to thee -I bid and bid and bid.

For tick of tock of thy sweet clock -a lock yes high to reach the clouds
a sigh off trying to save closed ends by batteries of walls I choose
in making ousted past once more thy view if I can toss if few; then why not
thy shape of fires spoke by woodlands soft embrace.
An  unfelt silence moves.
The creatures of digital sounds invading mans own natural natures
strange music to en ear - or three arose in gardens wilderness afore the
night and darkness and human light - a digital well of then a thousand voices
calling from our earth.
Thickened air from seas afar
Would I were not a voice a hole to which a looking glass,
arises unto a shadows shade beneath - the Housatonic river
away far taken too- onto America  hearing other cultures
the traverser of natural wonder- nor neither mounted in the forests
gloom or gilded in the kingdom realm to which good people
once more do visit - healing broken cities rah  - then I might as well
make some stony well to which my feet are planted.

There unseen to human folly yet better know this Forrest
is ,,,.joining in to drink the well where warring life has passed .
a chopped an broken English to fit my drunken mind.




 

Friday, May 26, 2017

What is it then as of before.





What is it then of as before.
A robot red hot unto the floor - cleaning up the crumbs.
A reckoned voice of comforts call the butters jam upon the toast.
And all this down by light, he pauses then to think.
Smelling all the greenery of summers hillsides treats.
 What is then of as before, A vibrate soul who stands alone.
Walking to his work
Trying hear a note that sounds his mind ,to drain -  he songs he hears.
As of before it is what's near this eye with in our space .
Torn down in sometimes grief or foolish distant tools .
Of as a mystery against will or logic it lodges in our brains.
Perhaps the mandala is the remembrances of those who came before us.
Perhaps what then in twilights evening the fires of our feasts and sorrows ;
draws the heart to outward taste the harvest essence to who we really are.
But think before it simple - respect to robots smile.
 It answers a tinted world minus all a pouted mess - which clutters all our lives.   

HC 2017 may.

Wednesday, May 24, 2017

Gee its Elliot !



One of my favorite authors is George Elliot.
She is For ever remembered for her powerful  sympathetic imagination,
Through out my blog I have tried to emulate some of her styles in very short passages.
As That I can say in my own way , I have tried to connect my thoughts to her passages and phraseology's - Yet I will , and I know that as writing is a past time hobby for me -several or so years -  with that I will never even come close , to what she has given to her country and indeed to the world we live in as a whole.
As I have said before and as I became older, I could not raise my vocabulary or even make my body or brain work in synchronization to level of which not only in her literary works , but by way of thousands of more authors , who I suppose in in their own devices and ways have contributed to the intellects of human civilizations.

So with that said I choose a word which led to others words from her book of four novels.
And so I started; with the " journey of hope."
 See if you can find the words I choose? { some words are mine and others hers - what are they?}

 I thought I was left behind the orphan said , How can I find it possible to move on?
 His eyes looked tired and he looked some what fatigued .
I shall call him Zack. And take on the character of a man in a dream who works as a landscaper.
The roadside in the country had suddenly burst with color - it was the start of summer , and the paving companies had transformed the winter pot holes and cracked blacktop into a smooth ride
for vehicles traveling through the farmlands; small townships that communities used for commerce in the New England county sides.
      Each day I put on my boots and met up with others like me,
Some had families and others through perseverance lived alone in the keen mornings of their existence .For me and when I wasn't sick within my soul - I would fuddle about my flat.
I had always been difficult about my health - fighting to make the days or evening a reason to go forward to work or go to a friends family for fun and games and it was hard to look at the parents who adopted me out of their compassion for a son. Yet when each summer came and went as most parents do - I was given the chore each month to mow the grass to show that I was part of their family.
There in yards, it almost felt like a construction project in the new house that they bought one year out of my fathers pay as a fireman  and later as a postman.
 Now as I was carried through life there were other peoples yards too with the woodlands as they toiled to grow wildly from the early spring rains twisting and turning from the great nebulous clouds
lounging in the sky.
    Yet no wonder had ever made an impact till as the string of life unfolds or to some name of names of thoughts wrote down . one of theses was my mother Grace. and so in good nature while outside one late afternoon after mowing the small back yard she was overcome at loosing her wedding ring.
Everything else to a boy is usually just a learning experience yet for a sons mother it must have felt to her that her pleasant world in a place of a house on long island might suddenly be indifferent to her husband if it was not found. She was weeping and quickly we both searched the yard..
Love had never been a constant in my life - I had as most teenagers been unchangeable with strong thoughts of challenges always trying to out do the competition. Yet seeing her cry with joy when I saw a glint of light nestled in the grass which inversely for one reason or another I had not passed over - she hugged me as if I'd been taken from heaven in her moments of despair.
 There is a face that's pale and lost that speaks its dream of visions.
When eyes are nestled upon the lake a desk absorbs its power.
There lips but little is all they do called up from homes by love.
Which most of all we fill our duty- till when its done in wakeful turns, we take our rest and peace.
Zack was as he looked once more, recalling the great lion rushing towards his memories.
He had opened many opportunities in his days through hard work , yet loyalty whether it was wasted by him had in many ways because of the lack of having none did not help.
Yet when the family is gone and skills are old as{" Elliot has hinted learning is most excellent."
 Page 496, The mill on the floss }
Don't make one life be dark For hatred is a chamber.
In thinking so be glad ,It will know that you are true.
To talk to friends as family its yoke of elder years ,
 are treasure's in your storeroom where children did as yours
playing for the reckoning the honesty of lifted eyes and head ,
as  one whom in ignorance thought that he might dead, now lives to sense
a science all tied up in his head.

I tried the life of landscapes esthetically I departed - hills and streams with messages,
a trooper at my door. He gave me light with in the darkness and who was I to question?
I'm tied up in my head the anguish of this life untaught my simple way ,
I thought to link no memories - I can not say of nothing that I was loved by some.
Our land of freedom blossomed in the act of loving natures ,
We thank the world for judgement some inward shock of news.
We know what you have done and pray for your unwontedness'
I hope you grow as quietly as grassy flowers bloom.
The world has broken limbs and life.
and landscapes are the moons.


HC-2017 May

























 

Sunday, May 21, 2017

My prayers

My prayers were filled up with memories.
What memories the passerby asked?
I am at least quite sure of their anger.
If I understand it right - there are always new opportunities.
Gaining the opportunity to chose is one of them.
I was swept away in what life had to offer, and putting peace first,
was apt to influence my small life.
Do spirits and not by mere accident contribute to human frailty's?
Or is it That I through providence was condemned from the start.?
Knowing that he said - you are ahead of the game, a very serious one at that.
I am deeply trying to make myself better.
The absurdity is that I can not do it alone.
The world had come into my life in unexpected ways.
And my weakness and foolishness had not let me think things through- is that ;
my only future?
Who goes out and speaks his mind to perfect stranger anyway?
I really don't want to take your time - what is your name anyway?
I should not feel near to you and yet after my walk I saw you chopping some wood ;
in a yard and then as it seemed that you were thirsty unable to quench your thirst you then ;
sat down upon the tree you were sawing up.
Do you recognize me - perhaps you are confusing me with some one else.
They said I looked well felt well - they found out what I needed before I knew it myself.
You have my file in front of you - how did you get hold of it?


It was a moment of doubt for both, I told my other friend.
And I think that there was a strong feeling of releasing each others memories;
A sought of inward regard for each others feeling; that was evidence of change,
I remember his stranger very well.
He was waiting for him to appear once more before old age with where its painful course;
would place the mental act of death to paper and pronounce him dead.
His past kept reappearing in the present, of which we heard their voices.
So then with his jacket over his shoulder , he then just walked away.
And I just another person in the village left the discussions to pray in the grey dull
hours of evening ,where by its common nature I renewed my faith and hope.




















































Wednesday, May 17, 2017

That.

That that that, is one who recovers , recovers and recovers.
And in return Some turned on a blanket soft and clean.
To a past dream , a melodious utterance crooning out the radio.
There  are animals in the summer.
Painted faces  in featured events , another yelled.
I was free of fun, those cattle said- the winters gone and fields are green .
The children run to hillsides and stare at stars twinkling in maples branches.
Equally we have stared at them , as they have that rambunctious discovery;
between the fields and woodlands ; like the end of a ball and glove charged with electric current ;
They are what their are meant to be - spoke the matrix's  blanket forcing another fold over his legs.
 I had believed it true - I thought and thought what was I taught in contemplative walkers picking up the wheels and blanket, to race in gallantry an to the end ? ; to which in dreamy night before where time and space were one , He wished to ride the cow as horse from sleep which made him strong.
Yet cow , had no bit to bridle its turn , so with that not there he used the bell, and with his natures noise he'd call his other friends of coin, look here I have one thing more to carry on ; my water on the ground.
We are alone together beaten once again .
My blanket bade me gone its sounds of life and love ,was pleasant to have spoken.
The end unhooked the finish line there were no bells or cows.
Just families on there blankets eating fruits from baskets, throwing all the pits to the drowsy;
grass that grew; no matters in recovery ever really made us blue.
We stared in evening sunsets - some sat upon wood benches.
No one but you could tell them stories, turning in there sleep.
Besides their beds, was the fire in the camps holding close its warmth.
She handed him a message - It read; recall what you have learned.
I work directly on you , I'm your blanket passing over shoulders legs and arms ;
making trusted races for thoughts of courage placed ; for all who wish listen , to time of perspiration -
filling them with hope.
I bid you well the warm lite light ,the summers of steaming heat.

HC 2017/17






      

Friday, May 5, 2017

The sleepy square.

The sleep of a Square fighting  hard.
Had  riots stuff the buildings with terror.
The eagerness of the agent was stark mad, he had heard a scream and then a shot ; it was somebody hiding
behind a barricade. On both sides of it and behind the smoke students in medicine pushed towards special measures, sent out by the anxious staff.
Then their was silence emanating from the dormer windows.
The haughty place at an instant became shored up with steel ; and Phillip the detective departed as if he were feeling a strange sensation in his jackets pocket.
The sun hot upon the pavement of road leading into the lake side villa. where he had left the doors open for the maintenance handlers had a jug of vodka to settle them kneeling by the wall ; and outside along the fenced street dogs were hunting among dead branches, the materials, that a metamorphosis which in its transformation, had grown to hug the wall.

Sideways, upside down  or upright Sally waited patiently to invigorate his paw, first lightly into a spasmodic vibration which threw the bushy ferns that surrounded him . And then threw a large hut
door made of oak -wood left closed the tigress tickled (S) in opposite duality by calling to her other cat. (Zoey) There was a bell that knocked the door - it rang within the wind. OH the high heard sounds see. (Z) purred and purred and purred.
The rang
Clang Clang - here the bells that speak in in silence -The first bell calls to yond  - a
Crate I sit upon And whether me , them or you  It seems the sounds - like a water fall some how invigorate me to move his paw  to play among the  leafy ferns - green as clovers pedals - they surround us!! Oh Sally of the forests. Yes I said - the twilight rose in darkest - darkness I see just the shawl with out a body - invisible in transparent light. How is this ? HE or she that kneels to hearken
on all four hands and knees? The tree limbs sway from breeze that blew - a winters end that held to stand  a person at our doors, a tempest of tigress found - a floating sphere of castles count - a trusted friend of Phillip.
Yea - I do in earnest thy are to I- thy only love to thee.
Time at last had moved for thee  - to what is how I became the ta tigress.

      Dirt oh dirt ah graceful dirt - Let me speak to you -Are thy the one That concouquer Of emeralds Forrest? Who slips side ways in good counts? The human form blossomed when limbs played upright
- Two on sides shadowed off a mirrors vale -Ta tigress starts in harmony.
Neh  hen say I to place the broken twigs - hor ripped by sacrifice of forfeit to her bell that sounds the ring to convolute as Me (S) to take the will released- And by and by of swiftness of her cat to witness
thy leafs of green  unto the closed  flowers of highest mountains eve - she said good bye to thee, off far of far with a mirror nickel milked - a vase to make thy succor come to (Z)

The pastor had had time to take up the attention ,and through out his fortune of spiritual teaching he would return to the rustic square in service, that was a necessary part of his life.
Every thing in the city was beautiful and the engravings written in the crown of the ceiling as in a church spoke of morals ,faith and liberty. Do you know that he was advised - he asked the doctor?
Yet at that moment all she could think of was the hundreds of people with nothing but the clothes on their backs who were accustomed to the rapidly changing appearance, of those houses that lived nearby the lake.
They had chimed within the frames.
And earth nor moons could stop them.
So Zoey the cat slept quietly and appeared to know something as cats do - a sense that  human being could not believe in the invisible power of human spirit whether at war with themselves or the earth or even being alone in nature or with in the great metropolises. And as the earth through electricity glowed ever strong in the solar system it became a noise unto its self.
  yet , and of the light I dwelled in - a primitive hope to the distance I traveled to inside my small brain I knew the or perceived the light in language and the language within the light.
Symbolically it has always been the sun.
But as science persuades or love convinces the most powerful of theses giants was really no bigger of then the smallest of atoms that was not recognized within our own flesh and blood.   
I became insatiable without never knowing genus of my god.
Before the mossy wall.
Great wrongs of lands afar and near, I'll give you something better.
Some wood to make some paper - the folly's word of words,
Busted in a knap sacks bomb - to roll around the desert.
A sail upon the car that fly's a bell and clock to waken.
New life to shed the vale of future where stands gurgles of the birds - feasting on the
plated doors amongst the small and great.

The cat of prey was tracking Phillips pocket.
And was one of the ever growing multi - national gangs vexed by the their own lawlessness. 
With out the stranger far below the metropolitan opera  Lex noticed a shadow upon the inside of his
sunglasses. He is the well mannered man of politeness' and diplomacy.
Holding a leash to dogs that sat upon the seats in the summer opera.
I in a word could  jumped out of his way as I was no test for his power or ruthlessness.
Yet out of mans humanity I felt curious and at his simple repulsion of others, all I wanted to think about was the totality of the world I lived in.
I was always last and never first ,second or third, the diversity of youth was overwhelming .
I could have had had every thing and understood nothing,- the result is always pulsed upon the earth as we seldom know the outcome till it is risen in the voice of others.

I was suddenly coughing and caught.
Wake up wake up the pastor  said their is blood in your sink.


























 

The next poem

The next poem was not a poem at first.
For their were no names - He hesitated in his memory thinking what names do I truly know?
And as if then to comfort his thought he reflected into uselessness .
Another thought he was empty or so it seemed as he retreated into the day slowly turning to night.
He had seen so many people suffer to the end of their years.
And feeling, invisible or not or ,whether his own or some other person made his thinking falter or to not proceed towards hours in the spring days won over by memorials , parades and celebrations of his country he thought this, could only mean one thing - and that was fear.
With being so far off from a normal life - himself a lonely man he remembered his father screaming in bed as a nightmare stood ghostly to his thoughts.
Yet as a teenager he could not reason why he should not just wake and then he thought of guilt being the cause of his suffering. Yet could he do something- after all he was only a guest of his fathers labors.
Himself to himself was nothing said . 
Another day.
He felt he was breathing in the spring moon.
The sound of croakers filled the ponds at given time of evening.
In walking along the wooded roadsides he shuffled on his right leg.
He felt dirty with mud on his boots.
It seemed as it was, a sign of the struggle, to never cease in going forward.
His brain did not care yet his eyes and ears did.
The unknown people stood at the end of his life.
Including his wife who died  soon after.
It was not a poem at first.
Emotion had heard the sound of voice.
As if it was physical being that had turned into the darkness of space, ;cold and unrelenting or as he saw it the conquest of the unforgiving.
Yes she is a beautiful woman.
And he made no effort to see or speak of her.
A thing which he never did - would never happen .
Strength comes with work and desperation in her head had become cruel to see, as if by some other means  had he addressed her differently in which the- silver duckling grows - their might have been a light to which the room is lite besides her clothes and pillows .
It was beer and a cigarette as I have said.
It was a pin up girl in a fleshy dream to work upon impureness' of my soul.
And then as if in the world and as of to had taken no notice of his sins, he produced his terror further ;
into the shadow of miseries.
He knew that society had in part constituted his corruption.
And beneath his words and nakedness having met himself in sentences.
He reproduced the images that had had taken so much of his innocence.
His life had become a candle in a prison - his fate gave way to disease.
Yet their was Lisa - young and vibrant excepting feeble beings , and kneeling before her God.
Two creatures losing themselves in the farmers walls along the places where mills in once an epic time had laughter in their youth.
Her wild cat pawed the pillar in order to harden its grip.
A little tree a song birds nest - rare melody flying high.
And one could say - if then  - it rains the morning dew; to will a give away, the consented sigh of peace.
Natural to its time returned upon the bells that strike, a pawl all wound up on the spring.
My whispering mind and open heart had fallen from the herd.
Writing of some turning glad that I had found my home.
And her before her straining eyes arranged themselves in summers stars -twinkling in the clustered night as one whom God had blessed.

HC April/2017


















 

Friday, April 28, 2017

One pair of large angels.

One pair of large angels sang.
A lower shell and of the sea , a pedant on their wrists.
Over depths and of below the lines; five parts did service.
One to another, in space and time,
The sparrow signed a letter.
A circle to find a sunflower growing in the pastures.
Oh joyous food hidden by the fish in making all the meals.
Lost friends of humble life, beyond the sun or of a summer moon ,
Came one again of from thy past to learn the ways of life.
They weaved and danced and Lisa stood her eyes in disbelieve.
The rule so odd to of my shell.
Three worlds I lived to die.
A future past to make my love , first sight a summers dream.
When sense exceeded vows of sleep dreaming of a painting lost ;
to better those he passed he traveled to a holy place; amends the markets agents.
Once more the odds ran out for him ; a shield with out a shell.
He struggled in the world above till shades of work did come.
And waiting in his last ever hoping for a passive sleep.
He closed the light in day.


HC April 28th /17

Wednesday, April 12, 2017

U

U  lend your voice a clasping a truth .
His self a child to the ends of space,
a prize above that's all below,
the letter of style white beards of prose
A letter on blue white of patch
A seed of work - of quickened mind
A nonsense in need of laughter's tea,
a teabag filled with peace .

Who by half past the hour of five,
aside from them that run or jump,
to frosty beers and wine enough ,
took out the cats to play a game and
round a bushes mouse to chime the
Asians and their robes and dice,
play the winners game.

R U the oaring tough to row the skiff,
from foreign lands of pleasure?
or has the parts of legs and arms deceived your death,
to symbolize your pains.
A play ,a softness a  superstition the sting upon the skin.
The clown the judge the streets and highways-
a servant to the speed.
Metal spheres with ruby rings the upper works of teachers.
Crushing all the gallant men rise in bands to arms.

A torch of light the where mighty men sit by prayers for U.
A beacon to rule the justice kind - with base of books to read.
Arouse about all sides of U as one who saved the prisoners
Cunning from things of natures meanings to automate this world.



 

Thursday, April 6, 2017

The...

The conscious is bitterly strange.
Given to a trait or not of amongst his life and in the woods of things aloud or silent,
its wits and fancy's is bound to the present - with wet gloves upon their hands.
Difficult to understand or wonder to sit or wait the thin sulky men,
held the raven black as leather, eagerly showing off its wings.
One man said that their would be others coming down from trees - isn't that so said another.
I thought they were from hell.
That prison of the guiltless innocent which feels no hurt, seen from scoundrels eyes';
Of coarse then she said, for love of them I'll mine the times they gather.
 I'll assemble my gear for the weekend , I had little time to plan. I was bound to them not only
friendship but also through the familiar friendship of impersonation.
 I was surprised - would the beggarly haggard men , desperate for freedom with out a dollar in their pocket, hidden in far away lands reconcile with their circumstances , I think not for life sooner or later represented exactly how much to them the war , and poverty had claimed the lives of friends.
I hope to see change said the Russian to her friend Natasha. I am very glad you gave me this troubling task of cradling their nests. With out women where would the world be? There are times when I would climb the trees to feed them, it became a preoccupation instead of falling asleep on the floor.
Natasha !
 They are not responding, I tried at least four times in a row to feed them before the parents returned.
My legs were aching with exhaustion as sometimes happens when repelling from tree to tree.
It is not at all pleasant to run up and down with no boots to save my feet from spurs.
Upon the tears take pride in all your sorrow's.
On every side on flights of wings - high and low I hear  caw- caw of theirs or mine,
That its best to listen of to their calls, ordained by loves desires.
For all at once the white tree burns - dry branches in the heap of coals,
cast by rites in fire.
Trapping plainly as one can see, the faithful servant at break of day,
 to soar in shadows of the sun - which looks upon the earth and sea,
bridling its mystic king as one to wars; two hard trades on men to labor them; I long ago
to whom was strange has now become its fear in passion - to wash away our sins.
It was the best plan of all,  the raven upon his glove wore the identification chip, east and west to every new moon risen.
 I shortly heard, that bad men were always good;  Miya was an unhappy lady torn from the father that bore her love of god  - and if as solely for our sake the logic of that could be traced back  to the capacity of her father to make her suffer while he a dreamer of elements within the earth to enrich his clocks and stolen money was swept away in earth quakes .

I was in the habit of taking what was said by him as an insult and more sharply still ,the gravity of my feeling was not useless; but it was an disorder of the night bought into the early evening through memories. Where had I placed that poor lost moment alone in my room with myself that was bound through my behaviors then?
The shirt I wore behind the door had food stains on it and moreover the slab of slate which I placed my boots on seemed more to me a strange image of desperation - an act of showing -rather than doing something good for my situation. From time to time I looked back in the night of darkness upon by bed, the window was lite to the yard under the moonlight , and what had fallen onto the Continent and its uninhabited  appearance of decay seemed to us only ; the lower parts of humanity destroying its self.
Miya  / I speak of myself as neither good or bad - I'm just is an enigma contrary to who I think I am.
What then , can I look out to your - this your doorway Smerdyakov ?Is that all you have outside the barriers of our village? Come over to the park and break your anger onto the walking trail a silly light to laugh at..
The ravens can wait to later, they are near their time.

Other than I Miya- every month that had ever been to loose or of gain times,
 was just regarded as a daily exercise.
There is in which above their house a dragons place alighting ,
and off its scales of wielding rest without his pipe to smoke;
if hungry for its army while talking off  a black wings pin
he' cloak the place to passing by ;both eyes upon their foreheads.
he'd look and run and sing and dance three ears to fruits and apps;
that move and spin to fill the haggard men of woe and packs.
Perhaps they trudged , yes Smerdyakov - along the markets wall for foods and
gourds to roast. Yes-
How beautiful the stars tonight a trillion scattered souls,
that live or die by gods own grace - some sprung from fragile bones and flesh
to hunt the ravens nest -those scavengers to whom the beast has taken ;
some vultures distant mouths to feed.
You and America.

You joked about the jets behind glass doors . An agent in the pleasure of his angry mind, wanted to know what you were doing their. You left a hole in your life without filling it and you only defeated yourself. I believe it just was prudence with an anxiety attack at the end of their deeds. I use to imagine when resting on the floor , that their dogs were sniffing around the entrance to the stone wall which separated us with its green mossy steps, back  then I stood their admiring it with you - do you remember? My life is my own  and you Smerdyakov are here despite your fear. Miya just contorted her pretty face ,silence in truth ? I loath everything - she then closed the window leading into the voyeur and began to condemn the Ravens gyroscope that she with her instruments of science had wired to their brains, yet as she climbed the ladder into the attics winding staircase she noticed an unattended leak in the roof with a green vertical halo carrying a stream of dripping water.
It was that lost moment repeating itself much like the strange aberration -as a - divergence into a super computer that filled her mind with confusion ;it was a departure from earth.

Two hard trades - tons to labor them.
The linguistic science and the unknown semblance of life.
The telepathic birds.
Her ravens .
Had one again reached our leather gloves.
And in her fragmentary poetry only Miya in her adamancy of intelligence ,
could decipher the precise inflections that was obvious to her possessiveness.
It was twittering in the flow of its short existence.
 a voice from behind quite free had stricken itself in the midst of the downstairs voyeur,
and our agitation suddenly turned to terror.

U  lend your voice a clasping a truth .
His self a child to the ends of space,
a prize above that's all below,
the letter of style white beards of prose
A letter on blue white of patch
A seed of work - of quickened mind
A nonsense in need of laughter's tea,
a teabag filled with peace .

Who by half past the hour of five,
aside from them that run or jump,
to frosty beers and wine enough ,
took out the cats to play a game and
round a bushes mouse to chime the
Asians and their robes and dice,
play the winners game.




Wednesday, April 5, 2017

End.

It was the very first night.
I kept quite.
That is how I lived.
The madman's head illustrated his life in delusions.
For attention to pride or self esteem he would forsake their cynicism.
His earlier life had ruined his later happiness.
So he carried it with him his entire life.
The worst of it was the one sided story that his adopted family never acknowledged.
For sake of survival..he changed his name, leaving behind any affections to the parents he once knew
and his homosexual brother. I don't think at that time long ago , that anyone including his Scottish cousin fully intended the violence, abuse or that the reputation of this fatal crime of incest in innocence
by his brother and friends could have been foreseen.
The persons most interested was the state government.
The psychology of laws had not risen to level at which it is now. It had always seemed that the shadow of suspicion fell upon the children and not the parents.
Back then it was easier for the courts to just trust the parents discretion.
What was written of that time; was just placed in a dusty file.
As if from some other motive the faults lay to the children.
After decades it was no use pressing the point, after all memories pass with time just as the existence of a garden  , folds up and dies to usher in a new season.
Yet from those years the flowers bloom once more.
The time had presented itself with malice and hate half my life.
And before hand in considering those events personable to either oneself or the jury of his spirit
, I for some reason or another in premeditation of his past could not conclude the truth.
I am firmly convinced it was a tragedy and its maladjustment of their lives was as old as the bars and party's in which the door had opened to that house ; when customs and traditions were part of a generations families.
He pointed to a sketch one day .
An image of his fear- an infliction of his soul.
If it was for his sake or mine I could not tell.
Yet I know we were irritated by his behavior's.
Then how shall it be decided with nothing more to say; I asked.?
The worst of it is over-every thought has pasted to old.
The evidence is a monster and silenced by his conscious.
Your office is gateway - and my life is just a stone.
I know the doctor said, you are thinking much of what?
Perhaps the phraseology of curing all your woe's ,
which by the right is yours to walk along the earth,
to the opening of an ear which is far so far away; a wind with horns of silver.
Or had you better stay then to which we know is true; so that the darkness onto ground
is to its end in faith.
End.

HC/4/5/17











Sunday, April 2, 2017

0 zero

The base of the iron wheel ran tangent to the rail.
She was watching me with her friend - it was springtime one again.
Part of their leather jackets and cuffs were worn and frilled.
Black rider engines tearing up the roads- it was a long long time ,
they were rocket men - the multiplayers between the geometric planes of cultures.
It was a deck of cards in transition waiting - waiting- waiting -
Don't stone the sky of mystery with the face of earth he said- they be the unacknowledged society-- at bay- eyes in training waiting- waiting.
 The cloven dancers beat the drum so free in calls to friends.
The days are lurid who fell no fear if nearness breaks the door.
Metric metric - waiting waiting . How is the babies rocker toys - with favor,
coming back to time ??
How my alter ego spelled as e-g-o cut in small parts chased  refinements muse of music?
Cease or cause the chords of string flying 0nto skies.
He sang.
I really fell to sand and gravel - the sea in wave had found my cove, deep within the woods.
The money paid to settle matters cast the shadows web.
Dam the beds- - Dam the chains, grooved iron upon a cell.
Threading in the shadows repelling all that mattered- same as it ever was- with forms and barbs.
Trinkets in another's hands cranking up the engines --You know what a feeler I'd become-When time
blurs an era - of to our ways.
Silver mammals of the chests and vertebrates  - the find of points to laws.
Off the midnight moons - home home once again- Red barns upon the fields.
The farmers wall along the oceans soul -- calling calling calling.




 

Monday, March 27, 2017

The.......

I to which the end was near had thought the rainy fog might stop. Its sogginess the brownish - green of spring in the month of year in April , often caused the evening with its low grey skies in which the smoke- stacks burnt pine - split and stacked , to foster the thick air to settle through the village woods and houses along the highways.  Included  to the soil and climate that I shared and lived with others is the Lake of Crystals' containing the ancient figures and patterns and the moral influence it had - and I imagine too in serious or metamorphic events - with olden tails of midnight summer music emanating along its extended shoreline in the dead of night. One could sometimes see the veined white spirits of every race and culture in which the sleepless eyes of one awakened ,if peeking across the crowded beach with respect to the full moonlights' beam - a flurry of musical instruments piping their long flutes along side the doctrines of wood instruments and reddish- brown drums - and too,  children  playing and dancing only before some deity having the nature of great wisdom in his octaves oratory's and before end of the last feast , to bereave these spirits from their habits of burrowing into the depths of the lake far below the surface where the sandy silt turns to stone, and to where the orphans parents live eternally to the genus of this lower world beneath the great Chrystal stones and its aperture within the lake.
Now it is said.... a question has an ....answer, just as a number has its sum,
Yet I in looking at life- new life to be to short, nor nothing of a small thing or to myself as a good thing to enjoy or ponder really mattered . And weakness to being and living by self never seemed to effect people ,in fact at home through what Iv been told in later life or even in early life where the innocence and excitement fuels the soul - I found that most people have at least one or two things in common , I swept my dirt into the garbage and along with these parts of my futile life to only be recycled; or as just others had done with other people - or as others had done it for them. The act of taking away of action or even our sin , not clear of weather it is hidden or not, he told me, having made up his mind left me drawing off into a different direction. I only wanted to know the lower value life - insisting that he oblige my curiosity. After all it was plain to see that he had shared with me of that in which he was hesitant to do so.
One day not long ago and still with my strength away from the bustling urbanites and fruitful career's, I was in a reflective mood.
It was a winter day where the hours spent inside alone within the walls which led to some windows, that I , from direct intervention or by the need to cope - realized that I realized - that I was not much of a writer or poet or even an artist. I just wanted to recover what was lost in the past and to some how improve my future. And so I did not keep back this urge and I started to write. I decided 1st ; to find out the proses - the processes from books taking from books and dictionaries the words which I could not express myself. It is a humbling experience - a turn of meanings to degenerate my weakness for I thought the words  like any machine or houses built are taken from what we know as well as what the imagination attaches itself to. With me it was the need to appear not only to my self , but indeed to a world as I knew it - how ever small, to the purpose of languages and myself as a comfort to be reckoned with. And so with out his consent I ravished the books the metric tones from each others before me .
I told him he inspired me. I told him that he had crushed my ego as a ghost ,and in standing in front of him with his grey beard and hat with notes of upon his pins, I asked him why I of the lake, in thoughts or feelings had came this way ; through the way in which I did? Was it because of the natural beauty of the surrounding lake front houses with their bright lights reflecting off the lake in the coldness of a winter evening . or perhaps how the ebbing water of the lake froze for some fishermen to catch a fish. He said long ago you burnt a house down ,killed a dog and drank the miseries' away. You have lived - let die the purpose of life not ever trying to make the world a better place to live.
You in your soul- dream theses tails of beauty and illusion's in your life, One word to you; "Why".
I was free falling in my spirit and felt dim and obscure, after all if their were an aperture below the lake which physically looked like a flat question mark upon a paper then why could it not be a catalyst for inspiration or creativity? He looked at me under the brim of hat, the train on track was blowing as the whistle going down and around through the mountains darkness with its cargos - of steel containers clanking in the night had indeed moved me emotionally; yet their was no science of my visions. In some way though, I had examined what I was made of.
I have a will it is not mine ,nor can I say its home.
The food from which a nature is, my mind with out a purpose.
Its something which cannot be seen - as an act of cause - 0r as an idea waiting.
A land containing residence common to a sense of pride, it be.
Of those before a golden crown is said of mans salvation.
So I esthetic in my plants by words; tend its garden betrothed to birds or creatures of which I do not know- reproving all that's learnt.
And if the sunrise , moon or star falls its spindle onto these bones,
I know to its regard 0f me . For I ; in stage of life anew forgotten - so quickly let life unfold.


Hchapman/ march 31st /2017/







 

Sunday, March 26, 2017

The Eb'on plate.

Gentle is the length of light rising in the eastern sky,
from coast to coast it spreads its self by which the families rise.
The meeting of the morning earth placed between its parts ,
both sides of sea and land as one , had mixed our mingled ways.
Some joined to putting in some words - the laws between our laws of health,
a hole through which a seed or nut resembled mandates phase .
Yet who could tilt a doctors praise or turn to profits from this maze ,
behind the walls where eyes do rest, or around a world that bears much hate,
to only cause the books on glass - as something of a hull on land for pins and hats
to improvise , 0ur riddled persons fate.
And in passing years more vivid to the statesman's cause, in reading rights
or revising services adjourned by undulations' ring ,
I sensed a tendency above the notes, not shared as to common man -
where sentient being about there days pondered publics sentiments,
flat and folded laptops press - a tool to shear the risk we bear wrapped around our lives.
I set a plate to I .
A pill to help the pain.
I felt of health or of as myself  a gimbal off our glory's coats,
I feared the mounds of men and wife's, kept up by flags of freedom.
The colors of the summers green , seemed more to come from time itself,
than creeds of men with all their wealth - all stronger then our mingled ways-
in bodies of their giving ways to stoutly tell our truths.
 
 

Friday, March 24, 2017

Light bulbs


Light bulbs 

One newspaper reported would illuminate every house and home in America
With out the need of admission from the whaling ships.
In that year the greatest victory of Ben Franklin had established the 
Living presence of electricity that is invisible 
Destroying the notion, what can’t be observed cannot be proven.
Light bulbs

Are made of glass, elements and metal and gas.
Just look at all the neon signs in lasvagus, shooting light out onto the 
Streets amongst the deserts colored city beneath the milky way. 
Alienating upon ourselves its natural beauty the steady dyeing wish tobe  
Comforted by light in darkness-my wick is burning brighter the more I raise its threshold.
Light bulbs

Stretched forth their melting glass spun on the iron rod 
Of a glassmaker and in the distant vale of dreams hope was cut
To lower its stem and round form onto an influx of forms
That did not disperse its light quickly but remained to burn
And glow till my dim wick oil had emptied itself 
Upon my distant words, look up –look up
A new light shines restoring the old visions of 
The Nantucket Island- tilted by rolling seas

Look up look over beyond the table’s door 
The meter man has something more
From creatures deep but are no more
Fix on more life for it –for it’s an aide its long years I have taken 
Hid away deep with in the seas of grand creature 
In chasms deep beneath the sea listening to the earth as if it
Was in its exile a divine place of Inner Light present with in the earth?
Questioning the triumph of man to curiously complete in them
Something god like in nature or to bestow every fact of nature to 
A glowing eye less on great sides of heads for progress of the day en 
Lighting darkness dreams.

Light bulbs  
Bursting forth in simplicity the room of leisure bearings
And dwelling to advance the floating minds of woman 
Ushering in their journeyed men should not do undoing what 
When to turn the knobs of overture or pull the strings or flip the switch of light bulbs
Swishing in the light, their own the candles lights of olden age 
The folding up of papers work beyond the sense, what’s visible?
Transparent to reflecting glasses his -hi slight bulb in choosing.
O make theatres large pause of darkness the brightness of the day.
I’ll turn to go as if theirs darkness in light– to light bulbs cast in sands unknown. Hcfeb7th, 2008







Thursday, March 23, 2017

Falter

Off By some The morning rung.
I seemed to her with my elbow on the table , my hand upon my chin ; and stranger still as she watched me through the glass windows; I looked at her and smiled and buttoned up my jacket.
I walked slowly to the door. I was searching in my memories. I saw her eyes fall to the shelve inside  windows sill. I was very content going to spend an afternoon in town, the winter wind had ceased its loud morning gusts ; broke branches upon the grounds. If there was no wind then ,I thought I might light a cigarette on the corner the old building - red faced brick displayed as ordered dominos - with a high eve to look upon,  not eroded or cracked severely from weathers wretched rains. Inside the building dimly lite I gazed at the staircase leading into a common room , there the tables and chairs laden with the test of time had seen or heard , if in any sense by spirit or curse the aspiring men stepping on the old creaked wooden floors to pay their debts and to only slip away unnoticed.
I again sipped some water from my bottle. I had a little change , it anguished me to look at it when on the street, should  I spend it on a cup of coffee or to much less then that, just put it back in my pocket.
I had a gloomy mind that morning , no one to fall upon for what I could only do, left me at times unnerved. I'm sinking into coldness because my clothes were not warm enough for the weather, it was indeed going to be a long day. That is to say I stopped to physically move from opening the door , and then once more by no work performed or notion thought; something of her fear so old to me knocked me off my chair. The people saw it the church bells rung filling my mind with fear ; greed with in a suit and tie I turned my eyes to hers. I lifted my self off the cold floor ; she had seen me fall , it was as if still deeper onto her windows shadow - in that moment of euphoria she could only see nothing but the Easter eggs and flowers ; yet nothing of my reflection in the faint light the of mornings sun.
I could run outside after her and appear polite to ask a question , after all I was a contented man living in a very busy and bustling country town.