Monday, February 26, 2018

A tale of a another Sun .

Like large shadows from the sun their once existed a bottle , a chanting of a ship en capturing the spring ;  of summoning its warmth more warmer than the last , its slender rays of sunshine had showed the painted plate  glistening on a sea of raptors its image was labyrinthine not lacking in its figured light not-empty in its love.
Would it not be one's power much greater than the waters , behaving like layman to save the births of life ; the rarest of a creature,  by dualness of its nature , one knows the longer orbits not seen in set forth patterns ; the dryness by a symbol , the floods revealed themselves;  the spirit of the men, ten captured in the bottle took separated reason as their hands upon the shadows , did do what must be done------------

Friday, February 16, 2018

Winters death.

Which is it that in life is ascending or descending ? The human condition usually fails, one said as with others too, as well as a naturally closed system system - pushing as not thought to the outcome-or as it is in its self is apart of us as we live; he said whence all at once his piles of papers fell off the the shelf and on to the floor below {the past}he then constrained his apathy by this instance to look , to see, if as if in a lighter state of mind whether the hot water was on for coffee and made ready in the flowered teapot , this had illuminated the cold winter morning by which he sat and dressed for work and by its beauty so far he woke in silence each day alone as many had done before him. he thought them good then thought it bad to be here on the page once more-to much pride in remembering  - snow counts changed as the memories faded-it was winter once again. To much pride in remembering  what was forgotten has become the moments of separation I thought and rolling in upon myself I covered my dark eyebrows and then nodded my head to the sun-lit window looking outward towards the landscapes of  snowy hills and smoky chimneys with its mist of smoke traversing tree top limbs over the highway of distinct breezes of his hourglass outside there bungalow, and by telling the time of day he remembered how gracefully he and she had aged in kind matters simply being nothing in there careers, after all art was frowned  upon as was writing.and then in time to something to just being in the forms of crumpled papers with drawing akinto tattoos on their arms.
The year was young , and by its congealment of satellites movements upon the many letters wrote and numbers proclaimed  or reset they both had survived and sustained without the end of each system that was  current to the matters of which they lived & which had become a subtle mesh of services everywhere by freedom; the soul was no longer an accessory of a brutal  family. , yes indeed he thought  & then turned to its reflection not noticing a point upon his wrinkled face mirrored by the afternoon light cascading off the glass of shadows.She declared this to him as not being real or rational & he thought otherwise or rather it was just a metaphysical message of duration - a uselessness of urgency compared to the Justices of factual and universal models of science - and he knew by intuition that the inert matter of life or death was just an object to which they had been created;for the appearance of life.
The appearance of innate intelligence crumpled in  discarded papers lay on the wooden floors with fragments of it next to the persons desk. their notes appeared somewhat tarnished with age as it rained in winter.& indifferent & specialized much like angels carrying over the encroachments of war to bear witness human atrocities  & ancient yet treated - that is to act by good outcome to then possibly happen or so if it seemed to me that the extensions too of inverse diplomacy a viciousness for liberty had become the objects most valuable resource ; they strained to hear the meters rhyme their hair gray and flowing in the cold breeze hung on their shoulders collars, that overflowed in tones of gray - some dark ,some lighter than I with one female whos tucked tressel lead to the blue deep sky above ,I thought for a trick some evil that played in my mind or that it led to a glimpse of things past upon the present day to the stellar state of an object's maze  drifting in a broken atmosphere foremost amongst the creases fold to trace the formations emptiness to which I lived in sin.Two hundred morn the morning of a night - 1000 suns  of sons delight seemed marvelous and in my delusions and to them I dreamt what might split my mind from them if only a fate to walk the opaque square  and above the circle annihilated to a place elsewhere to that of I.
And then to find a man by another man to whom felt he was no longer where his dreams found emptiness to whence a war had started. There  appearance that of only storing knowledge to vanish had seized from within me that winter afternoon  reflection; I told them looking from turned side to the front of which I speak; hear on this black page of death, creased  paper - crumpled torn like an antique card of an artist draw I am a force within himself- a bastard- not knowing whom he is or where he came from - what's only left is the flag to stand for or to kneel for god as he places me in the snow of earth to count the journey's end.

hchapman / revised/ 22318/


Saturday, January 6, 2018

A puzzle in the game ; the walnut.

Looking for the walnut, to get thus far said hello to line of cars stuck on the side of the road, and then to a short passing silence through his window. Just think of those are left out hee in the cold.
Lonely yet not alone or of the individual seeking a bag of roasted walnuts too if that off the grill still there and waiting waiting waiting, it might be done with -.the man hesitated and knocked over the napkins and cellophane bags on purpose the living spirit of his was a bad person. Friends will not stand back over the incident - act properly and life will be ok. She closed the weird looking book .The town hall had closed for the afternoon and he canted an old song and rushed away from city corner.
Her eyes seemed all of a sudden to appear brighter., it was the opening of something long ago and secret.
and she could not stand that there was a small book or journal that had found its way into her office down the street from the assessor's office which she had just been. Almost as if it was apart of a gable that had once in a different age represented the movement of authors and artists who at the time were mill weavers making supplies for the wars and where the great entrance with its artisans had lamented over the works for decades. First the millennials were inactivated withe words saying if you don,t like order teams balked at it.thinking bad reason to in their seats more of something that was far off India owing to the crest of its design.  Totally to the irrelevant she found her mind if and as a what or not or not she repeated.
the office must 2 be gone back too yet not while the secret remains not to be spoken but acknowledged . balony makes ham and cheese with lettuce much better, as they both killed time with others outside working. the winter hills . all was great powerful in temporary problems falling to mostly the sounds of humanity rather than the images of it , and in him wondering of its practical sense to dare what she could not bear to think of.  they walked from city corner to over the bridge of ice by river ice floating under it as small fishermen do at the 56 moon to the rivers dug along the rail - road tracks of winter shores. And in hands then a  bag of walnuts taken back to their kitchen - en waiter cut of nut fried lighty in light oils and herbs.a recipe handed down an armament of health ; laugh gently if you shall 'll find faces when curled in the shell ;looking at you. in music of winter a mystery , of or babbled nose by ear by one of us beholds.
Another's recipe of mine and others rising in the cake with box to sit with for my bottom to eat as morning energy.How silly which i by abstract floated some how we say all by itself upon the office desk of state to differate our life of ripples falling off the wall to the curvature of earth  by chasams in ts shell with life in move ment upon the canvass reaching out to the feeling of discovery with the all,powerful our fates.
The golden walnut onto the aged necklace to the origin in gold -quartered to its pendant  was the page which most she turned her features of her shoulders dress too.and they both wanted to know more from the mountains of articles inside the closets doors.tucked away far far to the interstellar space of kinetic fly byes.
K eh-kiea we turned around looking at with the gasp on to a bird of prey floating just floating amongst the northern sky of lights to a power of space langauge grounded by layer encircling this abstract book in the libbraries of Uconn, just up their country road.

Friday, December 8, 2017

Who's really to say

There once was a whale who had a calf and he had a glass mountain beneath the sea built.
For this time another task.he said empty and swam the oceans depths and then began to think .
There was no skool said one to the other I cannot bear that home or warm myself replied a third whale .and they dove deeper below. CSpace with wonderful treasures and the weight of water from first winter snows kept them young  -  They cared for nothing because and roamed the seas till one heard the call of sound to sleep, - because the glim light held within its swirl  { - At a blue moon on a white sky
There are members of the Moon set restless in the night
All Arching in a song the place of strangest space
And in arching in there sight so full - an Orbs delight
Just hanging in the mind of arch angel’s - a fancying of the night
Whose magnitude had light the darkened night so sequel
The color white and round.. I heard my mortal ears calling 
Forth, the lutes, the woods the fringing strings-the meads of dusty rock
Unknown to home or city breaking this misty halo sky
A flattering of forever the old whales chancing drift like the
Celestials wind and bronze vane gathering up eternity the countless
Tides of decades seizing up the forecastle
This strangest space of all two actors whose mirrored heads
Ought note the globe of lining the cruseing skies of mediums

Crusading onto earth –Leave us- Otto we cross the rovers path
When seas of sexes members allow this nameless angel half
Floating of the sort theses creatures waves make love in rolling tepid seas
Shook speed appeared a sort ..a prodigious mirrored head
The front a painted face, the back a masked head, wearing portals
Vital point was metal boneless jaw ..the dread of godless
Vile to which the lifting actor suspended his proper lute
And near the angels comb of watered head and crater
Des theses at restless certitude Fore most its doubted view and no mirrors
Of this fore most moon whose virgin have ergressed aware
Of multitudes: the vision of strangest place.

Des orbs a sling for dreams cried the causing actors whale
Abreast the countless crusades up to void blue space
Her loggerheads dost wrench the love of this bright full moon to quest
Phantom of the nights so that even that is even is gained so that
Is this these eight inches of her treatise mirrors are visible at the mires.
The craters distance seen, the star struck sacred sky
Blocking behind the moon our strangest place of all.

Close the reason that is for reason the close of night upon the day
Resign upon some who may when time is songs of whales
Lurking here in manner obliged and done to rid the world
The large un folded light the moonlight passing passion.
He won’t come down from his poor castle, his eyes he says feel like
Grapes hanging on a moon vine floating out in space
In Danish whales the moon is always olden
The eternities are never known, I am pleasant and bright
I am round and paternal to all humanity floating along the
Orbits windlass as a distant reason to fathom the mysteries I present
The motions now of whales become my foremost.. Sweetest hopes.
Fore most its white but sometimes gray-whose to really say.
HC Friday, December 08, 2017

First edit january26th 2008
{yo-Al/Cindys wake may god love her }/second edit/
Hc ;entry 12/8/17t 


Sunday, November 19, 2017

Dysfunction in the Winter.

Long I chose the lake woods along the bushes chasm and mangled with light driftwood entirely dry without its bark or summer twigs perfect in falls reflection, to see the formations ripples glittering from the centers brink as only a gust of wind , off fair upon the breath of waters surface  - so was the two sides of life I'd   taken. An iron spike with in the granite, said to be a ledge to an over-arch spoke the banished memory - a chillness, to by of one of many , flying along its shores.
The summers rose has faded grew dim by air and rain.The Pentagon surrounded by great silence in azure dawn - direct mirror of all that is good and full as gates to angels edge or plain visions to passage energy s  and well to whom the abstract remained by shadows light, while that by cognizant countrymen  now was the powers forehead, the space between the Christmas trees besides the pavements stones.  Breakfast was served 8 am, cruel tyranny a news - less thought then thunk to some, I would come upon her thoughts this childhood of instincts  listening by late hours her letters that In I had read.What nonsense have the Russians done, to come to pass the warmth of others? Her faded eyes lay open upon the tables abstracts voice that then were felled with the feeblest of counterfeits, where souls are gone and suffered much , from disappearing superfluity's that denounced the glistening freedoms - all blue with flu and death. In nothing for herself I had gone myself, the years to live in few the poor mans life, and so to I not true, nor not shown the horse s devil, who led the sirens ill. These Holy story's overwhelmed the will, religious veils of great courage yet little else to do, before the gated door had called himself alone and a little ill. One let yet, alone by drink then sought if by or next to when the night elapsed outside , to some kitchens welcomed home for her, the  friends to those who didn't belong in life and so I bore my guilt as life was chosen , with hands upon my crying head  to put away their grief. And then to stand alone I sat down on the ledge looking to the Northern Star to clear my dreary head en heart ; thus ceased the winters night of rest I said at length by wakening to banish all her letters that were written all in red. 

HChapman Nov 19th -2017

Monday, November 13, 2017

Get it while you can an can all you get.

Have a wonderful Holiday. Joy to to all and peace , good will to others .
Henry Chapman.

Society upon there knee's.

So here I am the night would soon be gone.
Nobody ever walked away to which they settled in.
Nobody was never wrong or right , which had the jealous look of a fat cat rolling around in the grass.
Its appearance , that is the picture of the fat cat was an obstacle to himself , in which he regarded the refusal
to have a family - much like a candle in ones hands that goes out because he keeps walking away for where in a span of time fate had placed him. Yet in all honesty there was never silence after economics changed the way people and there cats lived. In fact they just attached a fee to it. So whats the message - you would here from the news "Shorty"  are they planing are they planing his death in agony or are they gonna toss it over to the dogs ? None really knew it was to early to tell , he said lifting a heavy pic of furniture Shorty smiled his dismal smile. The most complete life was one of leisure which the poor revolted at seeing humanity , and one behind the other each took turns looking out the great window instead, at the ceiling of stars that winter had brought over the house close to the city .Where the perplexed leaders sought answers to the absurdities -humans abandoned to dissolve in each here in there own way "The message " shorty gasped - yes the Others like  most believed, if  then - that the messages had no reason to further their existence yet for the -height in virtue to judge as to make one seem human - much like us then, in this twilight of mans existence, it was thought okay to have the arrangement's strengths for war. War Shorty exclaimed ! Against who - our owners  friends as family - because a thatch is all that is left. I still see myself in sacrifice for there greed Mrs Spot said to her duty, folding there towels and slippers for there paws. Who ever heard of holding against the poor unless they committed a grievous or hideous crime. What shall we tell Democrats - she exclaimed From that place of ill repute? Well if thinking of something else - The government lit up their faces and kept there promise for a head stone - and they did of coarse come into our homes like communists trembling to witness the way we lived .
Yet on the other hand their was an epidemic of mankind to just self destruct. How ugly life became how utterly ugly and oppressive is the donkey serving the elephant for its ivory. Please tell us a lie as we find themselves from out under thatches to stifle the anguish in the streets much more pleasant. Wrinkles under his eyes - between them lonesomeness. Shorty tied a blue handkerchief around Mrs Spots arm  - this is for sexual abuse of our species which are human, this is for all remembered to which the world had failed them - Her eyes contracted ,she choked and wept.

Hchapman Nov , 2017


Tuesday, October 10, 2017

Through the panes of glass.

Through the panes of glass the castle astounds the spring of hills.
Subdued beneath the tall and limbered pines - like toothpicks aghast at Autumns warring,
the rains and winds and quivering leafs of colors grasp with whirling breeze by chance.
The boulders hulk has walled the brush , the square farm -studding its beige of shadowed rocks,
broken to what's been done and drenched with the decay of woods lay solemn to the dignity of my birth and of our age and to her - the natural earth the world endeavors to move forward.
Paired up to restful sleep onto doing all of nothing heart remembered.
The great powers upon the land he knows - some trust of spread reflections.
If then if that a fowl or man a solitude to stand  unshackled by mid-noon sun or motionless forever.
 that blooming tree and line stone - while making love to fun - disturbed the hills with great delights - a ballast that surly held a pond where little angels lived.
Choose the rendered gift I gave through panes of glass unfettered.

You belong to more than one of noble cause.
Poor man , child or sprouting women .
Ourselves pursued and picked left open thus fallen to the frameworks hands the sliver watch ,
whence all the past grew clearer.
With this in nothing more to say - stay with me to finally well , above the ridge of stone.
Beneath the tumbling green leaf I hear the tic -a tock  of the married clocks ,One end to mar- the
bells , this astral world - for sure a starry gimbal's valley - the crimson lamp at dusk.
Tender air cold around the sighs of hope - Antiquity's of western passage ,I noticed not myself
as usual a wanderer of other things - poor wretch , a rule upon an object  what is are if, not yet I am,
yet well to think against the day.
Beyond a doubt from room to room their nick-names were very old and loved.
a back bone of a hammers bridge had reclosed the windows peep.
As neighbors searched the break of day to view the side-long lighted hill,
still on my way - I'll give you this - the gimbal's vase upon the cries of rice.
To I am yours to up the hill - the downhill ditch plain to see,  loaded with the golden leafs ,
rotting by their moans of joy and sorry to the Fall.
Won't be coming back till winter and its ribbons snows has melted in the springs - that's all.

Lament/ HC 10/10/17



Sunday, October 8, 2017

Loss of a smile - long life of colored flowers .

Loss of a smile, the long life of colored flowers.
Rounded like a cloud hallowed to the strain of war their arose a shrine of flowers.
Now his vision was singular by the disc of the full Autumns moon, which hung with an unrelenting energy. I walk and run mislaid by my thoughts, and my nose constantly sneezes about my old face which holds my tongue to speak. By myself in their house I was a palpable success , yet what had I achieved? I tell you it was nothing. We stared at the empty houses torn over by the hurricanes.
Their very nature was unstoppable.
     Loss of the magic beneath the hills looking about them, the streets would serve for heavy machinery that moved in , as the savage rains and winds deceased to mornings skies. It dominated the news channels less their would be no means for hundreds to survive and I did nothing except to donate some money, when a good month arrived.
Things potently unpleasant in a volume unprecedented, had the airy atmosphere in the chambers of the house that then as wrong , occupied every room and dinner table set out restlessly by the kindred chairs back home. What had been and how it was now that the Island survived - for want of a better word or feeling  was guarded in the somber conversations of hope to which the Chef had placed himself with others. In sight of my thoughts at moments , I became at loss as what to do , the sentiment of far away seclusion overshadowed any real kind of labor in waking to my feeble mind.
Harsher to my self then thought's of whom had had direct contact , I had felt a child at length was smarter in equal feelings and thoughts to know of a more simple solution than I.
I must have been in fact going into a vortex - an old memory of friends who had died and never to had seen the wonders of this world, till after the floods had resided - whom now were just spirits natural to our earth. The Red Cross.
Displacement - lost and found smiles - bereavements to the hours and months to life - a waywardness in every such movement to other Nations of the world had origins in the histories echoing the many fragments towards the upward progress of diplomacies working in union to the Island of Puerto-Rico.        

Wednesday, September 27, 2017

The laborer

The laborer.
Yes you admit it ,you have been working on the land your whole life.
Some five decades I imagine , and always taking care of yourself and others the only way you knew how. Yes and always in that man made cave of the 21st first century. A modern cave that shifted as you moved to new locations with out family ; and having only a few friends which were as ill as you and doing the same thing. The brain did not work well in low wages for your work. And only to pay high rents and a small bit of education to grab as you lived poorly, it became apparent in this very day that then if the interior of life did not match the exterior of busy life you would then end up homeless in periods of your life subjected to a more fortunate way of living.
It was not that bad Though Sir.
For the democracy of the free world was there for the taking, we made due, and most the time ignored our pain by the passages of time. We hoped and prayed in the labors that unfairness would keep awake our courage and stamina and that either through natural causes - the opportunities would arrive from else ware or not. Please don't walk away = I boarded your trucks , ships and factories , I even voted for our leaders , and yes sometimes going down the wrong path to escape life's turmoil , I would return to hear your laughs with the face of fears on many faces. Yet we sacrificed in giving what was not ours to give. I guess your right I was never a shallow or a narrow person. You knew that from the start. I could not understand the darkness lurking in the shadows of business. Even then as now to pay homage to the point of a babbling emotion seemed to have no explanation , except to survive in where my feet had placed my hands. I did not say you were shallow, as it was explained - you were just inferior not fit for the earth you walked upon. Stop right there. Self deception was there and yours - yes one could argue that , yet what about the Nation and God ? The very culture that gave you liberties and choice ? It was a simple idea was it not ? I mean to describe something which is not ! Because it is not simple it is and was accountability in the billions. And granted our expectations belonged only to us from birth to the grave in time to think and then with out meaning to, we chose to belong to know one. Some worried to find peace and to get through the funnel to contentment down to the boarders and to the countries lands of cities and farmlands. And never ceasing we embraced their hearts with unanswered truths coherent to the back drop of a world made of fire and ice - sorrows and joys , apprehension and assertion. I remember quite well the jails the rape the crime and the restoration assuaged by the impatience of governments to hew into the earth there eternity into rivers and mountains , deserts and tunnels from the very depths of there cultures. It led to a prudence of its self in laborious calculations which became the anxiety of the mind.
The dark dream in which one finds himself waking blindly to a day to loosen his clothes and boots.
A fashion to technologies preoocupied by services to quell any sense profoundly linked to evil.
Yet as I said Mr. Q apart from your struggles our struggles , there always remains hope, besides intelligence always arbitrary to a force , seeks the labyrinth to which in seeing the moment of its existence in idleness acts to head fast to salvation.
      The summer creatures of squirrels ,snakes ,birds and frogs fill the late September dusk.
The fragrant odors are fragments of life. The residue of early morning residue and fogs, a folly to itself cast the beginning  of the North Eastern Fall - and pumpkins taken from the thorny field's  harbored anxieties' inside there smiles lit by a candle battery.  Well just look at the early fall is not it wonderful ?
The morning and evenings were getting shorter. And had it not been for friends , old friends and new friends I would not have felt the relations of the community and there differences, I should have kept better records for in my senior years of later life, I had started to write down notes regarding my case against what I imagined was the inability in being in the existence of a doubtful attitude.
To work on ones thinking  usually requires support would not you agree?
The larger than life man squinted his eyes , His clothes though that of a laborer reminded me of a person who had worked some 30 years always waiting for the roadside traffic to enter his shop.
Turning feet ,turning hands - turning back to necks of steel made clear the work ahead taken from the passing years. Yet even being bought into a normal life the notes laid dormant in the brain . The music of the mind required discovery to turn the will and soul to what it had established and maintained,, I heard myself talk with you Mr. Q and the behavior of yours and our words were self evident . You had forgot yourself in the world we lived that in its self bought life and peace. And I in middle of early life had run away and hid in behind the raspberry bushes talking and whispering to the summer moon. In this en, similar now and saying to try to get right, one of these days , the country and our families homes nestled to one another on the shores and hillsides of our states will let go.
Addiction let go, let go to the to longer trustworthiness let go to the life of health - Addiction let go -Addiction let go.
The addicts often just a joke for a smile ,was striking the clock the ribs the teeth the eyes the lungs and then the water to moisten the throat and loosen the stories out of the doctors weight of tools which mainly increased the oxygen to the brain. Yes Mr Q nodded, he could have not known this himself - he had died talking of Jesus Christ on the solid ground of our streets and  public businesses.
We or some had cause to call to the minds of many , yet who would listen ?
The laborer.

So long, goodbye long walk.

Chapmans Oct 30th /2017

Credits/ Franz Kafka and 91.7 UConn , Stores CT

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 .......

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 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

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.


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, 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