Robin Lipinski

sometimes is something

thing is

sometimes it becomes

a whole world of making

made in manners

beheld

a beauty indeed

where sometimes is something

thing is

sometimes it becomes

 for a good reason

the same world as

mine.

yes indeed. all that is missing, is the music…

there, not so far away

pursed lips turned towards a window

sky mirrored

with looks and dreams

can you feel it?

A whisper pushed through steam

Steady vibrations of inside

Outside birds play

while nobody knows what’s in the heart.

Thirteen degree’s, the thermometer reads

Cool by any measure, though the Sun spoke hot

with cold air over hot water

turning into a foggy steam.

In the background, children spoke gibberish to their mothers while the mothers spoke gibberish in reply

While that fog, that damn fog, silent for most spoke way too loud

for me…

On and on and on…Yackity yack and blah, blah, blah,

had no choice though, had to listen, have to listen

to everything.

Adults speaking about skiing and work

Children laughing thinking of play

And still, that damn fog screamed.

High above, a Raven laughed while the near distance rambled the Geese

and finally, the  volume of the fog decreased

replaced with the sounds of two crickets gossiping as the sun set, there under the fence

warm, secure, surrounded by snow, and safe.

Soon, a frog croaked vying for attention until those little birds hopping around looking for something soft to eat… Sang! Sang so loud it was as if they were trying to compete.

In darkness, the minds of men, woman, child were pushed away, replaced with the caress of fog, now silent, and filling me with peace.

Softly with gentle murmurs the muse once again filled the void, a void vast

and deep

the story written instantly and greatly inspiring

me…

A new book to write, another story, one in a world where only a writer can dare

to be free.

Layers laid random with chance of precision

funny how it settles

first the bottom becomes the top

until

turning to look from the side to change the top to the bottom

again.

Look at you as you look into a mirror

such thin glass to reveal

a wall, solid and secure

holding the mirror in place while your feet try to find footing.

Youth to age

Life to death

Hunger to full

Night to day

Minds are the tools, the tweezers

which put all time

in its place.

Chocolate

a soothing word yet unlike cricket; word of sound and action

tasty though, and fine causing a whirl, a twirl; divine

Pocket

Inside rests spare change, some Carmex, tape, lint, and dirt

functional and needed

Rocket

BOOM! (or zoom)

phallic symbol of mankind’s race to war and star

Socket

Ratchet industrious to tighten/loosen that in need

shiny type of tool

Crocket

… indeed, and nary a Davy in sight

though, a useful word.

Music round and round, about the up/down. Music sounds AC/DC

Power plug of involuntary shoulder dips; shrugging rhythm; abounding tunes

Vibrations and titillate

even.

Married to a world with ear to the stone

dancing

dancing

dancing

Russia beats the drum. USA, the cymbals. Turkey the flute. India the sitar. Mexico canasta…

Hear the boom?

See the nations upseat as the blood goes down

WhooHoo!

Peek-a-boo

Music seeps throughout the land!

Thanksgiving is a good holiday. It is good not from the perspective of past history, but of today leading to tomorrow.

Talk of Pilgrims and Indigenous people is to talk of a past no one alive really cares about unless it can be used as power in dialogue designed to fit an agenda.

The word, thanks, speaks for itself. As does the word, giving. Put the two words together and Holiday or not, is a wonderful creation.

To give thanks is important, Holiday or not. To give thanks is to acknowledge a blessing, a joy, a statement to recognize that received.

Everyone has something to be thankful for. For such as what I am, there is much to be thankful for. To learn of an emotion called love. To experience hate and how it is to be dealt with. To learn so much about a world we call, here. To be able to teach those willing to learn. For me, there is much more to be thankful for than to regret.

I have no regrets as that which some would regret is what I call learning. Experience. Knowledge. And in that, thanks is given.

This weekend is the first four days in a row that I’ve had off in literally, years. It was wonderful with the exception of going to see a new Disney movie titled, Nutcracker. But even in that I give thanks that I know what good directing is, what a good plot and acting is.  Nutcracker directors, producers, actors, and Disney should give thanks anyone is gullible to go see such poor examples of what could have been much better.

And there you have it. Another Thanksgiving past while many days to give thanks everyday remain, as long as there is breath.

In a blink of a mind

just

then

walk around…

captured for so long, just this blink,

and then comes to mind: ‡

In a moment it is

In a moment it is

gone

just a walk, where planets born are carried past birth unto rebirth

a saunter where life and death mean nothing more than arbritary

but a run…?

Ah yes, running far and fast past the jumbled, tumbled mess of moments scattered/gathered and dreamt…

as: the dream, always the dream

with this this fortitude exists as a shell for if if ordered, it is and always will be

unlike

scattered voices in a head

heard

running/walking/sleeping

inside for this world

does not exist

only only

just a blink of mind

my mind

it is…

Never been there, never will go there, never is such a final word.

“You will never amount to much!”said by a world raised by anger

“It will never change.” said by those without vision

In Mongolia, the traditions are of the nomadic. To roam the country with family and herd. Horse and eagle to hunt and explore.

No, I’ll never go there with this body but I’ve been there many times, lived among the people, and tasted their change, wants, angers, fear. And to know their change with past meeting future, is joy.