koan

wonders whether the World is ready for Lawrence 2.0..... laughs and thinks not.

cold steel heart 8 August 2006

Aquarius ... You'll make and leave an impression on people,
whether you want to or not.
Dress nicely, be diplomatic and formal.
You'll cover all occasions and people will be impressed.

--Ten things I hate about San Francisco 2006--

1/ the arrogant, self involved people who walk around and look at you as if you're intruding and don't belong in the private movie playing in their ipod-soundtracked ant-brains. 2/the arrogant, bike stealing homeless who demand their money, which just happens to be in your pocket.
3/ the fact that it matters very much who you sleep with here, because then there's a group for you to be classified in.
4/ that it's your right to drive, eat and talk on your cellphone all the time.
5/ that it's "free to be, you and me" except that if you don't belong to that person's tiny niche, you're dirt.
6/ that, for an eco-conscious city, I get more paper handbills than I did in NY.
7/ The Fucking Hills
8/ The Fucking Fog
9/ SUVs and the dimwits who drive them in the city.
10/ People who get in my way....

cold steel heart 8

Today I was in the back yard and saw feathers floating down from a tree near me.... it was a peregrine falcon, with a pigeon... someone said, "Aren't you bugged by seeing a bird eat another bird?" and I answered "I'm a cat; we like that."
And it wasn't the first time I saw a falcon back there....

I was fixing something by the fountain one fine day, and saw a pigeon flying in almost a straight like about ten feet from me. I stood up and WHAM! A falcon knocked it out of the air in a burst of feathers. The falcon did a 180, then took off. The pigeon was dead before it hit the ground. I was a bit shook up. I felt the last heartbeats, then left it on the fence, and went inside. Shaking, Karen asking me what the fuck happened to me, I turned the TV on.
To hear the war had started. About the same second as that hawk hit that pigeon... it was a mourning dove, I discovered later. Sort of fitting, don't you think? And that about sums it all up for me.
Being the warrior in the family, I often get asked my feeling about the war... so here, I'll tell you them:
I would have had a Special Forces team bring me the head of Saddam. Had a press conference, then tossed the head to the floor. End of story. if that was what it was all really about, end of story. But we all know that's not what it's all about. Sad to think that give Americans a line of shit, keep their SUVs in cheap gas, jiggley tits and ass, TV that speaks to the stupid and put on a smoke and mirrors show and we'll believe anything. I know there's a lot of us out there who don't like it. But as long as they keep their heads up their asses, we'll get the government, the country, the world that we deserve.
Not the world either my first son or my new son deserves, but I promise you I won't raise him to settle for anything but the best. And he will know the difference. That you can bet on.

1977

what can I tell you
can I tell you what it was like?
would you
could you
get into your head
and
imagine for a second
a cold and wet nyc street
stepping outside of a subway...
into the unknown....

A snapshot. A moment. Something special. Looking back. Now. To me.
What was I wearing? I'll tell you that, not out of anything. It wasn't what you were wearing. It was who you were; who you represented yourself as at the time. And, in time, if you were real enough, to yourself, you were something special. You were, actually, yourself. A bit of everything you wanted to be. A bit cultivated from the time. Past, present and inner future meeting,and we loved you for it.
Me.
Long curley black hair. Velvet jacket, big lapels. A Moon and star pendant handing from one lapel. A long earring too, in my left ear. Levi 501s, the real deal, 15 bucks from an Army Navy and shrunk to fit in the shower. You were blue; but the fit was worth it.
My boots were Fryes; finding aluminum paint, coupled with finding oil one day, made it happen. Silver boots.
One block off CBGB's in the Bowery made it all happpen.
I look back today and think of the day and say thank buddha it all happened.
Back in the day as they say one of my friends told me a story that didn't make sense and actually fueled my power to fight: the best weed and the most 60s thing hadn't died but a flicker was still alive... yippies and hippies still existed and they had this hangout and even a club... Ok now it's ok to say that the hippies and yippies were the ones that had taken the world to the edge, looked over into the depths of beyond and said, no, not me, it's too hard, I'm a pussy and I can't, and left their broken dreams to me, who could still see, who could have taken then broken fragments of a world envisioned and been the glue to keep the light flowing and the world growning and the secret heart of passion knowing and held it up to the sun and seen the glow of the place where our hearts meet reimagined into the place where our souls meet and the flame of the world we hold in our hands is transformed into the light of the next person to occupy this space moves our dreams forward.....

And back in the day they say it's ok but in a quick flash of moment the stars were aligned and this person was born...
No.
This person was home. Among his own kind. And the world whirled with the secrets and words around him.

"Always bring the flame to you."

felt the cool breeze from a thousand places
blow through my mind with the subtle traces
of memories past and future calling
strap in my friend and take a walk in

all these things but a passing fancy
handshakes through the ages make me antsy
does it matter where we've been
or where we're going
thought I spent my life looking for the things
worth knowing

wild and cruel and deep and fast
I didn't think that I would last
passion's failing under suspicion
of living a life
on a fool's mission

waking up... but it's still summer

The sign may be a little faded, but I know the place, in my sleep, blind, in a snowstorm... a welcoming blast of warm air, friendly faces peer out of the darkness.
I hang my jacket by the door and know there's a cup of coffee waitng for me, a smile, a shoulder, and someone to tell me that it's ok. The rabble has been left behind, the wolf guards the door, the clock is broken from having to conform to the demands time makes on it.
It's never goodbye, it's see you later, fare thee well on your travels and come back again.
"Change is the only constant thing in the universe, Mr. Peters." an old teacher once taught me, probably the only good thing I ever learned in school that shook my heart.
Whatever happens, the moments we spent together go with us, out in what some call the real world, and we take a piece of each other on our life's paths.
So, see you again, somewhere, maybe in a place that has the same name or becomes something different.
All I care about is having known all of you once, and maybe again.
Whereever there's a warm fire and a great bunch of friends coming together...
Think of me and I'll be there.
Cold Steel Heart