Just Once, Revised

Just once, if my entrance here
came instead down chimney
not to steal St. Nick’s thunder
or revenge by grench on appeal.

Arising my spirit cross past’s future
where Santa and Savior live still-life
in the magnificence of the very young
unassumable choice resigns devoured
without hesitation by shadow’s dream
something alive otherwise for light fades.

I would walk through the walls
but that beat been over winter run
Scifi magic itself is sink with a drain
immune to flow of desires passing
but the peddlers’ junk in street
makes Dracula’s Werewolf howl
something our mech of blech
reminders would call merciful.

Shown for the illusion, repetition
generates less in interior’s face
where slumber is destined event
through which shadows abate
while all rescues long await
in a haze while craziness reigns
requests for help form echoes
saviors’ mistake sheers back
way beyond the individual
so that
here
long ago departed
already our arisen shrinking inner

we are stopped by
would stop nothing
itself

a blind self aware light.

© 11/2004 RJDuberg

~The Teeth of Shadows

The teeth of a shadow
hides certain paralysis
anthropomorphic, it's life.

Wider illumination blinds
my dearest cynic finds
in whiteout by avalanche.
Clear water shady flows
makes moisture lighten </>past and gone, undone.

Floating along is better
cycle to cynic crown </>hope drowns thereupon.

© 12/2004, RJDuberg

Recurrence Records as Resource

I keep a sliver of boards
(others’ have shoes, zen masters
their cranium whackers,
my choices concern the art of surfing
both ocean waves and digital)
to match conditions I find.
It's always been about exploration,
aesthetics, community, celebration,
humor, and effort.

Some planes and surfaces
allow for optimal magnitudes
to be broken,
I cultivate relationships
which support beautiful process
and values, even when I'm selfish
and egocentric I know not to fret
or believe it as life is
much more satisfying when shared
(Buddha farts and all, etc.),
the party rages onward
even if on the exterior all is still,
while I don't always remember
to evoke loud and simple laughter
from the start of an encounter
it never fails to work when I do
to align and ally all those present,
I'm still struggling with effort
however I suffer less unnecessarily
every day I continue to learn...

recurrence records as a resource.

© RJDuberg, 12/11/2004

gravity's rainbow

gravity's rainbow
Originally uploaded by Dr H.

Originally uploaded by notrylook.

warm ... (???)

warm ... (???)
Originally uploaded by LadyMolly.

st. ouen's bay

st. ouen's bay
Originally uploaded by jersey.

Mvc-687f.jpg
Originally uploaded by dorien.

Smithtown Sunday Morning

Smithtown Sunday Morning
Originally uploaded by Sponge.

Nov 16 2004 Sunset in Imperial Beach

P1010016
Originally uploaded by IBinSUN.

Wandering High Too

Full moon craters sun
White marooned even golden
Lazy blue for sky.

A majestic being
Petite feminine living large
Sublime bomb will fly.

© 11/2004, RJDuberg

IB Sunset Summer 2004

IB Sunset Summer 2004 1
Originally uploaded by IBinSUN.

One of the better sunsets at Imperial Beach this summer.

99 Sunset at Imperial Beach II Best for color

99 Sunset at Imperial Beach II Best for color
Originally uploaded by IBinSUN.

Nice colors

uncle

uncle
Originally uploaded by peteW.

Like this ink sketch I found in Flickr today when I was uploading some sunset pics I took. Using it as a test run on blogging pictures from there

Night of the Vampire

People who lack attention to listen
In weird wedding singer like fashion
know dramatic panache is primary
to weasel wisdom in wear and tear
with the resigned fade of forgetting.
Healing this fiendish vampire bite
is an art of training in great humor
freedom delivered by punch line
to surprise new laughter eruption.

Be careful not to mistake the mutt
who we all will find a tire and blame
once in awhile for our own lackluster.
Make no mistake on cainine value
as a genuine antithesis to vampire’s.
Human beings, closer than we admit
suck our energy in vein of sucker lore.
For their need is only to feed evilness
and they don’t know a puppy’s love.
Their loyalty and trust is oxymoronic
real impossibility never with alternate.

Put them together and you’ll observe
in a generous gamut gossip of vocals
no surprises, but a useless consistency
when collected, fit to be paved over.
You might hear it squeal as you finish
and stop killing yourself by feeding it
When you move forward in direction
You listen wellness granted to owners.

© 9/5/2004, RJDuberg

There! Eternity is there! All around! Do you know that you can extend yourself forever in any of the directions I have pointed to? Do you know that one moment can be eternity? This is not a riddle; it's a fact, but only if you mount that moment and use it to take the totality of yourself forever in any direction. – don Juan Matus

My Greatest Lie

Humility and surrender, my kneeling being of will
has not stopped the wrongness I feel in my heart.
I pretend, itself absent, for the sake of my sanity.
I don’t know why or how to speak the truth here
of an essential loss felt in the aftermath of loving.
Each day, more painful as the memory is distant.

Here and there, I imagine and propose solutions.
Pyschological babble was never more realized.
Means to possibilities misunderstood for the end.
Am I obsessed with ghosts I loved, holding tight
not letting go, I think this angle will end the best.
Like religion, if you don’t get it, blame a mystery.

But like religion, such possibilities once believed
haunt the experience in its best state with hope.
I am only learning as I waste my life in the pain.
Only by stopping the belief will I gain freedom.
Yet, it is the thing I believe more than life itself.
You are and have always been my greatest lie.

© 8/31/2004, RJDuberg

Onward This Morning

Without a look, the light rising

Outside my body this morning

Has come but within to shine

inward a notice silent and kind.

Today cracks lightly onward

Outside every word spoken

Unnoticed crackless interior

Scales the cracks' complexity.

A calculus determining lift

Organizes the rift of glyphs

The non-intuitive factuality

Our words ideally captivate.

This onward moment wanes

Unlike words said with strain

to quantum mechanical edges

My body refrains in illuminati.

© 8/26/2004, RJDuberg

Summer Whitewater

Cozy rockin’ Imperial Beach
with a half mile, into throngs
numbers up a quarter million
unlike Hampton’s ambiance,
the scenes value the unseen
leaving ghosts to roam free.
Space expands with wealthy
and divisive corrupt purchase,
creating vaults and museums
instead of a homey welcome.

Weird how life creates this dust
For signature in death's process
In outward transport of matter
excreting, separating, uttering…
It’s all the same shedded stuff,
A pooping matter makes room
for consumption or production
and a rare fast transformation.
IB Summer’s dirty causal nights
Intoxicate repeat dross offender.

The ocean sprays wet salt, spice
on constant, wash up and down.
Makes for every sort of dreamer
on beach to splash heat of sun.
Everyone is free to muster poop
without fear of shoes to distract.
The planet’s payback of poop
is sand we proudly track in home.

There’s flatline of ocean horizon
giving seashore its spectacular
clarity; sunsets or rises, bathing
color to sky, cloud, and memory
for last moments of light's ebb.
The reverse character and power
of moon led flux of fluid dynamics
rush to sandy crash of whitewater.

© 8/8/2004, RJDuberg

~Not An Option For The Dead

Not An Option For The Dead

Do you know how little I have,
how selfish and unproductive?
These social measures I dodge,
but by any standard measure
was dumbest staying with you.
A belief hiding your evil care
The unsupportive poetry boots
hesitating to pink your slip final?

Rules basic to survival I ignored.
Inviting you to be my predator,
I will not hurt you for cause either,
but wait till your finished dining
belly full on my bloody carcus
entirely gone to final departure.
Nothing to be gained trampling
Your peace offers, which alone
deserve respect and support my
psychotic mind knows not why.

Your responds became dessert
wasteland I fought in wild dust
backing off I came to my senses.
Your less than what Paula made
but you got your hook under lips
of poetry to flatter me into idiocy
onward then to worst I can offer
that was quick again to the fore
with grandest shit illusion in store.

Maturity over time gets gray pay
which I made into a goober drug
to survive the painfulest agonies
past loves will always remind me,
compounding what should never
have come to ruin like this, again!
It’s the willingness to keep pushing
through whack of wracking pain,
no matter how bad the pace slows
or how little one’s step will shorten
love is not an option for the dead.


© 7/28/2004, RJDuberg

Recoil of Mystery

The emptiness of sound
inside a bare cavern lair
hides dark in a troubled
soul's perogative there.
In the backward return,
past the future present.

Past breeze parted lips,
a floating quiver on air,
daddy sings tidal eddy.
Pink tongues its cheeky
setting fleshy to aim
blurry music steerage.

Lyrical binds aliveness.
Spirit spikes, a kinetic
crown filling the sound
word after word on words
exhale weirdest blushes
uttering spin in a thrust.

Secrets only soul knows
hear burdens overturned
unruled by thinking choice.
Listening gets conscience
encompassing next strike
to force recoil of mystery.

© 7/28/2004, RJDuberg