Archive for the ‘writing’ Tag

Early Morning Dreams: The Awakening And Starting All Over   4 comments

SCVN Nature_20111207_0503 Morning Dreams blog frameEarly Morning Dreams: The Awakening and Starting All Over — Image by kenne

“In art and dream may you proceed with abandon.
In life may you proceed with balance and stealth.
For nothing is more precious than the life force
and may the love of that force guide you as you go.” 

— Patti Smith, Early Work, 1970-1979

The Rock At The Pass   1 comment

Dove Mountain and Rainy DayRock At The Pass — Image by kenne

I will see you at the rock,

the rock at the pass —

not till you are lost,

then you will find me

by the river sitting on the rock.

You starting point will be

the mystery of my loneliness.

— kenne

Charles Bukowski: A Bio Poem   2 comments

Charles Bukowski Art Quote blogImage by kenne

Charles Bukowski: A Bio Poem

there was a
Charles Bukowski
sad eyes
weary voice
a poet-recluse

writing about
down and outs
skid row
relationships with women

German American
raised catholic
shy, alienated
teenage acne
desperate days of the

great depression

Los Angeles City College
flirted with the far right

grew bored
failed a physical and
psychological exam
classified 4-f
“on a Santa Monica Monday”

first story
published at 24
grew disillusioned
quit writing
“on the sidewalk
and in the sun”

ten-year drunk
bleeding ulcer
nearly died
begin writing poetry

first wife
small town Texas poet
decapitated in India
religious zealots
obscure cult

traumatized by wife’s death
resulting in a
powerful series of poems
“I hold fast to me,
that’s all there is.”

series of muses
a daughter
ten years with post office

wrote a column
notes of a
dirty old man

quit the post office
decided to starve
full-time writer
a loner

unable to live alone
“because I’ve got
a pocket full of dreams…”

move to San Pedro
married Linda
referred to as Sara
died at 73

many consider
Bukowski’s writings
those of a taboo
male fantasy

“they say that
nothing is wasted
either that
it all is.”

— kenne

Charles Bukowski in Ham On Rye writes of Henry Chinaski, his raw voice alter ego having a beer with Becker:

“. . . I’d like to be a correspondent in Washington, D.C. I’d like to be where big things are happening.”
“Washington’s crap, Becker.”
“And women? Marriage? Children?”
“Yeah? Well, what do you want?”
“To hide.”
“You poor fuck. You need another beer.”
“All right.”
The beer arrived.

Buk31Source: Booktryst

“The difference between life and art is art is more bearable.”
– Charles Bukowski


The Lady Behind The Mask   Leave a comment

New Orleans 2007The Lady Behind The Mask — Image by kenne


what secrets
does she hide

behind her
face of stone

she is not real

see the phony look

distant stare

a lonely pretender
hiding doubt

having given up
the search

now her life is
a fake

she accepts it

false truths

still unable to
look straight
into my eyes

tears drop


New Orleans 2007  265 Two Years After Blues Company Art blogBourbon Street — Image by kenne

Pendulum Has Swung — An Abstract Revisited   2 comments

Sunset Obsract_20120217_1698 background color borderMadonna Abstract — Image by kenne

The Pendulum Has Swung, For Now

All bubbles will burst
Fear as to when
Creating a
 bubble for now.

Yesterday has gone
Greed wears the
mask of reality.

Tomorrow arrived
A day too early for most
It is better now.

A new adventure
Following the pendulum
Soon gone for now.

Returning in time
With new values
replacing the old.

In a new harmony
Swinging to-and-fro
A fix for now.



Let It Shine   Leave a comment

Lummi & MCLACBarn In The Meadow — Image my kenne

Let It Shine

Morning awakens the light

Slowly stirring the heart

Revived from the sleeping night

By a singing meadowlark.


Accounting for the moment

Can we ever know

How age built a monument

From what it doesn’t show?

I don’t mind

As long as you know

I will make it shine

By allowing time to slow.

— kenne

Capturing The Moment — “. . . Brings More Beauty Than Words Can Tell.”   6 comments

Sunset Trail HikeImage by kenne

“Like trains of cars on tracks of plush
I hear the level bee:
A jar across the flowers goes,
Their velvet masonry

Withstands until the sweet assault
Their chivalry consumes,
While he, victorious, tilts away
To vanquish other blooms.

His feet are shod with gauze,
His helmet is of gold;
His breast, a single onyx
With chrysoprase, inlaid.

His labor is a chant,
His idleness a tune;
Oh, for a bee’s experience
Of clovers and of noon!”

Nature, Poem 15: The Bee by Emily Dickinson


“The world is rude, silent, incomprehensible at first,
nature is incomprehensible at first,
Be not discouraged, keep on,
there are divine things well envelop’d,
I swear to you there are divine beings
more beauty than words can tell.”

— from Song of Myself  by Walt Whitman,

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