Pregled posta

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I was for many months no not exactly many but 4 months a little child making blog castles in the air on Buzznet Bloggers Beach.. wondrous surprise and the AlaskanFern, wintry temptations of blistered nights, awowals of marriage poor old fart of a designer ,Barkis was willing..Dickensian recapitulations..the folly of falling from the heated cauldron into a fire once again, again both none typical Americans, both indigenous lovers of wordy flight.,, the madness that had set my soul on fire and Diana my Tantric hair stylist English once a Wiccan now besotted by her Jodhpur Guru Kailash Baba had added the dread extensions God alone knows what else.. sea shells, mantras, other voodoish stuff .. beyond the purview of your western mind.. my Alaskan madness and ready to walk out on my wife and family.. then the trip to Lucknow unthought and unplanned my visit to the barber and my meeting the Naaga Sadhus who loved my hair asked me the same as a gift jokingly and me seriously ,rushing to the barber blinded like Samson and having it scalped.. when the locks fell to the floor they were writhing like baby snakes hatching from their eggs,, the barber used to such mysteries asking me whether I wanted to take it home to burn the spirits within.. me paying him extea money to place the same on the Ling of Shiva on the watery ghat and float it in the waters of the Holy Ganges..
My son Saif used to cry each time he saw my knocking my head as the pain was unbearable and my silver thick bracelets would leave deep marks I had begun balding as the weight used to bear the entire hive of my dreads down.. after a bath.. in a way it was Saifs silent love for me that got rid off my bewitched dreadlocks.
Today I am at peace..slip of the tongue..words mutilate my sentences become thoughts of her.. the Peace that I love that wars with me ..but is succumbing to the power of my voiceless cries.. of love that was thrust upon us without each being aware of it.. a Medicine Wheel within a wheel of Madness..I have no pretensions of being a writer or poet it all happened online.. the dams of my misfortune burst I began inundating the very fields I had ploughed single handedly.I love my wife I dont believe in polygamy at all..but the mind of man is polygamous to all love .. only the indegenous heart would know.. the baptised and the christened dont know what they are missing.. this is not a one night stand.You dont need to spoil brat your cock to make love to a woman.. holding myself in my hand I can open the gates of Paradise.
And if St Peter is no at the gates you can be sure he is making it out with Mother Theresa..this is love and you dont need keys to open it.
And I wrote a long lengthy missive that just disappeared online ,no trace , no history,my love thoughts dont have a bank vault for saving.. I delete everything.. no reminders no collectibles , just the strokes of the 12 inches knives on my back that bleed tears of impoverished love and sorrow.
And I write only for her.. you read me out of curiosity of a voyeur,, I hope you can unlearn from me what ws taught to you by your doomed holy scriptures of Original Sin..
And fall in love with pure pristine fashion and get wet as I do as I finger flirt to flatter her as an imperfect woman but a perfect mother.. you cant add apatch or restitch your destiny in the clothes that make up the soul of your son.
Saul Williams is not for me.. I am an old man .. unmusical is my existence the cadence of my love notes come from her braless heartbeats..I discovered myself to late in life 53 years to be exact.. if the ocean did not separate me from her I would each night serenade her family with the silence of my voiceless pain.. such is love when it blooms late in life..even on the bald pate of a crotchety cactus like me.. thorned to hurt myself.
We all write poetry ,but lovers over write it on hearts ..that are like blotting papers.. only the tears like embedded smudges remain of a the parchment of a soul that has its divinity vortexed to the mouth of of a shredder..
YesI DO LOVE YOU..
And Amichai or Yeats Neruda cant speak my tongue..the taste it has for you every time I bite into my tongue the drop of blood tells me that you are real just pretending to be an automative response to keep a wolf at bay..
A voice tells me she must have got it,, my long missive,,,,the purity of a mans thought cannot be flushed indiscreetly.

picture of British Residency, an old post of disastrous failed love one sided online

somebody from a school close by brough this to one of my mama friends and she called me wondering if i can care for it.. she knows I LOVE animals and want to be a vet.. i was the first person she thought of.. but soon as i heard I went to the animals pet store and got some milk.. some puppy replacement milk and a suringe and started feedin it.. before i got it i looked up some imdo about it.. from what I read it bout 5 or 6 weeks old....and still on milk for anouther few weeks and it a little girl...but soon as it can live out in the wild I will let it go around my house I got lots of woods around us so it will be safe...but i try feeding it every 4 or so hours...even getin up at night..but it want to be all wrap up in the covers most of the time..when i get it out to feed it...and it does start lickin it up when I put the suringe in it mouth..and yea that me.. my mama was takin the pic..so it not to good...lol..

bad news she died month 3 weeks after this.. on Wen Nov 12th bout 7:00... we all will miss her here on flickr..the squirrel board and everybody that saw her....