Kurt Brindley's Blog, page 148
May 5, 2014
My Big Fish Must Be Somewhere
Ernest Hemingway
Let him think that I am more than I am and I will be so
Filed under: Writing Tagged: art, classics, drawing, Ernest Hemingway, fiction, literary quotes, literature, Nobel Prize for Literature, photo design, The Old Man And The Sea, writing
May 4, 2014
Cold
it’s not the season
the occluded fronts
the barometrical pressures
it’s not the helpless sad sun obscured by the sooty midday murk
the spiteful arctic sting carried by the weak unsuspecting breeze
the frozen-rooted grass aching to fall the forever green tree
it’s not the bare feet upon the stone tiled floor
the rude awakening in the ambient chilled bath
the blanket lost to the frigid midnight moon
it’s not those
or anything
it’s just me
I’m cold
cold
Filed under: Poetry Tagged: cold, poems, poetry, writing
May 2, 2014
Inside Your Head There’s a Record That’s Playing
Tom Waits
Hold ON
They hung a sign up in our town
“if you live it up, you won’t
live it down”
So, she left Monte Rio, son
just like a bullet leaves a gun
With charcoal eyes and Monroe hips
she went and took that California trip
Well, the moon was gold, her
hair like wind
She said don’t look back just
come on Jim
(Chorus)
Oh you got to
Hold on, Hold on
You got to hold on
Take my hand, I’m standing right here
You gotta hold on
Well, he gave her a dimestore watch
and a ring made from a spoon
Everyone is looking for someone to blame
but you share my bed, you share my name
Well, go ahead and call the cops
you don’t meet nice girls in coffee shops
She said baby, I still love you
Sometimes there’s nothin left to do
Oh you got to
Hold on, hold on
You got to hold on
Take my hand, I’m standing right here, you got to
just hold on
Well, God bless your crooked little heart
St. Louis got the best of me
I miss your broken-china voice
How I wish you were still
here with me
Well, you build it up, you wreck it down
you burn your mansion to the ground
When there’s nothing left to keep you here, when
you’re falling behind in this
big blue world
Oh you got to
Hold on, hold on
You got to hold on
Take my hand, I’m standing right here
You got to hold on
Down by the Riverside motel,
it’s 10 below and falling
by a 99 cent store she closed her eyes
and started swaying
but it’s so hard to dance that way
when it’s cold and there’s no music
well your old hometown is so far away
but, inside your head there’s a record
that’s playing, a song called
Hold on, hold on
You really got to hold on
Take my hand, I’m standing right here
and just hold on.
Filed under: Music Tagged: ANTI Records, Blues, experimental music, Hold On, lyrics, Mule Variations, music, music legends, songs, Tom Waits
May 1, 2014
Give me the Forest
give me the forest
the whispers
the wind
where only the keening call of the morrow
dare break the sacred calm of the sylvan now
the ritual of the soaring hum
give me the forest
the neglected
the free
where there are no rules
but the rooting scrawls of the cloven beast
unearthing pagan creeds
blasphemous guides to the dark
to the place where all the fears are found
all the magic
give me the forest
the sanctified
the holy
where the haunted howls of midnight
call to worship
to prayer
all the pious and profane
all the naked unbelievers who mock the baptismal of the moon
give me the forest
the ancient
the eternal
where the tattered persona is stripped away
ripped away and hung from the treetops
desperate semaphore signals for the dire
the damned
where the anima dances on fresh laid graves
sodden with tears of the holy
the helpless
Filed under: Poetry Tagged: anima, forest, holy, pagans, persona, pious, poems, poetry, prose, sanctified, soul, spirit, sylvan, whispers, wind, writing
When Imagination, Technology, and Hard Work Meld You Sometimes Get Something as Awesome as This Video
A little bit of magic I found on my internet out and abouts today. Enjoy.
Filed under: Art Tagged: DJ Butcher, Fintan Magee, graffiti, Ironlak Films, music, Quench, Selina Miles, slow motion video, Sofles, Treas, video
April 30, 2014
April 28, 2014
Taraxacum
It stopped him in his tracks.
Stunned, he stared at it as if he had never seen one before. Its glowing beauty.
But of course he had seen one before. He had seen many. Maybe millions.
Then why this one?
The mower handle vibrated impatiently in his hands. Let’s go, he felt it saying to him. He hesitated, unsure. Push and mow on, it seemed to demand.
How could he have never realized it before? How could it have eluded him all this time?
The mower persisted in its vibration. My job is to mow that deceptive bastard down and yours is to push. Do your job so I can do mine.
But he wasn’t listening.
He released the handle and the noise ceased abruptly. Except for the ticking hot engine, quiet consumed the yard. Callous hands tingled.
He stepped away from the mower and stepped into the unkempt grass. Kneeling before it, he leaned in close and examined it. It’s color. It’s texture. The shadow play of its vibrant-colored florets. The pale green strength of its stem. Looking even closer, the pollen-rich golden stamens.
Childhood memories. Wispy seeds floating on the wind.
The promise of what was to come.
*
Boot braced on the back of the mower, he pulled hard on the cord. The still hot engine roared back to life, seemingly more determined than ever to do its job. Ready to resume his, he took a firm grab on the handle, pushed, and mowed on.
Filed under: Flash Fiction Tagged: culture, deception, DPChallenge, expectations, fiction, flash fiction, nature, promises, societal norms, taraxacum, writing
April 27, 2014
Wrath of Peregrinus
Filed under: Art Tagged: aliens, art, drawing, dystopia, empire, Freedom Tower, New York City, peregrinus, photo editing, robots, wrath
Do Not Moderate Me
What are you afraid of?
Filed under: Writing Tagged: blogging, comment moderation, comments, fear, free speech, writing
