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Saturday, March 16, 2013

Scatter-brained? Who? Me? Nah!



The level of focus in many has left me in awe and desire to possess such clarity of thought and loyalty of attention. My mind is a barfly, a busy bee, a social butterfly. I have never really possessed complete control over my thoughts. From playtime to school time, I have always battled to control the reins.
Sitting in the classroom throughout school, I saw more than a room full of student-filled chairs; my mind was constantly jumping from pencil to desk, chalkboard to floor. "Is there chalk residue on the board? Will it give the poor girl in the 2nd seat of the third row a sneezing bout today? Will it harm the bee that landed on it? Will the chalk block its pollen picker-upper? Who will get the duty of beating the chalk from the erasers after school? Last time I did it, I spelled out my name. And then I sneezed for 2 hours. Was the floor cleaned? That little 6 inch long sliver missing near the right end of the chalkboard...is it filled with wax yet? Wax! Did I blow out the candle at home? I don't want my house to burn down. Ladybug, ladybug fly away home, your house is on fire…Fire! The little girl in the third row that sneezes has red hair. Like fire. All the other kids have dark hair except the boy in the back of the class. He has blonde hair. He sits in a different chair every day. He says he is half Cherokee and half French. I wonder if he mixes the two languages in his mind. Mind! Mend. Did my mother mend my mittens? It is getting chilly outside. Mittens. Kittens.  Kittens in mittens… "
That is my curse. My mind never stops or slows until I am in the presence of “her.” My mind slows and my heart speeds up. My heart takes over as driver of the mind and I write of “her.” Of Love, of the Goddess, of God’s poetry perfected.
Modern psychology calls it co-dependency, I prefer to call it free spirited and focused for perfection. The quacks want to dose me; I tell them I am high enough of life and nature. Their drugs mentally maim and kill, nature heals and inspires. I will stick with the madness of freedom over the genius of control. 

© March 16, 2013 ~ DBC, Duke of the Arctic

Thursday, March 14, 2013

The goddess in you............

Many ladies that inspire the bard in us fail to realize the magic they possess. The power they have over creation. The intoxicating presence of their essence that stirs a troubadour to great lengths to have audience with said lady.
These ethereal enchantresses guide the minds that power the inspiration bleeding thru the souls and onto the parchment in the ink flowing through the quills. They are goddesses. We merely the vessel of translation, attempting to honor them with mortal words, because we have forgotten the melodies of love that we once expressed in the halls of the heavens. Only a gaze, a brush of lips, a touch...can near the magic of that lost tongue of paradise.
Ladies, please forgive our mortal attempts to lift you back to the high thrones of the heavens. After all, we are only men. Accept our words, feel the love in our eyes as we gaze upon your beauty, let our souls embrace as we kiss, and know that our hearts are one as we dance (with our quill and leave a trail of ink upon the parchment stage)?




© March 14, 2013 ~ DBC, Duke of the Arctic

Monday, March 11, 2013

Comment puis-je tomber en amour sans toi?



en regardant le coucher de soleil sans toi est vide.
la vie sans toi est juste existant.
chaque jour sans toi est un tourment.
ne pas entendre ton rire, mon cœur reste creux.
une minute sans toi est une éternité échos.
sourires invisibles me laisser un mendiant.
une seconde sans toi est à proximité de chaos infini.
de se sentir seul au lever du soleil, est sans chaleureuse.
la chute n'est pas adopté avant l'amour est dans l'air.
mes lèvres bavardage vide de sens, jusqu'à ce que ton baiser.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

How can I fall in love without you?

watching the sunset without you is empty.
life without you is just existing. 

every day without you is a torment.
not hear your laugh, my heart is hollow.
a minute without you is an eternity echoes.
smiles invisible leave me a beggar.
one second without you is near infinite chaos.
to feel alone at sunrise, is not warm.
the fall is not adopted before the love is in the air.
my lips meaningless chatter until your kiss.

Sunday, March 10, 2013

...and the rains settled in

Last night was amazing. I did one of those strange writer things as the rain storms blew in. I drove to a small deserted parking lot, lost in a a few acres of trees. I sat there with the only the radio airing classical music. The intensity of the symphonic pieces seemed to change with the lighting as it danced overhead and the raindrop set rhythm upon the roof of the car. Mother Nature requested audience, and I alone arrived. Center stage seating. Ahhhhh....
Eventually my mind took me back to the war. The raindrops became gunfire, the lightning turned to distant artillery flashes, and the music was the magic that I held onto for sanity's sake. I sought me hillside chateau for an escape. A soft reddish glow appeared from the heavens and I saw the shadows within our chateau. A few tail lights through the trees like cigarette cherries. The trees swaying and soft wind whispering like my Muse. I was there. I was at peace.

© March 10, 2013 ~ DBC, Duke of the Arctic

Saturday, March 9, 2013

...and the rains came


...and the rains came. All was lost in shadows. The holes filled with heavenly tears. The rocks would not embrace. All is gray and lost to the winds. It is time to sit and turn within. Fertilize my inkwells with inspiration from afar...

As the cleansing clouds crawl across the sky, I drift with them. I feel weightless and allow my mind to go free. It dives deep in the gray inkwell of yesterdays. The mental quill begins its sacred dance upon the dance floor parchment:

Is my lady singing at the hillside chateau this evening? How many has she enchanted? All that have sat in the dim, smoke filled structure. How could they not be? In a world torn by words and cultures divided by misunderstands, some think only war will prove one side victorious. They are wrong. War destroys the very essence of humanity that it claims to honor. The madness and volume of war has near deafened me. Will I ever find peace? Only here in her presence, ensconced in her voice, held in her heart, and lost in her eyes.

There are times that I wonder if I have died. Is this heaven? Valhalla? Is she an angel? My Valkyrie?  I do not know. I do know that she in my Muse. That is all that matters. If this is death, eternity will be embraced. Immortality in a world of mental and spiritual inspiration flow through the soft lips and gentle words of a lovely shadow that sings and sways upon a perfect moment in the midst of chaos? A hovering above the world of madness on a magic carpet of genius? Attended by such an elegant spirit? In chaos, I have been offered serenity. I accept this as I fall away from fate.


©March 9, 2013 ~ DBC, Duke of the Arctic



Wednesday, March 6, 2013

life of illusions

This life in its entirety, is all illusions. The "facts of reality" are the figments of misunderstanding and shadows of desire that we, as individuals, place in front of the sun and moon to filter the light through and hence create the rainbow of dreams and complete our personal needs. ~ DBC 2013




NOTE: photo is random internet find









the bottle

I found a Djinni bottle today. I thought if I rubbed it, I would get three wishes. I thought and thought. All I really wanted was to know that you love me. As I rubbed, a soft sweet whisper came from the bottle. As I listened, I heard three words. "I love you." My heart knew that my wish had come true. Each word was a wish answered...


Sunday, March 3, 2013

My WW II Girl Returns

The lonely drive to the chateau last night proved to be worth my last few dollars in petrol. I saw candles burning through the dark and hazy countryside. As I drew closer, I heard her voice. I now understand the term, "My heart did a leapfrog." I am sure I saw my chest pound against my ribs and push my jacket closer to the steering wheel. She was there. Although I was less than 100 feet from the door, I gunned the old motor anyway. The jeep protested against the abuse and screeched to a halt just as I reached my preferred parking spot.
I gathered myself and casually walked into my haunt. I had stashed all my anticipation and anxiety in my jacket pocket and planned to diffuse it within the first glass or two of liquid smoke. Nothing better than a good single-malt Highland Scotch to set the eye-sight straight and calm the racing heart. Glad the owner let me run a weekly tab, and happy that Uncle Sam paid me enough to keep this habit alive.
I turned to gaze upon her loveliness and realized that she seemed to glow more radiant each time I saw her. Her sways hypnotic. Her voice soothing and yet enchanting. Her eyes, oh her eyes. Most of her features were hidden in the gloom and shadows, but her eyes sparkled with the candlelight, or was it the love that burned within her that offered the twinkle? More scotch is needed to contemplate such a celestial enigma.
Glancing my way, she winks. Her smile tells me that we will dance soon. Paradise has been rediscovered.



© March 3, 2013 ~ DBC, Duke of the Arctic