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Bushman
climber
The state of quantum flux
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Jan 10, 2019 - 08:44pm PT
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all a ‘glisten
where the cacti do wander
are them skies torn asunder
by midwestern twisters
and their big twisted sisters
aye them hurricanes
that roll up from
out of the gulf
you’ll hear voices of warning
chupacabras a ‘scorning
with their eyes all a ‘glisten
if you dare then to listen
you’ll be clacking
yer skeletons
to the sound of the wolf
as the guitar chord strums
if you’re down on your bums
neglecting surroundings
unmindful the soundings
from bottomless quicksands
those clawing leviathans
your horse they’ll engulf
at those poolside soirées
with daiquiri purées
as the eagle flies o’er
you’ll be haunted by more
meteorological phenomena
and strangely illogical
happenstance stuff
you’ll hear voices of warning
chupacabras a ‘scorning
with their knives all a ‘glisten
if you dare not to listen
they’ll be cracking
yer skulls to
the sound of the wolf
-bushman
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Bushman
climber
The state of quantum flux
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Jan 11, 2019 - 10:10am PT
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Acerbumdulce Profectionem
So beautiful you are
sweet life
But afterwards...
no bittersweet soliloquies
will bring us pleasure
Chances are
we shall not see
celestial orbs
suspended by
the fractured line
Or
in a flash
all timelines instantaneous
Or love
at love’s behest
it would not hold us fast
And if all human experience
were expounded exponentially
by earthly knowledge...
beyond our deaths
we would not know
When we depart
like-minded shall we be
in all our silence...
there is that
But only in
this moment
do we know...
so beautiful
you are
sweet life
-Tim Sorenson
01/11/2019
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Fossil climber
Trad climber
Atlin, B. C.
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Jan 11, 2019 - 07:46pm PT
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Tim -
Have you ever submitted any of your work to poetry publications?
You should.
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Bushman
climber
The state of quantum flux
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Jan 14, 2019 - 05:54pm PT
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No Wayne, I have not...I probably should. No excuse except I was planning to start submitting to publications after I retire in several years. At present I wouldn’t know where to begin...I’ve written several hundred poems or more in the past five years.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Jan 14, 2019 - 05:58pm PT
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bewitching and becoming
his rhyming goes a-humming
along his sing-song lines of verse
his rhythm is a curse,
but it could be worse
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Gnome Ofthe Diabase
climber
Out Of Bed
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Jan 14, 2019 - 09:09pm PT
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POST NUMBER NINE ONE ONE
You? well, you & I have been here before,
Would you like to come to Ridgefield?
will Will be welcome?
Well? will we see Will two too?
will Will one want to? Will Will one want to what? Will two won one too Will Will one win one too?
Will Will one want Will two to what?
Will Will one want Will two to want to?
Well Will two want Will one to win one too
PLEASE DO NOT APPROACH FROM THE POSTED BEACH
right now I can't seem to find my own pictures,
So will Will's video do? Do-well Will will do
Will's will get some well-deserved views will
It not...numbers always will out
114380997steep enough?
114380438steep enough!
114429895&114430093 ?
& at a different place,
10 minutes south, 99% 5* 5.11z
("V" whatever if you will if you want with sit starts)
116153069&114294280
Well not all highball
114406378& 114294280
but why risk access?
116358115
529712
escape yourself from trance
r
twice the ferocity none of da`soft.
a kind & yet still no place to be lost
fast west slow east going to be a day of the beast
The Dead transit company moving u from home to home
third times never a charm but mostly the last, nothing left on the bone
Burr of the cold wind rising, ice and snow is coming and coming on fast
Coz costs are rising, dust in the billfold won't satisfy the jailer
tux`d atween midnight and the birth of our savior
Twixt-ta a scene of mayhem and bloody disaster
lies a kind space where love is the cover charge
no entry fee, you have to pay to getr out of the place
wasted when you get in, like Nam, its all about the routes `n toots
Struggles strengths moodz bastions of acceptance excepting lies
that was it, what`id takes to win show or just to place
a sailor knows the total disgrace when the mast fails
The boom, next, when the crack of the whip comes down
I'm gonna go have a very dark beir or ten,
don't try to tell me when, just keep pouring
I've got 7 where are the other three gonna be to come from?
we keep hearing the same refrain, over and over and over again
And don't not never call me insane
that's why I do it, to get to the same place
the same result, as small a change as age allows
to look for any change would be crazy er no doubt
the rule of the constant; nothing stays the same but change
huffer wit was sour, bit it after fifty thousand told you sows
No way to fix blown out toes feed the head with those
he woulda told ya if he werner goin' deaf now
all-out bled out deleted dead
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Bushman
climber
The state of quantum flux
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Jan 15, 2019 - 04:43am PT
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A Brief Moment in Time
They once who
were standing there
looking on
panoramic views
subsumed within
a Cenozoic Era
The ancients stood
awed by
intoxicated
feared everything
embraced by life
then stricken down
A brief moment
in time
a window to
it’s visitors
a glimpse beyond
the antiquated universe
The scent of crude
churning up
to permeate
like peat from bogs
of bygone
years
Cold and heat
by any means
held rapt
beyond philosophy
a basic simplicity
of man and beast
As witness
it now humbles me
yet bares the point
I shout out loud
a nameless
melancholia
-bushman
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Jan 15, 2019 - 08:52am PT
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walking on stilts the movie
aka Leaving Soon
the director's cut
get him a band-aid
sharp and focused details abound
my vision is acute
i seem to be walking on stilts
through time
i am greatly enlarged
overtopping giants
but really only sitting on a stool
having breakfast at the cinema cafe
i see the waitress
and she sees me
we each smile and mean it
she looks French today
with a black and white striped top
all you need is a beret
and i probably should order French toast
...but you're waffling, as usual, she notes
as she takes my order...
but chorizo scrambled English browns okay?
sure, got it
hey, she muses, nobody serves waffles much anymore
but the place at the other end of the street
and i went out into the street to smoke
and recalled when most cafes had waffles
and a grill not just a deli case with trifles
maybe the occasional mass-produced muffins
and there used not to be choices
paper or plastic
smoking or non
credit or debit
cash or check
room for cream
splenda or some other substitute
asiago or feta
wtf is asiago but a trumped-up ad man's idea, Jack?
sir, do you want to king-size that
jumbo mumbo burger a la bacon asiago Jack?
spinning around on my stool at the counter
i have dismounted from my stilts
and they lie propped in the corner
by the coat rack and ice machine
ah, the rarefied air of walking on stilts
able to view much but unable to view the future
the distance, sure, space-wise
but not tomorrow, time-wise
and my best guesses are seldom right
and more often wrong by far
it seems i only have eyes for the past
as well as a taste for a good repast
as many do who come to the cinema cafe
ah, the rarefied air of walking on stilts
aah, the rarefied air of a few layers of grease
covering some classic movie posters under glass
mounted under shelves filled with green glass
an old-timey hole-in-the-wall
where you like to meet a friend
maybe godforbid for the last time
--hey you never know remember Joe?--
outside the art deco
of the facade and the dated marquee
add luster to the bouquet
and aroma to the ambience
and your dog is welcome if he's on a leash
and of a pleasant demeanor
bienvenido al cinema cafe
this place is run placidly
amid the haste of the modern work-laden world
it has its own conventions
and ways of doing things
and making folks comfortable
like me being able to sit here
hypnotized by the interplay of the staff
if not reading some book
or ear hustling customers
--i can't help it of course--
as i have many times over eighteen years
and like most i find comfort
among people who know my name
and treat me almost like family
in case your order is to go
remember that
being here now is not the same as
a lot like having been here then
for a business lunch
a family brunch on the weekend
a leisurely ritual coffee for the early birds
a kind cup of water for some homeless streetie
an oasis in downtown
one of the world's many side stages
where all are players
bit part or lead or spear carrier
everyone gets equal billing
and V will amaze you with her math skills
prices are subject to change
no senior or group discounts
refills are free
[coda]
the times they are a-changin'
like a busy baby's diaper
but the newspaper of record
was never sold outside
in the antique vending machine on the corner
now there is only fake news anyway
so who cares -- not the elders on their iPhones
i see universal truths from on high
and recommend stilts for all
good day, and here are "some things to share"
you don't miss your water till your well runs dry
the road to a man's heart runs through his stomach
fairy shrimps will still be here after the fall of man
don't believe in fortune cookies
--pokeyman on the go
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Bushman
climber
The state of quantum flux
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Jan 15, 2019 - 09:02am PT
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Comfortable Shoes
Unexpected triggers
remind us of them
and we tell the stories
that we recall
Our woeful grief
common the thread
though some might think
they’ve heard it all
I thought I was strong
I would box and control
remorse and love’s curse
beyond death and the pain
But I’m just a child
and I check myself
in this human condition
I can yet but contain
I never wanted to be
that lost soul in the room
who never got over
their loved ones demise
But I’m only a human
with a heart that is soft
it’s my greatest strength
I now realize
Unexpected triggers
bring them close to our thoughts
I might bracket my grief
in the hustle and tide
But I cannot turn back
the hands of time
and these wounds to the heart
I won’t bother to hide
-Tim Sorenson
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Bushman
climber
The state of quantum flux
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Jan 17, 2019 - 09:55pm PT
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They Say People Do Not Care
We were rattling along
a dusty dirt road
down in old mexico
There a lone gunman stood
who waved us over
but I said we had somewhere to go
He looked us up
and down
he took some cash
and we drove on
They say people do not care
these days
he cared enough
to stop us on our way
They say people do not care
these days
oh come to jesus
now some would say
I dreamt that the president
came on the news
not like any other day
And he said he was sorry
and he was through
giving everyone else a bad day
He looked the nation
up and down
said he’d take some cash
and he would move on
They say people do not care
these days
he cared enough
to yank on our chain
They say people do not care
these days
oh come to jesus
now some would say
Oh I saw a poor lady
out in the street
I gave her a dollar anyway
Oh I still felt guilty
but I’d moved on
five would do better I’d say
I had looked that lady
up and down
I gave her a dollar
then I moved on
They say people do not care
these days
I cared enough
to stop there on my way
They say people do not care
these days
oh come to jesus
now some would say
We woke up in the night
to the sound of a bang
something was going on out there
We heard people screaming
there were flashing lights
we were almost frozen with fear
And we looked each other
up and down
we grabbed the pets
and were gone
They say people do not care
these days
and sometimes
there is nothing to say
They say people do not care
these days
oh come to jesus
now some would say
Was an old friend way back when
followed the mean streets and
he didn’t find trouble trouble found him
I never saw him again
heard he got religion but only remember
that he was once truly my friend
We had sized each other
up and down
We’d taken our friendship
and then moved on
They say people do not care
these days
and sometimes
there is nothing to say
They say people do not care
these days
oh come to jesus
now some would say
-bushman
01/17/2019
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Bushman
climber
The state of quantum flux
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Jan 19, 2019 - 09:08am PT
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Jon of Roc
At the Battle of Dark Star
he pulled the flag out of the stone
from the top of Temple Crag
he took it down
for the people there
and made
Third Lake
his mountain home
In the Siege of El Capitan
he fought the tourists
and the rats
then retreated
to Tuolumne
reflecting on the golden domes
a tired warrior
sun kissed
In Desolation
he was counseled by
the angels as they spoke
his trek along the Pacific Crest
twenty six hundred miles
or more
with celestial guardians
on high
At the mountain hall near Mendenhall
they slew him where he slept
their piousness masked
their jealousy
of nature’s love
and free spiritedness
their vigilante law
inept
-bushman
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Bushman
climber
The state of quantum flux
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Jan 29, 2019 - 09:49am PT
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cedrus,
joy of trees conspiring
oft I have wondered
for I am a woodsman
do trees have a memory
and would they conspire
oft I have pondered
when felling great timbers
would trees take their vengeance
if so they desire
Oh as I sleep
while the rains hammer down
would that great cedar
crash down on my dreams
oh as I sleep
through the wind and the storm
would the cedar uproot
taking one for the team
oft I remember
the words of the elders
how the people gave thanks
to their prey as they fell
oft it has served me
at work in the forest
that I should give thanks
to the trees just as well
-yohan sabunyan bach
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Bushman
climber
The state of quantum flux
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The Big Fall
or
(The time I fell one hundred eighty thousand feet, probably)
It was just a little hill
by the name of Benwards Bluff
just a tiny little sea cliff
by its standards tall enough
one hundred eighty give or take
thousand feet above the sea
and though I was just a young man
it near whooped and hobbled me
The first day was a doozy
we climbed umpteen thousand feet
the second day was harder still
some parts we could not free
the third day we were stopped up short
by a monster storm you see
pinned down upon a ledge for days
and humbled to our knees
But then the storm clouds broke
and we pushed on without a fuss
climbing on for many days
up every overhanging truss
but a storm front moved back in
and caught us short pinned in our slings
dangling o’er the precipice
in blinding rain that stings
as we wiggled into bivy sacs
half wet and numb with cold
stuck in our hanging bivouac
with our spirits growing low
we wondered would we perish there
encrusted in an icy tomb
in eyesight of the summit cap
so ominous as it loomed
The storm finally abated
but the prognosis was grim
retreat was not a question
but our options were quite slim
the rock was iced with verglas
and the rain had turned to snow
though our only path was upwards
with no clue of where to go
My lead up through the icy roofs
was tedious and unsure
with fingers numb and frozen toes
the worst that I’d endured
and there upon that buttress
all the fates conspired to deem
that I’d make an err in judgement
that still wakes me in my dreams
I had reached around a roof
to find a hold that felt secure
and when I went to hang on it
believing it was was sure
the hold came off in my right hand
read further if you dare
as I waited for the rope to catch
I was plummeting through the air
As the wind rushed up around me
the rope did not abate
somehow the anchors failed us
and appeared to seal our fate
as my partner fell right past me
I bid him howdy do
as we both fell in unison
I was sure that we were through
Soon I had caught up to him
we shook and said goodbye
we fell so far we took a flask
and toasted mud in each others eye
we fell some more in silence
and waited for the crash
with time to play a game of cards
he took all of my cash
We fell and fell and fell and fell
and then we fell some more
we fell so far that time stood still
and hung itself upon the door
we fell way past our bedtime
and then we fell asleep
we dreamed while we were falling
we heard snoring as we counted sheep
At dawn we woke to see that
we’d stopped falling in the night
somehow our rope had caught upon
a tiny flake so spare and light
and as we looked below us
only inches give or take
was earth and terra firma
we’d been saved by just a tiny flake
We both looked ten years older
as we stepped upon the ground
we left our rope as a testament
and strode quietly back to town
we found a local establishment
and toasted to our luck
and pondered long the ludicrous
repeating only, “what the f*#k!”
We both hung up our climbing gear
to live ordinary lives
and as the many years gone by
we’ve been busy with our kids and wives
But not a single day goes by
that I do not recall
falling one hundred eighty thousand feet
in that monumental fall
It was just a little hill
by the name of Benwards Bluff
just a tiny little sea cliff
by its standards tall enough
one hundred eighty give or take
thousand feet above the sea
I’ll be never to forget how
it whooped and humbled me
-bushman
01/03/2019
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Bravissimo, Tim!
Glad you both survived that one.
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Bushman
climber
The state of quantum flux
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Project Planet Heart
I see a candle
still burning
It’s what I see
when I look deep
inside my soul
It’s not just me
don’t you know
Oh whoa oh oh oh
What can I say
bad things happen everyday
Life is hard
and then we say
with sympathy
we’ve all been there before
is it true is it real is it earnest
who am I to say
For all my words
there are so many
without meaning
but some speak
my true feelings
like the mother with her child
there is no more perfect love
than what you see
For all our tears
some kept inside for years
some waiting for
the day they are revealed
what can I say but
I truly hope they’ll be
new tears of wonder
and of joy
Whoa oh oh
so many veils
yet some are lifted
It’s what I see
when I look deep inside my soul
It’s not just me
you might have been there too
and you have known
-bushman
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Bushman
climber
The state of quantum flux
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The Birch’s Lament
Once upon
a midnight stroll
alit by moon
and all alone
I came upon
a moonlit knoll
a corner in a hidden dome
where hand jams fit
and sunk to home
a solace
and a quiet tome
a magic book
to call my own
a respite from
the daily drone
of ruinous labor
and haunts to roam
or crimes long past
for to atone
And there upon
that rocky jamb
I climbed up high
to where began
the difficulties
I’d not planned
both feet then slipped
on stone they swam
I feared the final
plunge and slam
With toes now set
I found a perch
in desperate need
for holds I searched
then saw nearby
there swayed a birch
the top of which
that I might lurch
lest I succumb
to bad research
The way above
appeared quite grim
with chances of
success more slim
as I judged I
might catch a limb
I conjured from
some strength within
then threw all caution
to the wind
The jump was short
so off I leapt
but felt my left foot
might have slipped
and through the fall
the trunk I kept
with arms looped ‘round it
while I whipped
as every cross branch
cracked and ripped
for forty feet
I spun and clung
down spindly birch
stripped rung by rung
the lowest branch
it caught and flung
me hard on grassy
shelf among
the detritus
that I had brung
Waves of nausea
and blurry eyes
when I would move
or try to rise
the pounding head
bruised arms and thighs
with racing pulse
I realized
all signs of life
a welcome prize
Waking once again
at dawn
although the headache
now was gone
the aching limbs
I leaned upon
and limped for miles
to make a home
behind the wheel and comfort of
my trusty old automaton
Some cars might drive
all by them self
but mine not steered
by gnome or elf
with remedy
the miles went by
one birch more worse
for wear than I
the incident
now on the shelf
-bushedman
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Feb 10, 2019 - 03:21am PT
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Is There A Spell-Checker For Emojis?
Halley Kahoutek Hale-Bopp Attorneys send Holiday Greetings
to all of their clients in the X/S Galaxy.
Memo from Forever 21 System home office to those affected by the following:
Justice Joann Kirkland's Torrid Back Room Shoes
has been purchased by Starbucks/In-n-Out-n-Amazon.
This means many of you are due to be unemployed, possibly by next month.
People, get ready.
Blame the emojis for dumbing down language,
(yet, in so doing, they help to bring us closer
in a way that a child could understand)
but this has nothing to do with them.
We know what you're thinking, too, and it's not that.
"Crazy old man," that's what you're thinking.
And I'm all, "Not my house?
Get the hell out before I call the cops!
Wait! How did I get here?"
There is no cross-traffic
And I can sneak across the four lanes.
It's four a.m. in the fourth safest city in the world
You may have even been here at this same time of the morning
In the same location earlier in your life
Or you may come here later in your life
Or even later in another life
Or I might, too -- who knows
"Hey, this is not my house at all.
Where's Mother?"
Well on the curb, having made the jay-walk,
I have a feeling that in spite of the empty-appearing street
And sidewalk and parking lots and well-lit areas
Someone is watching me.
I just know it and there's no need to think
--But I collect myself
And we walk away all casual
With no looking over our shoulders.
It's a no-brainer.
If whoever is watching sees us
He may recognize that we are the same
And this is something that would tend to call attention to us
--Not that jay-walking at four a.m. is exactly stealth behavior.
It is always a crossroads in time somewhere
And today, right now, there is a traffic light
Which will never change but continue blinking amber
As I stand here on the corner of Body and Mind.
Blinking blinking blinking
Thinking and winking my lids to the beat of the light
I begin to feel solid but still very slight
And I step across boldly even though it's not right
And I care not if they're watching
And disappear in the night.
--Cray Z. Oldman
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Bushman
climber
The state of quantum flux
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Feb 11, 2019 - 11:26am PT
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Silent goes the Peregrine
and there was then a quiet pause
after rising late one morn
reflecting on the pain of age
I found with it no fault or scorn
but pondering the sense of it
what little use of it I found
beyond biology and it’s alarms
no other rationale seemed sound
to suffer for the suffering
or anneal us for the coming years
explained nothing of its logic
allaying nothing of our fears
then it markedly occurred to me
might all our sufferings just be
a kind of dry run the the final hour
as a stratagem it seemed cruel to me
then long after such a quiet pause
as I found shelter from the storm
I pondered long the pain of age
and found with it naught but fault or scorn
-Tim Sorenson
02/11/2019
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Feb 11, 2019 - 04:39pm PT
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barracoda
pointless and useless
it's all so excuse-less
we should never oughta
pollute the earth's water
yet we poison ourselves
with the stuff on our shelves
and we don't seem to mind
all the crap left behind
from our industries' waste
to old tubes of toothpaste
it's more than we can handle
burning both ends of the candle
--mfm
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Gnome Ofthe Diabase
climber
Out Of Bed
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Feb 12, 2019 - 03:39am PT
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My Feet Hurt The Call
Foot by foot
by sodden foot when feet hurt
They heard it from the toe
The tow, a tug to go up,
once more again and again
to gain to gain again, must we
Can we for one more time again to go up
herd by foot by foot
Footfall, feet fail
free the heels, free thoughts heal
I'll undoubtedly feel ill,
tightly tied in not tied in at all,
Naught for not for knot
for no one to tie into, still
my feet hear the call, my feet hurt
I heard the call to go up don't have to
but can not stop, so alone still I go up
kick-kick wump wump kick
O, pull, pull pull
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