time

SACRED

Another birthday on its way. Here’s the newest picture to go along with a poem about what most of us love: music!

We have a duty
To preserve the beauty
Of Music
To play it loud and often
Whether we do it on
Lasered disks
Or vinyl
Or our own beloved but battered
Instrument
Music, our soul’s sanctuary

(c) 2020 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: CS under the sign of Aries 2020

 

TICK-TOCK, TOSS AWAY THE CLOCK (REPOST FOR NEW FRIENDS & FOLLOWERS)

Waking with Ben Franklin’s
“A penny saved is a penny earned”
Rattling around the brain
For an exciting hero of mine
He could be thriftily boring
And then
In 1784
He wrote an essay
For the French
“An Economical Project for Diminishing the Cost of Light”
Essentially, how to save on candles
By changing the clocks
Love Ben Franklin
I’m originally a Philadelphian
What an inventor
Scientist
Statesman
Writer
But come on
Time is so personal…

Woke up
Forgetting to spring forward my clocks
But Bill Gates did it on my computer
T-Mobile took care of my phone
Never wear my Janis Joplin watch anymore
But the microwave refused to change
And the light outside is wrong
Long, long hot days in Florida are coming
We need less daylight here

The scary thing is
I am so sure
That something magical happened
At the real two in the morning
The hour that no longer is
Surely contained
The secret of life
Or magical herbal cure
Or a song of such beauty
That so-called angels
(Ukulele-wielding ones)
Could never eclipse
Think of all the children born
Whose Rising Sign
Based on hour of birth
Will be wrong

I want that hour back
I’m sick of statesmen
Screwing with my life
Including all important time
As always, I follow my dogs
They remain true
To their biological clock
Dining by celestial clues
Einstein said it best:
“Time is an illusion”
So don’t ring my phone
When your time says 7 a.m.
I’m forever on Eastern Standard Time
Drifting in an early-morning dream…

(c) 2016 Miniature Worlds Sublime, Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: Benjamin Franklin, creative commons

ANIMATED WORDS

Time often interferes with the truth
Certain words cannot be spoken
Until the time is right
Safer to lock truth away
In a climate-controlled
Storage space
Until time catches up
To the truth
Or becomes a lie
Be a warrior
Do not frighten the living
Keep the secret
Denial is a good coping mechanism
But be sure to plan for the survivors
This is why music crowns words
Words are animated by music
Words are like zombies
Hated by some
Sneered at by others
Untidy corpses slouching mindlessly
Through streets of
Misunderstanding muck
Add music, though
And the flesh-dropping bodies
Become angels of light
Whole, holy, and so right
Magically
We now understand the words
And all is all right
Whether they be
Truth or lies…

(c) 2019 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: Zombie Attack Guitar Wrap Skin by AxeDecals.com

PETRIFIED!

Our lives are like a fossil record
The past built upon the corpses
Of who we were
Evolving in our lifetime
Age 10, age 20
Stages part of the record
Phases of impressions
Visible along the
Striations in different hues
Records of me and you
An old map relevance
Hope I remember
Life is merely a planned trip
Guiding me to me
Time synonymous with vertigo
Yesterday
Today
Tomorrow…

(c) 2019 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: Fossils

#21 THE WORLD

The World is so much more
Than Earth and the visible
Night sky
Telescopes and space cameras
Transport us to galaxies unknown
When tarot cards were first shown
Although there were always a few souls
Who knew what was out there in the vastness
Of space

THE WORLD is the archaeology of our past
Moving us through the present
And showing us the future
Symbols on cards mimic
Symbols of everyday life
Like the day I found an engraved coin
With my name and home address
Of a place I lived before age seven
Lying in the mud near a shed of broken crates
My past zoomed in and saw myself
Winning tickets for Skee Ball
To use on the mechanical engraver
In an Atlantic City arcade
Before casinos wrecked the ambience
Of ocean and sand and fries in a paper cone
Of cinnamon donuts and black coffee at midnight
From Mammy’s with my Gran

I rediscovered the coin
After finding a feather
That pointed the way
Very small feather
From a Florida Black Vulture
Stripping the flesh
From a corpse so fresh
And so here is my future
I thought
Death

To live in the now
Would be best
So I hauled out my tenor guitar
Music,the most beautiful part of
Anyone’s present
Although old songs transport us back
To the past
The words are seared in memory
Never to go
Always with us in the current phase

This trio reminds me
Of a wedding superstition:
Something old (coin)
Something new (guitar)
Something borrowed (feather)
Uh, oh, I’m blue
Because I
Always have
Always do
Always will
Need to find images of life
And force them into
Patterns
Patterns that ease the chaos
Of my world

And like the moon
We go through the stages
Circularly
As past, present, and future
Twirls like the Earth
Orbits the sun of our existence
And tilts with the seasons
The World
The tiny world that is ours
Our personal world of elation and sadness
Of terrible regrets but moments of gladness
We dream of space and vastness
But we are the microcosm
Like symbols imitating life
We mimic the macrocosm
Because the World is us…

(c) 2019 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGES: Arcade good luck medal, feather & guitar: zoom in to see my full name
and address on the coin/Photo of the arcade mechanical engraver

arcade stamped good luck coins machine SM PX

#10 WHEEL OF FORTUNE

The world
Is so wrongly tilted
And like a carnival prize wheel
Bestowing cellophaned
Dolls and bears
We must always beware
Of gifts in the night
Because when once again light
We may be left holding ashes

Tilt and slide
A carnival ride
Game of chance

Watch the carnival Ferris wheel
See how it mimics life
Infantile upward movement
Teetering to teens, then adults
Suddenly we are on top of our ride
Young and strong with no need to hide
From whatever materializes
Seems like we sit there into forever
But no, it will begin to go
And we head on down
Down
Down
Down to the ground

Wheels of time within
Wheels of fortune

Circles symbolize unity
No beginning
No end
Ouroboros
Serpent swallowing its tail
No beginning
No end
Says Einstein:
Time is an illusion
Says I:
Time line is an oxymoron
But we western humans
Demanding structure
Think linear
Lines marching from the
Beginning of time
Why we see
The Wheel as a danger
When it chooses
“No Prize!”
But there is always another spin
And the emptiness doesn’t last
Once again we can win
Know that there are ups and downs
Round and round

Tilt and slide
A carnival ride
Game of chance
In life…

(c) 2019 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: Tarot and daisies and music and elephants

MOMENT OF IMMINENT ACTION

O, that moment of imminent action
When a confluence of worlds intersect
All is possible
Like The Death of Socrates
as he reaches for his hemlock
Iconic cup of forced suicide
What will he do? Recant?
It would change history
But the speechifying continues
Outcome clear
“Don’t!” I shout to the painting
As if there is no known conclusion
Might as well scream at the hero of a horror flick
“Don’t go down the cellar/up the attic/outside to the shed”
And now, in modern times
I find myself screaming at the dumb teenager:
“Charge your phone!”

O that special moment
Time etched on canvas in paint
And the Universe holds its breath
As I hesitate
And then say, “Sure, we might as well get married”
Maybe not as important as Hector
About to be murdered by Achilles
Can he surrender and live to fight
Another day?
And why do I
Focus on marriage?
Surely I regret giving up
Guitar, writing, tarot
Perhaps it’s just feeling Blue
During this Red, Green and Gold holiday
But junctures appear, innocently beckoning
And I so wish there had been
A painting depicting that imminent action
Something I could have studied and thought about
Before opening my mouth
And just maybe
Unlike Socrates and Hector
That moment could have been deflected
A lone laser point harmlessly careening
Into endless space…

death of hector by Achilles Peter Paul Rubens

(c) 2018 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGES: Jacques-Louis David, Death of Socrates (public domain)
Peter Paul Rubens, Death of Hector (public domain)

ME FOR YOU

Who says we’re the “Me” generation?
“Free” definitely
But remember all we did
For the Cosmos?
Some went to war
Some protested same
Learning the game
Of politics
Trying to save
Earth and clean up
Acid Rain
Not easy

Indulgence?
Yes, we were teens
Milestone to adulthood
Looming like a shadowy
Twist of steam
Competing with our
Psychedelic auras
So we indulged
But remember, we didn’t know
That drugs, cigarettes
And even sunshine
Were traps of death

Indulgence?
Oh, the music
Need I say more?
the melody of
Make love not war
Thrumming in our heads
Never to be forgotten
Decades after the first riffs
Of incomparable songs
Echoed along the
Space-time continuum

Me
And you
My lovely cohorts
(No matter our politics)
We made a splendid skydive
Into time
Ticking to the
Rhythm of
Rampaging, riotous
Life
All for the benefit of
You, the future generations…

(c) 2018 clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: MUSHROOM & PEACE UKULELE

ETERNAL CIRCLE

(scroll down for a YouTube video)

I play the songs of
Too many dead people
Keeping them alive
As their guitars and faces
Fill my eyes
Words and music
Soothing my soul
Thanks, all, for the
Gift that gives eternally
This month’s practice is Let It Be*
Over and over
Doesn’t sound like
The naked version 2003
Paul redid by stripping the
Background strings, drums, keys and voices
My version is ugly-nude
As ugly as this ol’ lady
Stripped to her black underwear
Strumming the chords
Singing the words
But there is beauty in ugliness
Timeless music
Echoing along the continuum
Surely it reaches back into 1970
And soon-to-be-dead John
And unknowingly-blessed-with-a-long-life Paul
Hear a tune
On their linear line
And pick up guitars
Sit at pianos
Singing so fine
A new song
Somehow, they think,
Popped into their already-crowded heads
But time is truly a circle
And they hear a reverberation
Of some crazy ol’ lady
Playing in 2018
Their song
Because life goes on
A circle of time
Of legacy
Of the future
Telling the past what to create
Even though it was composed in
A linear past
That really never existed
Except in our sorry minds
That cannot grasp
Cannot unclasp
The idea of time not being part of
A straight line…

(c) 2018 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: Ibanez Acoustic Tenor Guitar echoing down the decades

*Written by Paul McCartney, attributed to Lennon-McCartney Partnership

YouTube Video, 1970 original Let It Be https://youtu.be/2xDzVZcqtYI