A cold Colorado moon has dropped like a huge silver coin into the hard pocket of a weather-starched canyon
Hidden treasure
As dawn breaks the black ice of the firmament
A blue crack is splitting
Pulling asunder
Ever since the first day of Creation
Separating the darkness from the light
And there was evening and there was morning, right?
Genesis 1.5
Crackling like a cube in a glass
(Or maybe it’s the soap bubbles in my ears)
Opening an Eden door
Hinting at Forevermore
Reminding me that the road to life is narrow
And few there be who find it
So said the Savior
But–here we go again –broad is the gate to another day
As an orange sun is rising
And the puffy feminine cheeks of a cloudy sky are blushing pink
I must confess that I’m a voyeur
Who loves to watch
Two great heavenly bodies whenever they change
I’m so turned on
The snow is melting
The slopes are slushing with gray downhill dreams
Hang your skis brother
You broke the bones of your soul for nothing
She doesn’t really love you
It was all a trick
A bubblegum ChapStick kiss
And an unforgettable blow
At Cock Rock
And the rivers are rising and rushing with rafters
A new line of lovers
Winter’s white rapids eager to dash them to pieces against a slimy boulder or break a few teeth with an out-of-control paddle
One wrong move mama
And the mountains are browning like my bruised apple heart
Before they sprout once more into green
Seasons change
Sometimes they are mean
I see it
I feel it
I know it
In technicolor
I’ve draped Joseph’s multicolored coat around the stooped shoulders of my brain
Montane
With a god-like perception
Seven years of plenty followed by seven lean years
Skinny cows eating the fat cows
Such is love
Mushrooms are fertilized in steamy manure
Psilocybin
Even a microdose tastes like shit
A small sacrifice
To force some laugher in the face of sorrow
To forget about a lesser tomorrow
And to fly like an eagle over Vail Valley
____________
Andrew Dabar
Sunrise and sunset are my favorite times of day; I would imagine the Colorado mountains offer up spectacular views of both.
Your poem paints a vivid picture of the external and internal world, commingled into a thing of beauty.
Well done, Andrew.
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Thank you, July. I’m truly appreciative that you’ve read my words and get them. External beauty and (in this case) internal conflict combined with a little cowboy mastication of shroom to add some color to a personal pity party during one of the greatest shows on earth (moonset and sunrise). I’m only passing through but Colorado has not disappointed me . . though it HAS emptied my wallet! I wrote this when I was high (I’m not proud of that fact). I read it the next day and hated it! Nevertheless, even if it’s bad writing, it’s genuine. I’ll look back and know that I was honest (on an amateur level) about beauty and pain.
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You being high while writing doesn’t surprise me in the least. A lot of famous writers wrote masterpieces while drunk or high, so you’re in good company. Don’t hate it; it’s good.
I don’t do any kind of drugs, but in the past, have been known to do my fair share of drinking. Now, I’m just an occasional drinker, who when drinking, talks and laughs a lot. I’ve always been a happy drunk. lol
I’m sorry for the late response. Since I had so much trouble trying to like or comment on your blog last night, I checked back a few posts and saw your above comment that never showed up in my notifications. If I missed others in the past, I’m blaming WordPress. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it. 😊
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Smiling. No pressure on commenting ever. Still, I’m touched that you went to so much trouble. I’m so thankful for all four of my faithful fans!
WordPress is such a blessing because I can teethe and cut my baby writing teeth and get beyond myself. The best writing, I think, is when all of that personal stuff is thoroughly masticated and digested and shat into the can, followed by a happy flush, so that real writing can be accomplished. Real writing is being moved by others and as fascinated as a child by the incredible world all around us.
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I don’t know about your definition of real writing—at least for me. My writing comes from within ME, the stuff you describe as being “shat into the can.” When writing fiction, the spark for the story can start from something I’ve seen someone do, or heard them say, but the guts of the story is all mine. Some are inspired by a dream. Some from a “what if?”.
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Hit reply by mistake….now…
My poetry is mostly emotionally driven, with an occasional poem that one could describe as observational.
But I suppose we all have our definition of “real writing.” I think your writing on WordPress is real writing and do not consider it something to be flushed away. You are real…the words that pour out of you are real.
If I could reach you, I’d shake you until your teeth rattle, my WordPress little brother. 😊
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Oh my… that feels real. 🙂
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You shouldn’t demean your writing…truly, it is good, Andrew. 😊
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Aww. Thank you.
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Even a microdose tastes like shit … lol … Like this piece!
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