Oriana Awaits

Our new boat Oriana, a Tashiba 31 designed by Robert Perry and built by the highly regarded Ta Shing boat yard in Taiwan, will have a faithful crew stupid enough to take her across oceans (at least one) and wise enough to know that life holds no guarantees. Stay tuned for all future journeys, stories and projects related to "Oriana" on this blog. I promise it will amuse and entertain, maybe...or just read to be witness to a couple fools, as if witnessing a train wreck, but funnier. I hope...

Oriana resting in Brookings Harbor waiting for her next journey

Words

So many words and so many people...alive and dead

What were the dead words?...the words that were once spoken in life

What voices of the dead put words into combinations?

In context came nations

What life syntax has destroyed and living words are used as toys

Meaningless as people and crumbled silence has no steeple

Borders

Expired passports along with scribbled notes of numbers and letters upon scratch paper lay still

Spent documents and expired visas are wasted, meaningless with real consequences

I wonder what happened to our freedom to roam without borders, laws and permission

A time without money, security and loneliness

A time when only nature was cruel and indifferent

Now it's written upon paper and enforced

No longer wiped away by the wind and sea for a fresh start, but engraved in stone and imposed on us for the price of a soul

Crying

Spattered on flat top, scattered tear drop

Splashed, dried and cradled in dust

Memories fortified, forgotten and lost upon a dirty floor walked by many

A picked up penny

One step beyond worthless and held with warmth to be spent and saved

Better to be given away and tasted 

Bitter, sweet, fallen and wasted

Reality's salty, wet and painful fears

...washed away

Dreaming

Closed eyes upon sunshine and a head full of light

I'm awake and living in the back of my mind

A place once dark...now glowing

It's not pretty nor showing

Truthful...maybe

But walking through I'm steady

Unobstructed in the messy room

I'll find my way

Today!

Our Story?

Written words upon a pixel screen

Finger printed board and thought out dreams

Become deleted stories, and played out Tories

Generation of immigrants, mummified and gentrified

Brown, green, white and black blend together into grey

Fall away...away into the dawn

The rising son of man is gone

And what is left but scales, clocks and rulers to measure size and time of a world beyond weight

...undetermined fate

May it be said that we were afraid

The reason for boundaries laid

The Wheels

The car driven by the jowly man...the fouly man

Pushes by the merging vehicles

Wide hipped lady passenger screams in the fat man's ear as they squeeze in front of me

Traffic stops because of their selfish move and gives me time

Time to see the woman at the bus stop press her migraine into her frontal lobe

Her fingernails painted neon peach stab at her forehead

Wheels begin to turn and move as they slowly come off

The loud pear shaped lady and cheeky man rear end the car in front of them and I laugh

I think the fingernail lady just missed her bus...