Strange Brew

Codifyer :: Dragonfly Art

LuRain & theCodifyer — Sat, 19 Jun 2010 19:15:37 +0000

To view all images, click here

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codifyer

2010

Rose Art :: Codifyer

LuRain & theCodifyer — Mon, 26 Apr 2010 22:21:48 +0000

A gift to The Mother on her B’Earth Day!

Rose Art by Codifyer

2010

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no fool like the old yule :: theCodifyer

LuRain & theCodifyer — Sun, 27 Dec 2009 00:24:46 +0000

Jack Lantern :: theCodifyer

LuRain & theCodifyer — Fri, 30 Oct 2009 23:32:59 +0000

LuRain Penny Takes a Trip – postcard #1

LuRain & theCodifyer — Tue, 13 Oct 2009 00:20:38 +0000

visit to the past

bouzouki — Sat, 10 Oct 2009 14:47:15 +0000

last night I went to a gathering of people that shared three or more years during our pre-adult years. At the time, not knowing any more than what we had tasted so far, which seemed like a lot, but actually was full of misconceptions about our own self importance, we huddled together in small groups and created stories about the events taking place as we started our lives. Now the stories are relegated to a past that is hidden in shaky memory, and the newer events are what drives our lives, and as we share those stories, the notions that we had any sense of the world is shown in the nature of our experiences and the results. Some made money and kept it, some had hard lives. There are lines on faces, changes in hair color, and changes in the shapes of our bodies. The stuff that mattered in our youth may be the same, but it is clear that experience has altered what we once believed to be so certain. Let me play a few notes to give thanks to how my learning has led me to this.
No doubt, it will be forgotten soon enough.

Haiku Bayou :: theCodifyer

LuRain & theCodifyer — Tue, 29 Sep 2009 00:29:29 +0000

Love…by blissbait and coal

Coal — Sun, 27 Sep 2009 16:56:09 +0000

I finally figured it out
perhaps i always knew

love is not
love’s everything

what we think
beneath our thoughts

it is
it is

love is a journey
a journey

back and forth
in and out

through time’s
of time’s

endless roll
infinite laugh

the stuff that makes
the fluid samba

our hearts light and bold
of our weightless hearts

to care
embraces

and accept
and accepts

whatever it is
everything

that is thrown
in its path

and make light
and is not capable

of our crazy
of seeing the madness

mind’s eye
we project onto the world

love is the joy
love is the joy

of traveling the sky
of being our divine selves

whilst in our beds
while walking through this dream

with eyes closed
with eyes closed

waiting for the morn
waiting for the morn

Spark :: theCodifyer

LuRain & theCodifyer — Sat, 19 Sep 2009 04:14:26 +0000

Scry Ball :: theCodifyer

LuRain & theCodifyer — Sat, 19 Sep 2009 03:34:51 +0000

bouzouki’s ramblings

bouzouki — Fri, 11 Sep 2009 02:29:06 +0000

Bouzouki looked around. “what are we doing here?”
Uke smiled. “i wanted Flod here.”
bouzouki looked at his name, thinking that was how he spelled it, at this point feeling male, but that could change, he knew, especially under the influence of fingers, stroking frets, gender fails and emotions enter, taking the shortcut to the senses. “why flod?”
“Why not?” Ukulele had not known flod as long and sometimes could only think of him as Flawed.
Bouzouki considers the situation. “Why the front door? we never play outside the front door. why not the deck, better yet, inside?”
Uke, shaking her neck, laughs a bit. “It doesn’t matter.”
“So, you have been thinking about my dimension theory.”
bouzouki begins to play, faintly, and Feels flawed for a moment, then stops. “You have been thinking about my theory.” Looking around on the deck, seeing smoke rise from a grill. “You know if I let Mr. f. play,….” A rush of thoughts…
“You aren’t going to make me disappear?, are you?” Flawed whines.
“No, but keep your mouth shut, hyou know how he feels about you being a part of him.”
Uke winks. “See how easy it is?”
Bouzouki says, “You know what he is eating? Peach strudel with raspberry sorbet!”
Uke replies, “That is a good thought as any, but I don’t understand their need for eating all the time.”
“They are physical.” Bouzouki giggles as the words flow through the sound hole. “Its all in the mind, you know.”

I’m finished with dessert, after a wonderful dinner, but i am thinking about the food photos, I looked at earlier.
I meant to ask Bouzouki if they made contact with Coal, but every time i make it to the forefront of consciousness, everyone disappears.

the dirt on the side of the road is still star dust

bouzouki — Fri, 11 Sep 2009 02:17:00 +0000

I am semiliterate, some of the time, and asleep when I need to dream. I have been taking melatonin to aid in my sleep and my dreams are vivid but not lucid. At times I think that my view of reality is damaged by the fantasy that I saw something in the past that gave me hope, and something else, of which I doubt that I can convey. My singular journey to freedom, is covered by the debris of those that failed, mounds of accumulations of a lifetime’s worth of stuff, carried until the moment arises that requires one to let go.
Today I saw a window sticker on a car that read ” I want my country back.” It made me thing for most of the day, but now I say, in the loudest voice of the Who…. “You can’t have it”, knowing full well that the thoughts inside that vehicle are probably random views of the world, followed by a conversation on the phone.
I am making my cats stay in at night, so they don’t fight, protecting our territory, not that I don’t appreciate, their protection, I spend enough money on repairing my own health, and I don’t have enough money to fix their abscesses, nor do I want them to suffer needlessly. Let us clear up any fantasy that any of us will not suffer, for that is the nature of our reality at some point or another, we will suffer, short or long, quick, or drawn out, suffering is part of the deal. The more aware the being is, the more intense the suffering. There is an amazingly large group of humans that think that someone else is going to do it for them. then there is the tiny group that is aware that one can learn through suffering, provided, that your being is not so overwhelmed by the enormity of the interaction of pain, and sorrow and grief and fear, tearing at the fantasy that you want so much to believe that will continue to exist after the agony. I think, why should I continue to be this being, this contradiction of good and evil, intelligence and stupidity, compassion and greed; the sum of my own fear, to cease to be. On the other side of this duel, facing eternity, infinity, the great beyond, empty-handed, taking nothing, adding a drop to the essence, tasting love,letting go, and offering a promise to wait until every last being, every last atom is allowed to pass through.
While I wait for this to occur, I thin I will ask bouzouki to take me for a ride…..

bouzouki — Fri, 04 Sep 2009 15:54:41 +0000

I know I have this tendency to ramble on, and I do try to keep it in check, until I start following ideas that been me from place to place, and I chase the elusive clue until I have to do something else. I am fascinated with words, even if my vocabulary doesn’t go far beyond the single syllable words, it might have something to do with not wanting to spend time with my dictionary and the spellchecker, and the thesaurus and actually find a word that expresses my sentiment exactly. Well, maybe not exact, but close, or at least as close as I can make it mean something like I think I meant. Now, if I had a set of the Oxford English Dictionary in this corner of the room, with the cat tower and the windows facing the elementary school across the street, I would be willing to hunt down words until I have gained forty pounds, and have a pile of food wrappings, surrounding me as I search for words that only I care about it’s history in view of the way I intend to use it, this time. One of my cats would enjoy sitting on a stool, watching my actions as if I were a giant mouse sniffing for food, oblivious to the hunter lurking nearby. He tended to me while I healed from an illness and made sure I drank water and filled his food bowl.
He has a limited vocabulary, but he is willing to repeat his word as long as it is necessary until I understand and respond accordingly. In that regard, he appears to be as intelligent as a large percentage of the humans that fill the airways, and the television screens and the newspapers. Its enough to form my own opinion, and voice it.
I already sent a letter to my local newspaper, with a small rant that makes me think about a corollary to this word thing. I can see that bias and opinion tends to separate us from each other, and it has a tendency to fill my ego with a sense of superiority, and I have to be slapped back to my version of reality, usually kicked off the cliff of my rising importance, to bring myself around to acknowledging my breath, and slowing down and remembering that the dilemma is that poking the nerve of another is not the way to gain acceptance, it is like poking a stick in a hornet’s nest. You would think we are all smart enough to avoid that, while agreeing that there are forms of human interaction that defy logic.
In that vein, I think that if you intend to commit murder/suicide, always do the suicide first. As a suicide bomber, set a fuse and light a cigarette after lighting the fuse. As a leader of a country, think of the consequences of your actions, before committing all of us to your direction. In that last request, I realize that no matter what the plan, most of us don’t think its a good idea, or we want it to be altered to fit some preconceived notion that we know better about something/anything than all the rest of the population, or we know someone that said something that we heard and we tend to agree, even though we really weren’t listening in the first place.
I would get up and place my Bouzouki, but I need to finish a batch of salsa and I need cilantro. I can drink a beer, or a glass of wine while cooking the batch and I can play music then.
I am working on a variation of the Uranium Downs after so foolishly slipping it in during my previous rambling.
I like being held accountable for writing something that gets Coal’s attention. I looked at Y’s photos and thought about poeming one as the mood strikes, much like finding new food, or new music.
It is funny to think that this community is one that I feel a connection, even if I am actually sitting here, alone, writing to myself. At least when I write, it doesn’t appear that I am talking to myself. And if I had that OED handing I could appear to be researching something, instead of trying to find a pun developed from some stupid association of mixed metaphors and tired phrases, designed to limit my reader to me.
As I cook this batch of salsa, I think I might make some fresh salsa,(uncooked) to serve on a grilled tuna salad for dinner tonight, which is later than those of you on the eastern side of this continent, and maybe I will make up a word to describe or name this tasty treat, or actually I will sit here writing and not get anything done and curse the universe for my lack of will power, before realizing I can act on my intent and find satisfaction on the completion of my task, before moving on to the next task…at least that is one way of living a life.

Firefly Universe :: theCodifyer

LuRain & theCodifyer — Thu, 03 Sep 2009 06:23:17 +0000

appropriately, on a sunday

Wed, 02 Sep 2009 00:51:46 +0000

appropriately, on a sunday
we drew the distinction at
god’s pulpit: black preachers
can preach love, love, love all
day long, then say just one
negative thing, and america
explodes. white preachers
can preach hate on their own
twenty-four-hour station, and
nobody says a damn word.
.
20080525:0908
y