Tag Archives: WORD of the day

The Porch Swing: WORD of the Day Archives

 

Whatup! I hope everyone is having a good beginning to 2013. As we;ve mentioned before, the inaugural LIFESTYLE Resident Artist Samuel Bostick has opened a new venue for his unique blend of creative expression over at just.the.basics. Today we’re going to feature a few of the pieces he showcases over at his spot.

-P

Photo courtesy of Creative Commons, Jim Natale.

2   January

Thirteen n.  1) A number that is one more than 12

WORD of the Day: Thirteen

This turn of events signals a change, a time of new power, challenges and outcomes. I guess this is what it means to re-up.

A time particularly designed for the foundation of future holds. Reset, not an apocalyptic end rather the out of sight spin on the old. Restart. Take the time to sit in solitude an honestly face the facts. Feel the heart to sit back burn a zag an relax. Cool out and route the mental to sketch. Game plan  etched in creative script, simple. Thas a sure suggestion, keep it plain and simple.

Renaissance of relapse, a shift from overstimulation toward the satisfaction life itself brings. Like early morning back home when the j-birds sing or days back when mom and pop both wore wedding rings. The simple satisfaction of life taken slow, slow and low…riding cool to the jazz metaphorics—surf the tempo.

With that said, and this new year ahead, live it up! A year to face all fears (there coming whether invited or not), to collect the strength and gather the tears; to break out the complacent situation that was assigned as homework from 8th to 12th grade. Its again a new day; for the hustlers anew dollar for the hoes another holler, for the working class folk it’s a fresh blue collar, for wall street—who really knows? Bottom line …we’re people. Lets not forget that much.

Vibe to the tune

Just for a second

Let it consume

The anger and hate

Standing in place

Of firm foundation

Natural light is a beautiful thing

Use it, write by it,

   Lovers recieve sight through the night by it

Drink water

Till the point of dizzy and pissy

Sober up

With a dash, neat in a glass,

     splash of bourbon whiskey

Each may suffer their own trial still fear is to start one man down. Trump it. Dayafter Day After Day. Habitual.

3 January

Root n. 1) The usually underground part of a seed plant body that originates usually from the hypocotyl, functions as an organ of absorption, aeration and food storage or as a means of anchorage and support, and differs from a stem especially in lacking nodes, buds and leaves 2) The part of a tooth within the socket, the enlarged basal part of a hair with the skin, the proximal end of a nerve 3) Something that is an organ or source 4) One or more progenitors of a group of descendants 5) An underlying support 6) The essential core 7) Close relationship with an environment 8) A number that reduces an equation to an identity when it is substituted for one variable 9) The simple element inferred as the basis from which a word is derived by phonic change or by extension 10) The lowest tone of a chord when the tones are arranged in ascending thirds

WORD of the Day: Root

Hmm…Deeper the understanding grows

Expansive

Into Dark spaces, unknown places

Deeper

Could the imagination suppose this experience?

Organics

To no end so it seems, heavy hearted dreams

Dense toil

Dark, moist earth all around

Blind—So I feel

The air here is different, how could it not be?

Nudging

Through

Compact Space

Ahh…

Reflection and Response.

Samuel Bostick

@THEREALSHANTS

the LIFESTYLE’s role is to create collective space for active Reflection and Response through the arts. This space is built around dialogue, expression, collaboration, and artistic (ex)change involving international craftspeople and their realities. The Porch Swing series opens up a Reflection and Response residency where we feature a Collective member’s ongoing project through weekly installations.

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The Porch Swing: Good Fishing

Good Fishing, by Samuel Bostick.

This week we’re proud to bring you the latest in Samuel’s WORD of the Day creative writing series, which he has recently expanded into an ongoing project running independently from Time and Space and other Porch Swing material we publish here at the LIFESTYLE. You can find Samuel’s daily WORD installations over at his blog, just.the.basics, along with a collection of various inspirations, explorations, reflections, and responses. Check the beautifully crafted Good Fishing below, and head on over to just.the.basics to keep up on the daily!

Photo courtesy of Creative Commons, Jim Natale.

13 December

Wonder n. 1) A cause of astonishment or admiration. 2) The quality of exciting, amazed admiration. 3) Rapt attention or astonishment at something awesomely mysterious or new to one’s experience. 4) A feeling of doubt or uncertainty.

WORD of the Day: Wonder

On days like this, there is always a deeper lesson to learn. An introspective venture…

Good Fishing

Rowing through ponds, up quiet streams and navigating through hidden currents just to get to that one corner where the moonshine pours down upon the water in a way that gets the fish a-jumpin for a bite to eat! Still hours, reflection on character and trait. Laughing to yourself at memories tucked away into the folds of the mind. Admiring the Beauty of the night, the peaceful serene situation it sets. Jus chillin. The world was left back about two creek bends and a quarter mile of steady rowing. Here. Off in the backwoods, south of worries and a bit north of stress…yeah this is good fishing.

Moon moves across the sky, takes a quick peak into the clouds as they drift—lofty in flight…stars dancing soft sifting as the water kisses against the bank and rocks rhythm into the boat. Scenic Romancing. Mental preoccupations flow with the current, sent adrift. Baiting the hook, winding up stretching back and letting it all Fly….the last leaves falling off the trees along the bank; drifting, floating, a whirl and spin—clean landing and a ripple of applause spreads across the sight…what a peaceful perusing night.  Wandering through the mind as the stream tugs gently on the line. Reflection, the moon in the pond.

Young again, running into things, tied towels become superhero capes. Back when broccoli, carrots and lettuce (hell anything green or healthy) was nothing more than rabbit food. Flowing streams sing the tune of nostalgia.

Push…

It opens

Creaking eerie, rusty round the seams

Heavy, yet it swings open with ease

Ive been here before, still

This seems estranged

Only remember vague, through opaque haze

Dusty hands from pushing the door

Rub them off into heavy denim

Thas what they are for

Stepping in, this is one

Eerie place

Still

I’ve been here before…

Vaguely familiar

The walls covered in papers and news clippings

All dusty and yellowed by stale air

…stale air

A portrait against the wall, resting in the corner of the room

Unknown

Seemingly familiar

Like, I know her before yet somehow forgot

Her look returns the same sentiment

Misplaced yet not lost…

Dark rosy cheeks crest the ends of her smile

Yes

Beautiful indeed

She moves me

A rare elegance…

It’s a pity she has forgotten

And even more so that I’ve neglected to remember

A chest…next to the portrait…

Inside there is…

******

Maps rest upon the desk settled into the opposite side of the room

Shelves full of books

Heavy, hard-bound books

“The Odyssey”

An unfinished letter

                        ODDly…

                                                The ink is still wet

HOWL…a wolf cries under the moon

“Into the night I send my sights in hope that one day this sorrow takes flight.

With passion to love, I care  not to hate/ still often come times that I question my soul’s eternal fate.

Tonight there is no moon to sing my heart swoon/ as my heart wishes to dance a divine sweet romance.

As the howl that which lands chills to your veins/ I pray to the stars and call to the night with surrender of pains.

This night my soul takes wings to escape its capture in cage/yea though until its release it sings and drums to subdue epic rage.

Into the night.”

HOWL…again, this time he brings you back,

Back on the creek where the fishing is good…

nibble…nibble…

no tug, jus a nibble

What a Beautiful Night

Samuel Bostick

@THEREALSHANTS

the LIFESTYLE’s role is to create collective space for active Reflection and Response through the arts. This space is built around dialogue, expression, collaboration, and artistic (ex)change involving international craftspeople and their realities. The Porch Swing series opens up a Reflection and Response residency where we feature a Collective member’s ongoing project through weekly installations.

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The Porch Swing: WORD of the day

WORD of the day XIX, by Samuel Bostick.

Photo courtesy of Creative Commons, Jim Natale.

Opportunity n. 1) A favorable or advantageous combination of circumstances; a suitable occasion or time. 2. A chance for progress or advancement.

WORD of the Day: Opportunity

Never quite seen it come a’knockin on my door, more so it has been revealed a door itself. A door locked and fastened. An attractive door, calling to pursuit, a capturing of the moment. Make the most of it all, not to take advantage instead to cherish advancement. The lock set taunt the seal fastened, the key to both lay in the mind. Experience advises that not all doors are meant to be opened, not all of them true. Some may be distractions some imposters, others may even be time sensitive, a few that last a lifetime or even those renewable. Bottom-line: choose and pursue dreams. Chase down greatness, its already there to be earned now it’s a matter of achievement. Will it be reached for?

Unfold the possibility, expand into a whole new level. Experience advancement and leave the past where it lay. Tend to the living and leave the dead to care for their own. Guided by ambition, anchored in strength, moved by diligence, conviction in fate; A new life, a new way each and every day. A chance, a gamble, a leap of faith, a power move, however it may be—name it yours and stand firm next to that move. Be straightforward yet think ahead. Wisdom gained by choices past; both good and those that could have been better. In opposition to wisdom is condemnation. Condemnation is created from a regretful mentality, from a mind carrying thoughts of what could have been or what never was.  To live and learn is progress. To build character and stand in those principles is revolutionary.

We don’t all move the same yet progress its good for us all. Things come up and things are never exactly how we planned or imagined, still it’s how we move forward that determines the value of that experience. Stay true, do what YOU do, and let go of those woes and excess baggage that’s weighing you down. Head fixed forward, doubts gathered and pushed to the back of the mind, steps oriented toward success and altogether working towards that next level. Achievement.

Reflection and Response.

Samuel Bostick

@THEREALSHANTS

the LIFESTYLE’s role is to create collective space for active Reflection and Response through the arts. This space is built around dialogue, expression, collaboration, and artistic (ex)change involving international craftspeople and their realities. The Porch Swing series opens up a Reflection and Response residency where we feature a Collective member’s ongoing project through weekly installations.

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The Porch Swing: WORD of the day

WORD of the day XVIII, by Samuel Bostick.

Photo courtesy of Creative Commons, Jim Natale.

Grub n. 1) Food that may be eaten at any time, and appropriately so. 2) A savory morsel always too quickly consumed and never lasting quite long enough.  –v. 1) To digg on a meal in a savage or vicious way without the sacrifice of table manners.

WORD of the Day: Grub

A Sure Staple

The Sandwich. A building block to satisfy any man’s deserving hunger.

To begin Cut the bun, roll, or bread. Next apply the spread; honey mustard my choice of late. Break down the lettuce and do what it do. Thin cut a portion of onion and put that on over the lettuce. Slice tomato and toss it onto the greenery, [Fact- Tomato is a fruit. Particularly, the ovary of a flowering plant. Yumm. Grandma’s Wisdom claims it good for the prostate as well. Go figure.] sprinkle it with pepper and salt. We’re building here now! Follow that up by grabbing desired amount of choice meat, preferably fresh and deli sliced, layer that onto the ‘mato. Now here comes the fun, quickly cook an egg over med-to-hard and crown the beast! Aww Sookie Sookie now. Furthermore put on some good cheese and don’t be modest about it, slap on a Steve Urkel grip. Be it manageable, make the cheese deli cut or at least off a block, ya-mean. Don the whole thing with the other piece of bread and there it is, simple and plain.

Now that all the composition is complete throw some Kettle chips on the side and grab a frosty Budweiser and there you have it. Take a step back to appreciate the dish in all its beauty and in the immortal words of Hamilton ‘Ham’ Porter, “Then you Stuff”.

All that Said,

bon appétit

Reflection and Response.

Samuel Bostick

@THEREALSHANTS

the LIFESTYLE’s role is to create collective space for active Reflection and Response through the arts. This space is built around dialogue, expression, collaboration, and artistic (ex)change involving international craftspeople and their realities. The Porch Swing series opens up a Reflection and Response residency where we feature a Collective member’s ongoing project through weekly installations.

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The Porch Swing: WORD of the day

WORD of the day XVII, by Samuel Bostick.

Photo courtesy of Creative Commons, Jim Natale.

Smooth n. Free from difficulties or impediments. 2) Even and uninterrupted in flow or flight. 3) Expressively and artfully suave. 4) Not sharp or harsh. 5) Free of lumps. 6) Serene, Equable, Amiable, Courteous.

WORD of the Day: Smooth

Days rearranging, season near changing. Earth’s crusade to maintain peace and wisdom. To each his own: Own Path, own Pace, own Wrath, own Conviction, own Voyage.

It is about Character. Each moment defining the who and each choice adding to the mold. Smooth. Take it to the rooftops and shoot it at the stars. Let those worries pass, relax, take your time, unmask. Leave the weight of the world at the door alongside tired shoes, enter into the soul jazz groove. Kick-back in a proper way and dust off those inner-city blues. Endure the passionate lure of uninterrupted concentration.  Indulgent retreat from the daily woes, no surrender rather regroup and soul medication. Yea, it’s a good thing, it’s a treatment of wellness, be enrichment. Fall in. Inevitable stumbles and rough patches as splashes of color are to green grasses; integral addition to life’s canvas.

Vibe to it y’all; the soulful sound, acoustics unbound, melodics found. Something to see…a surprise indeed! A criminal in its own function, that like none the other, sly be the call, the name of smooth’s brother. The spirit of savoy is strong with this one. Forceful motions carried out with seamless finesse. A brute in a cold blooded suit. Damn that smooth, damn it! Vascilando, loitering, no good sons of guns—trimmed from the Zoot. And now where’d they go? A smooth get away is one thing, on the other hand its downright culprit to disappear. On the Roam again…or is it on the road again? Either way it goes it is gone. Solid gone jack.

A course unimpeded, steady rollin’, feelin’ good, fly strollin’.

Reflection and Response.

Samuel Bostick

@THEREALSHANTS

the LIFESTYLE’s role is to create collective space for active Reflection and Response through the arts. This space is built around dialogue, expression, collaboration, and artistic (ex)change involving international craftspeople and their realities. The Porch Swing series opens up a Reflection and Response residency where we feature a Collective member’s ongoing project through weekly installations.

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The Porch Swing: WORD of the day

WORD of the day XVI, by Samuel Bostick.

Photo courtesy of Creative Commons, Jim Natale.

Why adv. 1) For what cause, reason or purpose.

WORD of the Day: Why

 

I do it cause it gives me relief

This was never something I dreamed of

Not something I ever thought was cool nor planned.

No

I do this cause I must.

It has called me the same way adventure called Beowulf;

It’s a matter of the heart.

It has become a passion. Revealed itself as a gift.

I would be ungrateful to not do it.

Blasphemous denial to not.

(Thas not by any means an option)

 

Its creative, its expressive,

it unwinds the knots in my mind.

Its an exercise.

Before this I was much more unsettled.

The torment is undeniable, never ending, still it helps to have a release

A productive release.

This is my art, I take this shit serious.

I’m sensitive about it sometimes.

I am but a man.

My soul on the other hand…thas another story, another many stories.

 

Before this I was reckless, I cared too much.

I was lost even.

I’ve found a voice, my voice in this.

Don’t get any crazy thoughts, there is much more to me than what I do when the pen is in my hand.

I’m just saying.

This is One of my Tools.

And I love it.

I am captivated with it.

 

I once had no beliefs.

Resentful

Self-hate, confusion, silence

 A number in the scheme of things.

 A patron to the matrix.

Hi infidelity

I found lust before I understood passion

Before I was brave enough to really search,

Before I was bold enough to fully be myself.

I’m not trying to get all sentimental, this is a Word about Why.

A word about purpose, reason and cause.

 

I write cause this is what I’m meant to do,

I write cause I want to.

I write cause I can.

Above all, I write cause I must.

Its not an option…

 

Thank you to those who helped me recognize my gift, for those who believed in me and still do. Those who saw something in me before I even did.

 

All that said, That’s why.

Reflection and Response.

Samuel Bostick

@THEREALSHANTS

the LIFESTYLE’s role is to create collective space for active Reflection and Response through the arts. This space is built around dialogue, expression, collaboration, and artistic (ex)change involving international craftspeople and their realities. The Porch Swing series opens up a Reflection and Response residency where we feature a Collective member’s ongoing project through weekly installations.

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The Porch Swing: WORD of the day

WORD of the day XV, by Samuel Bostick.

Photo courtesy of Creative Commons, Jim Natale.

Haunt n. 1) To visit often. To continually seek company of. 2) To have a disquieting or harmful effect on. To recur constantly and spontaneously to. To reappear continually in. 3) To visit or inhabit as a ghost. | v. 1) To stay around or persist. 2) To appear habitually as a ghost.

WORD of the Day: Haunt [Part II]

A pensive mind, passionate, in search of answers. Heavy Shadows. Never can satisfy that one prompt; why –> Why –> WHY…it goes on and on. Still I digg, whether the digging is into a grave or an escape there from is uncertain. That, only time will tell. It is the hunt that gives me the courage to persevere, the strength to endure.

Compelling to the point of frightful exclaim. Revisiting; pulling pulling pulling in opposition to the times. Birthed of darkness; A seed of the misunderstood, the feared. Those eyes speak unforgettable terrors. No comfort, empty hearts, cold shoulders—heavy with chips inherited from our parents (or lack thereof), and our parents’ parents, on and on. Generational curses. Attempts to ward off with proverbs, prayers and purple smoke. Numb to the ills, hyperactive youth, rebellious souls, sophisticated transgression.

Understood that understanding is not the framework of the visit, nonetheless there must be reason, some cause to this affect. Living yet not alive. A matter of time and space infiltrated by unbreakable will. That which understands oh too well that sleep be the closest kin to death and has refused to accept it both in this life and thereafter.

The wandering waves of apparition, frightening fantasies of time turned back. Late. With grave sensitivity if I may interject—I must repeat, Late. Dreams, ambitions, kindness, anger, that revolutionary will to live, the lust for life that keeps expired eyes ablaze…All Late. Let it be as is, may it pass. Let go. For the tighter the grip the more it must be pronounced…L-A-T-E. The more desperate the cling, the greater the denial, the more power time has, the greater its rule. Has it not already become the master of precarious life?  The preoccupation of that final chapter; a tale past its prime. Death the peacemaker, what a grim truth indeed, still it is and has always been. The equalizer, that weighty sentence of that very first sin.

Never more glorious a fall, never an exile of such epic proportion…Paradise Lost and furthermore to be determined. A scale set for that of the soul caliber. Choose wisely and understand your character, develop that to the fullest. Play toward your strengths, take mind to liquidate any weakness.

Cold mallets clapp, hammering down the rustic rhythm, beating out the Fearful sounds. The icey chill off the warped amusement of sonnets never quite heard before nor reproduced. No, this place has a sound of its own. An eerie mystique—smoldering, foraging about where peace once was. That sly devil, oh that crafty harlot. It has been told No Church in the Wild, this on the other hand is a sanctuary, a place of darkness. Breathtaking. The soar of unsettled minds, demons abound, rage un-cooped, yes freed of pious subscription. A mysterious sort of orchestration; Dark enchantment, how wonderful the allure.

How it comes alive, whizzing round and bout, lifeless spirits thriving on only a strong disdain for death and that has become almost life in itself, again precarious in situations, nonetheless life. Parasitic life. The air thick, smoldering, suffocating bombardment, pushing invasively the heavy stench upon the tongues pallet summoning up bitter bile held back only by tightly sealed lips. No breathing rather heavy seething death gulped down to the lungs. Grasping at the throat, tighter a cling as the seconds pass…The ecstasy irreplaceable, euphoric captivation of the spirit, the numbing to deaths grip, soon realizing that it is not longer the hand of grimace upon your neck, rather your own. How peculiar…How oddly removed. Has it not always been? No real answers not here…each a captive to own ills…to those character flaws and murderous claws of demons within…those haunts never spoken of. Shhhhh, silence! It may hear you…it may show up…don’t call it! Do not wake the beast!

All an illusion; a drama enacted, to hope, to feel, to despair that there is some authority, that somehow control is ours. Don’t sleep then. That is my only advice. I have been there once before. Darling do not sleep. My dearest friend fast from slumber! Brother, sister of mine hold out on sleep, stay woke!

Heavy eyelids. Inevitable hope. There it. Woke again.  Fighting fright. Is that? No don’t. Come Back. Far Gone. Death ushered. Night spell. Stay strong. Arm yourself.

—————————————————————————————————-

In this hour, that of the haunting, do not fall ill to weakness.

Reflection and Response.

Samuel Bostick

@THEREALSHANTS

the LIFESTYLE’s role is to create collective space for active Reflection and Response through the arts. This space is built around dialogue, expression, collaboration, and artistic (ex)change involving international craftspeople and their realities. The Porch Swing series opens up a Reflection and Response residency where we feature a Collective member’s ongoing project through weekly installations.

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The Porch Swing: WORD of the day

WORD of the day XIV, by Samuel Bostick.

Photo courtesy of Creative Commons, Jim Natale.

Haunt n. 1) To visit often. To continually seek company of. 2) To have a disquieting or harmful effect on. To recur constantly and spontaneously to. To reappear continually in. 3) To visit or inhabit as a ghost. | v. 1) To stay around or persist. 2) To appear habitually as a ghost.

WORD of the Day: Haunt [Part I]

Allotted time past, still living in the moment. Finding life in the haunt; refusing to let go, constantly presenting in this moment. Uneasy death, no peace in rest, those ‘things’, phantoms refusing to lie still. Pressing constantly on the memory, revealing itself with spontaneity. Once it takes habit in the frequent, the repetitious visiting, it has made its mark, claimed your space its own. Yes, most peculiar is that spontaneity of the haunt. Predictable? Never. Passing in and about as found suitable only to unruly agenda. And so it begins… the terror not only lie in the visit—no, its not so simple. A proper haunt never leaves, always present, even in absence. Each moment it could appear. Each second an opportunity for a fantastic visit. Without presence still ever plaguing the present. Your mind; memory of the last, anticipation of the next. A past with a mean potential of reoccurrence. The threat of a phantom visit, the anticipation of when or where; pressing, consuming, weighing on those nerves that were once so steady, so innocent. Nerves never to be the same, Not after the haunt at least. Not After The HAUNT.

That is the haunt… dancing upon each silent note, treading through each rest, measure by measure; six eighths timing—music rolling, tension winding. Twisting silent anguish upon the taunt of the next eerie note. The thrilling sense that it knows just what it is doing, almost premeditated. Mockingly chewing away at your peace, piece by piece. Most odd, you finding yourself wishing it back already, that it would just appear, that it would show its ghoulish self so it could be over and done with…silence…if only it were imagination; a game your mind has played. On the contraire, it is a game being played upon your mind…a nocturne of chords keyed out that mimes fingers…hypnosis; body and soul… the cold reality, too sensational for doubt. Something beyond the tangible.

Reflection and Response.

Samuel Bostick

@THEREALSHANTS

the LIFESTYLE’s role is to create collective space for active Reflection and Response through the arts. This space is built around dialogue, expression, collaboration, and artistic (ex)change involving international craftspeople and their realities. The Porch Swing series opens up a Reflection and Response residency where we feature a Collective member’s ongoing project through weekly installations.

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The Porch Swing: WORD of the day

WORD of the day XIII.

Photo courtesy of Creative Commons, Jim Natale.

Time n. 1) a: The measured or measurable period during which an action, process, or condition exists or continues. b: a nonspatial continuum that is measured in terms of events which succeed one another from past through present to future. 2) the point or period when something occurs 3) a: An appointed, fixed, or customary moment or hour for something to happen, begin, or end. b: an opportune or suitable moment—often used in the phrase about time. 4) a: a historical period. b: a division of geologic chronology. c: conditions at present or at some specified period —usually used in plural. d: The present time. 5) a: Lifetime. b: A period of apprenticeship: a term of military serviced : a prison sentence. 6) Season. 7) a: Rate of speed: Tempo. b: The grouping of the beats of music: Rhythm.  8) a: A moment, hour, day, or year as indicated by a clock or calendar. b: Any of various systems (as sidereal or solar) of reckoning time. 9) a: One of a series of recurring instances or repeated actions: added or accumulated quantities or instances: equal fractional parts of which an indicated number equal a comparatively greater quantity.10) Finite as contrasted with infinite duration. 11) A person’s experience during a specified period or on a particular occasion.

WORD of the day: Time

 

Time why do I feel like I never have enough of you?

Do you love me or do you resent me?

Face twisting and turning in mockery of my dependence,

My chained link to your ebbed flow.

The wise say knock, and knock I hath,

Woe is you time! Woe is you!!

 

Time turning, a winced face

 winding, winding, winding

 

How you move so fast at times and other times so slow,

yet the same duration past; I’ll never quite understand.

 

Watches, bells, Grandfathers, straps, chains, cogs, batteries, faces, accessories, etc.

Tools designed to satisfy our fetish with time.

 

A vertigo of characters and chambers constantly in motion;

Seconds churning, turning hours into years, trading years in for memories.

 

Cuu-Cuu, Cuu-Cuu. Cuu-Cuu…

 

 

Past,

 A time far removed; a lover never to be held again, an expired love affair.

 

Here just a second ago, right here in hand

Always a trickster; the slyest of foxes, shifting, sifting, sliding out of any situation.

 

Now thinking about it, has it ever really been seen?

A ghostly matter, haunting the brain, plaguing the folds of our minds.

 

Still never to be caught nor held,

Not for one damned second.

 

Cuu-Cuu, Cuu-Cuu.

 

 

Just as aloof, the future maintains its own allure.

A tendency to tease, to feed on the hopes of day dreams

 

The unfolding of time, revealing of events and encounters unpredictable.

An elusive archer, aimed right in your direction…

 

Never promised and hardly ever kept to words.

Just outside the jurisdiction of the tangible.

 

Oh but the taste, the feeling, I can almost swear I’ve had it before.

Delusion; A fantasy so sweet nonetheless.

 

Cuu-Cuu, Cuu-Cuu. Cuu-Cuu, Cuu-Cuu.

 

 

Ah yes, the present.

A familiar face, a friend to us all.

 

Like one of those friends that come over and kicks their feet up on your kitchen table an shit.

Keep your eye on this one though.

 

One second it’s right in front of you, one blink and it’s gone or has a whole new look.

Simple as that.

 

The wedge between the future yet to come and the past gone too fast.

 

Its like that road runner moving along to fast to ever catch,

Constantly dropping anvils and TNT sticks on all our diabolic plans to catch it, to CAGE it, to hold onto it and slow roast it.

 

Never quite works like that, it only stops long enough to poke out a taunting tongue, then ZOOM.

And we’re left there just looking WILE-E

 

Cuu-Cuu.

 

 

And where do we fit into this?

Into all the complicated webs of chronology, these contraptions and interactions?

 

Thus far each one of us to determine that, to recognize for ourselves.

As for me, well…

 

 I’m that character that peeks out ever so often, just checking in on things

Never late, still never quite on time, unpredictable. Yes, that fellow, that’s me.

 

 

Not a necessity to the maze, however a great addition…

I’m that little character that pops out just to show you simply how crazy time is…

 

No name, I just am that I am.

That little fellow, yes that’s me.

 

Cuu-Cuu. Cuu-Cuu.

 

 

Maybe I’m crazy, you think?

Humph, only time will tell…

 

 

Cuu-Cuu.

Reflection and Response.

Samuel Bostick

@THEREALSHANTS

the LIFESTYLE’s role is to create collective space for active Reflection and Response through the arts. This space is built around dialogue, expression, collaboration, and artistic (ex)change involving international craftspeople and their realities. The Porch Swing series opens up a Reflection and Response residency where we feature a Collective member’s ongoing project through weekly installations.

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The Porch Swing: WORD of the day

WORD of the day XII. Weekly installations from the ink of Samuel Bostick‘s pen!!

Photo courtesy of Creative Commons, Jim Natale.

Idle adj. 1) Lacking worth or basis. 2) Not occupied or employed—inactive, not turned to normal or appropriate use. 3) Not scheduled to compete. 4) Having no evident means of support; shiftless, lazy.

WORD of the Day: Idle

A wise woman spoke, “Idle hands are the devils workplace…”

How much more an idle mind?

To be of purposeful orientation, yet lacking soul’s inspiration

Is there more stagnant a situation?

Sleep being the cousin of death, a brief breath of immortal rest

Why rush to the inevitable end?

I’ve watched it happen, seen the way it creeps. That sluggardly infection spreading from one to the next. Laziness is a disease; a contagious pathogen with schemes to hijack the mind’s creativity. Enters through the eyes, as they are the door to the soul; once seated it multiplies. A cancerous cell spawned of viral source. Idle chatter, idle thoughts, idle actions; I renounce these.

Beware!

Take care not to consume the commodity they call idle time. Stay active, stay productive, use your mind! Get up! Use your two legs, get out and walk you who are lame of ambition. I give you my word, be it my legs were no more than pegs I would not stop my walk, if it were a jake in my step still I would move. To desire and never have— hell on earth for those lazy. Not all dreams come true, still all labor does have its yield. Idleness is not an option. Not when you’re on a mission.

A society where labor is looked down upon. ‘Save that for the slaves and undesirables, we the bourgeois decree’ says the establishments that be. ‘This calls for reconnaissance of the proletariat state’ respond the people.

Power.

Regain the soul’s intuition; it knows the truth that lay in your heart. Why wait for tomorrow to begin what today you can start. Not even the next moment is promised. Unchain the brain from the mainstream, cut the cord from the TV, and axe the microwave. Bring nutrition back to life, work towards your goals, grounded in belief, and exhibit the change you want to see.

Live life.

Reflection and Response.

Samuel Bostick

@THEREALSHANTS

the LIFESTYLE’s role is to create collective space for active Reflection and Response through the arts. This space is built around dialogue, expression, collaboration, and artistic (ex)change involving international craftspeople and their realities. The Porch Swing series opens up a Reflection and Response residency where we feature a Collective member’s ongoing project through weekly installations.

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