There in the darkness
unknown and alone
laughs can't be heard
tears aren't shown
He sees his life flicker
in other men's lives
stares at their faces
looks in their eyes
A strange voyeurism
up there on the screen
look, but don't touch
see, don't be seen
Here in the darkness
unknown and alone
memory takes shape
becomes flesh and bone
Emotional theatre
colored lights flash
Are these golden moments
just childish trash?
Is that what happened?
Is that what was said?
Is the man in the dark
still the boy in my head?
We keep a safe distance
from the spinning real
It always seemed better
to think than to feel
copyright 2007 t. ewing
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Wrestling with Angels (excerpt from Tonya's Book)
Where was I when we drew for sleeping assignments?I must have missed that night because I definitely got stuck with the short stick. Jay is old enough to put himself to sleep, and you put Teddy to bed, which is just great cause, half the time, Teddy asks to go to bed. Three sucks on his milk jug and he's out. Which means you put in about 4 minutes and then you're sitting in your chair watching T.V. Which leaves me with Tommy.
We climb up on that creaky bunk bed and I watch him do back-flips for an hour. It's like trying to put a chimpanzee on a sugar rush to sleep. Even after his head has seemingly gone to sleep, his body is awake for another 30 minutes.
I have concluded that Tommy wrestles with angels. I've come to this conclusion because a) I've had way too much time to think about it lying next to him for hours every night and b) it's a better image than sleeping with a chimp.
Of course, there some good things that happen while t is entering round 57 with the angel Gabriel. It gives me time to think. I know you're thinking if that really is a "good" thing. I assure you it is...most of the time.
I lie there in their room, painted like a beach, listening to the hum of the heater. I look at the glow-in-the-dark plastic stars on their ceiling. (By the way, Tommy's favorite star is the big one over his bed. I know this because we have had many lengthy and in-depth discussions on the subject).
As Tommy twitches, the hum of the heater becomes the crashing of the ocean; the sky is real and the the beach is Ocean City, NJ. I am 21 years old. I used to go to the beach at night, lie on the sand dunes and look at the sky. I would think about the Greeks and Romans who would study this same sky, thousands of years ago, searching for the will of the gods to be revealed, looking for their destiny. I could not see my destiny in that sky. I did not see your face or the children.Nothing. At that point in my life, I think I was more focused on the black void than the bright stars.
I think about our destiny now, and our families future. When I think of our young trio going to high school and beyond, it seems as distant as the stars in the winter sky. But, I well know, it is as close as the ones on our son's ceiling.
Ssshhh...Tommy's finally asleep.
copyright2007 T.Ewing
We climb up on that creaky bunk bed and I watch him do back-flips for an hour. It's like trying to put a chimpanzee on a sugar rush to sleep. Even after his head has seemingly gone to sleep, his body is awake for another 30 minutes.
I have concluded that Tommy wrestles with angels. I've come to this conclusion because a) I've had way too much time to think about it lying next to him for hours every night and b) it's a better image than sleeping with a chimp.
Of course, there some good things that happen while t is entering round 57 with the angel Gabriel. It gives me time to think. I know you're thinking if that really is a "good" thing. I assure you it is...most of the time.
I lie there in their room, painted like a beach, listening to the hum of the heater. I look at the glow-in-the-dark plastic stars on their ceiling. (By the way, Tommy's favorite star is the big one over his bed. I know this because we have had many lengthy and in-depth discussions on the subject).
As Tommy twitches, the hum of the heater becomes the crashing of the ocean; the sky is real and the the beach is Ocean City, NJ. I am 21 years old. I used to go to the beach at night, lie on the sand dunes and look at the sky. I would think about the Greeks and Romans who would study this same sky, thousands of years ago, searching for the will of the gods to be revealed, looking for their destiny. I could not see my destiny in that sky. I did not see your face or the children.Nothing. At that point in my life, I think I was more focused on the black void than the bright stars.
I think about our destiny now, and our families future. When I think of our young trio going to high school and beyond, it seems as distant as the stars in the winter sky. But, I well know, it is as close as the ones on our son's ceiling.
Ssshhh...Tommy's finally asleep.
copyright2007 T.Ewing
Awake
Drifting from sleep to dreadful awakening,
Consciousness surges then recedes back to black.
Thursday the second, or is it just Wednesday?
Time drips from a faucet he has yet to fix.
Dreaming the dream of eternal slumber,
Responsibilities hit him in waves.
Drop Billy at school then on to the office.
The Beetleman contract must be done by ten.
Mortgage is late and now so is he.
Car runs like hell, insurance premium's way over due.
Why must everyday start with such panic?
Such scraping and clawing for a breath of fresh air?
Smothered by promises, unkept obligations,
Why can't life flow on without him today?
No response given, frustration subsiding,
He floats back into the calm murky depths.
The liquid warmth of the space that surrounds him
Forms droplets of worry on his unwrinkled brow.
Soon she'd be yelling, hell would be breaking,
So leaving this heaven, he opens his eyes.
Impenetrable blackness.
Was he still sleeping?
Attempting to wipe the dream from his head
His knuckles knock against a tightly sealed lid.
Lying with Fear in a plush little box
A thought
--buried--
Now starts to arise.
The darkness constrains him,
Confines and contains him.
Thrashing and splashing in restricted motion,
He wriggles on satin that ripples and squirms.
Choking on panic, he digs in the darkness
Of cushions and stuffing and splintering wood.
Finger nails bloodied, teeth broken from gnawing,
He hears the ominous thunder of his own beating heart.
Eyes glazed and widened,
He drifts in the blackness,
Sinks in submission and
Drowns in the dark.
coptright2007 T. Ewing
Consciousness surges then recedes back to black.
Thursday the second, or is it just Wednesday?
Time drips from a faucet he has yet to fix.
Dreaming the dream of eternal slumber,
Responsibilities hit him in waves.
Drop Billy at school then on to the office.
The Beetleman contract must be done by ten.
Mortgage is late and now so is he.
Car runs like hell, insurance premium's way over due.
Why must everyday start with such panic?
Such scraping and clawing for a breath of fresh air?
Smothered by promises, unkept obligations,
Why can't life flow on without him today?
No response given, frustration subsiding,
He floats back into the calm murky depths.
The liquid warmth of the space that surrounds him
Forms droplets of worry on his unwrinkled brow.
Soon she'd be yelling, hell would be breaking,
So leaving this heaven, he opens his eyes.
Impenetrable blackness.
Was he still sleeping?
Attempting to wipe the dream from his head
His knuckles knock against a tightly sealed lid.
Lying with Fear in a plush little box
A thought
--buried--
Now starts to arise.
The darkness constrains him,
Confines and contains him.
Thrashing and splashing in restricted motion,
He wriggles on satin that ripples and squirms.
Choking on panic, he digs in the darkness
Of cushions and stuffing and splintering wood.
Finger nails bloodied, teeth broken from gnawing,
He hears the ominous thunder of his own beating heart.
Eyes glazed and widened,
He drifts in the blackness,
Sinks in submission and
Drowns in the dark.
coptright2007 T. Ewing
A Simple Slant Of Light (excerpt from Tonya's Book)
I have the advantage of being the first one up on most mornings. It is one of the few times our house is quiet. I usually sit and have a cup of coffee while I read the paper. But the paper is not here this morning so I am just sitting, smoking a cigarette, and drinking my coffee. I'm thinking about how cold my feet are because, once again either Tommy or Teddy have stolen my slippers. When I let Grendel out, the only other one up this morning, I open the blinds on the front door. A single ray of sunlight comes through and hits the mirror above the coat rack, sending a slant of light streaming through the room. The beam ends at the bottom of the stairs near the kitchen. So I sit mindlessly sending smoke through the slant of light. The smoke forms the most beautiful patterns then disappears. It sets my mind to thinking of the many memories in this room. Ricky and Jay's countless wrestling matches on the floor; Myla's heels clicking down the stairs on the way to the eighth grade dance; Teddy sitting near the post on Christmas morning in only a diaper; the birthday and holiday dinners at the dining room table; Tommy duck-taped to the post; Teddy throwing his chair across the floor; the pregnant you sitting in your chair;Jay tying his shoes getting ready for school; answering the door with your shot gun to greet one of Myla's dates; and all the various friends and employees that have shared our wood burner. All these images dance like phantoms around the room as I sit and have my coffee. And these memories pass through my mind like smoke through a simple slant of light.
copyright thomas ewing 2007
copyright thomas ewing 2007
Tonya's Book
One of the better ideas I've ever had, was to start a book for my wife when we first met. The book is simply a journal of our life together. However, as usual,the simplest of ideas turn out the best. My wife loves the book and I give it to her every Christmas morning with new entries. As we are coming up on the 25th, I am in the process of writing this years chronicles. Just thought I'd fill you in so you would know what "excerpt from Tonya's Book" meant.
copyright Thomas Ewing 2007
copyright Thomas Ewing 2007
Sunday, December 16, 2007
skating
He awoke to an iron sky
Steel storm clouds hung heavily on the horizon
The wind whistled at his door
He dressed--futile protection from the cold
outside and within
Lifting the blades from the shelf
He surveyed the vast, frozen wasteland
that lay before him
The grey snow crunched and crackled under
the weight of his step.
Walking against the wind, water welled up in his eyes and
his nose began to run
as his body released the briefest shiver.
He reached that familiar point.
Icy blue veins could be seen just below the surface.
Knelling on the edge, he caught his blurred reflection.
Previous images swept through his mind--
Dreams of gliding, gracefully sliding
from one side to the other.
Delicately slicing through the smooth, thin surface.
Severing connections, gloriously sailing
Instead
Stumbling, falling, failing
Barely conscious, awkwardly aching
lying on his back
under the iron sky
He grips the blade in his frozen hand
trying to mount his courage
Through tear filled eyes, he catches his blurred reflection
in the bathroom mirror.
The razor drops to the smooth white tile
as the wind howls against the motionless clouds.
copyright t. ewing
Steel storm clouds hung heavily on the horizon
The wind whistled at his door
He dressed--futile protection from the cold
outside and within
Lifting the blades from the shelf
He surveyed the vast, frozen wasteland
that lay before him
The grey snow crunched and crackled under
the weight of his step.
Walking against the wind, water welled up in his eyes and
his nose began to run
as his body released the briefest shiver.
He reached that familiar point.
Icy blue veins could be seen just below the surface.
Knelling on the edge, he caught his blurred reflection.
Previous images swept through his mind--
Dreams of gliding, gracefully sliding
from one side to the other.
Delicately slicing through the smooth, thin surface.
Severing connections, gloriously sailing
Instead
Stumbling, falling, failing
Barely conscious, awkwardly aching
lying on his back
under the iron sky
He grips the blade in his frozen hand
trying to mount his courage
Through tear filled eyes, he catches his blurred reflection
in the bathroom mirror.
The razor drops to the smooth white tile
as the wind howls against the motionless clouds.
copyright t. ewing
Following Anne
Tired, tired of rowing
rowing
Waiting and then waiting
to begin
"To turn off computer
click Shut-down then
hit O.K."
And what do you do
When the words no longer hold?
And the skeleton is stripped
To the bone?
I am not the plastic bag
that dances in the wind
I am the blackened peel
that just lay.
And we try and find the beauty
that is never there
so we change our illusions
and create it for ourselves.
I can't find the address either Anne
And we're lost on the same road
So much holding out, so much holding in
While always waiting, waiting to begin.
copyright thomas ewing 2007
rowing
Waiting and then waiting
to begin
"To turn off computer
click Shut-down then
hit O.K."
And what do you do
When the words no longer hold?
And the skeleton is stripped
To the bone?
I am not the plastic bag
that dances in the wind
I am the blackened peel
that just lay.
And we try and find the beauty
that is never there
so we change our illusions
and create it for ourselves.
I can't find the address either Anne
And we're lost on the same road
So much holding out, so much holding in
While always waiting, waiting to begin.
copyright thomas ewing 2007
Nancy
Lost in a miasma of goodness
submerged in your
self-help
self-hurt
self indulgent cosmic hype
So help yourself, take a bite
from that eye expanding knoweldge tree
I ain't no serpent
But that's not what you want
You don't pray for sight
with your illumination gesticulation
Just go'in thru the workout baby
You talk about the passion
but only in a fashion
that makes it
cheap and impotent
Talk it with intensity
to you it's just a mystery
played out upon the altar
you wear it like a garter
in this sad burlesque
You say we've never met
Words thrown but a few
You think I do not Know you
but I can see right through
I've known you all my life, you fuck
And I can see right through
Yes I can see right through
copyright thomas ewing 2007
submerged in your
self-help
self-hurt
self indulgent cosmic hype
So help yourself, take a bite
from that eye expanding knoweldge tree
I ain't no serpent
But that's not what you want
You don't pray for sight
with your illumination gesticulation
Just go'in thru the workout baby
You talk about the passion
but only in a fashion
that makes it
cheap and impotent
Talk it with intensity
to you it's just a mystery
played out upon the altar
you wear it like a garter
in this sad burlesque
You say we've never met
Words thrown but a few
You think I do not Know you
but I can see right through
I've known you all my life, you fuck
And I can see right through
Yes I can see right through
copyright thomas ewing 2007
Deserve
And I'm tired of all these angry women
Unholy martyrs, would-be saints
talkin 'bout the better they deserve
"It isn't right, it isn't fair"
so nothing is, but they don't care
keep talking thru some angry tears
'bout some hurt they've kept alive for years
All the hurt
All the shame
Who's at fault
Who's to blame
The bastard husbands, greedy lawyers,
former friends, lousy lovers
Same old story, same stupid game
But ya'know not one of us are free from blame
not one of us is ever free from blame
And we
get
exactly
what we
deserve
So you cut me
and I hurt you
And we're not real sure on what to do
It's so fucked up, but fucked by who?
From where I stand, I think it's you
But you're with me and I'm with you
So I guess that makes me fucked up too
And I can see
That we
Are exactly
What we
Deserve
copyright thomas ewing 2007
Unholy martyrs, would-be saints
talkin 'bout the better they deserve
"It isn't right, it isn't fair"
so nothing is, but they don't care
keep talking thru some angry tears
'bout some hurt they've kept alive for years
All the hurt
All the shame
Who's at fault
Who's to blame
The bastard husbands, greedy lawyers,
former friends, lousy lovers
Same old story, same stupid game
But ya'know not one of us are free from blame
not one of us is ever free from blame
And we
get
exactly
what we
deserve
So you cut me
and I hurt you
And we're not real sure on what to do
It's so fucked up, but fucked by who?
From where I stand, I think it's you
But you're with me and I'm with you
So I guess that makes me fucked up too
And I can see
That we
Are exactly
What we
Deserve
copyright thomas ewing 2007
New Hope
Man,woman,gay,straight,tourist,biker,pusher,junkie,freak.
All come to New Hope
New Hope
I lived there briefly myself
After my divorce
It seemed like the logical place to start
Or at least start again.
I worked there for a time
Serving drinks to vacant eyes
Everybody loves New Hope
New Hope
There was lots of laughter,lots of smoke,
Lots of tears, and craziness of all varieties.
All seems to wash away into one swirling pool.
The one that stands out
is the local man
who hung himself off the bridge to Lambertville
that cold December morning
with the bright, white, lights
that outline New Hope
New Hope
I've moved on.
But returning is a strange ghost.
And as I walk on the road out of town
A car approaches
the window down
"say, can you tell me how to get to New Hope?"
With a winking grin I say
"Dead ahead"
Though I know there's no such place.
copyright thomas ewing 2007
All come to New Hope
New Hope
I lived there briefly myself
After my divorce
It seemed like the logical place to start
Or at least start again.
I worked there for a time
Serving drinks to vacant eyes
Everybody loves New Hope
New Hope
There was lots of laughter,lots of smoke,
Lots of tears, and craziness of all varieties.
All seems to wash away into one swirling pool.
The one that stands out
is the local man
who hung himself off the bridge to Lambertville
that cold December morning
with the bright, white, lights
that outline New Hope
New Hope
I've moved on.
But returning is a strange ghost.
And as I walk on the road out of town
A car approaches
the window down
"say, can you tell me how to get to New Hope?"
With a winking grin I say
"Dead ahead"
Though I know there's no such place.
copyright thomas ewing 2007
It's a Wonderful Wife
Tried to keep the first posting on my new blog in tune with the season. First, some initial thanks. Thanks to A.J. and his traveling companions for the suggestion of a blog. Many thanks to Rick's friend, and our adoptive son...cause we really need another, Thomas John, for setting up the site and picking up where my technical skills falter. Which, by the way, pretty much starts right after I crack a beer, light a cigarette, and hit the power button.
Most importantly, thanks to my lovely wife and life companion( wait...that just sounds way too gay) my best friend, Tonya. For all the considerable energy that I exert on a daily basis, the plain truth is that I don't really accomplish much without her constant pulling, pushing, and prodding. It is why she often refers to me as the 6th child(7th if your counting Thomas). She is my muse and the reason this blog exists. (I secretly suspect that she wanted to create this to give me something to do. 6/7th child indeed!)
Since I went through school in my 20's, I've been collecting and writing down various quotes, phrases, ideas, fragments, and mental wanderings. These many pages, several notebooks, and an interesting gathering of cocktail napkins and bar receipts, have been collecting dust in the attic(I mean that literally and metaphorically). I'm hoping this blog will give at least some of those things a chance to "take flight", if you will, or at least see the light of day. Thus the title, draw your own conclusions.
So, please secure your seat belts and return your seats to the upright positions. There are no emergency exits.
Most importantly, thanks to my lovely wife and life companion( wait...that just sounds way too gay) my best friend, Tonya. For all the considerable energy that I exert on a daily basis, the plain truth is that I don't really accomplish much without her constant pulling, pushing, and prodding. It is why she often refers to me as the 6th child(7th if your counting Thomas). She is my muse and the reason this blog exists. (I secretly suspect that she wanted to create this to give me something to do. 6/7th child indeed!)
Since I went through school in my 20's, I've been collecting and writing down various quotes, phrases, ideas, fragments, and mental wanderings. These many pages, several notebooks, and an interesting gathering of cocktail napkins and bar receipts, have been collecting dust in the attic(I mean that literally and metaphorically). I'm hoping this blog will give at least some of those things a chance to "take flight", if you will, or at least see the light of day. Thus the title, draw your own conclusions.
So, please secure your seat belts and return your seats to the upright positions. There are no emergency exits.
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