Foreign but Traditional Airports (day 736)

It was cold as I stepped off the airplane in that small foreign airport, so many miles from home and not a plan, save for you.

You were an adventure, insight into a foreign world with a warm couch to sleep on. A world I had spent so many years learning about.. planning for.

An adventure with a heart wide open and arms firmly closed, cobblestone streets ancestors had walked upon and a quiet corner of a once booming shipping port.

There was a long bus ride with anxious questions as friends long been separated chatted, and the grand tour through old town with a heavy bag and just a little bit of complaining.

Awaiting at the airport pacing back and forth, I wondered where she was. My phone was expired, no money in my pockets, not even an address to go to.

Biezpiens is a traditional dish. It was necessary, so was the fresh selection of strawberries at the old farmers market. And a little slice of chocolate, traditional chocolate.

There was a dog; a big brown Lab/Sharpei mix with big ears and bigger paws. She was an anxious dog, the kind that pulls at the leash every step of the way. Leaves, sticks, strange smells, other dogs…

Twice a day I’d walk her through the retired graveyard, searching every gravestone for recognizable names. Never found any.

Ever step I felt like I could see horses pulling buggies, old top hats and pointed mustaches. The signs of old Baltic Ritterschaft nobility.

I’d find new paths every day I’d walk the city streets. New buildings that were old buildings, new corners of the city that were old corners of the city. I’d learned cobblestones made quite a racket when car tires roll over them.

I left there in love. In love with a city, in love with a way of life. In love with a style. In love with a woman who did not want to love me.

I left there with a hug from her and a lick from the dog for a long full bus ride. The whole way to the foreign airport early that morning I stood with my bags about my shoulders, fighting the woes of leaving my heart behind and the dizziness of hardly a breakfast in my belly.

Of course the only thing I could think of was the laughing while smiling.

Riga - 201209 (26 of 605)

She’s Madness (day 727)

She’s sweetheart
A thousand shades of love
Mixed with a crimson alert beacon
Signalling the end of a search

She’s madness
In peaceful laughter
Hovering around angelic
And gold spots in the sun

She’s all love
Like rainbows and
Puddles of fun
Splashing this way and that

She’s warmth
Lying on the sandy beaches
In the mid-summer heat
Floating off into sleep

She’s a tight turn
Whipping that tail around
Splashing white caps
In her hips and her toes

She’s magic
Allusions in wands
With a pot full of potions
And the power to possess

Breakfast In The Morning Panties (day 716)

We met up for drinks, it had been a long time coming
You with your crippling smile sucking margaritas through a straw
Tattoos in pink running up and down your arms
Crop top and flamboyant sunglasses
I could see it in her eyes, written up and down and in
Staring me right back, inviting me
We flirted unceasingly, enjoying the atmosphere of the joint
Back and forth about life, love, sex, and making a difference
Pushing into regions normally reserved for intimates
But we were intimates, we had already been over that line
Flushing out the spinning daisies with deep breaths and dilated pupils
Desire spoken through eyes
“Want to get out of here?” were my words
We were in a big facility, one with public washrooms
“Meet back here” we both demanded
No arguing; arousal and a full bladder don’t mix
By this time we understood the page we were on
I was out before she was, I started wandering
I looked back and saw her peeking into the men’s washroom
Intentions written all over her tippy toes
From behind I wrapped my arms around her
Walking her into one of the classic stalls
She was already pulling at the waist of her pants
Smooth tight skin of a woman who exercises
Pulling at my pants too with unleashed passion
Normally, I can remember thinking, normally I catch my breath
But this state of elation wasn’t coming down
This hand down my pants wasn’t slowing down
I wanted to ask her how much she weighed after I easily lifted her
Back against the wall, legs wrapped around my hips
I was distracted with my head in her hands
She was biting my lower lip as power cursed through my veins
Hands cupped around her ass, her firm exercised ass
Easy to dig my fingernails into in my moment of pure passion
Euphoria, her’s and mine own
As passionate as our discussions earlier
Life, love, sex, and making a difference
We walked out of that public washroom hand in hand
All the way to her Eastside flat
I asked for her number with intention
Because she didn’t have to ask me to stay
I walked in like I owned the place
And expected breakfast in the morning panties

Forever After (day 711)

Silent wishes drift upon my heart
Lifting the spirits of unnamed maidens
Cooling the late evenings breeze
To just about long pant weather
My mind washes over the condensatingly
Fresh glass of beer
While the sun drifts lazily behind the horizon
Like the wandering bumblebee
Long shadows form, reaching out in desperation
Away from the dying sun
Projecting from the adjoint plane
Between the erect tree and well watered grass
And I drift lazily off into dreams of the future
Following love forever after

Ancient Ruins (day 702)

Standing here marked in my sentinel pose
The pigeons have come home, bringing what blows
Shifting time here from then, now, and future
And watching seasons twist before my eyes
Carrying new colours with birth, love, and death

But my purpose has been lost in the changing of regime
What once was a tyrant has now become kindly
Taxes increased, but civil liberties have too

Blinking slowly I become a shifting flower of dust
A shocking array of memories unwritten
While passersby brood and confuse points on maps
And come more and go, pigeons of flight
Remain here in harbour, remain here at rest

If There Was No War (day 685)

If there was no war
Lions and cheetahs as friends
And if there was no war
Chimpanzees would sure be free
If there was no war
My happy feet’d take me to thee
‘Cause I’ve got love baby
Love enough for you and me

Can you image life without a wall
No distraught to make it tall
Or foes to climb at all
It’d sure be a funny thing
Calling what mine mine
When the whole world was shared
Yours and mine together you see
Friends at last we’d always be

If there was no war
No holes would mark and scar the land
And if there was no war
No poppy would be remembering for
If there was no war
My happy feet’d take me to thee
‘Cause I’ve got love baby
Love enough for you and me

Now if there was no war
No war to pick our pockets for
And if there was no war
No war for few to fight the many
If there was no war
My dog would open up the door
Welcome in the buffalo
Roaming wild and free
A sea of peace for you and me

Mario Contefetti (day 671)

Nope, didn’t even leave a single slice
Such a delicious, 4 topping
Clay oven roasted
Peperoni, mushroom
Cheesiest of all cheeses
Black olives straight from the tree
And the garden of love
THE GARDEN OF LOVE
Such fruitful abundance
From this same loving garden
Came green peppers of such freshness
Such juicy succulence
That it left me no choice today
Where all that was mine to do
All I could even do
Was smell with my nose
Fall in love with my eyes
Loosen my leather belt
And enjoy, savor
Every. single. bite
Of that 4 topping pizza

Can you still smell it lingering in the air?
I’d say I’m sorry for not leaving a slice..
If I wasn’t so full..

aFullRatMario can be purchased here.

Collected Arrows (day 660)

I heard your voice today as it wrung out loud
Sparkling and shining across houndreds of miles
It’s not easy when some angels don’t fly
Long arrows and guided love notes fight perils
But even then days stretch out long
Placing delay at the tip of our tongues
Panic at times as we weave back and forth
Amongst little pillars and settled sailors;
Gamblers on the open world of fortune
Bottle in one hand, out the door with the other
Don’t cry, it wont come easy
[Don’t worry, your voice will be my guiding savior]
So pass love notes with rising vigor
And let the angels wisdom sweep over
Your eyes, your demeanor
Hour heart can rest here a while
With bundles of these collected arrows

Push (day 649)

An infinite change to alter what’s guttural
A push forth to filter substantial
Harmony to mystically float abysmal
Up, up and away into the supernatural
Be gone, be off, be far away and impartial
Leaving life itself here in actual
Space and time, compounded with natural
Phenomenons, ordinary existential
Places of habitation and practical
Reality that grows into love after all