Category Archives: Musings

Silver

Silver coins from fingers to fingers … a trick of the hands I learned before I could understand.

Reflections of my self, unbroken from a surface I knew in shards.
Arrows piercing, cutting like words thrown from bitter tongues.
You saw me, and the mirror in your eyes became the truth I allowed myself to see.

Slick surface payout that revealed lines (yes), scars (yes), and age (yes?)

Also kindness … silverblue mirror and silverbrown frame around a face … of mine … that I had not loved until You.

My hands are bare, no longer shackled by the rings that declared me property and shameful.

My hands are my own to weave or build with. No reminders of ‘owned by’ or ‘ego slave’.
The rings that adorn me in the future will declare me loved and admired.

My unbound hands and my mouth grow stronger and more sure. Silver truth flows … look at these words as witness.

The goddess spoke Your name and it exploded into stars. Metaphoric meteors I cast my wishes upon.
I  see them behind my eyelids while our lips exchange words and passion.  Your mouth on mine alights the heavens and I am adrift in a sea of  silver lights. Myriad and distant. Endless depths of silver coins  spilled from the pockets of the eternal beggar: god itself. An endless  ocean with bits of bright chalk here and there … and one perfect blue  star.
(Not Venus … no, my love; the she-planet runs her circle and  spins her own tales. She is magnificent, certainly, but just a planet.)  I mean the star. The Star! The silver-blue tip of Orion’s garment. The  one whom I implore to send you messages of adoration, comfort, and  loyalty.

There were glittering stars under our feet  that night. Crushed remnants of past tragedies that sparkled like  Christmas nonetheless. There are glittering glitters of memories in my  soul, too. Unlike the nickles in my pocket, we do not reflect: we shine.

We shine silver and create memories of our own. Perfect in love and dancing under the pale blue eye of Rigel.

On silver trenchers I offer you my splintered green heart.
It is not perfect, but it creates pure silver … and it is Yours if You will have it.

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Center

Trying to find mine.

I got home tonight and stood … as I do … and searched the sky. Orion was on the horizon, with Betelgeuse and Rigel shining steadfast.

Someone asked me during the Q&A today if I had found a peaceful place like my back porch was at home, and I had to say no. I don’t have that meditative spot like I used to. Someone else asked if I have romantic love in my life, and I can’t answer that very simply. There’s a woman who cares about me very deeply (I don’t use names without permission, and we haven’t had that talk yet.) and there’s affection and caring … but (cliche incoming) it’s complicated. There are issues she needs to settle in her own world before she can comfortably explore mine. So we are separate.

I fill up my time with art and work and vital things. I try to not think of romance or physical affection. Self doubt in these areas grows. Am I worthy of that kind of love? Am I deserving?

I don’t know.

So I work, and that is taking a special kind of patience. I’m not complaining, I’m good at what I do and I greatly enjoy it. My art is very satisfying, and I lift hearts. The obstacles are few (though mighty) and I am building good faith and reputation among my community and future clients. Life is Magic.

But now it’s 2AM and I wish I had someone to tell about my day. Someone who would be interested and even eager to hear about it. Oh, of course I’ll tell you … and I really should attack these keys more often, but I mean a partner. A Lover. Someone to pour my heart and dreams into. I have someone in mind … and she loves me back, of this I have no doubts. But she needs to overcome obstacles for us to be even remotely together, so I’m giving her time and space to figure things out.

I’m breathing. I’ll keep doing that.

Looking for my center. Longing for my love.

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Love Everywhere

I pour my heart, my essence, into my work.

I call it art and I try to keep a straight face.

I say what I believe. Sometimes those words are uncomfortable. So be it. I am sick of trying to second guess what might ‘hurt’ my career. I silenced myself and I whispered, just in case someone who might want to give me money for magic was listening.

Enough. I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing. Want to hold my heart against me?
So Be It. My creativity is running strong, and I need to what I can while I’m here.

Life is criminally short.

I’m spending it loving and spreading love. Romantic love seems to elude me … and that’s not what i’m talking about.  Maybe that’s just not my road. So be it.

Live performance. My first real love.

Writing. (Here and for Genii)
Video blog. https://www.youtube.com/user/HannibalGroup
Podcast. https://soundcloud.com/magicartist
These are mistresses I’m allowed. (For now)
Check them out … and subscribe for Hannibal content.

I need your support. Here’s my Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/magicartist
Help me to continue to move forward. New content, new explorations.

I’m rededicating myself. Again.
This is Magic.
This is Hannibal.

Here I Am.

 

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Summer ’77

Scotch Bonnet Pier, Topsail Island
I learned to shag (a dance rather native to the Carolina  beaches. I know the word has other connotations.) on the beach, under that pier. Danced most of the afternoon and into the cool of the evening with a pretty girl I met that day … and never saw again. One of the sweetest, most romantic times of my life.
The song I remember most was “A Quiet Place”.

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Fishing

I found the older man sitting at his usual spot at the end of the long, long pier.

“Gramma says dinner will be ready at 7 … and could you bring home some milk?”

He slowly shifted his pipe in his mouth. “Hello, Buzzard. I love you. Wait for a minute and walk with me.” He began to reel in his line from the sea. Slowly, without concern. The sea shone diamonds and rolled thickly.

“Did you catch anything?”

“No … not today.” As these words were spoken, the line cleared the water and … I saw that there was no hook. Just the tackle. He turned a bemused face to me.

“Grandpa … where’s the hook?”

“See … here’s the thing: I’m fishing. Not trying to catch fish, just fishing. Being very still and quiet and looking at the ocean. Letting my mind be patient with doing nothing. The pole gives me an excuse. As long as i’m holding it, people leave me alone. If i just sat here staring, they want to talk. Ask what i’m up to, am I okay?

People don’t like to see you just sitting still and letting your thoughts travel. It makes them uncomfortable. But we need it, sometimes. We need to get still and listen … to the sea, to our thoughts, to our hearts … to each other, even.

It’s holy and healthy to sometimes just … be.

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Dr. Z

My mother’s favorite movie was “Doctor Zhivago”; it came out the same year I was born. We watched it four times together. She told me in confidence that she didn’t believe a grand romance like that could really happen.

The second to last time we watched it, I took her to a movie theater that was having a classic movie revival week. The grandeur and the power of the cinematography, along with the incredible story made us gasp and weep openly. It’s rare to have that strong of a reaction to a movie … but this was brilliant.

The last time we viewed it, about four months before she was killed, I gave her a deluxe VHS set for her birthday. At the end of a box of tissues she told me that I had the capacity to love like that, if I’d let myself.

The love he displays is of high caliber. Not just of Lara, though that’s important, but his love of humanity, life and love itself.

Could I possibly? This is a goal worth reaching for.

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Filed under Musings, Public Diary

Thoughts on the Wind

Thank you for playing along. Thank you for sitting in your seats and listening to my stories. Thank you for gifting me laughter, smiles, squeals of delight. Thank you for Clapping Your Hands and for bouncing up and down. Thanks for considering me a friend. Thank you for accepting the art I offer to you.

There is pain and loneliness, but never when I’m performing for you. You fill my Lonely Heart, and I feel no pain.
So, thank you.

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