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mouse from merced

Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
Apr 4, 2019 - 11:00am PT

My internet went out just now
I must fix this thing somehow

I think I know just what to do
I'll hit it with the OTHER shoe

If that's not enough to do it
I'll give up and just say "Screw it."

Obviously, the problem was resolved, THANK YOU VERY MUCH!

The state of quantum flux
Apr 13, 2019 - 11:46am PT
Out of Place

I never liked crowds in the first place
they always set me ill at ease
So many faces of humanity
looking for something
sometimes they never can be pleased
Always so out of place
thereís barely room to escape
when I only want to be free

In that crowded place
the volumed voices never eased
And then the silence came
when I first saw your face
and you were all I could see
Always so out of place
there was no room to escape
your gaze directed at me

There I sat on an empty highway
the voices of doubt behind my eyes
I never knew why
I always thought that way
searching for something I couldnít say
Always so out of place
hiding behind my disgrace
always getting in my own way

There you were again at that party
the voices of people came and went
But something had changed
there was that silence again
but you had gone behind the veil
I was always so out of place
was it just circumstance
or a simple act of true grace

I never liked crowds in the first place
the crush of humanity makes me bolt
Iím always locked in
to my own rhythm within
I must be wired different than most
Iím always out of place
itís a fact that Iíve had to face
just another wild and unruly goat


The state of quantum flux
Apr 16, 2019 - 06:14am PT
Donít Listen Donít Judge

I climbed in my youth
till my fingers got rough
then I climbed the big stone
till I thought I was tough
but a high mountain crag
said enough is enough
but this stubborn boy donít listen
and the crag said

Oh please
itís my way or the highway
youíre in my house now
donít listen
donít judge
get out your own way

Oh please
youíre right on the edge
your not a boy anymore
donít listen
donít judge
youíre gonna have to pay

And I climbed like a devil
as I climbed that crag
like I thought it was my own
didnít place any slag
I was headed right for trouble
but I thought I could brag
well it spit me right off
I was headed for the dirt and

Oh please
as I bounced off two ledges
was hurtiní in the house now
donít listen
donít judge
I got in my own way

Oh please
I caught on the third ledge
true story girls and boys
donít listen
donít judge
I was gonna have to pay

Well chipped a shin
and I busted my hide
road rashed knees and hands
but was still alive
jumped back on the lead
and I finished that jibe
didnít learn my lesson
till I almost died

Oh please
itís my way or the highway
youíre in my house now
donít listen
donít judge
get out your own way

Oh please
I was right on the edge
then at work one day
donít listen
donít judge
I finally had to pay

Oh please
for thirty years now
been payiní every day
donít listen
donít judge
thatís all I have to say


Venus photo -by bushman
May 4, 2019 - 12:16am PT
worm pembroke

twas this chap was always broke
who always wore a silver cloak
we called him worm that was no joke
our every idea with holes heíd poke
while scratching at some poison oak

the worm finished his artichoke
and then leaned in to light a smoke
turning away to cough and choke
he was after all the kind of bloke
who said stay awhile and have a toke

twas all in the way he often spoke
that classic need to pause and evoke
on classical music but never baroque
before heading to the loo to soak
in obligatory lines of coke

for he fancied he would oft invoke
an argument thatís how he spoke
an antagonist at every stroke
the worm did relish to unyoke
our reveries his masterstroke

twas a chap was always broke
we called him worm that was no joke
till years went by and he did provoke
the powers that be to cool his stoke
and snuff him with a massive stroke


Venus photo -by bushman
May 21, 2019 - 04:25pm PT
This Sacred Place

Rounding every bend
coming over every rise
there are so many places

Tiny stones rippling in lake reflections
great scaly groves of pine
ancient junipers
a raven wary eyed

Vast panoramas
far as the eye can see

Each and every view
sight or sound
and living thing
waterfall and lofty precipice
still the heart to breathless silence

And when the high winds blow
at night through trees
oíer my encampment
It makes me feel the warmth
of sunrise even more

This sacred place
it is my rebirth

-Tim Sorenson
Gnome Ofthe Diabase

Out Of Bed
May 21, 2019 - 05:41pm PT
Once was a picture of an unspoiled long pond

The mirror-like water's surface so still
that it appeared that the green of the shrouded banks
extend mid-way across the narrow lake.

A thick green canopy of mixed hardwoods rising up from the water's edge. Extending off to the vanishing point.
Far-off in the center of the view -

Unseen, Sharing only the reflection of heavily forested shoreline Hidden up in the hillside, lay ridgelines and outcrops
some 80 feet high.

In the foreground, Still deep water past the bank, thick as it travels to the edge of the fast-churning waterfall; A cataract.
The full spring flow already waning into small silver ribbons.

It was a short cascade over a black wall into blacker un-seen rocks
As once it was here
I hope it can still be seen in a minds eye
For the words must now surfice

Trad climber
electric lady land
May 21, 2019 - 05:55pm PT
I have a sad story.
Ever so hard to tell.
The times have kept
me under it's spell.
I linger and wander
don't know what to
die for, shoe after
shoe. Keep walking.
Gnome Ofthe Diabase

Out Of Bed
May 21, 2019 - 06:38pm PT

Hey, Sierra Ledge Rat, Hank, ~Yes sir!~ I am Crying Too

What will I serve?
It is more of a -how- I will make a celebration of that meal!
Climbers with whom I share the feelings of what it was to
Climb out into the unknown-looking for safe passage,
while a vengeful force tried to drag us down...

The very same climbers who's hand & foot holds I shared
& followed to the edges of the heights.

Climbers with whom I share The Highlights of my misspent youth.

The great moments that so few share.
The feeling of mixed emotions The 'to-the-bone' tired,
of the great relief that only comes
from having Climbed out to the edge of oblivion,
conquered it & of having survived

The feelings, the memories of things that most others cannot imagine / / /

what it meant to dangle at the end of a cord, to lower out & spin slowly
& have the sawing action seem to increase the closer to safety that one got.

We are going to be baking a cake!
The kiddo's & my sweet one, they feel it;
They see that I'm grieving a loss

My family, that hates this place because it took me away from them.
They blame "it" for my addiction.
I have a need to share Super Topo
reading & reciting climbers shares to them.

Trying to get them to see the amazing history,
 The 'rest' of the story.
The way that the main protagonists
Those others, "the climbers in the mists"
That would show up & post about climbs
tidbits that gave texture to things I had done
Climbs I knew the texture of.

I love my wife & kids, they try to understand,
They see it now, that what Mom tells them,
that I was the best that I ever was...

 That I was at my best & greatest
that the biggest I ever was~
was when no one could see me
When I was a speck on a wall
A cork on a sea of stone

when I was perched out on nothing
fingers-tipps & tippy-toes clinging to edges
setting a row of chips; chunks of metal on wires
130 feet out and still some ways to go...

I will miss knowing that I'm sharing with others
who also know what it feels like to be gravity's play-thing...
To have mastered an art

To have passed up when so many died doing what we do
Kevin Was only 48 ! (& Andrew with so much promise at 30!)
And so many others over the years
(a high cost, ~AS A PARENT?~ WHAT A WASTE?)

And whether through some other insanity
or the result of trying to find those same feelings
Feelings that only came from triumphing over
from surviving gravities revenge...

Whatever the other pitfalls of all kinds,
that took them from this life
That left us -other Climbers- missing them
Missing some so much

Solos and life's woe's that led them to...
I mourn the loss of each & every climber gone to soon,
gone at all...

I celebrate the pointless cause of youth - that exhibits sheer joy, bliss in the need to climb

A need that for many becomes an internalized thing, an itch that must be scratched...

Asked why I take pictures of rocks, I smirk a bit and say
Because they are....

Good Bye sweet Topo you saved this boy
and for that
My children & wife thank You.
Gnome Ofthe Diabase

Out Of Bed
May 21, 2019 - 06:38pm PT
One after 909~


Venus photo -by bushman
May 28, 2019 - 05:25pm PT
Only Wintering Now

And waiting through the winter months
I dreamed of spring and summers warmth
keeping close to hearth while trying to feel
the times near lost to memories grasp

There flickering with the springtime thaws
my fresh faced youth sprinted through my mind
that forty years had bleached and scrubbed
to flashbacks old as faded Kodachrome

We clung and held with feet glued fast
our bones on stone though some were lost
We blinked away pain with youths undaunted drive
as cascade mists infused salty flesh to bring new life

And waiting through the winter long
I thought to welcome summers jaunt
but found this spring a stranger to me
in itís green and vibrant calling out

It knows me well and welcomes me
Iím shy to say I canít reply
With zephyr winds sweet as honeysuckle on the vine
I do not know this season now

Creaking as I walk the critters up the hill
the season beckons to my back
I turn but twinges of lifelong aches
distract me as I limp away

One season on to the next
summer to autumn does not delay
Old am I to winter sad and gray
familiar its final numbing fade

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