art is about life / life is about art

Human Being Disorder

Dear Doctor,

I’ve got a problem.

I have these emotions, you see. 

I get upset and fall apart when someone mistreats me. 

I can’t sleep at night if I’ve had a rough day.

I need love, and without it, I sometimes lose my way. 

Doctor, please help me. I need something new. 

Each time I lose a loved one, I lose my serene view. 

I sometimes get headaches if someone’s on my case;

and I sometimes have nightmares that sunlight can’t erase. 

Doctor, some days I’m listless. Sometimes I need a rest. 

Sometimes I feel withdrawn, but sometimes I’m a pest. 

I care about my neighbors, I care about my friends,

God help me, I even care about refugees and orphans.  

These cares, they form my misery; I wish I didn’t feel. 

Please give me something small and round, to help my conscience heal. 

I don’t want to hurt like this; I wish I didn’t care. 

I wish when I saw suffering, I didn’t stop and stare. 

I’d rather be a robot; I’d rather be a drone. 

I wish that I could look the same, but inside, be a clone.  

Oh Doctor, please repair me.  My feelings have no border. 

I feel, I cry, I think, I try…. it’s Human Being Disorder.


Sept 29, 2007


I’m simple.

never knew it before

but now I see that I’m no more

complicated than a summer’s day

or ice cream the old-fashioned way

or sunlight streaming through the trees

or falling down to scrape your knees.

I’m jealous of the summer sky

and I don’t know the reason why

but I just wish that I could gaze

lovingly down through the haze

at all that sits here on the earth

and never even knows its worth.

I love someone

it’s very true,

that someone is all of you.

but someone special, I have too.

And he has eyes like skies of blue

It’s simple, not something to fight

Even if we part tonight

And go our separate ways around

this earth, so very big and round…

This love remains, as does the rain

And it’s not sad or full of pain

but simple and sweet like sugar cane

growing shyly in the ground

a heaven in the lost and found

it’s OK that you’re not around

This feeling quietly abounds.

Let’s not pull apart the sky

or track down God to ask him why…

Appreciate a summer dream

A velvet violin-played theme

Don’t miss me, dear

for I’m still here

Just sugar cane and ice cream.

But you’ll find soon a better day

A mountain climbed, a better way

and you won’t regret it

when you say

goodbye to me

the simple way.

-Lane Eddington

May 6 2007


I would rather have
a seed
from an oak tree, or a redwood
than a vine of morning glory
which winds itself around me…
blooms quickly
and then moves on to wind itself
around another.

the seed from the oak
would need to be planted
in good, moist earth.
it would grow slowly
and for a long time
it would not look like much.

But one day it would be tall enough
to reach its branches to the sky
and shade me with its huge boughs.

And one day, stronger still, I could build
a home up in its branches.
The home would be held in its strength
and never be shaken by storms, or winds.

The tree would grow taller and taller until,
when I climbed to the top,
I could see all the stars in the sky.
It would never flower, like the morning glory
but it would be strong
for all of my life
and give to me, in ways
you could not imagine, for they are not
the things of love songs and poetry.
But they are things
that someday, I will desperately need
and cherish above all others.

If you love me
do not dazzle me with small beauties
and heavens made in a day.
I do not wish to be dazzled.

I have seen blazing stars crash into the earth
and burn themselves out-
And the most beautiful crystal has turned to sand at my fingertips.
And I do not need tiny vines bound around me
to wrap so quickly and squeeze too tightly,
and then just as quickly,
tire of me and die.

I wish to have a small seed
which I can nurture, too
and bless it with my caring hands
deep into the earth
so it can grow
taller and stronger
than any other.

If you love me..
love me with distance
love me with earth
love me with time.

do not send me to summer lands filled with jewels
I have no need for jewels,
for they do not give one a home.

I am not a jewel.
I am a seed, you see.
Plant me…
and I will grow
slowly at first.
And if you give me sunshine
and water
and a good home in the ground
I will grow to where I can
shelter you
and hold you
and be there for you
like sturdy branches
like reaching arms
like deep roots within the earth
standing tall and keeping still
swaying only a little with the breeze…

-Lane Eddington
June 14 2007

Snow Day

A muse is like a book that

only appears when you are

Moved by stillness. 

The pages of this book

are fragile, old paper that I can turn slowly.

My life has felt like a broken VCR,

Stuck in fast-forward. 

The snow falls outside, blanketing my concerns and my worries. 

The pace of the slanted raindrops 

seem to say: “Calm yourself. There is time.”

The blanket of white that has

Taken ownership of our city says, 

“stay here. Sleep. Reset.”

There is a cycle to nature 

A cycle where the crinkled thoughts of yesterday

The sharp rattle of worries and the jabs of deadlines

Become like quiet sleeping children 

In snowsuits, curled up after a day’s play.

I strive as hard as I can

To be better, faster, always keeping up.

I am relentless.

I don’t give myself space

Until the sky says,

“It’s time to remember yourself.

You are an artist, remember? 

You are a poet. 

You are not just a tornado of productivity.  

Please, be kind to yourself today.”

I sit and look at my kitchen

Listen to the dishwasher swishing

Like a tiny troupe of tap dancers…

I feel my breathing

I drink orange juice

I am calm, but I fear coming

To a complete stop.

What is the optimum motion?

What is the value of rest?

What is balance?

Is too much exuberance bad?
Is exuberance good? 

I am a mess of warring adjectives.

I know one thing…

The world stops turning when

It has something to tell you. 

What I’ve heard is:

Be grateful for your life

Be grateful for others 

And their resilience

Appreciate the water

And the ice

And one more day

Of this incredible life.

Snow Day


Now I have no fear

now my eyes are open wide—

now you disappear.

the end of summer


I’m tired of the great, full moon;

I’m bored with cricket’s song

I can’t withstand more roses;

the summer’s been too long.


It’s very well to love someone

it’s very well to yearn…

but after months with no relief

it’s getting time I learned.


There’s no peace to be found in this

though sunshine flirts each day…

that scented breeze is just a tease

for what will fly away.


I’m too old to be stargazing

I’m too wise to have faith

This spirit of forever shows

It’s only just a wraith.


The passion’s grown and done with

like grasses green turned brown

It’s time you loved another.

it’s time I left this town.


The pastures are too green for me

I long for winter’s chill

to hold me close, a long, cold night

because I’m sure it will.




Original Poem and photo by Lane DiBlasi Copyright 2019


You said for me to trust you.

So I did.  Put my arms around

Your waist and closed

My eyes-

Sparks and Ferris wheels-

Ice cream and fresh green grass

Flashed in my mind

For you were sweet

As sleeping late on a Sunday

And deep as the sky

I drowned in the possibility

Of your eyes

Until I realized

My life

Was compromised.



Copyright Lane Diblasi

Photo credit: Lane Diblasi


The Traveler

He travels through an endless sea of time

Behind the scenes, a thing of disbelief

To right the wrongs and set the world in line

So human beings can reach their destiny.


The sailor sails, the pilot flies, and he

Walks through the ages, undetectable

He’s not alive or dead, deliberately

He changes fates while being untraceable.


To human beings, this may seem divine

Or to the others, scientific fact

That wishes, prayers and hopes resolve in time

Despite the absence of an earthly act.


Of course, I’m speaking of the only One

That made the Stars, the Planets and the Sun.




-Copyright Lane Diblasi 2-18-19




Rain comes down and drenches the earth. 

Dirt turns to mud.

Things get messy. 

Water penetrates the soil and touches dry roots.

Water is absorbed.

 From here, change happens. 

From destruction, creation can be done. 

From mud…. life begins. 

Let it rain.

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