Immature thoughts that make more sense than a lot of the things I was taught growing/frowning up in government schools in the Midwest. Before I took the time to regret, I wrote a bit, here it is.
Please don't take all this seriously
Nor as a joke
Just take it, read it
And save the serious contemplation
for choosing the destination of your vacation
and other leisurely concerns
Murder on these dead streets laughs
And ambition bucks his horn while seduction whistles out the window of her big red pick-up truck
This green world spins quietly, and people are strange, with too much invested but not enough to gain
I don't need to chase my dreams cause they've already come, I just have to sing this song all night long
And how do they say: "Be careful what you wish for"?
What will you do when the sun rises and your stomach is full?
Then it’s high time to catch the visions, and sit with them again
Tasting the air and sensing the room’s every movement
What begins without is born again within
Time never finishes its half of the puzzle
So take a walk and dance down the street
For you'll be back again soon enough
I.
How many imaginary orgies have I had?
With groups of teenaged girls, men, old ladies, inopportune, inappropriate and unappetizing, yet my imagination grabbed a hold of their beauty, my imagination wrapped around their glowing fleshy bodies, my imagination took them in anonymity, and everyone got off in the end, which came as quickly as it went, a passing glimpse into the heart's recess, that hole that's only ever filled with the light which shines from heaven.
II.
The desire that reaches out into the night has no taste, it poorly hides the coward, it emboldens the fool, and amidst great fanfare announces the deepest secrets to dull unfocused minds-- that desire which promises satisfaction, though in essence expresses discontent most potently: we'll never stop hearing the call of sidewalk howlers enticing us with low prices for "the best in town", but what comes cheap proves to be worth the price, and the hidden tax is time.
III.
Too close to the woods to burn what we've slowly become, our future becomes a rationalization, an online payment, a swipe of plastic. Our future is overfilled with "smart things", with thoughts that were thought of "ahead of time", but where is the life amongst pre-made dreams?! Where is the life amongst a clear path to a clear goal?! Our future is too aware of us, and we are not aware enough of this breath, of this sound, of THIS. Our future is not our dream, our dream is the future. The zeal given by dreams, that zest, it drives us forward through ourselves and into tomorrow and others. Our life is specific to space and time, and we work to define it. Work is our sacred fire, purifying us through heat, ash, sweat and warmth. "Home is where my feet feel warm" says R.L., and I understand that home follows us if we are strong enough not to look for it, if we are resilient enough to only bask in it between battles. We fight for what's just beyond our grasp against the excess of the present-- piled high and rotting in our faces-- climbing a mountain of trash each and every second we dare to face it.
IV.
But what of the delirious, the sleepless, the forgetful, the fearful? Thinking of them now is an excuse to deviate, make note of that.
This restaurant plays to the slick-willy in all of us, food you can't pronounce, funny forks, odd plates, heavy knives, filled with the first ladies of places I can't see or touch, men who ride cigars and write checks which could build neighborhoods, and all their attending peasants, a swirl of evening dreams which cash out too early and miss the big play- hope I duck and slide through the cracks of this musical drama, before the trees all die, before they tear it all down
Anyone who knows me and reads this will surely laugh, and in laughter I'll join them, for we've already filled cases of evenings with wry laughs, and terse giggles. The real joke is on our teachers who took their job seriously anyways.
When did we fall in love so sneakily?
Both in love with your boyfriend
Me for his camaraderie
You for his comfort amongst the artists you will soon join
Both our hands speak the same story of separation
And our lives groan the same ache of expression
Mixed race, American culture and much to prove to our self
Isn't it better to simmer down?
To let this story write itself?
Forgiving the excited writer of personal history and just believe in ourselves
It’s enough to believe in each other
That we'll both be true to our self regardless of passing endeavors and utter forays into conscious love-making and desire-ending
Let's keep an umbrella grip on our desire until it rains miracles and we can bathe in freedom, naked and unashamed
All three in perfect harmony
What I begged for tonight, I'll have limited interest in tomorrow
That is the nature of desire, it doesn't stick around
And it doesn't satiate, it barks, it sneezes, it watches television
It is on demand
We’re just a blink away from sleaze
Identity obscured
Everything is immediate, especially the drive, this road
Even in this moment the finger falls and the ink sinks down and engraves
Now
The Buddha was right about what
Jesus was right about why
Jimi Hendrix was right about how
Some speak truth and others demonstrate it
Beyond right and wrong and time and perspective the truth burns through the atmosphere of our minds and gives us cancer of the soul
We proceed numb until the volition to cut it out bubbles up through hypocrisy,
pain and contradiction
We can no longer see our reflection save the distorted Image offered by vanity, so we stop looking and seek what's internal (thank God) and many games of cat and mouse follow
I run from myself, I chase after my self, this cycle can purify or petrify
This truth can liberate and destroy
But the truth sits bored on the fence waiting for the end of the world to sweep up the mess and balance out the scene
Or, until a man/a woman can again stand the sight of it in broad daylight
That's a long time coming
We see the truth in a stranger and build a case against them
We see it in ourselves and repent
We see it in the world and attribute it to chaos
We hear it in the wind and our hair stands on end and..... the blame falls flat
The punishment, the redemption acts, all deflate because they are filled with hot air
Bullshit is offloaded, uploaded, it's banked on and passed off as art
It is fed to our children in schools along-side cow's milk and relativism
Einstein is summed up in an easy to remember and unfathomable equation
Conquerors are made heroes and artists degenerates
Philosophers are neutered, their conclusions clipped with their intent
And we are proud of these snuffs
Because they protect an innocence never present but wished for to mask the ugly beauty this world holds out and offers us
But we spit in our food, we poison our drinks, and eat plastic popcorn watching flashy advertisements falling asleep before the end and waking up bloated, confused, with bad breath and no clue, in the hole and still grinding
It's never again now, as truth snips words and images from our life story to make a collage of his shadowy brother, the lawyer of everything else, smiling
And as time passes… I would ask, why? (enough)
Where to begin?
Up through my mind, up through the night, clearing a path for almost any desire worth garnering
Smoothly penetrating the silk purse in which are made deposits of ideas of love and bloodlines in delight
The unending pursuit of what I need to want
The lust for what I want to need
The power of sex, drugs, and mammon
The earth laid with the moon to juice the sun for some more light
And I'm surprised you didn't recognize your own embarrassment while looking in the eyes of someone who loved you more
Someone who loved you truly
But you failed to notice your “love” passes like wine, straight through, and pissed out
Left to drink for next-in-line, downstream gulping by the handful
The sweet and cramp-inducing romantic, primal, tender, sexual, formal, engaging
And remarkably thirst-creating potion of desire, of longing, of want
This coveting brought out by the fear of life being all that is dreamed of
Which is held as ideal, that would-be, could-be perfection
What fear it is then, loathing the best possible outcome!
But as all livers of life can attest
Pain reminds us of what can go wrong when expectations are met with rejection, failure, and regret
The fire burns and I'll freeze to death
Red wells filled with the blood of not-letting-go
Jealously and shame kept stinking in the sun for the recognition of human-sized flies which buzz and lay eggs for maggots to come and eat the best
Later to grow into life-sized pests
We house the mating grounds for all this when we see him or her to love instead of God to love
“God I love. God I love her. I love him God, at least I think I do….”
And these filthy-rich plots are laced in bundles and smuggled as large breasts in movies and big cocks which increasingly flash across the screen
The story goes: What was called love, what was banked on as love, what was invested in as love, was really just a lesson to learn and something to know to get in someone's pants
Love was the weapon, love was the pacifier, love was the sex toy, love was the lived-out fantasy
(Instead of: love the selfless, kind, honorable, humble, patient, pure, strong, tough, faithful, hope-filled, and resilient)
So...... not love
Not really
That is for sure
Then the eternity starts now
Now that I'm not waiting for something which isn't present
Today is like the first day of school, no one is absent
The blond woman L snores loudly through the wall
The pot smells through plastic and brown paper waiting for medicinal use by a recovering cancer patient
My roommate groans violently as if possessed and winning a grappling contest with the parasite
Blues music from 1927 makes its way head-first through the room
The night air outside is filled with the gentle lilt of bugs
The window mediates professionally as well as personally on nights like this
Further out the train passes by loudly, carrying away with it the guy asking the questions, the guy collecting answers
Answers that didn't add up to what she wants or what he has, answers
Never did I stop to ask in the past if I really, really needed answers
Or, if maybe my questions and the world was enough
I can hear through the static and see through the snow
I can feel sound pulsating
The vacuum pulling and pushing, propelling us
My stillness is matched with movement
Balance came not in the way presented to children, but as few humans ever truly appreciate
It came through heartbreak, hungry afternoons, massive headaches, and great volumes of effort
To overcome these and more with integrity and fidelity, I learned
Battles lost and old wounds irritated, I came up past loss and well
Declined the champion position, to keep the peace
I prefer to stay in my place, my skin and shoes
I recognize every face and feel myself with each move
To describe this state is measured folly, but I can certainly point and laugh myself jolly
Checking in, checking out, start-stop, begin
I don't know and I won't be the one doing
I'll be present and listen to the aging of voices
Wishing I could play harmonica real good
Counting my blessings
When we were married with cornflakes
Then the foot fit the slipper
When we would walk in the nighttime
Then in love 'neath the dippers
When we counted days, weeks, and hours
Then was your love on the dime
When it turned in due season
Then my heart burned red prime
When I look at you these days
Then as now am I faced
With the everlasting love which
Can never fade away
It breathes eternity and whispers your name
The woman's waist draws in the man's
Chest is a safe haven to rest
But neither can find a home amidst
These moving bodies which ultimately resist
Stasis and the soul is free until
Promises are spilled lukewarm and cling upon
Two too many things in the other whose
Own dreams are sacred, a continuation
A bloodline of beauty to borders
Criss-crossed and unreturned, love sews
Clothe stitched upon our hearts
Can we see each other yet?
Not quite through this veil
Bat eyes
Developed over time
Invited in
Where to begin?
Feces stink
Margins wide
Buckets leak
Juries hung-dried
Bacon crackles
Moon slow rise
Feelings spent
All heard fine
Gin peach free
On the sly
Blinking lights
Kept inside
Something honest
Just to unwind
Funny premise
Bat eyes
I don't believe in your kingdoms
And I don't see a secular world
The religion, the politics, all fall short
Came into the garden thirsty
And found truth in the waters
Stumbled upon wisdom and remembered myself
Dreamt of another person
Whom I could love and hold closely
And felt life more fully as the sun set behind
Every time a new height is tickled
We hold our breath
Just for moment, just to see our self
Let the image crash down and play out
Entire operating accounts freeze and bounce
Ceaseless joy and bad news have the same speed dial, why?
The thrill, the open wound, the pain, confusion, lane changes, desires checked
Withdrawal and over-drafting, misses, and resisting all forms of arrest
I once understood what I'm trying to forget
I used to have a hold on this place
I used to know that more is less, payouts, taxes, feelings bereft
Common knowledge hit the ceiling and science moved against
All cruelty, history's minions caved in on life's best guests
The attempts to snuff are endless, but so are the reprieves
Time is there to carry the weight, the world sways with the breeze
Hurrah yells the callers forth of worship day and night
No other service in its place to see our world in right light
On giant's shoulders roared forth big ideas
Older men betting fortunes in glory which young men strained to get
In pieces, installments for grunt work, experience, loyalty, favors
Some of which are true, most of which are false
False experience is dead-end time spent
Wasted on peanuts, pissed out in dirty bar bathrooms, forgotten in strangers’ homes
False loyalty is prostitution
The body and energy sold for less than its pricelessness, a misappropriation of self worth, waste
False favors asked without thankfulness, done without dignity, and then passed on without mutual respect
No one engages consciously in these lowly ways, but the struggle to see beyond these avenues and discern a better way is daunting, is discomforting, and is difficult
Compromise begins by not hoping for better
Truth offers hope, understanding, and awareness
Truth does not push aside subtlety and separate good and bad automatically
Nor does it rush to mute the suffering of others without listening first
Nor does it necessarily dull the pain inside
True hope is not starry eyed, is not candy-coated, it is unwavering, confident, and realistic
True understanding is not biased, is not invested, it is wide open, unblinking, and tough
True awareness makes no judgement, makes no sound, and cannot be separated from the present
Any attempt to become aware outside the present is delusion and leads to confusion, let this inform the rest
Staring into space, the seer views the self, and that recognition grows as any relationship can if peppered with truth, unclouded by falsities, and viewed by eyes lit with love
If past actions are seen in an unfavorable light, in intent and/or outcome, then awareness is offering insight
And if that insight is met with willingness to see one's shortcomings in addition to successes, then awareness blossoms into understanding
And if self-knowledge is gained in understanding and allows wisdom to guide future decisions and actions, then a strong foundation for hope has been built
And with wisdom, understanding, and awareness can hope be taken with confidence, nimbleness, and sobriety into the world and utilized to inspire a similar spiritual transformation in others
The doorway for all these things is love, love as a smile, love as selfless living, love as faith
Love comes from and through God, as do we
Conductors of love
Rain, no rain but wind
Continuously blowing the clouds stay still
A different plane, different air planes
I stand and sit but still ride unknowing
Bigger stations pulling larger physical payloads of power
Charging by the hour this atmosphere's ambience
Filled with our nature and our myths
Sometimes overcrowded, sometimes in need of a lift
Obsessed with the world as if it were far away
Occupying the place between actions and imaginings each day
Curiosity reaches coyly to bat these wandering visions
And life plays the friction like a needle in the groove spinning
Each hesitation leaves a trail behind of lost love or passion
And every foray into lust, desire, and want, brings life lessons
This in-between, bird's nest of observation
Is remarkable at best and serves as inspiration
Believe in karma and belief in fate too
For, ever patient and non-forgetting is destiny's face waiting for you
Tonight, as always
Bat eyes
Horseshoe clips
Remedies clandestine
Burger flips
Sunday morning drives
Conversation slips
Morose verbose guys
Kedwellian cargo ships
Skinny ties
Ex-bellhop lapels
Florida politickles
Elementary physics
Hot pizza french fries
Winston cigarettes
Beach volleyball buses
Ornery kitchen maids
Floral basket sets
Rebar breakfast
Bat eyes
Bat eyes
Nuclear winter
Feathery carpet ride
Weather consternation
Behoove me a minute
Jelly Roll Morton
Ex-pheasants flutter
Time-share delinquents
Friend's house dinner question
Shared common sense
Funny way to say
Sweet potato scent
Mastodon werewolf braying
Cheap movie seats
Lame canned beets
Last week's thoughtful flowers
Eleventh grade's lost hours
Reservation's current parade
The last attempts to appear remade
Bat eyes
Can't move when it's cold
Afraid of skin cracking
Afraid to feel numbness
She would feel awkward
And I would know too much
But her sweet young skin smell lingers in the room
The moment passed, let go ‘cus I know better
‘Cus I'd rather not hurt the world with lust though it'd feel good to come
But leaving with guilt and shame and consequence would burn, me too
Reshaping misshaped objects is funny business, yet also the best way to learn
To live, synonymous with that whole pattern, layers of plaid and stripes
Monochromatic colors clashing solid against denseness and hard angles
All washed in a bath of light, when our toes let us jump in and swim, free flight
Inside our demanding frightened childishness, we hide from everyone who doesn't love us
We kick and scream in tantrums with those who care
We reject true love for pain because of this intangible guilt we carry but pretend isn't there
Our pink elephant giant gorilla
Gotta scream at that beast
Tell it to get out, go to the beach, and get a tan
Take a permanent vacation from place holding
From casting a shadow across the working brow
Truth and awareness do this, they crush the cockroach
Smushed and smashed, smeared and cleaned up and forgotten
No more pest, one less thing right?
Lesson learned but still living, good
Parody
Do you mind me laying in your bed?
Trying for all this time to connect
Fresh details in potions undercover
Spread, untraceable deadly elixirs
Rubbed into skin and left cooling
Dried off, significantly reducing the risk of days
And ghastly little men waving invisible sticks
Focused on that place apart
I'm not familiar with it all yet
Thoughts better left untranslated
Cruise ship snoring, violent heartfelt regret
Air-conditioning like software
Hard to process
I'll call back
Some people process thoughts with their faces
Animated cognition, pink flowers glistening
Lost comfort brings sights and sounds within, out
This beautiful world attending
This gross world, perverse and full of mirth, goodly and mysterious
Experience a buffet of sensual treats, man, see them women
Fine, firm, not real but real
Not mine, but me too
Each and every one
Many types, on the mall
The food, the wine
Each king and queen of may-be
Walking along
Lincoln Road this evening
Staring at street corners, empty at night
Passing the few bus riders now and again, down the stark road
I'm waiting for a bus of sorts
Some commune of solitary dreamers
Moving together, traveling individual pathways
My seconds count as debt
The distance is credit
In love, in lust, out of touch, spent
The joy in life I had in the breath
This process, this dance, the closest we get
This moment, this world, soon to forget
A woman in a pink shirt squinting in the sun through her glasses
Looking for seafood in the ocean, caught up in all the fish
Swallowed by the whale after voluntarily jumping ship
Sun’s familiar spots stood in to reflect
Light which opens sight and light which causes death
Oh but the tragedy is not only in death but in life as well
And the justice needed is inside written, served and met
So fair lady sing with me, and rejoice long hair and stretch
A poet finds the pen again, and a singer finds a belt no less
Addressed, sent forth, and found
The timing temperament, feelings abound
Where was the reader when the writer was writing down?
Where is the writer while the reader reads aloud?
Words of passion, words of pain
Writhing forth in agonized phrase
Doubt and gossip, swirling froth
Accompanying underpinning loss
In the moment struck red hot
In an instant turned to rot
Compost seeping through the mail
Nothing worse the nose does tell
Refuse left to fester and swamp
Communication in a dump
So dear writer grab your pen
Address the ones you love again
Do so with a joyous heart
This is where a letter starts
Laughter sealed and pressed into
The hand, the mind, of one or two
The best gifts can't be asked for proud
But received with humility, covered in shroud
So dear writer stretch forth your mind
Dream of gifts to send in time
Stockpile all that brings a smile
And dole it out when timing's right
Never fear dear reader, trust your eyes
Then you’ll see with great surprise
Known, the words are just for you
Take them, taste them, do the do
My salvo
My intent
My pathway
My anger
My regret
My fatigue
My lies
My respect
My integrity
My coping
My self
I’m free
The American dream is material
And I'm trying to get a hold of my own
Filtering out my impurities, I think
Striving towards a better self, home
Even when I throw myself towards
A false ideal, truth I am shown
Protected by angels, kept real, on the brink
The more I see, the less I know
None can explain or be told, so
This muffled epiphany stays put
The wind carries stories to my ears
The breeze carries women through my mind
The message grows into my life
And rises in time like yeast in dough
Less and less to say for me
More and more for others to hear
A few leftovers no one would eat
A few hollows behind the mirrors
Each and every one
With their own laugh
Their own stories
Their own death
Cars and gas and oil forever
'Til time renders all to dust once more
Money is power and men are greedy for both
But false is that power, it is just power to kill and to stifle
Real power is invisible, unspoken, and fearless
See those who cling fearfully to their life lose it
And see those who lay aside their earthly cares receive heaven on earth
When we are cold we cover ourselves and rest
Friends and family, comforters to keep us warm
The heat comes from relaxing underneath layers of security
Wrapped in this, eventually the body will respond and begin to generate its own warmth
Healing time
This day, this night so still
I notice the tickle of guilt trickling
When I decide to stay home and soak things in
Silent house, darkness, clarity
An artist's dream yet my emotions try fighting
Oh hubris, oh small child inside
Afraid to be alone, afraid to grow and not know
Unknown exploration, unseen meditation
The world outside windows with no curtains
Whether looked at or not still turns
Desire will be unsatisfied
Desire for something not present
Expectation hurts
Expecting the present to stay static
Attachment burns
I'm not Buddhist, but the guy had some good points
Ever eat your own puke??
Festival train, festival train
An image of you recalls the sound you made
Early morning rolling in, rolling out the same
Carrying dreams and illusions, carrying men and women of those trades
Bringing new lights to see, new smells and tastes
How many summers I stayed awake for a hint, a glimpse
Longing for excitement and thrills immense
Ever longing to find eyes searching the crowd that matched my own ambition
And so many years I lived, passion rocking the rails
To see performers lost, left behind in distant fields
Kisses sold and hearts burst, apprehension too, and what’s worse
Fights, knives, back-room deals, it’s all part of the show, it’s all entertainment
Especially to the victim who pays willingly, admission
Who is taken by the great unknown, enraptured, and then twice bitten
Only the drunks really get what they came for, cheap booze, just cheap booze
All others are bait and switched, fed full on wonder, and then bemused
Hit with a lighter coin purse, an empty billfold first
The second hit felt with age and life’s wisdom much too late
So many years chasing that train, all of them a waste
The pride of the little old man
Who is cleaning the outside of
This gas station
Hits me in a language I don't understand
He is probably Puerto Rican