Cast aside hastily
it snakes through dirty blonde grass
useless now.
The black
graying
the green
zombified.
It makes shapes that remind me
of ice skating.
some hidden magic
in the slice of ice.
I could turn the spigot
only a few feet away
and bring to it a life of purpose,
but then
all meaning it has would be sacrificed
to those that already spend their lives in the sun.
I want to scream
to yell out against the wind
to accost the world before me
condemn those responsible
curse myself too,
I can’t.
I want to rage
to lash out against that stone wall
to become violence upon the leeches
take by force my fair share
fight for life until death
I can’t.
I want to collapse
to fold on myself in despair
to make myself small
diffuse into the static background
become less than what is needed
I can’t.
I want to live honestly
to breathe the fresh air of clarity
to rest on the laurels of defined purpose
move through the world without restraint
act as the situation dictates
I can’t.
I can’t in this climate
so I’ll just wait
…
What prizes satin words afford!
our foreign ears made to boiling
with those that dine on finer things
describing our future delights
in fly by night campaign speeches.
Not David, but Goliaths chord
booms over the gathering throng
praising what god is left to us.
The world razed, we in its ashes,
they tell us that we are adored,
that they are umbilical cords
feeding us and making us strong.
The hollow message would echo
if the acoustics weren’t so wrong
resonating against the horde.
Insecurities long ignored
now awoken and brought along
to territories unexplored
carried away by sirens song
to rage and die on their own swords.
I felt love
the twisted turmoil of Jovian clouds
though closer than ever before
still far enough away to look like
cream colored dresses on a coffee stage
young dancers in promenade
a layered cake performance
rehearsed a million times before its premiere
I felt love
now that we were so near
that the universe had become more tangible
our vision more defined
our futures free to explore new borders.
I felt love
knowing all that came before
all those bright minds focused on a single goal
all the world in collaboration
living an alien life beyond the one we know.
Dissect the segments into manageable bits
where they fit together, pull apart
see how they bend, break and walk.
How, as a unit, they function
to become part of a greater whole.
Now, examine where you come into this.
Has your totality served some purpose?
What motions have you made?
In what places have you fractured?
Where have you found yourself contorted?
So examined, can you pull yourself together?
All of this in concert is terrifying
as an avalanche rushing down
eager for violent embrace,
but apart – tis no more than falling snow.
It is the act of knowing a thing that makes it small;
not the crushing of it beneath heel.
Such violence will only stick with you
harder to clean off with every step.
Seek instead the kindness of curiosity,
find in it the courage to be greater;
and learn enough of yourself to know another.
Who –
who
are the wires attached to
those dangling strings must end on limbs
loose now, but most times taught
bringing to heel those movements transposed
imposed
by a handler at the other end
[rhapsody]
Who –
who’s joy are we seeing?
the puppets joy can be inferred from context
an elaborate event, well staged
but just above their head a storm cloud of strings
like tentacles grasping from sea floor rocks;
there is danger in this kind of truth.
Who –
who would concede so easily
and not follow their suspicions to the puppeteer?
Surely this rhapsody is theirs.
they move the strings to the songs they sing
bringing the puppet to life,
though when the wires die,
so too the light in their eyes
for the mind within is troubled.
Who –
who then is rhapsody?
is it anybody or nobody?
The mirage of a destiny we wish to manifest
from either end of those strings.
Why go planting rocks to build walls
when all you want is the space between?
The borders we design around ourselves
we hope will limit us to a successful path
advancing past options that otherwise distract.
The walls that line the road ahead
lead everyone down beneath the ground dead.
The way forward is a dream of the people
the sleepless nights of the nation
and the slumbering horror of the ego.
Venture forward no longer, enjoy the empty moments;
forward is inevitable, let it come to you.
Pursue instead the present, hunt it down
track it through the vibrations of entropy
and subdue it beneath the canopy of mortality;
that dark carapace that keeps us writhing.
The victory may cost you success
but it will birth in you the knowledge
of what success really is.
Cut outs moving like vaudeville
through tiny slits of reality
thin sliced, deli cut life.
Come see the show
but you should know
the show is all you’ll see;
The surface of an ocean
shimmers with the light of the sun
but it is neither.
The cutouts, void on paper
run together as shadows
yet they are neither.
For paper was once whole
and the ocean is steeped in history
lives are lived beyond the periphery.
Though we can never see what lies within
without ourselves diving in
taking the risk to live unguided,
Sometimes it’s nice to just sit and watch
these figures dancing through frames
the sun dewed water pulling at the sand,
sometimes it is nice enough to live
and let live
to be done for the day.
This is the end;
an end.
yet, I know,
there is no end, really.
This end is just perspective.
An innate desire to lock the world down
within the parameters of my life.
Those walls are thin.
Grow Gray With Me 