Sour Mash Doubts

Doubts and guilt, doubts and will

I want a bout with honesty, but still

It ain’t right that I write only to share,

so I walk ‘til I’m naked, alone, and scared

 

Working on a world made up of lines

a jagged sawtooth, I am dusty hammer tines

aging slowly, rusting like nails in the times

relevance buried in the “who, what, where, why?”

 

I watch you succeed, I watch you spiral and fail

I watch you unbridled, through a window unveiled

This whole time, we thought our calling had sailed

It was tomorrow we were following, on road & on trail

 

Yesterdays poem becomes todays advice,

biting me in the ass, these words I read twice,

You counted the cards ‘n I loaded the dice

Who could expect an asshole to play nice?

 

Every bee stung me, walking to the hive

I can tell you that I’m lucky to be alive

Back on battlegrounds we strive to survive

Us crossing lines, so quick to chance lives

 

I chamber a round, ‘cus death shoots hollows

Most men just want a war drum to follow

To give them some honor, sacrifice, and bravado

warping the story ‘til each man is Picasso

 

The drones are marching through sweltering heat

While others dodge illusion and deceit

They see a carpet crawling, rats up to their knees

Fighting for a feast while spreading disease

 

One beer at a time, one breath at a time,

Wasting money, it’s peace I can’t buy-

Could you spare a little peace of mind?

Or else cut a line and pour me some wine

 

If you accept my conditions of suffering,

I’ll accept myself and everyone else

I am my own hostage, couldn’t you tell

Pay my ransom or throw me in the well!

 

Envious of those who grow rich beyond riches

knees grow weary, digging penniless ditches

Rolling the bowl, inhale both genie & wishes

Life is joke between three laughing witches

 

Mash in the chamber, I am the changer

my experiences distilled be the only remainder,

Gulping and splashing drops upon strange anger

sharing libation and handshakes with strangers

 

I walk in the woods to stalk a truth I can kill

I’ll beat it and twist ‘til it lies naked & still-

kill or be killed, fulfilling a beast of will

We’ve got a full bottle and I’m a-cooking still

 

My song is a fly humming through wide open blue

My darling is a harp, playing faithfully and true

My heart is a snake, made of flesh and sinew

We left the apple on the limb, and a new tree grew.

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A Sheltered Heart

 

A sheltered heart lives

As an inmate of the chest

But through a slit comes light

For the songs of all things blessed

 

 

A sheltered heart is safe

From the ache of the outer call

Yet it knows not itself

Nor why it exists at all

 

 

A sheltered heart contemplates

And grows beyond all doubts

The space between walls shrinks

In joy, the heart cries out

 

 

A sheltered heart longs

For a world beyond the walls

But it knows not how to escape

Nor why they were built at all

 

 

A sheltered heart moans

And blames the other ones

Yet the etchings on the walls

Only this heart could’ve done

 

 

A sheltered heart learns

The origin of its pain:

The design for the cage

Were made in its own name

 

 

A liberated heart sacrifices

Protection to be free

A gift, well-deserved

And trusted unto thee

Who is Society?

Who is society? (A Subjective Coalescence with the Living Object of Society)

 

While contemplating the concept of society, I often forget to consider myself a member. Society is a living, breathing, and constantly changing aggregate of economies and entities. Forgetting this, I envision myself as an observer, somewhere high above the petri dish of humanity. In doing so, I sterilize all learning with the immature habit of disconnected reflection. I avoid the dust of the world so as not to get my hands dirty.

I don’t want to take responsibility for the ill effects of industrialization & globalization. Dirt is inevitable. I’ll effortlessly purchase throwaway cell phones, receive goods in plastic containers, burn fossil fuels for travel, & spend US Dollars.

In avoiding major sources of societal expansion, my sense of pride tells me I am making a difference. Through this feeling of pride, there arises an idea: I’m not like them. I am not better or worse but I am certainly different from them. This type of thinking brings separation with it. Embracing separation from our environment denies a fundamental law: nothing exists separately.

This very idea of the rugged individual, I believe, is responsible for a dangerous disconnect. The individualist diverges their identity with the organized human form, creating a dualistic separation of organism and environment. This dualism leads to avoidance of the tough issues of life, mainly ethical & philosophical.

“I love man not the less, but nature more.” Lord Byron

Industrialized humanity has abandoned wild nature in favor of human nature. Human nature is a part of nature. I consider it to be inhibited, suppressed, in denial. Extending this to myself, I realize that I too, am those things. In me grows a resistance to accept the ultimate nature of society as it is, here & now. Living in a world of potentials and ideals, I sometimes miss the pragmatic counterweight of realism.

I feel a restless spite toward civilized humanity; at odds with some greater human entity. Denying benefits in favor of losses, focusing on ugliness rather than beauty, giving in to self-loathing before recognizing self-approval. If I am to take responsibility for my membership within “this”, how am I to feel? Rejecting society, living on the fringes is only an avoidance of the real problem: how do we cope with ourselves?

Through quiet acceptance, a door beyond intellect opens. Emotional states become unreliable. Just as thoughts, feelings are mere relative responses, not to be confused with ultimate nature. Soon the thought might arise: I am society.

All these things I am, in an ever-expanding fashion as all forms consistently dissolve into space. I am ultimately inexpressible. I feel myself filled with life, I feel myself decay. I see it everywhere, inside and out.

All mammals arising from the womb of a beautiful female, we share these experiences. I am not separate from life function & the cessation of life function and neither are you. We share this and we are this.

None of these ideas belong to anyone, as much as character doesn’t belong to anyone. They are collective reflections of influences, both inward & outward. They are gifts from society, just as much as our biological makeup is a gift from nature.

As a member of humanity & its greater idea of society, we are inseparable from the discoveries & failings of our members. We are able to share (or deny) these discoveries just as we contribute to the overall catalogue of evolution & decay.

We are these ideas. We are this ignorance. We are these inventions. We are this destruction. We are society.

“You never change things by fighting the existing reality. To change something, build a new model that makes the existing model obsolete.” R. Buckminster Fuller

Green Mountain, Grey Mountain

Sparrows & jays eat scraps of seed, competing for little. 
So much space to contemplate, gazing through the chilly blue expanse, ducking & curling around fiery autumn hills.

Between birches & berry brambles, a voice calls & comforts me, 

pulling homeward and bound to nowhere. 

I’d like to sit here all day and count leaves.

Family trees, friend trees, lover trees, enemy trees,falling bodies enrich fallow gardens.

Icy winds rip through, 

leaves everything bare;

Nothing stands past death.
Smiling near while some are far,

Gladly talking, taking time to notice 

one another.

If I missed you, I miss you, 

We’ll use a leaf as a tissue.
Sappy as the sweet shit that flows through maple trees, 

cool as a spring trickle 

whispering soft & serene, 

selling us peace at the cost of time.
❤

Working Title… Will Work For Clarity

Workingworkgettheworkdotheworkgetthatworkmakethatworkwork

I $ave the monie$ doing $hit I don’t really wanna do so I can do cool-a$$ $hit tomorrow. I spend working hours maintaining the distribution of awarene$$e$~

The hourglass in my wallet collects racks that are tracked by no watches, the moments are scoped without relativity, like grains of moments falling down a warped bottleneck of attentive grasping.

The passing time carries my cares under the bridge of regret and onward to lap the shores of silty revelation. These eyes watch the hills change during daylight, reminding that we live in a slowly melting painting.

Time is called money. I may not be clock wise, but I am subject to the same cycles as the everything.
Gravity and distance meet to dissolve all form, sleeping & creeping beautifully like a bloody red sun rolling behind deep ocean blues, there is no way to contain the need to feel, think, & do.

Conceptual hot air takes the winds from corporeal sails and leaves nothing more behind than a snails pace and trails of slime.
Are we living legacies or leaving them?

Destroying preconceptions is tough work, like sawing through sun-hardened driftwood roots to build a fire to cook on. I keep sawing and sawing ’til the sun goes down, the teeth on this small folding blade are becoming dull, my arms burn as I huff and puff, I wonder: is the effort I exert greater than the fuel I harvest?

Time is never wasted, but it can be utilized instead of fantasized.
For a perpetual daydreamer, this is a cornerstone to balance.

“Clarity is power.”

Rambly laymanphiloreligoslaughterosophy musing complete.

Love,
me

Soggy Remembrances

Fancy fellows follow one another, loaning lends to fires

Trend-setting jet-flying media-spying buyers

Swipe past faces, judgement erases complacency

What else can you do when you won’t let anyone know you?

synchronistic synapses siphon subjects

Typhoons lampoon typewriters, crescendoing nonsense 

following short punchlines with long cigarettes

That ship called “Friend” has sailed

What can you do when all the drunken sailors sober up?

The captain has a cap in captions, shafting daily rations

“Wise cracks will be met with a blithe smack

until the quality of labor improves!”

Stowed away until further notice,

Can’t follow tracks left in murky waters

Trace nothing in the shallows, undulating wellness pervades

Salty suits soiled in semen sing of soggy remembrances

…reduce reuse recycle culture…

composting inspiration / let art eat itself
I remember one time,
I was dumpster diving for roses
searching for salvaged love
seeking some soul reclamation
‘cus
matter is neither created nor destroyed
white trash
black trash
yin trash / yang trash
non-dual trash
this Earth is our trash CAN
get hip or get on
you are food for worms
walking meat bag
compost time bomb skeleton machine
can’t handle the funk?
then get outta the dumpster!
glorious bacterial lining of the largest intestine
human consciousness muscles squeeze out some shit
pass a movement
add some fertilizer
we drink moar coffee / we make moar shit
we make moar art / we make moar change
life is stinky & futile
and I like the way you smell
you rotten bitch
I love you

“In case no one told you today, you are a marvellous piece of the universe and this planet needs you on it.” -Some NewAgey Meme

“Needs” is a bit of a strong word… but you get the sentiment.

As a speck of dust on some park block of the universe,

I acknowledge being here,

co-dependently arisen.

bench and sitter share opposite ends of the same moment

as bum & bottle are one

panhandlers trade jokes for smokes

currency is punchline

man holding newspaper
sipping free trade coffee

eyes gaze on printed words.

words invented by man and for man

paper is milled down south

coffee is carried from overseas

the evolution of plants in our hands;

whose instructions do we receive to carry this on?

from plant? from man? who’s the boss here?

the subtle nature of collaborative chemistry

overlapping, interpenetrating

caffeine sparks the brain,

communicating molecules

stimulating desire

most countries who export it

can’t afford to drink it;
coffee & desire

If we can’t find reason to give thanks,

we can find reason to give love

‘cus life is painful enough without sharing some healing

if you could alleviate the troubles of a stranger,

knowing it wouldn’t save you,

would you?

clinging to agony begets more blood

not all bliss

and not all pain,

We are GI Joes & Barbie Dolls

left out in the rain

soon the kids’ll come home

strap bottle rockets to our backs

say “reach for the sky”

and fire us toward the sun

I am smiling ‘cus I know

this wild universe takes care of its own

*little bang*

Long-Winded Midnight Rant #36: Intrepid Emissions of Insanity

am I the only one
who feels justifiably insane
around the clock?

Hand me a language built on opposites
point and name the objects before me
explain how to explain explanations with more words
one word implies another, generally in terms of polarity
good references bad
we call this “rational”, “logical”, and “acceptable” on a relative level
as opposed to “irrational”, “illogical” and “unacceptable” on an ultimate level

this form of communication
doesn’t hold a greasy candle
to a hard look in the eyes
keep your eyes on the prize
(the prize is you)
and you are fucking gorgeous

But still, we don’t see it;
don’t breast feed the babies,
give ‘em the bottle.
Is there not a whining child beneath all these layers
just begging for Mother’s Milk?

I can’t even ask such things because
some sexually repressed cocaine addict
named Freud
made a whole bunch of assumptions
weighing massive burdens down on upon all.

no, I don’t want to fuck my mother,
I just want some goddamn milk!

for once in this whole wretched wheel of life
I want to feel
that I actually belong in this skin
to feel
that someone understands
feels
connects
loves without expectations

But no, fuck no, we can’t go there
it’s too much emotion, that boy needs therapy
it must be chemical imbalance, yeah that’s the one

Oh, thinks he’s talking with God?
He says he sometimes reads the thoughts of others?
He believes he can conceive past lives and future events?
We’ll just file those altered perceptions under the heading:
schizophrenia… yes, the old shizotypal personality disorder
unveiled by psychedelic drug use
and exacerbated  by preexisting mental illness;
fractured ego, that one
he won’t accept the name we gave him
he keeps saying he’s eternal
and laughs when we ask him to name it
Let’s twist his words and style him a self-declared messiah

Send me your finest shrink
I’ll box his head right in with mine
blow for blow,
they’re boxers, I’m wildstyle
I’ve been there before
I’m here again
and it reminds me of a joke:
a psych ward patient claims to be Christ in form
and the psychiatrist claims to be a doctor
and they each think the other is crazy

Onto the next one
she can’t hold tight,
hanging loose all over the place
feeling strong tides of emotion
screaming, laughing, crying
perhaps she is bi-polar?
Those pendulum swings are awfully extreme.
We live in the land of polar opposites
she’s acting out the madness
while polar bears drown in salty water
and Americans drown
in salty French fries and salty margaritas

Does anyone else feel this way or am I alone here?
anyone? how about this,

what the fuck
is in this so-called food
they serve in these institutions?
You know, hospitals, jails, state schools…

You ever work in a corporate restaurant, deli, grocery store and see how much good food gets tossed?

Does anyone feel the rumbling of  stomachs ‘round the world?
does anybody hear the rumbling of the tectonic plates beneath their feet?
do you feel the sun dancing down on your shoulders?
the rain singing misty songs of ebb & flow?
the songs of birds in the morning air, leading a magnificent example for us all?

And now I am expected to do something about this perfect mess.
ALL ON ME, right Dad???
Old Uncle Sam, chewin skoal and drinkin Budweiser,
you fat bastard.
Hey Lady Liberty,
you dusty old pregnant bitch,
have you got something up that dress we can use for this?

(On the real, no disrespect meant to the *real* lady liberty,
Cleopatra / Mary Magdelene
The real lady liberty is not a statue.
Check the history.
Cleopatra and Caesar, sitting in a tree
making a secret baby named
C-H-R-I-S-T
Gnosic Gospels have been discredited
because knowledge has been discredited
the word Gnostic
is derived from Gnosis
meaning, “to know”
as in “Gnothi Seauton”
“Know Thyself”)

Damn fucking straight, I’ve lost it, gone off, scattered the marbles.
I’ll be sorted out by morning, don’t worry about it.
Snowballs can make avalanches, folks. It all starts with awareness.

The air tastes like aluminum particles
Now, what the fuck was I doing again?
Oh right, back to Mother’s Milk
nectar of the universe:

Om Mani Peme Hung

losing life to petty things

life is lost over petty things
an argument at the bar
a knife in the ribs,
steel toes scatter bits of scalp and skull
across liquor-stained linoleum

petty human-conceived things,
like pride and respect
derange and rearrange us

life appears so cheap
until cancer diagnostics come back
malignant
and the bill is so steep;
maybe that’s the fiscal cliff
we’ve heard so much about

I’d fall off
if they push me
oh to fall away,

dangling from the edge
I’ve gone there once
and I’ll sure go again

I’ve seen the guy in the mirror
half-dead
watching who it hurts
most

We burned an eternity to learn
Hell is not a place you go;
it’s a place
you haven’t left yet