Wednesday, September 26, 2012

The sons

The sons of man love like bats
sporadically moving from kill to kill
twitch from the fly to the gnat
weave into a blood fat mosquito
they're all much the same
similar enough to require no names
even the desire for an exotic insect when obliged
is devoured, shat out, the cycle begun again.

Monday, September 24, 2012

To truly know another

To truly know another
is to comprehend the breadth of the universe,
to perceive light
as it travels flightless from our sun.
It is to hear the voice of god,
to speak with dead brethren,
to defy gravity and move gracefully
through blue skies
sans the gift of man made flight apparatus.

I don't desire the fragment of a mind,
that small and inconsequential piece
of a vast and incomprehensible puzzle-
what is it worth, so pre-meditated,
to be given the thing that another places value on
by the judgement of the critical and ever probing public eye.

I wont settle for the shadow of a life
whilst pouring myself out,
(emptying my vessel of innards
into another's uncomprehending
and consequently ungrateful maw)
all those parts that make strangers squeamish;
the dirt the diamonds
the raw and rusty thumping bleeding ruptures,
the ingenuous softness
like something small, endearing and unnervingly honest,
the ghastly emotions and deplorable blanks
the empty empty blanks that leave us...

and the traitorous signs that blink bright fluorescent
turn away! turn away! turn away!  
All these rough rubbed parts of man,
the beautiful inglorious hideous
parts of man
lovable loving hateful hating
these small porous holes
and the great gaping places, which weep
constantly like ulcers and spread
if un-tended to.

I can only unzip
as far as the ragged metal teeth
of this flaccid reality allow,
and even then, even now
I'll keep the clasp above largely clawed
together.

It's not in my cards, this joker.
Freely giving love and receiving
equal rations.
I in my ignorance threw him out long ago
to reach the appropriate number of cards,
to cultivate the perfect hand.
Should have kept him in a quiet drawer
tucked away, private store,
but I threw him in the waste bin
and Ill see him
no more.

Sunday, September 16, 2012

Be careful

Be careful what you strive for. We desire things obsessively: Other people, specific persons in the flesh, a unique persona, a sense of self or more likely the sense that others have an appealing sense of your self, individuality, recognition, a place, a path, a connection, a commitment, love, passion, fulfillment, everything right now, before, it's getting late and you're owed happiness aren't you? We seek things out single-mindedly, fiercely, often maniacally! To find upon acquisition that in the prior wanting of what we recently received we were only distracting ourselves from something else- inner silence, emptiness, something like a black hole; largely debated and yet entirely unknown, something divine in it's mystery, something perhaps better left unrevealed. We never really knew what we wanted in the first place. How can an animal that constantly changes and possesses little to no instincts know anything of it's self or it's "soul" and what that intangible thing in question requires? I (doubting even it's existence) will attempt to lay the fate of my worldly satisfactions at Her feet, having no faith in the judgement of my convoluted and far removed mind.  Accept the things that come to you without expectations. Look to nature for guidance. See how water is easily manipulated by physical force and yet retains the ability to wear away earth and fire and metal. The ocean with such tranquil sounds breaks against the sand, manipulating and destroying it. It burbles in the creak, calming and quiet until it reaches it's larger brethren. It rages down rivers and furiously razes the land, a sound if listened to without fear could be nothing but breathtakingly beautiful.