Author: Pelgris
Song of the Day-Old School Edition
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Drift heavy under lidded eyes
I no longer yearn for a past I can never have. For a life given up, no matter how much my semi-worrying off hand comments may make it seem otherwise. I want things now just out of my reach. Things in my life and in my future. Which sometimes seem so far away. However, I know that they are not. Nevertheless, I can’t keep from straining forward. As if attempting to reach that last inch to that last leaf, so far above my head.
It is still good to acknowledge though. That that darkness in me will never flee, though now they are merely half serious jokes. That I once loved deeply. That I again love deeply. That what was will never be again. And that’s ok. What is, is much better than an ephemeral dream. No matter how beautiful.
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Seeing is just the beginning
Death doesn’t take or steal
People do that
We do that
Death is a herald of transition
A gateway from one state to another
In its best guise, a traveler
One who walks beside the living
Ready and able to ease the transition
We think to bargain with a power who is powerless to stop. We think we are alone. We think that physical existence is the everything. We have forgotten as much as we have learned.
We have discarded information we cannot prove when the method of proving is a thing of narrow invention. One designed to show that even the “real” is not wondrous. In a petulant rejection of what was.
We invent things and say that they are all there is. Because it’s a less scary world, when we have or can obtain, all of the answers. And perhaps we could actually achieve that. If we stopped attempting to force things we don’t understand and cannot measure into the the twin boxes of impossible.
If science were so pure, it would not start with the rejection of the wisdom of our ancestors. It would instead ask, how can we learn these things without also destroying their beauty.
Death does not bargain. Life does not care. Storms do not rage. We attribute what is in ourselves to that which is alien to us. We narrow things down to only. Instead of accepting that while a process may be observed, the process is not the thing. The component parts are not the thing entire.
Wake up
Wake up
Wake up
Your eyes and heart is waiting
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Desperate deep breathe
Soft plat
Blood forms perfect droplets on the plastic
Frantic to stop the bleeding
Even more so the pain
Pulse deep
Unreachable
Sharp
A blunt needle burrowing
Pressure building
Can’t feel the crash coming
Eyes press tightly
Nightmares strut
Wallow
Glut
Mind breaks each morning
Another splinter
Another ache
Trails of wetness
Unseen
Feel blood pump through veins
Waiting
Waiting
Waiting
One last trip
Until silence lasts
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Struggles with an open heart
Some grow wild
Untamed by neither wind nor rain
Roots sinking deeply
Some grow by roadside ways
Hardy and beautiful
Pulled up from the ground
Given and discarded
Seeds of self grow anew
Some are plucked by hands uncaring
Trammeled underfoot
Hurting they grow in ways unimagined
But still they grow
Some are replanted
In soil unsuited for their growth
But still they reach and strive
Sometimes they are replanted
By hands soft and hard
Allowed to grow as they will
Beauty remarked on
But wild and free
Sometimes they adapt
And become what they were meant to be
Despite all circumstances
In the solitude ache
Of a quiet stroll
The urge to find fertile soil
For those which struggle
Wars in the heart
Perhaps to fall
And become soil
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Just thinking about consent
When I am with someone there are things I am ok with nonverbal consent. A hug is ok. Touching hands is ok. Touching me in any way is ok. But I say that upfront. I give consent upfront. Anything beyond that and I need your consent. Not a nod of the head or an ok. I need explicit specific consent. If this is BDSM, then I need you to consent to the scene. If lifestyle BDSM, then I need you to tell me that you want me to act as a master does. (I will as pertains to my self and my actions, but as those actions pertain to you, I will obtain consent each time unless you consent to the larger thing. Eg, you want me as your master). I require it. It isn’t something I can take or leave. Or allow the moment to take away control. I am control. I don’t waver. Much as I may want to. I will constrain my self to what you have verbally consented to.
I understand that many don’t understand this. And it’s made relationships in the past extremely difficult. Those pauses where they would wait to be asked into my bed…ending in a kiss and a goodnight. Maybe that feels extreme to you, my readers.
Let me assure you that it isn’t. It should be the rule of the day. Consent should be understood and made to be as social law. Think of how safe you would feel if you knew that things would never be taken farther than you consent to. What would that world feel like?
I can’t make it so everywhere.
But I can make it so around me. So I do. Would that a critical mass of others did as well.
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Song of the Day
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Waiting for air
consent to my lips
brushed gently across your skin
there is only us
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Shadows of the gaslight
Normal is a false front
A dream held out as tangible
Flaring to smoke when we touch it
Dreams make the world go round
But make sure its your dream of a better life
Not their dreams of another yacht
Which you buy into
Voting with your dollar
An American terminology
Even now I here it whispering
Not just products but politicians
Corruption at a level so fundamental
That it’s systematic
We two party system and vote with our team
Rather than with our conscience
And all the while they whisper
Normal is a new car
A new drink
A nostalgia trip designed to make you feel comfortable
Normal like it ever was
Normal like that is what you want
We normalize exceptionalism
As if yacht dreams were true
It used to be a chicken in every pot was prosperity
Now its a Tesla and smart watch
One feeds the body and keeps the mind ready for a new day
The other says more is the way to go
It’s that siren song of new and better
That dream of the future
We mortgage our present for the intangible
All while we are assaulted that this is normal
That the consequences of our reality are not what’s real
It’s all fake news
The mantra of the child
Sitting in the corner
Ears covered
Eyes squeezed shut
Screaming over and over
‘Fake News’
Who are you gonna believe
The man trying to give you a normal life
Or your lying eyes
Nostalgia is a lie
Normal is a lie
What was is never again
And the only way forward is with
Eyes wide
Ears open
Hearts heavy but accepting
Don’t allow yourself the cozy warm blanket of normal
It’s made of asbestos
The past was never the place we remember
Try not to forget
This time
Pelgris 