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

Think but this….

Living in a tragedy gets old. Dystopian elections of battered hopes where men fall prey to honest ignorance and are pulled to pieces drowning out the message. Each rally set outside of an election year calls to mind another authoritarian in black and white; a dead mans message of terror spread out to the stars propagating at light speed. Years pass and life continues with battles and fights to hold on. With love and a renewed hopefulness and the crush of long distances. To hear her voice, to watch her dance in joy. Then a waking from a dream and a virus wreaks havoc, exposing the flaws in logic more boldly than a hundred hours of documentary and late night talk shows. But still conspiracy conspiracy conspiracy they whisper and while I speak only in shadows and darkness still my heart remains because of she’s there. Hair wet symphonies and silence. Driving to work for a company who has tenuous grasp on reality but the commute is short. Trying to convince aging parents to take this seriously but hearing Fox news reach up their spine and spout false talking points. Despair but with rapid eye twitches from lack of sleep. Still…I’m not dead yet. Time enough for love and joy. Death is coming and that’s no lie. But he is my brother. I know him well. And I am not afraid.

Sipping bitter wine by the sea

Woke up with a head full of pain and a heart full of turns
Dream lives of lonely and thirst
Of hopes found in destruction
Of ghosts made younger and love made whole
Spinning plate capitalism
Faster and faster
Before the shatter
Before instability robs us of even the illusion of control
Sad goosebump shiver
Brain flairs in pain
Followed into truth
False pretenses build bridges
The memory of a memory which itself flares into pain
Last pleasure stolen
Fateful illusion won’t you hold my hand
For want of you I’m dying by inches
Itching for command
Knowing the only command I’d give won’t be followed
Leadership dilemma
And behind it all
That bone deep ache we learn to bury
And a craving for lemon cake

Tell me your secrets ‘ere I’m gone

Those glances you’ll never know the cause of
Those whispers you’ll never know the content of
Whips and chains
Driving us to inevitable conclusions in a me centric world
When reality
Real talk
People don’t give a fuck
Those whispers aren’t about you
Those glances are caused by movement out the corner of the eye and evolutionary biases
But we all clamor to be the center of the world even if that attention we get is negative
A justification for our actions
For our selfish acts
When all that’s needed is that moment of freedom that persists between obligations
That moment of acceptance when they smile and you feel that warm down to your toes and along your spine
But we keep persuing those unreachable goals not out of desire but from empty drive
To reach heights that others cannot and look down knowing you are triumphant
And empty
Such goals that feed only the jones’ only work for the heart blind fools and the slipshod illness of ego
But still we all want a little something we don’t have
Thinking it’s acquisition will fill some void
Feeding folded paper as if it were wood to the soft flames
Feeling empty and needing one more pill, one more drink, one more Coach bag, one more
Until nothing is enough
Not even food
Not even love
It all pales beside that addiction
Words flee the press of day
All hopes drain out
Until we break
And give up on the old
And start a new life
Inhabiting an old shell
But we are never the same
And old roads can never be tread
The future calls
And the endless possible
Free from more ambition than a beautiful breath
Calls out
Choices to be made

Hands reaching out, seeing with eyes and wants, No love, no peace, no pathway bright and shining

You see these pictures of pretty
Wondering what works
What’s petty
Wondering how to get to that beauty
Wanting a taste without mercy
Never wandering in the mind about
The journey
Between waking to this yearning
That shapes a soul into pretty
What sacrifices to the dark gods of
Hunger, of
Hurting, of
Never being quite enough
One more run
One more set
One more murky, dubious concoction
So healthy
You state your desire like it’s worth this path paved in blood
Like you deserve the barren fruits of this
Toil, this labor
You think only to eat the fruit
And tasting its flavor walk away
One more taster
Never working hard enough to savour
The seeds lie at the heart
No saviors
Waking from freedom
This salivating pulsating driver
Slaver
Making fools feel free
To make ignorance in favor
Last flavor
Poison memories
No puppet me
Breaking free
Bound on the ferris wheel
Tied to the carnivale
One more turn
Pretty, they hold their hands to their mouths
Like they can taste what painful route travels through the veins
Mistaking the grimace for pleasure
The gasps and breathless groans for desire
And always thinking, so pretty
They can’t see
Blind to beginnings
Blind to the journey
They take
And take
and take
Until
Whats left?

Disjointed connections in a lonely mind

You could be outside my door, dropping all kinds of hints but I’ll never grasp them
We could be flirting
Back and forth
Right on the verge of explicit
And still
I’ll doubt your interest

I think the reason I throw myself so hard into love is because I know that life doesn’t last
And it makes people who date me rethink being with me
In some cases, it makes them go back to the safety of what they know.
In others, it makes them realize that intense love isn’t what they want
And in others…I don’t know
They just leave without explanation

So I don’t see because I doubt
And they don’t stay because of my hearts certainty

I’ll admit to fear
And not knowing
And I wish I was more comfortable with new

I may be clumsy at the beginning
But stay
Stay
I promise
My love is not a cage

Bit of mustard, spot of mutton

Those seconds we spend
Lost in the shadows of knowing
The pain of tomorrow
Those waves of future eroding the shore of now
Ocean depositing sand
Taking away is
Leaving might be
No way forward to a future
All roads obscured
Dancing on turned ankles
Entangled in webs
Cutting free for the fall
No safety but for the missing touch of hand
Absent smiles
Leaf flies
Not knowing its ending
But it soars

What twists, what turns, what burns, what knows

I want you filled with me, consumed by my will, by your shame and pleasure. Knowing that I will take care of you in all the ways you dream about in your dark heart. Knowing that at times I will break you with kindness and love even as I bruise you and blood you as your deep desires twist and beg for. You are mine. Wake every day knowing that you are owned. That you are desired. That there is someone who is willing to burn and be burned in the pyre of you. Do not despair of my kindness. Of my deep well of love. Think not of only the soft and light that I speak of. That of my actions to care for you. Remember, that until you give explicit consent, the beast of me is shackled. But know, it waits, it sees you and we hunger.

If we but raise voice to sing, we choose to gain entire worlds

There where darkness pools and love is no mystery
To waste what magic brings in heart
In loves embrace
And sitting hollow in crook of arms
Fleshly needs sated while I become empty
What malice I must bear to self to inflict this terror
In hopes of finding truth in the simple kiss
What err
What folly to embrace death after death
Looking for a way home when it was ever in your arms
This life so fleeting without ears to hear your song
Or am I struck deaf and faint whisper only draws forward
Choice and choose and you to see what love is
In my pain and blood
Turn back and hold what is known
And I but to memory
And kind thoughts of aid to see
And still
I sit alone and empty
Singing out
Hear me
And know love

Half heard sensation of a leaf falling in a rainstorm

I have things I want to say but they all feel like a remix rehash of conversations held before. Like being tired isn’t new and being alone isn’t new. Waking up and going to work. Being in love, the constant state of my being. Wondering about maybes and wondering about other shoes and planning actions and reading books and reading poetry and it’s all the same.

The constant drips of a life flowing away.
The minutes spent with a pet. The enforced perspective of now.

Not having anything to say except all the things I’ve said.
I’m sure there are stories I’ve not told and memories I’ve not shared. They just seem so far away. And very few want a dissertation on mannerisms and choices as informed by sociological pressures which become psychological norms by stint of being accepted practices.

Or to hear why a single brick of c4 would never create such a huge explosion no matter how many detonators you pushed into it(not withstanding the complete lack of electrical signal to said detonators)

I suppose this is the unfortunate circumstance where you want to talk but have no one whose as weird as you are or who loves you enough to listen to you being weird at four in the morning.

Life isn’t what we portray it as. Sometimes, the closest you can get to a person is to hear their oddball ideas and observations and bounce your own back and that’s enough.

And other times…you need to hold someone and tell them it will be ok. Not just for them but because we all need to hear that too.