Poet13's Blog

The absence of false idols is a void at the center of our hearts
A collapse in the middle of a stricken mind
In the vacuum of space I can hear myself scream
The sound coalesces into particles
Irradiated dust swept along by solar winds

I fill the black holes with my consciousness I abhor a vacuum
I create something from nothing … lose … sacrifice … the silence

It’s all in an effort to understand it’s a waste of energy
The seed gives birth to and is absorbed by the forest
The archetype vanishes lingers no longer than a single heartbeat
I am part of the pulse a rhythm sustained through infinity
Hence the beat goes on with and without me

Crazy settles around you like mist seeping into the landscape
You are what has eaten you you are a native of this land
You know this after your mother’s third suicide attempt

My courage crushed my eyes wide open this is how it is
Welcome home you were born here this is your learning
You think these lessons in sadness and hurt and anger

But it all exists on a foundation of benign neglect

Angelic love speaks to children in the language of life
It is the means through which they attempt to apprehend
The message is garbled and the meaning is lost for a time

So we come back to the crazy our tarnished touchstone
We draw a kind of strength from the familiar pain
We find no comfort in confirming our understanding

We all die alone at least I’ll have my memories
as for all the crap I’ve accumulated let it go
scrape the barnacles off my hull
no children at my deathbed no relatives in the hallway.

We all die alone with our thoughts and memories our yearnings and regret
with the good the bad and the indifferent sides of who we were and what we did
straining to fathom how we came to be here now
this locus of time and circumstance wherein we worked our will.

If there is wisdom here we impart it only to ourselves
the ripples of our lives have already reached unknown shores
any effect eventually fades with our passing
it lives only in the half-life of memory and decaying atoms.

Yet others will soon pass this way
they will honor or detest us as we honor and detest those gone before us
the unbroken circle describes the boundary of our explorations
these uncharted islands sun dappled and storm tossed were our home.

I’m analytical and I’m glib
hence I come off as opinionated.
Something in me invites censure
I don’t know what I do I can’t help how I am.
Maybe it’s defensive I’m trying not to be eaten.

There’s a reason serpents have scales and turtles shells
stingers and claws come in handy too.
I don’t want to wage biological warfare
or demonstrate natural selection like a parlor trick.
I just want to have a conversation.

the gaze unmet i shy away protect my secrets via vigilance and avoidance

i have stood my ground toe to toe i have summoned my courage and done what i must

i tasted honor but i was a prisoner of my fears a convict without convictions

i bear the stripes today i show them to no one shun scrutiny evade examination

the secrecy invites suspicion censure ensues i am fear’s fugitive it stalks me still

in my lifelong flight exhausted courage has long since failed me

it lies in the past fallen by the roadside defenseless prey for wild dogs

the howling i hear is my own voice

Our evenings were suffused with jazz tobacco and cannabis

smoke glowing like neon under a shrouded caffeine buzz

passing through every head in the room

a hive mentality high on its own brilliance.

How could we think these thoughts how could we not

we wouldn’t stop even if we could

we were the thinking man’s man

called ourselves the paragon of animals.   

Well now maybe… we’re as good as it gets anyway

we try to make that work

join hands and sing of ideals

and a world designed by our better angels.

Ankle deep in muck we dance as best we can

try to think better thoughts 

before we know it we’ve recreated something of ourselves

in forms of beauty we cannot fully comprehend.

And so we come together again

       and we talk about it amongst ourselves

               and hope no one raises a hand. 

The reluctant isolationist sits in his cocoon fending off self-pity with good cigars and fine cognac

nobody calls because nobody cares

a juvenile complaint a hard man is self-reliant the wise man is self-knowing

in spite of experience and disappointment

without judgment or expectation with full knowledge and consent

acceptance is the only sensible course through fate and inevitability.

The world will have its way with you to survive turn your back on the dragon

the pain is fleeting oblivion is never forever

I have perished and triumphed a thousand times I am starlight in the night sky

I am wind walking on grass the laughter of hyenas the whimpering of a faun

I am the glory of creation the voice of annihilation the persistence of memory

the triumph of eternity.

I am nothing for I am everything I am the logic of emotion the reason within faith

a singularity of multitudes the endless beginning of never-ending possibilities

I am mathematics compelled by desire science in service of lust debased religion sin exalted

a sacrificial lamb upon an altar of my own construction

I smile at death accept another life go willingly into the house of pain rescue the guilty

consign the innocent to flames.

I am neither good nor evil

I am only the living.

i’m swimming through a miasma of negative energy

a thin layer of green slime coats everything and everybody

invisible to the naked eye only the heart can feel it

to a brain already overwhelmed it makes no sense

the lack of reason beyond comprehension

the mind surrenders leaving the heart to cope alone

the heart aches the heart breaks it’s a system-wide failure

we burn down our own cities wander blind amid the rubble

crying out for mercy asking why why why

so needy so greedy such a dirty old man
the first scars are the deepest heal slowly over time or not
each one a message carved into the canvas of flesh
a visceral knot fused tight        character remains unbound

less skin more spirit gives with the wind or is broken like a storm-split oak
like the pillars of time the mighty columns of the Sun King’s temple yet un-toppled
the rest – willowy memory – yields carried along for the ride
it slows us down         we sometimes find a way

These unfulfilled aspirations slip away dissolve just beyond reach
as insubstantial and evanescent as half remembered dreams
our cascading desires thicken around us like fog dampening our vision
we lose our way amid the trappings of our accumulated successes
every item we check off the list becomes a hash mark against us
a symbol seared into the flesh one of a thousand cuts self-inflicted.

And so the dance of life becomes a kind of slow writhing
ritual suicide by psychic self-flagellation seeping blood and piss
warms us in the moment but the vast relentless cold presses in
draining the vitality from our existence
these things these notions we amass pile up on top of us
until we lie buried bloodless corpses beneath impressive tombs.

under no obligation indebted to no one
vigilant within my island fortress
     the loneliness of the long distance observer
knowledge brings solitude
or perhaps it’s the other way around
so much can go wrong
     i see the angles calculate the odds
     i record the data compile my reports
surely the higherups can make sense of it
wisdom is above my pay grade
     i build false intimacy with the tools they provide
     an isolation booth made to order
the engineers supply the plans
     they have a quota
their superiors require numbers to justify their benevolence
my life is the muscle
     i am weary of my labors
     only memory serves

The less i have to do the less i am capable of doing

the roiling mind will not still thoughts schemes desires regrets

from the quotidian to the exalted the tawdry to the profound

useless confusion of wasted intelligence energy misfiring

the planet buzzes with static the magnetic core keeps things humming

our brains light up like the starlit heavens

we brighten the emptiness with awareness

we have five senses to take it all in.

The future is unknown the present is up for grabs

make of it what you will though the past intrude

memories sweep over my defenses wrench tears from my eyes

insidious nostalgia strangles my vitality

sweet sentiment the deadliest poison

turn the clocks back but you can’t stop time

only smash the instruments that take its measure  

a broken heart can always mark the passing hours.

I toss off a family anecdote that becomes a catchphrase 

I deploy it to show how clever I am

The smartest guy in the room has the most control

If the truth isn’t compelling I’ll resort to sleight-of-hand

We do what we must to induce understanding

I’m a native earthling trying to communicate with aliens

Confronting an awful certainty I am the invader I am the other

A mute ghost the truth spilling from my black silent mouth

Sludge of doused fire puddled in the belly of a dead furnace

I want to scream but choke on wet ash a mess of my own making

No one gets it I get it

See for yourself:

behold the marvelous clarification

the purity of direct experience

touching eternity kissing the fire

a message framed in beauty and in books

the thoughts we express are purely our own

when we look to the truth beyond the facts

we alter the landscape to our liking.

The map is there:

a pattern of stars in the night sky

when we look up we know exactly how to proceed

no one stumbles on this path those who do fall with grace

they get back up on their own or we help them

some lie back down and die to nourish the soil

repurposed as phosphorescent fungi lighting the way

cold light in a dark forest.

amid the general confusion psychotics pass unnoticed

their violent hues and cries blend into the background

a chaos of light a planetary dream the shared insanity

our groping in the glare to recreate the miracle of the sun

we wend our way thread the needle stitch a path and fall off the map

we weave ragged edges and then button it all up tight

somewhere in the midst of the roiling crowd we find our sanity

step back take it in let out a scream faint dead away and are reborn

i know how our own petty little kingdoms can collapse in on us

how we are buried beneath the heavy objects of our desire

only now fully appreciating the sweet taste of every deep breath

confronting the fear of letting go every fiber of your being

telling you you’re tired telling you to exhale let it all out give it up

go on to wherever it is you are going on to whatever it is you are afraid of

the next breath a leap into the quiet chasm between breathing in

and breathing out

we float in the spaces separating one life from another

wasting water in my final resting place here before you knew it

it was too late to move you reached the end a long time ago

a ways back anyway

you eliminated the excuses but not the reasons why

the contours of failure remain carvings in a stone wall

shadows without relief the images cut deep

a vivid tableau etched with familiar characters

the movements of millennia project them like cinema

motion too vast for the human eye to apprehend

the tools change the hands grow less steady

start to finish the end product is always the same

a story with no ending

On the eve of the Festival of Long Weekends he looks forward to nothing
he makes arrangements to fill the void deftly balances momentum and memory

Lost in reflection literal and otherwise
the figures and forms numbers and symbols that populate the landscape

In the process and analysis he loses the capacity for touch
intimate strangers fill the bill one way or another we all pay

He’s prepared to die alone knows he made that bed a long time ago
there are tears but no self-pity the facts are what they are

He has recorded and filed them though no report will be forthcoming
the facts are the facts it’s perfectly understandable

repeating unbroken habits along the way
the cool factor won’t cut it on familiar roads
false façades falling phantoms revealed
the sheer energy required to sustain this mode of travel

cracks the chassis the drivetrain warps gears grind
and still the familiar view in the rearview
reflect rethink if this ends someplace nice
then i guess the trip was worth it

somewhere back there i believed
courage crushed broken in a culvert
sad songs sung down the road
my way was the highway

woke up early fell out late 

long days and longer nights

time piling up

something precious lost

lost in a maze of hallways and rooms

i trust a stranger to lead me out

but the thing i love i’ve left behind

as sunlight warms my face

and my view expands

i know the loss is irretrievable

If magic exists is it proof of god?
Do their magical powers give witches special insight into the nature of god?

Witches and priests utter incantations cast their spells
One claims the universe speaks to us through nature
One says believe in heaven and other magical ideas

We spin fables from an urgent need to believe
We are a planet of believers who say the stars affirm us
The vast fullness the endless emptiness
Testament to a mysterious god’s inscrutable power
It allows for so many and for so much
More than we can ever see from here

We are in a crowded place we yearn for peace
Our struggling drowns out sound the sudden silence alarms

And so we gather together raise our voices
Make a joyful noise that deafens us
Cling to the magic crucify the magicians

you’re only words on a screen

a disembodied voice in my ear you give me nothing

you touch base you fly by always out of reach

you can’t stop you must keep moving

like a shark like a predator i’m not your prey

we both set traps for one another we both escape

free to roam free to hunt avoiding the other’s territory

a crocodile lurking in the lake a lion crouching in the high grass

no wildebeests in this jungle only the hunter and the hunter

their circle of life broken only by a spear

fashioned using opposable thumbs by beings more evolved

who will have us for dinner and wear our skins like trophies 

73 and sunny the mammalian ideal
the sun gives us free degrees
pale sister moon reassures us at night
we thrive in light darkness at our shoulders
a constant dread a fact of life
we take life from the garden of the sea
we ourselves born of heat and blood and salt
we dwell upon the earth inhabit its massive contours
we build images of ourselves in stone and glass
we burrow in we soar aloft we come and we go
amid the fact and solidity of our doing
we wage war we make love we seek redemption
the unintended consequences of the hungry living

Breathing inspires me because breathing is tricky you have to have control and you have to let go know what you are doing and do nothing impossible unless you don’t think about it who can stop thinking who can stand up to logic’s assault i wish i were a Buddhist naked there are no labels only images burned into your skin true character written in flesh imprinted by experience the artistic triumph of reality over optimism i’m glad i’m not a Christian another story obscuring a blank page read it and weep or laugh ultimately life is comedy and I made no sacrifice maybe I am a Buddhist.

listening to jazz waiting for the rain
another lost weekend in the city
the rhythm keeps me going
the harmony satisfies my soul
let’s sing together make up the words as we go

i’d rather be loved than be right
here’s to regret tinged with a little sadness
leavened with a bit of acceptance
those who seek to be understood must understand:

you will be disappointed
learn to live with that and happiness may follow
a rare and precious surprise
a golden nugget in a field of ore
flowers in an ashcan

it’s a matter of form not meaning like a vestigial appendage

like the reptile brain the mindless primitive on the seat beside you

an atavistic snarl the fight or flight reflex opposable claws required

the martyr or the coward the way forward or the long way back

face the fear it is always near it presses in like another atmosphere

shaping the features forming character in strata 

your angst is part of you no surgeon can remove it

you must heal yourself you must walk through fire

the flames cauterize and clarify pain is momentary

understanding endures

Soylent Green is people
Klaatu barada nikto damn you all to hell
Whacha gonna do when they come for you?

What can you bring to this moment?
How can you help move things forward?
What do you have to contribute?

A poem from Sebastian
A canticle for Leibowitz
A bell for Adano

We carry on one way or another
This is what we do
This is how we help
            

             Day by day failing to defy expectations
             we proceed to fall

hard to let go when there is so much in your head and heart
a lifetime at this point empty boxes you’ve stacked
dried roses you clutch petals pressed between parched pages
the words long since faded leaving ghostly impressions
an indecipherable story no one will ever read

step back expand your perspective and a simple truth reveals itself
the rooms their furnishings and their adornments comprise a matrix
the doors locked tight were always open

i have stepped outside for air but i always return to the inside
drawn by comfort and familiarity the dust and the memories
my constant companions my comfy cozy consorts
houseguests that became pretty family orchids
they hardly ever bloomed and they had no fragrance

a little companionship a little one on one time a bump and a grind

a slow handshake between two central nervous systems separate but equally needful

a little heat feels warm the generosity and synchronicity of reciprocity

mutual motives submerged in sensation the heart has its reasons the flesh its demands

needful things create bonds of their own nothing too complicated nothing too sure

only the moment is certain there is peace in clarity there is joy in submission

absolve yourself of responsibility let us celebrate whatever this is

                                                             broadcasting radiation

                     speaking incantations

                                        dancing aberrations

                               manufacturing explanations

                                                             seeking excitations

                     blending integrations

                               touching machinations

                               breeding nations

                                                   tasting supplications

                     thinking equations

                                                             interrupting organization

                     transmitting fornication

           fomenting migrations

                               inventing revelations

The thought gives birth to reality

The flesh contains the event

Belief begets gods and the monsters they create

The myth of creation absolves us of our collective guilt

We are the authors of our history and our fate

We are what we create and what we generate

Utterly alone and completely dependent

We take no shame in sacrifice

We are the only gods we believe in

Our divinity, self taught, absolves us of nothing

Everything is relative to our desire

i’m up tempo

i am vibrating to a higher frequency

my energy is boundless i am the sun

i shed radiant glory upon all who behold me

i am the shining light no moths perish in my flame

feel my heat this is my tender touch this is communion

breathe in the nourishing air i prepare to sustain your yearning flesh

bask in me consume my solar energy and thrive

i imbue your body essence with my pulsing power

i am part of you i am with you always i am all and everything

be one with me

aches and pains opaque vision

          living fatigue

are you up to it?   does the adventure continue?

the journey was a success when you knew to stop

further and more have come and gone

                    past the point of no going on

                              and no going back

this is it   here you are

                                             now what?

first take a breath

                    try to do no harm

stop taking your pills

                                                     and heal yourself

wean yourself off the big tit you’ve nursed from day one

this present is not zoned for comfort

                              with three modes of time change is permanent

nothing stays the same but just that

          always   never more

here and now ticks on too

                                        never ending never enough

these are not criticisms these are observations

we bare our breasts with trust and the best intentions

an act of courage

giving voice to my reaction reveals my own clumsy ineptitude

always assume the best

read into my remarks appreciation and gratitude

oxygen free

supine my spine is realigned

at the top of my exhalation or is it the bottom

my bones crack spontaneously snap into place

self-adjustment via natural surrender

letting go the bad air poised in the inbetween

the pure moment the quiet solitude the pleasing stillness

between breaths

no intake no output simply to be oxygen free

floating in the zone of neither nor

no need to ask when the next breath will come

no need to worry about filling lungs to sustain life

let go let it out let it in let it be

let it come if it will

take the air for what it is

this rare miracle of abundance

this invisible blood

Alone and quickly we race through life

how we are made determines how we go

I go fast alone.

One is shaped for speed streamlined by wind resistance

another is formed to fit contoured by group dynamics

we go far together.

Alone no one confirms you

is this enlightenment or too much oxygen on the brain

the face of a stranger or the forgotten friend who saves you?