a stipend from the moon,
crazy fella, all the way
assured of his sidewaysness
he is happy, i am happy , we are happy all.
he told me of this meteor, and showed me the crater,
i laughed , happy to know things like this happen.
thru and thru, i'd like to think i am on the lookout,
for an impact soon.
hunger wants food.
the soul craves a good show,
chock full of all the livingness of all things
all along things coming and going out of being.
there is only a wanting,
to be counted among the final tally.
To Want
what coins cast into you well,
it is just as well,
i'd not have my wish.
lush dreams too soon turn to villany.
whims are meant for on thrashing boughs,
meriting the heinous climb.
lust would have you reach,
atop the last foliaged tier.
and looking out from the leaves?
unexplored miles unravel the conquest,
rivers stream, and meadows dream,
unaware of the young boy
up in the tree.
Errand Boy
the fates do not conjole,
to see men down.
the gates are wide,
if we will ride on through.
a ghost perches above me as i sleep
a faceless, chubby ghoul.
doesnt ask for a thing,
but assuredly not unwanting.
i toss, turn, never getting sound.
him, pillared and unriled
i fully awake,
i smirk and wink,
so as to let him know,
he will have to wait-
i still got some things
i've meant to do
A Short Story
this is a work of non-fiction betrayed by its friends and itself, reduced to a wildly inaccurate sketch. A sloppy account of a late night travel. of wearily pulling up to an intersection outside a nondesript town.
you just want to get home as fast as you can.approaching the intersection you slow, hopeful the light will change and you wont actually have to stop.shit out of luck. unwavering red. staining the pavement, and flooding to the back of the brain. drunk and momentarily all shades of retarded, time is a mash up, a real dozy of a wreck of all the events having transpired. the seconds dont tick off, the clock on the dash stubbornly stuck. the light doesnt change.further more, the light in each direction is red.its late, past the time of respectable people out on respectable errands.they have bored themselves to sleep. there are no other motorists. this is the story, usually forgotten when you wake the next morning still gravely dehydrated, wishing instead you had been carted off, thrown in the ally, and left to die, rather than suffer the indignation of vinsibilty. it all lies. your family,friends, bosses, the booze and the drugs.the radio,the television,the silver screen. the teacher, the therapist, even your dog. but of all these, time lies the most, and painfully lies the best, or the worst depending how badly you've been cheated. Time can fill up your cup or crack it in your hands. Its a gatebuster.a runaway criminal with a master plan. accompliced by the notion of truth. Paired up, a duo, walking the line.not so much evil for the things they do, but for the things they make us do, and far worse, for the things they make us do while having us believe, its the right thing to do. you mind as well be an alcoholic or a dopefiend. its all a lie, one illusion or another, only as real as we can convince ourselves it is.we are all capable at any moment of acts along the entire moral range from honest and good to downright despicable. we can be openly kind, or slyly the devil brought up through a crack in the soil. we wake up everyday, those of us stewards of good morality abide to certain rituals of proper hygiene. Before the morning even stumbles out of its infancy we find ourselves in front of our porclein god. bathroom sinks are scarely thouhgt of that way. but our indeed a temple for all kinds of rituals and practices, and wholly false worship. as we brush and floss while looking at ourselves looking back at ourselves, most of us, then and there, come up with the day's first lie.
i still believe in morality. i think. i believe in it apart from religion and any kinship with my god. Morality to me boils directly back to myself, and treating others how i expect to be treated myself. right off the bat, know,mr.reader, I am not kind. i have masterful moments of grand selfishness. i ultimately mean well. i still anchor my morality upon life being fair.Do good, and good will be done to you. seems logical. seems like it ought to be true. its uncareful thinking. the likes of which deviled pros fancy to extort.There is enough goodness to go around, so i ve been brought up to believe,just as every dog has its day. at some point its all gotta turn around. doesn t it?
the whole thought has damaged my brain, at least equal to the sum of all my abuses so far. I have quit many things cold turkey. but for anything cold,there is always a microwave. radiation -resurrection-the zombie- unbiblical -version . the one thing we have learned to do the best is to kill ourselves, and others, and slowly in a way hardly a gnat knows. sipping my coffee, i realize, even if i cared how little it would matter or mean towards stopping the onslaught of the machine. but not one for lasting self-pity i wont give up the fight, but i may take a nap in front of the oppressors tank with a timebomb strapped to my throat.
