shaft craze

Join me in the shaft craze,
jump off of the seat to feel the floor
left standing alone ones nerve will freeze, drop, wither, die
whether reason or wisdom stand with you to defend or not
left united, standing with all, ones nerve will surge and burn,
viscosity will give way to alchemy like iron to gold
whether reason or wisdom stand with you to defend or not
character zero lunges at me, undercutting the dualistic approach
to choice, actions, conflicts
have i spent a day indoors? distracted by the wind dancing with
the screen door, lunging at the random transient phenomena
undercutting environments and focus that allow me to distinguish
the dualistic approach to choice, actions, conflict
"the kingdom of god is at hand." this is explicit?
however, i reach out my hand, or i leave it at my side clutching
i interpret no change
this shouldn't make any sense anyway given that we are all subject
to such extreme and constant vicissitude, but everything still remains
eventually after thought and contemplation, constantly averted
by the slight opening and closing of the screen door
i find myself in the company of all, firmly seated with my feet on the floor
my nerve occasionally boiling to vapor, surging to frenzy, frozen or putrid,
struggling with whether wisdom or reason stand to defend or not
swallowing the shaft craze

thanks stephanie

A death prevailed, eased by the inabilities,
vast inabilities that became the only axiom,
lank and completely subjugated to gravity's slight yet tenacious tendencies
as this death slid down the cool blades of morning grass,
slanted and angled on the steep of a hill,
impaled on a starving hearts politics.

high and dry

How the enlighteners killed the imagination,
stole the varied perceptions that make the truth possible
and replaced it with a culture of nature in boxes with a cold,
sterile process of round and round and 2.5's and the praise
of progress and of sleep like beasts...

You want to be independent, or a lone?
And say that you were left right. Or was I?

Damn you...

sleep on soft cheeks

"Spit sir spit.."

"Oh this tastes awful!"

"This sir, is the reason that i implore you to spit.."

"but you must realize, if i spit the taste will be gone. Long long gone but something wrong wrong wrong, a hmph and a wretch could not touch but a vast memory fading from this mouth of mine. Buckled or inclusive, lacking in ravage or the grace of touch from Nike or Mother Mary herself the forceful and rejecting nature of the action and emisis brings just a cavity that you see sir, i am just deathly afraid.."

"But sir, the taste clearly brings you displeasure does it not?"

"I sit in the water and i feel the water lap lap lap against my skin. Perhaps you do not like the water drowning man. Perhaps it brings to you only pain, the absence of what we both behold and rejoice in, lap lap lapping against our skin. you will never drown dear friend if you do not put your feet in, no lap lap lapping against your skin.. But ey, a gift for you, a friendly fist to your skin skin skin. feel that same cavity fill and flow warm and then cold, bitter and real like the iron bars which never break or bend. Do you sense the taste good friend?"

"Blech, i must recoil! This terrible taste sir, i must spit sir spit!"

floor board

it seems that the more i step out and search and question the more i realize that the answers are not forthcoming from external sources. i think what generally occurs at best (which honestly is a wonderful gift) is a small structure of thoughts and ideas that get laid out in a fashion that can guide us. no answers but direction.

"father into your hands i commend my spirit."
"father into your hands why have you forsaken me?"

Luke or Mark, an old bald woman or an old bald man better suited it seems in a suit of leisure, but in his case without homicidal thoughts running like those from her scarlet robes.
what i desire is a teacher; a text or a process or something in which i can commend my spirit but everywhere i turn i am confronted with a human filter. this is the very juxtaposition that adds water to the concrete mixture of my own agony, that a human can ascend but only through its own folly and this is the ubiquitous nature whenever we ask or trust or speak and face all sources, other humans and of course our selves...

just a reed

My lord why was today so hard? And how is it that I would describe the day as being hard and at the same time a great day? I suppose this question sounds in earnest only for a lazy fellow, which I more than likely am a lazy fellow. But, in this case the difficulty of the day was in my human disposition to feel pain. I cycled through a few different emotions; anger, agitation, sadness and hopelessness and simply feeling lost in general to elation and union and pity to name a few. And I suppose I should point out that these examples would be more accurately described as states of mind than emotions, and that some of them carry a very wide variety of emotions rich with layers and colors and hues. Anyway, despite being at an extreme, regardless of which end, almost all day, I still feel like this was a good day.
Now, the mere statement that a day is good or bad, and that it’s designation as such relies on my emotional and mental states and how they are maintained gives me a certain sense of confusion about how my mind and the world works. This confusion emanates from the pipes and attaches itself to my thoughts as they race through the labyrinth of neural plumbing that in someway supports my consciousness. I found myself, like most days, waking up and watching my mind, waiting and jumping on what comes across it to label and identify myself with it, all while asking questions like, “Who am I?” What am I going to do with myself?”
I often times sensed a critical mass approaching but then just as I felt some force or energy reaching its peak an activity presented itself and just as easy as loosing track of yesterdays affirmations I forget about my current states and drifted off into a cruise mode while I busied myself with said activity. For some reason I was able to cool off at certain points this afternoon and even discover a pseudo reason for some of my emotions, but I couldn't escape any of my natural attitudes that bring them about in the first place. Actually, I haven’t the slightest notion of where, in my mind or in my actions these core reasons might appear where one could locate them.
The good parts of the day, and the good parts of everyday, are simply being able to experience it. Even if I am depressed or angry or sad, most days I am still able to appreciate the awe of it all, and today was no exception. And once again through certain actions like meditating I have something that I did to label as productive and even if I see or hear of someone who did something amazing that I would want to do, (which I did today) I can still fall back on my “accomplishments,” which I did today as well. now i think it is easy to see the confusion in this method and need for affirmation and its alarming how often i act out perfect examples of it.
And now back to the confusion. Good bad, my way your way, all these things that I do that I put before certain scrutiny and judgments seem like some crazy circus ride of wasted energy and lost moments. “I am not good enough, I am not intelligent enough, my intellect is feeble.” “This will satisfy requirements to be a good person.”
I suppose at some level I felt like so much of me can be equated to adding up the mental constructs. Now, I don’t think of myself as a computer in anyway, quite the contrary actually, but I still sense a complex and busy device, like a myriad of mirrors each of a specific size and shape built with precision from experience of my 28 years to reflect the best possible balance of energy and waves back to whatever or whoever it is that I might be dealing with so that I am what it is that I am supposed to be..
This feels cynical as I type it, but I suppose a certain amount of self cynicism prevailed today. So now it is bed time even though I don’t want to go to bed. And even though I am writing and being “productive” I still feel slightly agitated with myself because it’s past two a.m. and I know I wont want to wake up tomorrow. I can at least go to sleep feeling decent because I know I have my love next to me and even though my reflections throughout the day opened more questions than anything, I still have more time to think about it. I can think about it I can think about it.