we're built to talk about ourselves
we're bound to think about ourselves
offices stacked in buildings, like bodies in the morgue, like boxes placed in storage, once useful now ignored, gathering dust and losing touch with our self-portraits stuffed in drawers: our plans
if you can hear the birds chirpin' then you've got reason to rise. well, i awoke in the morning or after staying up all night; i heard the birds chirping and watched them take flight. i thought i should fly away, but i'm still here standing. i awoke in the sunshine, i awoke in the moonlight,
beyond statistics the individual demands more, like the raven in the orchard and our buried hearts of metal distressed but not destroyed, anchored to the peaks of orange brown gold and green. the colorful flock: the pattens of wind during sunset commutes and blacktop, asphalt, crumbling social earth.
so, i 'woke in the afternoon without haste or deflection, the traffic and working whistles, the hum and buzz of progress, led by the fussing reconciliation of our seasons with the juggernaut enforcers-- bleeding meaning from life with labyrinths of labor for commercialized identity, brands of commitment without forethought of agreement.
i awoke in the evening with an anxious cold heart, then i heard the bats chirping and i've seem 'em take flight, and i thought i might fly away, but lo i'm still here. i awoke in the sunshine; i awoke in the moonlight. wake up.
wake up in the sunshine, wake up in the moonlight.
wake up and sing and dance and dream
"start star starving for art arduous obscura"
bench warming at the mall: a new jersey rat
with no amazing maze
in the city of squares and factions of flare
let's create circles and squiggles
emote as we read//write//explode!
erode generations of rote learning
with torrents and off-road excursions
day trips to ponds and swampy estuaries on the scenic patch of FREEway:
turn=>pikes and toll roads
Boxes of Superstition
epochs of tradition
burning in the neural forests of wide world webs
we erect and protect!
-----
"ah! run, quickly"
oh show us a life of leisure
with-out worrying who the shepards
and the wolves are;
trusting blindly in numbers
will leave you
fudging for perfect results
in your bed time-ruinous ruminations.
oh, the riotous expectations from
a belligerent youth of expression
talking about stars and forests,
escape routes, fuck fests
and debate groups
or drunk clubs, subway shuttles,
lawless luxury of naive fist-pumping
pogo-punk dance and strut decimation.
----
"ok. pair up. very good! A+"
i want to change with you. "let's emote 'till we're dead" and be seasonally forgotten with the passing snow. our seeds, singular and sprouting; leaf, and bloom. now, all we need is love and nature: to respawn indefinitely until time as we know it, implodes and explodes into nothing new to speak of but a vast abysmal something else of which all being is extinct from.
when we're just chaos and instinct
well, we're just business and what's free about us
cycles and frequencies with dissonance and reso(nation)
a wilderness of compatriots
sympathetically disconnected.
---
note on "ok. pair up. very good! A+:" title written separately from poem.
he hasn’t learned yet that he needs to walk in the night and sleep during the day in the desert.
and he hasn’t learned that what can’t be taught must be shaded in gray corners of dissuassion.
it seems he’s got a lot. it seems like she’s got a lot, too. it seems they and other’s have acquired a lot, a plot, a city and region.
it also seems that they are not much alike except in self-amusement or tolerance of unfortunate circumstance.
it seems there have been she’s and he’s whom with we’ve casually written off as okay, but not.
when you know yourself it’s the delusions of grandeur that sink most ships. it’s unfathomable wars that we’re in the business of fighting.
we will control the blue, black, and green. we are the flagless company of self-procurement. piratical monopolies with government reinforcements!
brand your citizenry. the livestock should not mix with nobility. money and fashion. possessions and passions. <0245 friday, january 4 2008>
I want to be free! flying through leaving pieces of me in the ephemeral debris! to run, to dance, to scream and shout! we can be heard! we are real! the young inhertance of truth, love, and romance! we know war will be war, but we ask what is it we’re fighting and what for. is it just safety because safe is for the birds. in numbers, flocking, migrating, nesting safely. we are a dynamic organic emergency! pervasive and disjointed. it’s not just survival anymore! it’s flourishing and acceptance! it’s tolerance and access! it’s about land, resources, and business, except it’s more about time, space, and emotion. it’s life, and it happens without diagrams, schematics, or plans. there’s no blueprint for all of us! we are new, we are blindly propagating humanity, we aren’t you and not i, but we are. you and i. like the branching of the poplar, the maple, the evergreen. like the self-assembling crystals, snowflakes, and proteins. abstract aesthetics. plastic prosthetics. we are capable of enabling lasting peace, generationally, education, adaptation, and civil liberty! I want to be free!
(punctation not necessarily spoken emphasis ;- )
/*i heart chaos in raindrops but know nothing of fractals or robots
what do you want to think? of some thing you do and bring it back into view to analyze it. it's just something you do that does it. for me and my desiring, it's unconscious but fully apparent by that truth that lays here with you. it. is nothing you could or didn't do. it. is just how the time went. you just one among many, friend. but let's not let this get heavy, yet. only empathize what you can. look for those excitable resonances with anyone in your neighborhood. not real just math defined by some blind statistically postdesign trend.
i am an eastern coyote howling whipporwhil for self-proclaimed boundaries
respect and acknowledgement under the bright ponderous moon
in the passing of moments
we're lead away on waves
in the revival of memories
we're lead back on pilgrimages
scattered like sun rays off water's ripples
we are absorbed into a new medium
a technology of static friendships and idle love
our waves spreading and connecting with so many others
from a single seed has developed the self
from single seeds has developed everyone else
the singularity of consciousness begging for freedom
to express it's shadows on the Cave Walls
as such, i am compelled to post ephemeral poetry
in hopes that my ideas may resonate with any that view
but especially those with whom i've shared meaningful times
it's but a mere pittance to my absences throughout years
i am not Odysseus
my adventures are humble
and the dangers common
yet, i long for the shores of home
where ever a friend stands
arms outstretched, smiling eyes
i am assured of relief
even if only momentarily
before i am gone...
