17 posts tagged “creative writing”

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...

PRETENSE

Until proven unfounded, my claims resound  to the detriment of engagement, more confrontational rhetoric than disillusioned debate like the politicking leaders of the modern nation-state and multi-national corporation. The issues and the interests paraphrased to elicit maximal support and minimal critique. I am the critic, reactionary and cynical—an amateur linguistic magician, incorporating onomatopoeia tantamount to a crash whip-crack into the working ass pulling the plow of industry; begrudgingly, the drudgery of this day-to-day is the blind and invisible hand of power tugging at the reins of Our genuine desires for the better, elaborate, intrinsically symbiotic societal scheme spoiled by misconceived threats and moral imperatives, where we’re misled systemically. It’s policy to deceive and propagandize.

I am the poet, born of the sub-urban-class workers just making a living and filling interior spaces with design and engineering, the epoch of an age of information, interconnection, and surveillance. Paranoid and perpetuating a twisted list of ideas. Wishing for a fairer distribution of possessions, wealth, and wages. Wishing for the right of free health care and education. I am a liberal, an academic, and an unmotivated ordinary citizen. Apathetic of being stranded on this big blue oasis as part of the historical development of an intelligent species hell-bent on perfectly ordered hierarchy. The right, the wrong, and the ignorant abstainers all bowing gracefully to the aggrandizement of the systems, the big structures, the Enchanted Forest, the post-modern concrete skyscraper greenhouses, and the White dynasty’s jets, caravans, camps, ranches, estates and mansions. I protest, an alternative? Who’s got the best position to determine the consequences of revolution? They, the proverbial they, they say, “You have to change things from the inside,” and I take that to mean more than just espionage or even toeing the party line for the time being. It’s a matter of projections, attitudes, and priorities.

So, I’m slow to know it, but this ineffectual rant is about as far as I’ve come to changing it by putting forth paradigms and with subversive rhymes all in the name of wild intellectual and emotional accountability.

I burn the powers that be with words in effigy, but I haven’t the courage to plan to part in the movement to demand that our schools be improved solely because of the opportunities accrued with each more prestigious degree. It’s a obsolete planned hypocrisy to ensure the system’s security is propagated by the wealthy and the military classes. Since, apparently, all a nation needs is a growing economy and the most powerful defense industry. So it all has to change, and its an insider’s game unless the masses lock-step behind a true cause of empathy rather than the politicking and polling propaganda machines.

Truth. Health. Access.

Speak it real.

Let us freely decide.

That’s my message, pretense, and imperative.

Truth. Health. Access.

Speak it real.

Let us freely decide.

Let the nation debate about the nation’s security.

Quit snobbishly intellectualizing it be beyond the commoner’s mind,

While back handily suggesting it’s our will to comply with your secrets and lies.

Truth. Health. Access.

What more can we desire than a fair field, and sound rules to keep the game alive?

how can i start a post worth reading?
what exactly do i want to accomplish?

i just want to share, like a child in front of the classroom, only this time, i'm prepared. ever wonder about the physical reality-- i mean the one transcendent of your perceptions? sure, great. a big "so what (now)" might immediately assault our intensional ignorance of the situation. it's not one that's remediable. the even more limited fact-of-the-matter is that i am probably departing from our common knowledge-base to make my ideas intelligible. still, i'll give it a shot because i'm not pretentious enough to distrust your ability to infer and contextually glean my meanings. the complete description of the whole modeled-event would include my ineptitude with communicating complex ideas. far too often in my philosophical career have i heard echoed "great ideas, awkward language." with all that in mind, let's take an excursion into the abstract connections of physics, metaphysics, and conceptions.

principles of mathematics. history of western philosophy. on being and nothingness. conceptual development of quantum mechanics. the god delusion. are all titles of books on my queue. so, for sure, i'm without certain experiences given to describe specific feelings about truth, but this is just something i do for my own satisfaction. i merely imagine someone eventually enjoying their encounter with this (and other) writing(s).

let's go:

sitting on the second floor of a townhouse-style shopping center in a two-bedroom intimately coupled dwelling above a barber and realtor, i take breaths of the moist new england aire. i loathe the simple superiority complex of the region. i know ignorance built these walls, and ignorance occupies my time. the method and meaning of mathematics is to develop the language of objects, references, and interactions. so they say that one could develop a model (given the time) to put all of these objects in motion, and suspiciously i'm lead to a godhead experience transcending my intimate experiences of sense-perceptions. this delusion of grandeur is quite convincing. if there is a description, there must be an interlocutor to describe it for all time. quite surreal it seems when the concept leads us to this, but if you bring it back before there were objects to describe you infer a creator. so it appears, at least to my faculties, to be the search for the universal self, connected throughout space and time, within the cause and effect paradigm. it's the universal identity that technically should afford such a description, and yet, it is a catastrophic error of inference. consciousness cannot protect us from the mathematical contradiction of initial cause all the way back from my shoddy apartment seated in front of a parking lot view. who knew it would lead to this? who knew that planet Earth would subsist and evolve, all-the-while continually revolve in an even grander structure interacting with others all stemming from nothing more than the oblique reality we call space and time? no one and nothing. meaning is an invention deriving from the conscious description of the system that is. isn't it? who knows? no one and nothing. and that tends to be my natural departure. my arrival, i thought, was a realistic environment of ethical discourse and solutions to the universal puzzles, but i've been duped. and so have you, unless you already assume, that the no one really cares about the truth, nor the objective position that each should be afforded what inherently they warrant and not receive in excess that of which they are undeserving. we're just too young of a species, our collective intellect is still embattled with struggling epiphanies over a timeless vision of how to survive, keep order, and thrive justified solely on the basis of personal freedom scaled by the utilitarian value of the dollar, the euro, the yen, and other recognized currency. well, you might ask, then what else? what more can we do as a blossoming youth of modernity? who knows? no one and nothing.