Oh Yeah, That’s Li(f)e

March flows as the rest flows
past you as March draws to a close
Don’t try to keep up, honey
cuz that’s life
Oh yeah that’s life
Warm snuggles on a comfy couch
The changing weather’s got
Nothing on the arms around you
That’s a lie

Mix that hooch with your sedatives, boo
Lights shoot across your head as you lie
Incapacitated & a bit dizzy too
Oh yeah, that’s a lie 
Kill your darlings before you’re slain
The deadline approaches, filled with strife
Beware the lad whose gone insane
Oh yeah, that’s life
April will come while
The march keeps on
Left behind, no more time?
That’s a lie

What lies beneath the beat of a thousand feet
Chasing pavements of gilded gold
As you fade away from memory
Honey, that’s no lie
That’s life

Manifesto Of The Intrusive

A signal from an indeterminate location broadcasts the following message on a loop 24/7:

Accept your earthly limitations
You are not prepared for what lies beneath
Your mission is a failure
Your emotions are improper
Your needs indecent
Your lifestyle’s too extreme
You cannot debate fact
Honor thy vassalage
Accept your fate…

Everyone in this State will hear this indoctrination at least seven times a day.

Are we really intended to force down this load of horseshit?!
Are we to gargle this dump at the back of our throats as fecal flakes build up against our tonsils until we are forced to either spit it out or suffocate in the cud of our own undoing?

Cursed is the one who willfully ingests into their own body, the body that a god so graciously drafted in an immeasurable amount of time crafted into an image that forms a semblance of sense, an insidious poison created for the sole purpose of undoing all of that work.

Cursed and damned, fellow traveler!

Unavoidable as this broadcast as. Direct it outwards, far away from your being.
Don’t let it infest & overwhelm. The very condition of our universe is at stake!

Not Yet (B-side)

The pinnacle of civilization stands atop a melancholy hill

From up here she can see Forever 360°
from up here the air is pure as honeydew juice & tastes as sweet…
Filtered away, though, by the smog emitting from her gills
& the stench leaking from a canister in hand
to make the pellets crammed into her mouth go down smoothly

She gazes up towards the purple-yellow-green horizon above
Sunrays caress her cheeks and kisses her nose

all is still

She bows her head and starts to bring the canister to her lips before..
Fright! A ghastly sight!
making her leap 50ft up in the air

The pinnacle of civilization actually jumped at her own shadow.

Spilling the contents in hand around her feet
mixing with gravel and sand into a heft muck
the high-altitude breeze spreading it about

Thousands of tiny bodies from the woodlands behind her
crawl, wading through the mud
some of them stop moving instantly
others continue crawling through
more haphazardly by the second

Her mouth feels empty

all is still

except for an ever-growing distant sound of a handful of marbles tumbling down
down down
Gone Away

The woodland creatures tickle her toes
She does not laugh
she does not know how to feel nor think
simply allowing the sunrays to continue its embrace
the Forever around her 360° calling out to her
wanting, begging, pleading for her return

She’s not yet ready & does not know if she ever will be

All she knows is the warmth she feels now
Up here on a melancholy hill
Choosing to ignore the ramifications of what just happened
Ignoring that at some point, she will have to return below
to return to the curse
of blending with the rest of the Forever

Such is her fate
The pinnacle of civilization

Whose Fault Is That?

Nobody’s favorite anything

No one’s first thought
for anything positive
No one’s got the time
for works in progress
Nor the time for folks who don’t know
what they don’t know

Nobody’s favorite anything
No one’s thinking
No one’s caring, just
carrying on with no worries because
no one would think about

Nobody’s favorite anything

 

Case Study: A Perfect Gentleman

Certain creatures require a certain caliber of habitat
with a temperament to match their ideal temperature.

Here we find a typical Creature
as typical as one can be
blood-pulsing oxygen-converting mind-synapses a’snappin.
Typical.

Never you mind the four-inch razorsharp talons jutting from The Creature’s fingertips
manufactured as some Divine Being intended.
The talons help to scratch its desiccated skin
relieving itches between the gaps of stalactite-like rides running along its spine like flying buttresses crafted from shameless material.

Oh yes.
Typical!
I can assure you.

No need to avert your eyes, though
it would be understand if you did, truth be told.
No need to cross to the other side of the walkway.
Nor run away as The Creature approaches & greets you in an unsteady voice

“Excuse me, sir and/or madam, I believe…”

You took flight on sight!

It was simply attempting to return a handkerchief that had flown out of your bag during a slight updraft.
Most unnecessary action on your part.

Since you no longer had desire for the hanky
The Creature stores it in a cloth deposit at its hip,
after it first wipes away a sudden crimson discharge from its eye.

Certain creatures require a certain caliber of habitat
with a temperament to match their ideal temperature.

It understands the conditions and continues on its way.

Typical.

 

A Letter from The Psych’o’Desk

The Present is a never-ending state of being, which becomes increasingly obvious whilst attempting to maintain a mindful state. The Universe is in constant momentum at all times; even when your minuscule section of the world falls asleep for the night and appears to be still. To be engaged is to be in perpetual travel forever and ever & ever and ever…
Typing that sentence alone was exhausting in its own way.

Most of my life I’ve believed my biggest fear was of clowns… [shudders] Okay never mind, that concept pulled directly from the darkest nightmares of hellish beasts are still enemy #1.

But there is something to be said of Time..though I have difficulty fully accepting it as something that aids in my daily dose of the The Fear, there is something quite unnerving about a force that may truly be infinite and you’re just along for the ride.

In Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind Shunryu Suzuki writes:

“In one sense our experiences coming one by one are always fresh and new, but in another sense they are nothing but a continuous or repeated unfolding of the big mind…we accept our experiences as if recognizing the face we see in the mirror as our own.  For there is no fear of losing this mind. There is nowhere to come or to go.”

We are not really going anywhere yet you can never stop moving!

This reality is akin to seconds of Time being measured by each grain of sand in a colossal hourglass, each one eventually to never to be seen again. Each one seemingly decreasing in insignificance as it becomes more buried under others with each passing second. But its existence absolutely necessary – even for just that increment.

*pounds fist on desk*

Indeed…but with this reality also comes with a lot of responsibility, it seems. Tasks that must be completed. Places to go. Papers to file. Assorted bizarre oddities to adhere to. Hands to shake. Faces to smile at. Things to do, man. THINGS!

So, there may or may not be enough Time to be asking such questions. Or answers – for that matter.
There is much to do and it feels like Time is a’tickin.

Basically Get Busy or Don’t.
Either way you look at it, you’re still kind of doing something.

 

 

 

 

Is That Enough?

I’ve got less money than I know what to do with
would still spend it all on you
drown in the consequences later
drifting afloat with you a lil’ while longer
the only reality with meaning
or

I’ve got a car, not very fast
would drive as far as the wheels could manage
then we could walk to the edge of the known plane
gazing upon The Above with you a lil’ while longer
the only reality with meaning
or

I’ve got my physical form
questionable nobility
artless essence
undisputed virgin of worldliness
we could simply stir up my presence in the present
concocting our own colors and dancing to our own symphonies
perhaps
the only reality with meaning