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Monthly Archives: November 2015



legislated thought
bring out the sapiens in the homo

yes Sir!
agitate – stir
get motion started
get active
positive about moving
negative about staying


entropy is speeding up

it’s not so plain to see

it’s not out in space or other things

but right here in you and me


life is for the living

we take it as it comes

we take all it has to give

until the lifeblood runs


growth is something that we do

then suddenly we don’t

a worthy friend well worth the pursuit?

misunderstood as a foe
feared, shunned, ignored, rejected
drowned out in vulgar volume

the forsaken art
sacred loneliness
requiring much attention
much practice
much skill

sooner or later we all are going to die
and then we will be alone
as long as we may have lived
we will be dead for longer
as large as we may have become in life
in death we will become smaller than ever
without shape or substance
densely compressed into a vast space
apparent emptiness
empty apparentness
all alone
perhaps missed
but we will not know

this shared reality
the only suggestion of togetherness we have
yet even in togetherness we are alone
trying desperately not to be so

in our beginning we come and we go
we do this alone
we know no other

we arrive empty, all alone
can we presume to depart differently?
even if we carry baggage
it can only be packed with memories
memories all our own
however vague or articulate
solitary memories
ours alone
our own perceptions
with no witnesses by our side to speak of
merely our own memoirs in process
the primitive formation of meaning
as we alone can know it

so much loneliness
so little togetherness
how can we ignore the greater

it may not be so
I may be wrong
but I won’t be alone

to be, or not to believe

that is the answer

maybe science and religion are mixing their metaphors

like a paradox fighting over the same bloody bone

a fervor leaving all but themselves stone cold

tangible mysticism backed up by the masses

tele-vagelistic physicists and law-locked preachers

all pontificating from their own little book

proclaiming laws

apart from each other yet locked together

forever in bondage to their own circular reasoning

running away from each other

yet forever keeping their distance

there is nothing more closed, mind you

than a mind that refuses to be open

a finger wrote upon the ground
the words were clear without a sound
a roar was stifled to a scream
the game was up, the blade was clean
a cut from many hands was due
but in the hush there now were few
of many words are many men
until the finger writes again
but still, like bile, the hearts of man
prepare to start the roar again

there once was a curry named Murray
who spiced up his food in a hurry
he threw in so much
he had to double de-clutch
and now he struggles to not worry

have a heart for the prophet

the poor beggar who lives with us

he claims to hear

and speak for God

the creator

or the universe

but he is employed by man

the poor are easily discerned

but only with much difficulty

even though they stagger

stumbling, falling in the streets

we trip over them

not seeing them lying there

unable to look them in the eye


we all gaze in the mirror

without really looking to see

lest we see what we’re looking at

and the truth strikes a mortal blow

the stomach speaks louder than the mouth

though it has no voice, it shouts

… indeed, it roars