° artificial
made or produced by human beings rather than occurring naturally, especially as a copy of something natural.
° intelligence
the ability to acquire and apply knowledge and skills.
Opposite:
stupidity
Why would I want to become someone, if I am someone already?
Why would I want to become something, if I am something already?
Why would I want to be somewhere if I am somewhere already?
I am here now… it is enough.
isn’t it?
apparently not?
are not life and love more about being than doing?
who can start a thing knowing its end?
and what can we do to contribute other than allowing it to happen in its own time?
what use are goals if change will simply come when it does?
and who does it ask for permission?
when the clouds are full the rain falls
we cannot fill the clouds with water
neither can we steer the winds?
the end or the beginning of something are neither better or worse
either way it is most often upon us before we see it coming
nevertheless eyes are better open than closed
and more fortunate are the flexible
for they are less inclined to be broken
freedom is seldom free
no one else can feel your pain
though they often say they do
neither can any feel your joy
either way there’s only you
and when you feel you’re all alone
that’s truly all that’s real
it’s who you are and what you do
that decides just how you feel
it was all just a dream he said
each night as he laid down his head
he closed his eyes and went to bed
that is how he fell asleep
it’s all very much like reality TV according to the script
the more you buy into it the more you get ripped
in the dead of night
as we lie asleep
is it as loud in your ears when I scratch my head?
or when I shout inside
can you hear it like a faint whisper if your head lays next to mine?
or do you hear the thunder?
and during the day
the echoes of the storm
do they leak out from behind the noise of our everyday lives?
as I bump my head on all the low hanging ledges of my life?
and if I awake someday
will you still love me tomorrow?
If I find myself in another’s dream
all I will find is that I have lost that which is my own
the reality that is birthed in the mind of another
can never be mine
it belongs somewhere else,
away,
outside
always tearing to be away and one at the same time
a famous cat locked in a box is and isn’t
it remains a slave
captive to someone else’s experiment
those who look on will laugh and fight
and disagree that way and this
those who agree disagree with themselves
to be in two different spaces at the same time cannot be
though we yearn it can’t agree with us, or with itself
time has a place
a space to be real
if only for a moment
space on the other hand, needs no time
so time in space is rendered useless
except perhaps to define space
but only to those who observe
or so they think
and what of space?
it exists alone, completely alone
unless it agrees to disagree with itself
and become someone else
or someone else’s experiment
more alone than before
there is more space than not
this is a mysterious mystery
plain to all
impossible to see
it cannot be
but it is
to rise above the primitive drives
to leave behind the base call of survival
to walk a path that no other has trodden
a path the natural eye cannot see
a place not defined by conformity
a land of new meanings
where purpose is not measured in material
but where material suggests the immeasurable substance
I stumbled off to sleep one day
the dreams came thick and fast
reflections of the night I live
present, future, past
events so vivid, twisted, real
all mixed in detailed mush
fiction science in flat 3-D
like Dali’s hallowed brush
and in a flash it stopped
I woke just as I fell off the brink
I left the world of make believe
at least that’s what I think
so here I am in wonderland
my heart is all a pound
trying to work out if where I think I stand
is really solid ground
above the clouds the sun is shining,
in the dark of night it keeps blazing on through,
though it seems like it may never come,
very soon it will dawn on you
the faithful skeptic 