Friday, June 10, 2016

written in the sand that’s waiting on the wind


wisdom resonates within the realm of non-action

i don’t say this to sound wise

but if you know anything

you know a fraction of what is to be known

and i know we don’t know enough to instruct

 

when others try to induct

i dismiss their vocal cord emanations

knowing they haven’t figured out

that they don’t know enough as well

or they wouldn’t tell

you anything other than their personal feelings

cause all they’re reveling

is a conversation i have no wish to continue

 

your chisel will only fizzle against my exterior

and the sledgehammer approach won’t encroach

with the strength necessary to shatter

 

i’ve already been to jacob’s ladder

and still have two good thighs

 

non-action is the traction that treads

upon the instead that goal orientation

is a fabrication created from the conglomeration

of the conclusion delusion

dancing in your shallow depths

 

so take a breath

my silence doesn’t mean i’m not adept

and my actions bear more witness

to what i believe than any arrangement of words

 

in other words, “shut the fuck up”

i know you don’t approve of what i do

but i really don’t care

 

if i believed it mattered

then, yes, my life’s in tatters

but do and don’t won’t dictate

 

consequence is a perception poised

by your presuppositions

 

i don’t have a condition or cause

there is no meaning in movement or a pause

so i just let me be me

not the image you have drawn

 

cause you’re not talking gravity

when you say cause and effect

but a morality you interject

like a vaccine you inject

to wash the world into well being

 

you believe your truth so absolute

it holds true from one end of the cosmos

to the other

even physicists still question the fundamentals

and avail themselves of the word singularity

for the places where there is no clarity

 

limits do not linger

unless you fix them in time

in the foundations of your mind

 

what part of jean-paul sartre

or albert camus didn’t you understand

nothing’s according to plan

 

something is out of hand

because you look at it that way

 

it just is and then it isn’t

and that’s all it ever was

without a because

 

this devotion to preconceived notions

has many dance partners

but i’m not at the edge of the dance floor

with eyes forlorn

 

i just happen to be passing by

beneath the sheltering sky

when you interrupted my stay

on the dark streets of decay

to tell me there’s a better way

when i don’t even remember asking

and you never see how your maps to gold coin

inspire these poems

 

once again sartre was right

“hell is other people”

 

you see i was raised by a witch

who turned me into an ugly toad

until i encountered the pond side kiss

from a fairy tale princess

which made me feel like a handsome prince

what everyone else perceives

is irrelevant to me

and borders on the unimaginative

 

i am what i am

with or without the spinach

and even if i had walked

in the village called greenwich

i still wouldn’t be a good writer

and am perplexed by how my blog

has over 30,000 views

from almost every country in the world

 

maybe i’m not the only disenfranchised dreamer

while all the schemers attain

by the pain they inflict on others

 

how easy it would be to paint my windows black

door locks intact

never to interact

with your daily dose of the diocese

 

well, i’m bored

i’ve pulled all the weeds in the garden

and found there are no flowers

even the dung beetles have moved on

in search of something more aromatic

 

***

 

 

 

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