20 October 2012
the times, the times, I feel it so,
and yet again: In a Safe Place
knowing that the safety cannot
vibrate the chains of change free.
Stagnant standards get pushed below
pocket lint moved, I feel it so
I've grown a bit older, far from old,
far from thirty even, or twenty-four.
Tonight, the revelrous town glows
with a trivial energy, coloured naive.
Drunken stumbles and slurred stammer
give way to fumbled lovemaking;
lovely signals, mixed mistakes.
Wait, wait and wait some more,
In line, en route–bar. Dance-floor.
Problems forgotten, happiness acquired
brought to you by Visa and Smirnoff.
Reward yourself into the illusion of
Sleepless tonight for different reasons,
as I feel for change behind their veil.
Words coined here to remember how
It was done before, so also now.
for the rest.
07 October 2012
the metal monstrosities of man.
Carving forth the way, for the day-to-day
with no consideration or plan.
To take it one more, to which I abhor
That we siphon the mother to do so
Suckled oil-teet dry, to which I decry
Toward this dinosaur-powered road show.
spending words; a safe investment.
The building blocks of our future
foundation; the sentence; signed-off. Case closed.
I’s dotted and T’s crossed by the gavel,
the neo-fountain pen clackity-clack
of hands-on-keys that unlock locks
and bridge the gaps between me and there.
And so we say we do it for the kids,
and so I mean we do it for the kids,
but what I really mean is we do it for us,
not you, or you, or you, or me,
but the humans we are, the people they’ll be
when they inherit our problems, let them release
with the words we’ve saved, and so
with it, the cycle may cease.
Earswitch flipped, my music video begins
I imagine laughs and shouts,
the grinding of bike gears
and the carbon monoxide hum
of the idly absorbed.
Sniffles and sneezes, oh wait,
they’re my own, but also not.
Come and gone, what once was ‘I’
now a figmental illusion as I realize
that which I knew long ago,
and was conditioned to forget;
we all share, we all be
in the now, no you, no me,
Experience Lost, Experience Regained
hardly a paradise, but the perfect playground
to restore faith in our Universal role,
as we apply schema to the cosmically unknown.
The monk, the lover, Shaman Ocelot.
A slowing fast, consumption’s defeat
Still the mind, and if even, cheat.
The misconception of the Shortcut King
Played a harp plucked many a string.
In seeking out this Holy Grail
the quest is forfeit, all shall fail.
For their minds seek out the wrongest answer
a personal crusade, the consuming Cancer.
When in sounder minds, and in calmer waters
Mirror placid presented learned daughters.
To teach the lessons to humbled men.
Future. Past. Now. Again, again.
06 October 2012
No, I wasn't raised in the struggle, in the hussle,
but I was brought up to know the value of work.
and I've earned my keep to live here, too.
I've been taught the scalding truths of trust,
of understanding and the endless push to help
our comrades, near and far, different as they may be.
To live and to feel the progress of trying,
and for those that recognize this themselves,
have earned there place to learn further and say
with conviction, that we are all belonged people
of this safe haven of Earth, Littleton to Detroit,
Chernobyl to DC, Baltimore to Grosse Pointe.
Labeled as we be, people are people are people.
From the cider mill to Rackham,
Fall focus regionalism and to
write what you know,
but what I know transcends far far more,
for me, anyway.
Geographical, mindset limitations,
the plight of the story untold,
until the story unfolds,
the balancing act of segregating oneself
from a larger scope, we aren't Michigan
or America, black, white or else,