Sunday, January 13, 2008

Posting an older one for posterity's sake

Mirror mirror mirror all
The fates of times collapse befall
Cracked and tarnished, shadows rot
A face time itself bestowed and wraught
Oh quiet one who watched us laugh
Speak on oh wise one who shows the path
Speak of times in which we've spun
The world our yarn, the battle won
Oh nameless one who's eyes predict
These walls, these wombs now so derelict
Speak of miseries collapse
Of tattered fingers and prides elapse
Mistress and Minder to the Fates of time
You alone know the crones design
Yet speechless in the wonder of
The presence of eternal love

Monday, January 07, 2008

Hold your ground

"Hold your ground!" he screams. I wonder who he's screaming at.

"Hold your ground!" he continues. Men in black suits now have him by the arms.

"Hold your ground!" his hoarse voice rings through the corridor. He's being pulled backwards.

"Hold your ground!" his distant cry can still be heard. The doors at the end of the corridor close.

Wednesday, September 15, 2004

Let yourself go

There’s a fear; sometimes we fear so much that we can no longer be strong enough to hide.

And sometimes, that fear is even stronger, and we’re too weak to show it.

Plaster holds nothing as faces crumble through time. Watching over our backs gives us a sense of safety. The path behind us is known. Wandering blindly, facing the past, is easier than turning around and looking where you are.

Hi, my name is Sam. Can I have your number?

Where is this place? Am I seeing double? Acres of twisting dreams

Where did the squares go? Multiplied? Devoured. Endlessly reeling. Endlessly reeling. Happenstance. All hearsay. Welcome to oblivion Son, would you like to check your coat?

The girl. The girl. The girl.

Who said life was the beginning of all sorrow?

Words. Can. Hurt. Sometimes. They. Can. Kill. Even. More. Rarely. They. Can. Be. Remembered.

Who said, who said who said whos aid whosa id whosaid whosaid?

Wavering at the edge of sleep. Dream states become lucid doorways, entering our soul to pierce us. What gauge is the death of a loved one? Is there a plug made for that soul-dermal punch?

Acres of twisting dreams. Acres of twisting nothingness.

Oh Muse! Help the man out! He just wants his heart back.

Where did you hide it this time? These secrets that you keep, where do you put all of them? The Fates never spun a thread long enough to knit the bag that could hold all of those secrets.

Welcome the night. Welcome the moon. Welcome. Welcome.

Welcome.


Welcome




Why are you here? We did not ask for you. Your opinion is worth nothing. Only your opinion matters.

Acres of twisting time. Of lives. Of loves.

Where is hate in all of this?

The mirror. The mirror. The mirror. The mirror. The mirror.

Reflection. Echoes of Narcissus. A Sisyphean task, this rock of humanity. We each strive, yet this imperfection, this mirror, slips from our grip, and here we are.

Ground floor.

Going down?
Maybe we'll grab a drink sometime


Maybe we'll dance the night away

Friday, August 13, 2004

Last words

What is it about that elusive 'last conversation'? What is it about this fleeting idea about one last encounter with that certain someone before you lapse into a lifetime of not talking to them ever again? Why does it seem so necessary? What makes me think that I'll have something new to say, something relevant, something that will wipe away the past couple years and enable us to start over?

What would I even say? I have dreams about it, this fabled last meeting. It happens at a party in Boston that we both just happen to be attending. I'm sitting at a rounded table, in a corner somewhere, talking to someone. In the middle of the conversation, the person just changes into her, and I stop.

I stop.

Even in my dreams I'm speechless. That beautiful face looking at me again, that perfect face with that balances perfectly between a smile and a frown, always keeping me guessing, never knowing what she thinks of me. Why do I keep going back to this image of her, this tormenting, beautiful, familiar yet unknown face?

Is this how I look at myself?

Thursday, July 15, 2004

Silent Movie

FADE IN:
 
DARKENED ROOM ON AN UPPER FLOOR OF AN UNKNOWN HOTEL
 
Camera pointed at floor, extreme close-up of carpet.  Camera zooms out and pans up and to the right.  Room realizes into a hotel room.  Camera first shows a rumpled bed with empty liquor bottle tossed on top of the sheets.  Camera continues panning right passed a broken mirror.  Camera comes to rest on the open window.  Through the window a large neon sign is flickering, illuminating a billboard for a phone-in marriage counseling service.  Camera holds on this image for unseemly long time.  Light flickers off.
 
FADE OUT

Wednesday, June 23, 2004

Question And Answer

Pity pulls at the emotions Empathy burns Conviction wavers. What is it like where you are? Why are you standing there with you hand stretched out? Where is your country now, Sir? Why is your skin peeling off? Why am I helpless to help you?

I wonder what its like to stand in your shoes, Sir, if only for a minute. I pause. Had you any shoes. Why can I not help you? Where is your soul? Is it there, gripped in your hand, wrapped in a brown paper bag? Is it in your honorable discharge notice? In your hospital bills? In you perscriptions that you cannot afford to fill?

Crossing the street now, I can hear you behind me, feel you staring at the back of my head. How is it that you came to be this way, Sir? Didn't you already work for food, serve your country for food, serve your country for medication, for care? Serve your country for happiness? For liberty? For health?

Across the street, Uncle Bush points at me, smiles and says, "Serve your country young man! Its your civic duty." Behind him glares the neon words, "Die for oil! It's the Right thing to do!"

Who knows who to believe? Did you suffer this inner battle, Sir? Were you plagued by doubt of your government? Did you ever try to speak out, only to be shut down by those who have the power? Were you ever face to face with a policeman in full riot gear, waiting for you to take the slightest movement so he can break your face? Have you ever been disgusted at the actions of your nation? Would you still die for it? Would you still die for me? Should I die for it? Why should I die for me? Why should I kill for you?

Can you answer me that, Sir?

Wednesday, June 02, 2004

Awareness

What does it mean to be aware in this day and age? In this seemingly hedonistic society fueled by semen, sweat, money and tears, being aware has taken a backseat to dulling the senses, the eyes, the mind, the heart, the soul. Every action seems to be an attempt to block some sense or memory, to distance oneself from the world. How important is it to be aware? Are we better off not knowing what is going on around us? Are we better off not being cognizant of the millions of children starving to death each day in the world? Not being empathetic to the thousands or millions of people going through civil wars, rebellions, economic upheaval, religious pogroms, ethnic cleansing, and opressive governments? Not seeing the homeless and the helpless? Is this state that we find ourselves in a blessing or a malediction? Should we be content with the sugar coated news that we find ourselves swimming in, or should we be asking for the horrid truth? Would the truth only scare us without making us better people, or would the truth about the world around us cause us to decide to clean ourselves up as a society?

I find myself struggling with this question daily, and I find myself wishing that I could know for sure that what I was hearing from the news was what is actually happening, and not what the government wants us to think is happening. I want to be able to see the filth and the contamination around me, to live in a defiled world where everything is not so pure and happy. I want to know my enemies. I want to see the world through the eyes of a child whose stomach has distended from malnutrition. I want to know what its like from the other side of the street.

But then I realize that I don't have the strength to walk across to the other side. I don't know if I could handle what I would see. But then I think that maybe I should anyway.

Saturday, May 29, 2004

-Life-

Naked and confused I stand here shivering. Behind me you stand, watching my silhouette against the moon, tears soaking into pillows clutched by fragile hands to your trembling breast. How we long to cross that gap that divides us. There we stand, reaching out for each other, so needy, so desperate. So alone, yet unable to even look at each other. Around us, the world pulsates with the rhythm of naked lovers lost in youthful abandon or, perhaps, painted delusions. Who’s to say which? My heart beats in time to this passionate plea; ringing out through paper walls. Music that rises to a crescendo and fades, as does everything, although not all so noble or so vile. As the pulsation stops, so does my heart, for just that moment, and I hope. But all we do is hope, and there's precious little of that left. so the moon keeps shining as Shiva dances, and in the street, the homeless man weeps because he found himself, and in doing so, lost the world. This is my story. This is life.

This is what I’m afraid of: I’m afraid of going back to what was, of not having the strength to keep things together, to not love our destructiveness, our explosiveness. I’m afraid of loosing control, I’m afraid of having control. I’m afraid of doing damage that can't be undone. I’m afraid of heartbeats that match mine. I’m afraid of soft hands that reach for me in the darkness.

Friday, May 28, 2004

Terribilis este locus iste

Democracy:
1 a : government by the people; especially : rule of the majority b : a government in which the supreme power is vested in the people and exercised by them directly or indirectly through a system of representation usually involving periodically held free elections

Evolution:
2 a : a process of change in a certain direction : UNFOLDING b : the action or an instance of forming and giving something off : EMISSION c (1) : a process of continuous change from a lower, simpler, or worse to a higher, more complex, or better state : GROWTH (2) : a process of gradual and relatively peaceful social, political, and economic advance d : something evolved
3 : the process of working out or developing

Synthesis:
2 a : deductive reasoning b : the dialectic combination of thesis and antithesis into a higher stage of truth

Dialectic:
4 a : the Hegelian process of change in which a concept or its realization passes over into and is preserved and fulfilled by its opposite; also : the critical investigation of this process b (1) usually plural but singular or plural in construction : development through the stages of thesis, antithesis, and synthesis in accordance with the laws of dialectical materialism (2) : the investigation of this process (3) : the theoretical application of this process especially in the social sciences
5 usually plural but singular or plural in construction a : any systematic reasoning, exposition, or argument that juxtaposes opposed or contradictory ideas and usually seeks to resolve their conflict b : an intellectual exchange of ideas


"Love it or leave it." The fallback line for some in defence of what they see in this world around them. This concept of "Love it or leave it" brings to mind a question of what it is to be a "Good American." Does the "Good American," in fact, have to love everything their contry does? On the converse, what does it mean to be "Anti-American" these days? Is it possible to be both? Is it possible to be neither?


Whilst thinking about the "Love it or leave it" ideas brought about by a friends post on the ToolArmy website about being a "Good American," I began to think about democracy, how it relates to the idea of evolution, and how both democracy and evolution relate to the concept of synthesis and dialectic. What struck me was how belligerence, both on the part of the “American” and the “Anti-American,” defeats the purpose of both synthesis and evolution, which seems to me to be a direct application of dialectics on a living system.

When one says “Love it or leave it,” one is going directly against all inherent systems of social and political advancement. The immediate analogy that comes to mind is likening the “American” to the ape that refused to ever leave the trees, and the “Anti-American” to the ape that left the trees before the group was ready to. What happened to both of these types of ape? They either died of under- or over- specialization. Because one fought against progression, it fell behind and became under specialized, not being able to adapt to the new terrain of the plains. The other, who specialized too quickly, was unable to bear the responsibilities of the new terrain, and easily fell prey to organisms that already inhabited the new environment.

What does this mean for us today?

It’s easy to fall into the “knee jerk reaction” category on either side of the political front-line. It is this reaction, however, that seems to me to be the root of contention in our society. Being closed-minded and unwilling to adopt, or even think about, neighboring philosophies, being unwilling to change ones own world-view, paradigm, etc., is what will lead us into our own demise.

What seems to me to be the most important discussion we can be having right now is how we can control ourselves and limit the amount of side-taking and knee-jerking on both sides of the line. I think that, instead of trying to argue someone into seeing things “your way,” why can’t we discuss with one another how things work and how we can better ourselves. I find it hard to believe that there can be one side that is right, correct, and in fact, synthesis would say that, even if there is a correct path to take, there has to be an even better path that what we can imagine. Dialectics is a never ending path; there is always room for improvement, both on a personal level, and on a social level.

Ours is not a battle to make someone think like us. No, ours is one that is much more difficult: our battle is one to make people think, not just as their fathers thought, but also how your father though, and how, on the other side of the world, their fathers thought. Once we have done this, we can strive to understand how we ourselves think, how the other person thinks, and how those attacking us think. Only by working together can we escape the draw of self-destruction.