Jameson, Absolute, Nietzsche, and the Cat
Moon on the horizon.
Soft breeze rattles the
brambles out by the
old barn.
The cat enters, looks
about and begins to
speak.
“Fears take flight after years
of drinking the tears away
while the days responsibilities
are laughable in the light of
satori's brilliant realization.
Silly, silly man, thinking reality
something to achieve, a destination
to discover, a journey to undertake.
Listen and I will tell you what little
I have learned burning away my
short time on this horizon of
understanding.
All that is transitory is a metaphor
for the eternal and all that is eternal
is a metaphor for the self.
The self is the collective consciousness
we all share and what we share is our
experience of being.
Being is nothing but an illusion created
in the mind of God while God is simply
a metaphor for eternity in the mind of
man.
Now pour me some kibble for I know
many things but do not possess opposable
thumbs”.
I woke with a start, cursing the spinning
room and swearing never to mix Jameson
and Absolute again.
The cat finished her kibble and crapped
in the litter box.
Sixteen Lines
As I walk along the border
between reason and disorder
Tripping past the neon garden
of my jaded, ill spent youth
Gazing off into the distance
pondering this mad existence
Who is God and what strange notion
led him to create all this?
Take me far beyond the steeple
to a land of unscathed people
Where no single rule or concept
dooms four billion helpless souls
Show me love without condition
without heaven or perdition
Where no act of false contrition
guarantees eternal bliss
between reason and disorder
Tripping past the neon garden
of my jaded, ill spent youth
Gazing off into the distance
pondering this mad existence
Who is God and what strange notion
led him to create all this?
Take me far beyond the steeple
to a land of unscathed people
Where no single rule or concept
dooms four billion helpless souls
Show me love without condition
without heaven or perdition
Where no act of false contrition
guarantees eternal bliss
Dark Wind
If perdition indeed holds
a place for those faces such
as mine whose lines are the
essence of a depressing
viewpoint, then I openly
welcome my fate.
Lucifer, set my plate
somewhere between
Dickinson and Twain
so I may learn from their
sardonic wit just what it
means to be human and
what it means to love and
to feel and to reel against
it all and to fall and to rise
again over and over till the
end of time in the sublime
ecstasy of the soul's
droll brilliance.
a place for those faces such
as mine whose lines are the
essence of a depressing
viewpoint, then I openly
welcome my fate.
Lucifer, set my plate
somewhere between
Dickinson and Twain
so I may learn from their
sardonic wit just what it
means to be human and
what it means to love and
to feel and to reel against
it all and to fall and to rise
again over and over till the
end of time in the sublime
ecstasy of the soul's
droll brilliance.
Jaded
Encroaching madness
approaches from
unexpected corners of
oblivion’s indifferent layer.
Lost souls wander aimlessly
through tomorrow’s aborted
twilight ignorant of realities
chaotic inclination.
This is our truth, our way,
our direction.
Darwin’s natural selection
dooms us all to Valhalla’s
halls crowded with calamities
mediocre sons and tyranny’s
unadorned daughters.
The waters of truth must find
their own level while the mud
of deception remains firm
beneath our jaded
feet.
approaches from
unexpected corners of
oblivion’s indifferent layer.
Lost souls wander aimlessly
through tomorrow’s aborted
twilight ignorant of realities
chaotic inclination.
This is our truth, our way,
our direction.
Darwin’s natural selection
dooms us all to Valhalla’s
halls crowded with calamities
mediocre sons and tyranny’s
unadorned daughters.
The waters of truth must find
their own level while the mud
of deception remains firm
beneath our jaded
feet.
Death (The First Five Minutes)
The movie ends and
the credits roll and
the droll lights blind
glazed eyes to the reality
of existence.
The distance between now
and eternity is 300 unadorned
seconds.
Bliss or imagination, can
anyone really know for sure
where the pure spirit lies in
the moments after death when
breath and heart and thought
cease forever falling into the
clever trappings of eternal
silence?
Even as we ultimately expire,
will we know?
Our minds true essence is lost
without regard to the realm of
fantastic illusion and
delusional ranting going
on around us.
Where does the truth lie?
the credits roll and
the droll lights blind
glazed eyes to the reality
of existence.
The distance between now
and eternity is 300 unadorned
seconds.
Bliss or imagination, can
anyone really know for sure
where the pure spirit lies in
the moments after death when
breath and heart and thought
cease forever falling into the
clever trappings of eternal
silence?
Even as we ultimately expire,
will we know?
Our minds true essence is lost
without regard to the realm of
fantastic illusion and
delusional ranting going
on around us.
Where does the truth lie?
Unbound
Nothing to forgive.
No desire or memory.
Everything cast into the
hell I’ve created for myself.
Nightfall, slumber and the myth
of inner peace.
Moon casts shadows upon the
vanity of man.
First light.
Awaken.
Memory of dreams passes.
It’s time abandon the
place of my salvation.
No desire or memory.
Everything cast into the
hell I’ve created for myself.
Nightfall, slumber and the myth
of inner peace.
Moon casts shadows upon the
vanity of man.
First light.
Awaken.
Memory of dreams passes.
It’s time abandon the
place of my salvation.
Gone
Embrace the silence,
face the violence;
Transcend mediocrities
terrestrial shore.
The boredom of life is
in the cinemas.
Empty flickering lights
that fight comprehension’s
meandering bliss.
face the violence;
Transcend mediocrities
terrestrial shore.
The boredom of life is
in the cinemas.
Empty flickering lights
that fight comprehension’s
meandering bliss.
Forest Serenity
The forest lingers in the
twilight of god’s eternal
oblivion.
Proud limbs bend silently
in the cradle of Autumn’s
loving embrace.
Man’s dominion over the
Yew and the Ash is no
more.
The mighty Oak no longer
fears the reaper’s foul blade.
Man has unleashed the sword
of ignorance upon his own
kind.
twilight of god’s eternal
oblivion.
Proud limbs bend silently
in the cradle of Autumn’s
loving embrace.
Man’s dominion over the
Yew and the Ash is no
more.
The mighty Oak no longer
fears the reaper’s foul blade.
Man has unleashed the sword
of ignorance upon his own
kind.
Melancholy Desolation
When pain approaches
from shadow and encroaches
upon realities unsuspecting
shore than all knowledge
is dead.
A stranger’s perfume.
The furious discharge
of forsaken orgasmic
freedom.
Withdrawal.
An awkward substitute
for love’s cataclysmic
bliss.
from shadow and encroaches
upon realities unsuspecting
shore than all knowledge
is dead.
A stranger’s perfume.
The furious discharge
of forsaken orgasmic
freedom.
Withdrawal.
An awkward substitute
for love’s cataclysmic
bliss.
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