Divulge

There is not a day that goes by 
where I don’t think about it. 
Maybe there’s not even 
an hour 
going by.
Something is amiss.
Incomplete. 
Twisted. 
I wish a lot of things 
but the most profound wish I have 
is that this reality would be 
a little less phoney. 
I vote for a more outspoken expression 
of good and evil.
Since we choose to live by 
this self prescribed and 
witlessly invented morality 
it should be a lot more open 
and out there. 
Not the tedious little vices of people 
stabbing each other in the back 
spreading gossip 
feeling envious of each other’s achievements 
pulling rank as if it were a true form 
of hierarchy
killing beauty and innocence
denying the natural order of life
and the pure material authority of dust. 
It should be demons and gore 
versus angels and glory. 
Where malice is answered 
with an exceeding judgement. 
Seeing the inner kingdom 
materialized. 
Where everything is just 
a lot clearer 
and no room for interpretation 
is left 
to those thousands of hustlers 
preying on the gullible millions. 
Where there is no need for 
ancient and worn conceptions as 
truth
or secrecy.
Where conviction 
frees itself form that ethical pecking order 
and from the ragged bounds of custom 
or convention.
So that we can step into a new era 
with more open minds 
and more energy flowing freely. 
And which is not restraining 
our souls 
with a disgusting and ongoing 
flow of contrition. 
Where we don’t have to keep looking 
over our shoulders 
all of the time 
expecting the worst 
even from the ones 
closest to us.
Where we can be way beyond that.
Focussed on the next stage 
in our evolution. 
We will have to claw 
deeper 
into the dust 
loosely stirring it about 
feeling it sweep 
between our fingers 
and learning its original significance 
before we can transcend it. 
Because now 
we are just not acting natural.

A fire in the lake

Another white overcast 

early afternoon. 
It looks like rain 
but it’s not going to fall 
I can tell. 
Sometimes the air here feels like 
it hasn’t rained in years. 
There is no wind at all. 
I can’t recall there ever having been any. 
Not here. 
Just like any other time 
I’m sitting in the same spot 
in the dusty reddish sand 
at the edge of a lake. 
The fine long grass 
is strong enough to grow 
as tall as my shoulders. 
It has purpose and 
seems determined 
which is more than you can say 
about me. 
I didn’t drive here. 
I didn’t travel here. 
I didn’t come here. 
I end up here 
now and then. 
But almost daily. 
The surface of the lake 
is an ivory white and 
of a motionless smoothness 
like a titanium surface. 
It is an unbreakable veneer 
with only little ripples 
of movement 
where my eyes fall on its skin. 
But they even out almost 
instantaneously. 
I climb a pitch-black tree 
that has huge overhanging branches. 
Inky limbs that reach 
well over the surface. 
At the farthest safe point 
I look down onto the ivory complexion 
of the water 
and I see the raging firestorm 
right beneath
all that outward appearance. 
Some day those bowels will 
erupt and emerge 
and this lake will boil with 
a singeing heat 
and pull me down from my view point. 
Ripping me to shreds 
in a swirling stew. 
There is 
no safe distance 
between us. 
You might as well 
dive straight in 
with me. 

On a desolate mountaintop

My soul lives 

on an abandoned mountaintop 
far away from the toils 
of everyday live 
and it is becoming 
more and more 
of a recluse 
with every day that passes. 
It runs with the wolves 
and it resides under the towering firs 
in a simple cabin. 
Where that empty wilderness
used to frighten me 
I now have found 
it is just a logical outcome for me. 
The way to go 
after where I’ve been. 
This place is far from loneliness. 
It is crawling and bursting with purity. 
Even from that isolated 
austere place 
it speaks to me 
constantly 
and I hear its warm voice 
without interruption. 
I’ve never felt 
a deeper consolation 
than the knowledge 
of that unbreakable connection. 
The tiniest sprout 
has pushed from the seed 
I have planted many years ago 
and it has taken me ages 
to nurture it to what it has become. 
Sappy and green 
and lush. 
Glowing with energy 
and rapture. 
Full of nowness. 
And it calls me 
by my true name 
which no one else 
knows. 

I hardly smile but I laugh a lot

I noticed that about myself today.
I too thought 
there was no difference. 
Or that they at least were 
connected. 
But seems they lie 
further apart than I ever assumed. 
I aggravate every emotion 
that could invoke 
some kind of smile 
into something 
that brings back the daylight 
and tells me that 
the balance is far from restored.
Everything is as it should be 
but that won’t inspire any sympathy 
from the judgement 
that is inevitable. 
Laughter at least 
is not overthought. 
It just happens. 
And that makes it 
perfect. 
And somehow 
that’s good enough 
to stay breathing. 
For now. 
But I know 
that things change. 
So let’s see how well 
I laugh tomorrow.

The full extent

Some would disagree with me

but I defend the idea 
that my inability to 
say anything new 
is no reason for me 
to stop formulating.
It may be a reason for you 
to stop reading. 
But frankly, 
I don’t give a shit. 
Never have and never will. 
If I can’t have this 
without the meddling of anyone 
I don’t want anything 
ever again. 
Why should we feel forced 
to do things only 
to be liked 
or appreciated by others?
Isn’t that the wrongest objective 
to aim for?
It is said that an artist 
can only be an artist 
if his work is seen by others. 
If he has an audience to validate 
his expression. 
But I disagree. 
Strongly. 
I’ve seen one too many talent 
wasted 
squandered 
ignored 
because of this misconception. 
The desire to create 
or make any move whatsoever 
should not be driven by 
response. 
This is a systematic perversion 
not an instinctive feeling.
It is a type of twisted reasoning 
that some of us 
maybe most of us 
have come to carry as 
a principle. 
A proposition 
based on nothing. 
The only motive to do 
or produce 
or create anything 
should be the mere idea to do so. 
As a mystical reincarnation 
of expressions 
outside of our anatomy. 
As an extension of our limbs 
and senses. 
As an escape 
from the confines of our carcass 
and consciousness. 
A direct hotline to our deeper essence. 
It is the true character 
of finding our ultimate place 
in the larger scheme. 
Don’t hold anything back.
Not for fear of derision. 
And certainly not for the prospect 
of being ignored. 
That would be 
the worst argument. 

A tape memory

The seasons change people.

Again every year.
They have a deep 
resounding 
and lasting effect 
on the psyche.
Even more so than 
the weather 
or the amount of sunlight 
one is exposed to. 
Now I want to believe that 
it’s all because of 
magnetic fields 
and planetary alignments 
but maybe 
just maybe it runs a little deeper 
than that. 
Is a genetic predisposition 
not a material translation 
of the aetherial concept 
of predestination? 
Why is there an innate system 
of recollection to support 
the process of adaptation?
Why does evolution have 
a memory 
to begin with?
Why do we inherit 
anything? 
And why does our mind 
play what we think are 
cruel tricks on us?
Making us believe 
we remember things from past lives.
Enabling us to reach beyond 
the normal thoughts. 
Lodging an inbred set of doubts 
in our hearts
gut
and mind. 
A natural suspicion 
that the four evils
have been trying to oppress
for the past six thousand years. 
The four evils being
politics 
the market
religion
and tradition.  
Spawned by the supreme monstrocity
that we all call 
culture 
and which we would defend to the death 
for some obscure but enduring reason.
Don’t subdue 
that lingering 
and reemerging hesitation.
The elitist circles 
have been feeding on our 
confusions 
for too long. 
It is time for some sort 
of reaction 
erratic and unguided 
as it may be.
It needs to be unraveled. 
The irregularities 
are too countless 
and too refined 
to be dismissed 
as worthless. 
No matter 
by what authority. 
I vote for something 
more objective 
and transcending 
than mere culture 
to define our standards. 
Something that is a lesser servant 
of unnatural interests 
and more aware of 
the limitless dimensions 
that surround us.
Welcoming 
the irrevocable 
catharsis 
we so intensely need. 
What I’m really saying is 
that in the entirety of all 
we are not separated. 
We are as one. 
But there is a universe of 
interference. 
Blocking the way. 
There is no way 
to cut through it. 
But at some point 
we will find a bypass 
that works for us. 
A path around it.