You are the only person.

You are the only person.

You are the only person you have.

You are the only person you have to please.

Please, you are the only person.

Please.

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Sounds like you’re desperate to be visible, but ok…

Small child dances in socks on linoleum.

Watch me Mom!

Artist starves because marketing is Selling Out.

Man screams into the void of dead air.

Recognition.

Validation.

Meaning.

Tether me with the validation of your eyes. What do I do if not for you?

You should be proud of me. I tried hard.

I may float into the ether without the anchor of your response to my being.

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Old words

I was cleaning up some old papers and found this. I must have written it, but I don’t have any idea when or why.

 

Drunk on the music

Intoxicated on notes too beautiful for a man to have written

So you must have been an angel, an avatar of exquisite futility

I try not to sing the words,

But I am drawn by the nectar of your incomprehensible insight and self-aware impotence

 

I know now there is nothing for man to do

You taught me there is nothing worth doing

There is nothing worth doing but gazing on the beauty of a moment

Whether I affect it or not

Whether I am important or impotent

No one will know and no one can say

No man has the authority to have an opinion

Or an opinion on an opinion

This is the Schrodinger’s Cat of philosophy

It all matters and doesn’t matter at once

 

We have won and we have lost

No one here gets out alive

Arise now mighty warrior. We have already been killed and now we are invincible.

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Once Upon a Time

A long, long time ago, in a galaxy far away, I ran into this line… I don’t even know if it was from a movie or a book or what…
“If your life was a movie, would anybody want to see it?”

It stuck.  I have lots of stories I never tell because people think they’re impossible and that I’m making it up. That’s fine with me. haha… I gave up on the desire to be understood.

I do, however, enjoy making a good story.

When I taught English, I used to say over and over that humans are storytelling creatures. Everything we do is about some story line… For no other reason than that it entertains me, I decided to make my story fun to watch… as much as I can.

It makes me smile… and for all my studying of philosophy, I keep coming back to the fact that it’s pleasant to smile and I would like to do more of that.

Happy Solstice. Keep smiling.

Onward and upward.

*

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Words from a dream…

Return of the Stone Giants

In flesh and bone and gold

Concentrated.

Articulated.

Radiant monsters.

To destroy the old stories

And pave the way for the Golden Seeds

Clear Stones

New Foundation

No revolution

Sneaky sneaky reGenesis

Undercover Renaissance

Hidden in plain sight.

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Phoenix

I wake exhausted.

I rise.

They call my name.

I have no voice, no legs.

I rise.

Crows above. Fire below.

I rise.

Dragons in the clouds.

Half remembered dreams.

I rise.

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Thorsday

Every once in a while I get that feeling like I’m about to meet an old friend… What an interesting day…

Work in progress. SONY DSC

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creative evolutionary fandango

YES!

The Tao Of Brother T

In the beginning

Jah created the heavens

And the Vibe

With one snap of her fingers

Allah set in motion

One big fucking bang

New entities sprouted

From the Tree of Life

And with a wave of the hand

Jehovah sprinkled the earth

With beings large and small

In tune with Mother Nature

I’m not getting

Into the argument

Of creationism versus evolution

It’s all one God to me

creative evolutionary fandango

First sentient beings

Lucy’s Ethiopian earth tribe

Climb down from trees

Walk on two legs

And evolve creatively

Paint original Sistine chapels

On the domes of their caves

Symphonized orchestration

With sticks and stones and skins and bones

and most of all

Musical laughter

epiphanies of imagination

Creating one great human vibe

Fast forward

Three and a half million years

To the new earth tribe

The Eternal Vibe

Continuing the tradition

Of rhythms and rhymes

Percussive discussion

Creative…

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Leaves

It’s no use to eviscerate myself.
No one leaves till the job is done.
Metal rails, wet stone, leaves in the air.
The morning dew glistens gold in the sunrise.

Exhale me in soft shoes like warm brown leather.
Warm the stones with your cheek.
Let me see you through the birds’ eyes
And sing you to sleep with their songs.

The dance of the leaf on the wind echoes through the cosmos.

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Naked in Public.

So… I’ve been journaling for a while in the mornings… I made a rule for myself that I’m not allowed to write about events of the day or “real life feelings”… just word blobs.

And then a friend made me interested in poetry again.

And then another friend made me interested in doing things that feel scary…

So… in the interest of all of that, here’s a couple days’ worth of journal entries, unedited, from my private book:

You raise the dead.
I lick the tears from your eyes.
Splitting hairs as the world falls down… Our stolen moments like papercuts, exquisitely agonizing.
I can’t take my eyes from the scars on your back.
This leaking house, this bleeding heart, cracks in a blanket, lighting up my little room.

Your hands are shaking
Stomach trembles
Muscles release, strung with gold.
Rasputin sings the Fool’s eternal song
Golden puppets dance.
Dance for me.

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