A Giant Jellyfish
I think
that we are all the tentacles
of a giant jellyfish.
When we die,
We don't cease to exist, we just go to the next dimension.
All of our deceased loved ones aren't really gone at all, but right next to us, on another frequency, that occasionally tries to contact us, hence, the "spirits".
I believe ghosts are remnants of strong emotions.
I must give credit to the very drunk girl who first introduced me to this idea,
Most memorable as it was strangely out of character for her to be so philosophical with or without inebriation.
She told me that ghosts are just the strong emotions of the people that have been there before; slamming the cupboards and doors in a furious rage,
filling the airspace with their anger.
And that they are most likely still alive somewhere else,
but the energy they expelled stuck, was ingrained into the space they occupied once, and I thought, "of course, if music can be recorded in the grooves of a record or a concrete road, then why wouldn't a vast outburst of energy be not recorded onto the grooves of the wood of a cupboard door?"
She made so much sense in that one non-sensical moment of hers that we shared.
And where does it all come from?
I don't think we will ever get to know.
I believe it is all compartmentalized.
We will reach the boundaries of what we are meant to know, and that is it.
We will be bounced back from the edge, kept fenced by the boundaries enforced.
And we had best make peace with this.
Into the Ether
This
Life
Can be so overwhelming.
So powerful
and emotional.
Also
So drab
and mundane
and predictable and logical.
I, myself
have opted for the former.
And I have felt so rewarded
for this choice.
The emotional way
isn't easy, quite difficult, actually.
But I believe that it provides you with the purist version
of the most human existence.
Which is what we were brought into existence for, after all.
To provide the most human of experiences.
But that is another challenge.
For another time.
So, yes.
My advise to you is
to read Whitman and Huxley,
a bit of Bukowski, the entirety of the "Desiderata".
And when Life is just fucking
you over like some cheap whore, just remember that even cheap whores have a purpose, or else they wouldn't even be in existence,
or serving you, now, would they?
My advise to you
Is to just take it as it comes.
Don't try to plan too far in advance, life likes to laugh at you when you make plans. (Lennon)
The next time you encounter rage, tears of anguish, or wracking sobs of grief,
Just step back into your mind, out of yourself,
Consider the breach.
This Life,
As some of us know it,
Is yes, just a game.
But it's our game, and we are so invested in it, so we must live it, with our hearts breaking, and our tumult escalating because it is likely that we will not be here again.
So we had better make this our one hit wonder,
and soak up the glory while we can.
Love one another
with as much avoidable damage as possible,
pay homage to the chance of our being,
and waste no time on the regret of the past
or the fear of the future,
Just be Now.
Just be
Life.
Don’t Look Down
Even if
Our planet is dying,
Our leaders are lying,
Every noble purpose
is exploited
and made into a mockery
Even though
our youth
are being misled
with enchantments
so beguiling,
and the Truth of it all
is blinding
And there's a war being waged,
but no one even knows
who it is we are fighting.
We must still soldier on,
the rest of us left surviving.
Even though our team
has sold out,
and put our Souls for bidding,
Tied our hands
with our wants,
and caught us up
In our misgivings,
Still, we must
rally for our hearts,
curtail our doubts,
and not give into the
scoreboard
that says we have no
chance of winning.
The Devil is in the Twist Ties
There is a devil in me
that I'm always
trying to pretend
is not there.
I wouldn't say
he's necessarily evil
just a bit dramatic
and time engulfing.
And spirit consuming,
Soul devouring,
Heart flaying.
But it's not the
thing
really
it's me.
Without me
the thing is just
a thing.
The action not taken
is just a chance
an opportunity
a fate.
Can it really
be found to blame
without the activator
discovering it
to cram into his
dirty, hollow cavities?
Purification
There are some of us
who have a longing so great,
it is beyond words-
A need that language
cannot comprehend.
There is a fire creating itself
for you.
This fire has smoldered for centuries, waiting for the spirit
in you to rise and stoke it.
Burning for you, waiting for you.
For yourself to become undone,
So your Soul can become complete.
There is a spirit within you;
It has been waiting for centuries, for a millenia,
from before the conscious awareness of time.
Before existence itself.
It is time.
Summon all your rage, pain, brokeness, and shame.
Let this transform you into the Self you have come here to be.
Gather all of these emotions that have haunted you this entire life cycle,
Summon all your infinite strength.
Rise up and stride,
Unflinchingly into the
Heart of these flames.
Rise up
and become the
Courage
that you are.
Glitter in my Eyes
I want to paint
my Rage,
Paint it in a color
you don't like
So I won't be tethered
to my chameleon ways...
I want...
Wanting
Desiring
Lusting
All these words of
a Charleton power,
that power which grabs
for me,
and sometimes
restrains me with glee,
but, Ha-Ha-Ha,
I laugh at
its naked, limp body,
in the End,
when I always
(ALWAYS)
slip away...
That grip don't got me,
that fucker won't rob me
like everyone else who is just
"only human".
But even still,
my pride wears thin,
and rubs a hole into me
where I can't reach it;
patch it up
with all that Zen
spilling out of my sippy cup.
The Zen I love to hate,
the Good that don't feel
Great.
Move your lips in silence
along with mine...
Your mouth
is full of Silence.
(This poem has been brought to you by the acid in my stomach, eating me alive)
Luctor et Emergo
Here come the
restlessness
Here comes the
ache
Here comes the
urge
Along with a little
guilt and shame.
Always
in these days
in this
Life After
I fight
myself
the Master
Just my brain
think
and things
will change.
But there are
thoughts
hiding
behind thoughts
hiding
all the time
inside my mind
that is not really
mine.
Wrestling with
this host
to get out
from under me.
Can't help but
fight what is
fighting me.
and I've got
this wrong sense
that inhabits me,
rent free.
Stockpiling Food and Ammunition (It’s never a bad idea)
It's just a villian,
And I can't kill him,
Until he comes for me
But for now I'm just chillin'.
When you're afraid,
That's the problem.
Fear is only the thing
That hasn't yet happened.
Don't ditch your life
For toxicity
Your truth doesn't have to be the enemy.
Enjoy your Life until the moment
It's taken.
Innovating the Burden Industry
Greetings, Plexiglass fruit,
I have chosen "Be; So That".
I am so glad I took you up on this invitation to revisit your words at work. I had forgotten the depth and clarity in the cleverness of the way your words play together. "Be; So That" grabbed me right in that sweet spot with a stab of recognition, admiration, and a little envy.
"Be; So That" is a personal reminder of the range of human emotion. So many of these emotions I have wished obsolete, yet I wonder, if they were to become absent, would I miss them and understand their necessary role?
"See, I am tilting windmills
So that I may be productive"
captures me particularly; peculiarly. There is a certain, I guess I shall have to use the wearied, yet apt phrase "je ne sais quoi" here, if I were to attempt to explain the draw to your reference to desire.
Thank you for these words; the decision you made to share them. I have been referring myself to them in the quest of personal comfort, and thus far, I have been sated and hungered simultaneously.
Cheers to you, Plexiglass Fruit