A bowl of Ramen

Without accompaniment

Simply hot noodles

In overly salty broth

A cup of coffee

So dark a roast

It begs a touch of cream

To be palatable

But will not receive any

A mostly liquid breakfast

Skipping the more familiar

Bourbon or Tequila

Ah....Mondays

My grandfather used to answer any query to his health or well-being with "Well, I ain't dead." Is this really the best we can become? Longevity sounds like a nightmare. Let me sit around watching everyone I know and care about die while I twiddle my thumbs waiting for the bus to pick me up.

Death is around. This plane is built upon that fact. Trees try to kill other trees. Plants to kill other plants. Animals eat each other, or plants. And people, holy shit, fuck us. We destroy everything with callous disregard of the consequence waiting for some magic floating man to save us from stupidity.

I'm not actively seeking to terminate my experience (though my habits of imbibing may speak otherwise, I guess it's like Vonnegut said about smoking, a fairly slow, fairly certain, socially acceptable form of suicide). I don't jump in front of moving trains, or lay down in front of buses, or cover myself in a meat dress and wander into the local tiger cage.

I'm not really death averse. I don't care if it happens. I planned a "gift" (sounds like a weird term to comfort someone when I pass), for my kid. She will have a decent start (though will be an orphan young), more than I was given. I've no ego problems that suggest life won't go on without me. I've learned through my own experience that people die and the rest of us live. It sucks, but we get over it, or at least keep moving forward.

What's the motivation? That's really the question. I'm going to die. That's not a question. I believe in more. This plane is for experience and IMHO we can come back and experience it again in a different way. I like the concept of Nirvana (not the band, though they did revolutionize music). A return to the GodHead. An infinite moment of infinite peace. I've caught glimpses in my own spritual practices. I could be full of shit. That's another possibility, but either way I have some comfort.

What are we doing now? I'm past the ideals of youth. Shit works the way it does and I haven't yet figured out a way to change it. I try to embrace the chaos, but fighting the power is a different animal. Are we just passing the time until it's time for our ticket? I can find hobbies to fill in the time, but is that all there is once you understand mortality? Even Ozymandius was forgotten.

You cannot command the arrival of your trip to the other side. I mean, people try. How many bullets don't properly connect from a one inch distance, leaving you suffering in a different manner until it's time? Death comes for us all on its own schedule. The best you can hope for is to be active and enjoying this existence and it will come suddenly and silently rather than a prolonged existence which you can only pray will cease.

Dawn in the forest

Brings magick to the day

Sunshine tiptoes through the trees

Taking more time than expected

To burn away the morning mist

Dewdrop laden spiderwebs

Act as streetlights along the path

Illuminating our intentions

Just like the dawn

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No one watches Nascar for the excitement of turning left for three hours. Those in the infield jockey the rented RV for position, so on race day, there will be a clear view when a driver spins into the outside turn, leaving smoke and flame and debris in a flamboyant exit from the race. It's a safe thrill for the audience. Technology protects the drivers. There have only been 28 fatalities from crashes since 1952 and none since 2001. The small, safe, adrenaline rush keeps our blood lust satiated.

It's a different scene, when a rogue wheel skips across the track and wipes out a family of five in the grandstand. Then we have to acknowledge our total lack of control. Life is gravely serious at times. It was like watching Lindsey Lohan. It was funny at first, and then as her tragedy didn't fade, it no longer was anything but terrifying.

Some fans get good at identifying when a crash will occur. They can pick it out based on the track conditions and how the drivers choose their lanes. They'll shout to those nearby when to watch the wall.

Maybe I should attend more often to hone my skills. Maybe I'll see a train wreck coming and be smart enough to get off of the tracks.

I've seen through the crocodile tears to recognize the hopeful martyr beneath.

Living a life of salient self-sacrifice to recover from your sins

Where goes the argument of faith and works

When the deeds are distraction from the demons inside

Helping another to disprove the belief

The trashbag is filling to capacity

Perfume and flowers

Compete with garbage and rotten flesh

There is a limit to capacity without change

Overwhelmed by help

Unwilling to let another's hands get dirty

The gods don't want the unclean

Leaving mental gymnastics

To springboard to the conclusion

You're only harming yourself

Friendship means nothing when crossing the desert without a caravan or water.

A one way street blowing the monarch butterflies backwards, while they still fly.

The end goal a quest for the sweet, sweet agave nectar in Mexico.

The superficial cry into their tequila while wiping runny noses with power lunch ties.

Choking off the air while providing a napkin to mop the drool from conquering the working class.

It's all fucked and so are we.

There is minimal chance for survival.

If only I were high when truth to power speak in the final five words of the national spelling bee.

Calling no one to the final mass under neon black light and fuzzy posters.

Free speech and free thought is a constant battle. Great things happen as well as great suffering when one can speak against and established ideology: The King, The Church, The State. The first sign of oppression is the death of the press.

We find heroes and make them brave and noble: Alexander Hamilton; John Jay; James Madison; Thomas Jefferson; Benjamin Franklin; Susan B. Anthony; Elizabeth Cady Stanton; Lenny Bruce; John Lennon; George Carlin; Abbie Hoffman; Jack Kerouac; Martin Luther; Martin Luther King, Jr., Loompanics Unlimited.

I could write a list for days highlighting the brigands and intelligentsia and assorted kooks daring to state that an individual's thoughts and freedom are the most important item in the universe. There's no free will without free thought. You should disagree with God if that is your own thoughtful position.

Americans (at least in theory, maybe not so much in practice) seem to love an underdog. Especially one that was historically correct. MLK is loved and adored now, but not so much in his own time (thus the reason for the holiday). We like to attach a nobility, in the present, to actions which were met by jeers or even more violent behaviors, in the past.

Free speech without said nobility is frightening. Free speech includes statements such as: "I'd like to fuck your children" and "In my opinion, it would be perfectly justifiable to shoot that bitch taking too long at McDonald's." The fear of what thoughts can invoke cause panic. There are those who want power that feed that fear.

Protestant's want to overthrow the Pope! Hippies want your children to smoke dope! Witches and Pagans are trying to get your children to worship the Devil! Homosexuals are ruining the American family! It goes on and on and on.

This is why it is on us. Prosers, writers, those who believe in free speech. We have a duty to speak. Freedom, free thought, democracy (to partially steal a Washington Post ad) dies in darkness.

Technology exists at a terrifying level these days. Tracking your search history and contacts on your phone is easy. EASY! Privacy is a historical anomoly. They are working on active, portable, brainwave scanners. We're not plucking subversive thoughts out of pedestrians yet, but give it time. The technology is advancing now. There are groups who would be very interested in these operating in real time. Nazis and fascists exist now and would love to find a way to justify stomping out opposition.

We have a duty. Speak truth. Speak thoughts. Speak fantasy. Talk Hard (to steal the title to an 80's movie). It started with secret messages back in ancient history and continues through the printing press and snapchat and any secure messaging that exists today. Speak out of injustice, of racism, of corruption, in your writings, on YouTube, on TheProse, Twitter, FaceBook. We can no longer rely upon the tried an true freedom of press. Newspapers and local news channels are being bought by corporate monsters that only care for profit. "Must Runs" show up on local news. Even if you find yourself the most popular streamer or influencer and it pays you beyond your fantasy, take a moment, once in awhile, to speak out.

The unfortunate truth is that everyone's freedom depends on the willingness of the few to hold to an ideal.