an interview with death

****the following dialogue is an imagined conversation between life and death. Imagine, if you will, a podcast where the two characters below have a conversation. This is the third draft.****

INTERVIEW WITH DEATH
A conversation between Life and Death

LIFE: Are you as “bad” as people try to make you seem?

DEATH: Well I hate to say it, but I’m mostly misunderstood.

L: In what way?

D: I chalk it up to bad PR over the past couple of millennia.

L: Elaborate please?

D: People often see me either as a caricature or as some horrible end of all they know and love, therefore they perceive that I am the very antithesis of all value actively seeking to hunt and eliminate it. But I’m not that way at all. I’m very “pro” for all they value and I’m very patient.

L: What would you say is a more accurate representation of you?

D: I’m always around. in fact I have always “been” and will always “be”. If you are alive now I’ll be waiting whether you like it or not. I’m very patient. I’m not actively seeking you but we will meet eventually.

L: What about people that feel they have an obligation to fight death - either through their individual beliefs, religious beliefs or if they are in some profession like the medical care industry?

D: First I’d like to say, I’m not looking for a fight. I actually loathe fighting. I think it’s shameful that so many would kill and murder, whether it’s in war, or street violence, forcing people onto me. I would much rather people come to me on their own, when they are ready. I’ll be waiting with open arms to comfort you, but please DON’T take that choice away from people. And as for the medical profession I really feel they try to hard to force people into living longer they are part of one large machine controlled by the insurance and pharmaceutical industry so I have no patience for them.

L: What about people that die in accidents?

D: Accidents will happen. Humans are perfectly imperfect therefore all they create has the same imperfections infused into it. No matter how hard they try; those imperfections will, at times, end in accidents. It cannot be avoided.

L: You said earlier that you’re not “anti” life - could you elaborate?

D: Sure. You (Life) and I are equal partners. Two sides of the same coin - to use a human metaphor - even if people don’t want, or, wish to ignore that fact.

L: That’s true. I like your analogy of “two sides…same coin”. that describes our partnership exactly. People, animals, things do not choose to be born and live. It is merely a change in a state of being. You are alive and then you’re not alive anymore.

Now, bring religion into it: so many people have created a seemingly inseparable link between death and their notion of heaven & hell (or an afterlife). Can you talk about heaven and hell in relation to your existence?

D: What I’m going to say may seem controversial or even offensive because now we’re entering the realms of belief and it is extremely difficult to do that fairly when people have very strong, strict and unwavering religious beliefs and concepts.
I will say, and I can imagine you might say the same about yourself, that I am non-religious therefore religious concepts and ideas do not carry any meaning for me. Like I said previously I am simply a state of existence/nonexistence. I AM. I just am, regardless of what anyone believes. It does not matter whether you are human, plant, animal, insect - I patiently wait for all to transition from life to death.

L: What about “things”? The death of things like politics, technology et al?

D: I do not concern myself with so-called “things”. Politics, nations, technology, social constructs, the environment and time are all human endeavors and most serve as a way that humans use to justify or force others into my realm, my presence.

L: And disease?

D: Now that is an interesting question: is disease alive? Certainly the things that cause disease are alive whether they are viruses, bacteria, cancer etc have been proven to be living. And the eradication of disease is a type of death. So yes disease itself will also end up in my realm. So the next question might be - Should humans seek to end disease (one life form) in order to preserve/extend there own life forms?

L: That is a great question. I would say that falls within the realm of “morality” which is again as you suggested early a human construct born out of a set of values/beliefs and therefore has no part in our discussion since we simply “are”.
What would you say is your greatest virtue?

D: Longevity. I always was, am and will be. And for all those who are cognizant/aware; I would say that is followed by endless peace and rest. There is a reason some refer to me as “eternal rest”.

L: Favorite Hobby?

D: Farming. But I need to add that I curse the day that someone saw me harvesting in my field and took an image of me with my scythe. A tool that I use to harvest my crops. It has forever altered peoples perceptions of me (chuckling) which is both humorous and a pain in the ass.

L: Speaking of perceptions; people will often use the phrase, “death will come for….” as if you are in pursuit. Do you actively seek out or hunt people?

D: Another misperception that has roots in fear mongering used by the religious with their notions of judgement and used to promote a certain code for people to adjust their behaviors while they are alive to qualify for an afterlife. I really hate fear-mongering by the religious and as I said before, I abhor violence and would NEVER seek someone out. I merely wait for …(pause searching for right words) … them to come to me.

L: I heard a pause before the word “them” as if you were about to say “their souls…come to me”. Can you describe for us, your experience with souls? Does everything/everyone have a soul?

D: (laughing) Yes, you almost caught me there. Human language is a tricky thing and it can be say to fall into cliches, aphorisms etc. Now about a soul. I think, like many things, the notion of a soul is a religious, human construct. Humans don’t have souls any more than animals, plants, insects…etc. I don’t think anyone has ever suggested that plants, viruses, insects or bacteria have souls - yet they live. Maybe a better word than soul is “intelligence”. All living things have a certain intelligence although it’s only humans that I’ve seen pervert that intelligence with deceit, lies, fraud etc.

L: I often hear humans talk about “legacy”. They worry so much about their legacy, how they will be remembered or what they leave behind.

D: (laughing) Oh that really is annoying. The whole ‘legacy” discussion is such a wast of time. They have no legacy because they will eventually be forgotten and all they ever did will be forgotten. Even the great religious figures that have seemingly endured for the past 3000 years…. in another thousand years they will be forgotten. And why are things and people forgotten? Because they and all they did become irrelevant to how times change. And another thing. Humans are the only beings that worry about legacy. There is not a single other species that takes it into consideration. They’re alive and they are gone.

L: You’ve mentioned misrepresentation a couple of times. What are other ways you feel misrepresented?

D: Human culture carries within it a huge trove of gross misrepresentation. From music like so-called death metal or other violent creative forms to the caricature of death as skeletal/skull/crossbones etc. That has ALWAYS perturbed me.

L: I can understand that because I look older than you and you appear quite young. I suppose I look older because life can be very taxing with all it’s trials and tribulations and every-changing situation through aging not to mention that actions taken by humans.

D: Well that’s me, Forever Young (laughing).

L: Wait. You’re quoting Bob Dylan now?

D: (chuckling) Yeah, I love Bob - I’ll be meeting him soon (smiling).

L: back to misrepresentation: So what’s wrong with the “bone” theme?

D: It’s merely a representation of the corruptibility of biological life and has nothing to do with me. I meet people long before the flesh has fallen away and bones are turned back to dust.

L: I see. I do agree because the decay process is part of my work. That is one way I clean-up what is no longer needed.

D: “One way”? are there others?

L: Yes, I also use other life forms that may want to feed on the dead to clean up that which is no longer needed. I’ve heard humans use the phrase “worm food” and that is actually an apt description. I’ve long been perplexed by human practice of burial in sealed crypts etc. Such a waste. I would much rather see the remains of the body continue to be of use to any life form that remains whether, worms, insects, other animals or plants. And with farming being your hobby I would think you would agree (Death nods his head in agreement).

So besides death metal and other what you call musical misrepresentations of you and your existence. What about other human art forms like Movies. Is there a movie that has represented you properly or are those also misrepresentations?

D: I would have to say that every movie, with one exception, has been an misrepresentation of who I am and what I represent. Most movies make this characterization or this link between death and the devil. And we’re nothing alike. There’s nothing similar between us. We are two separate ideas. And, as I suggested earlier, the whole notion of a devil is a religious construct and has nothing to do with reality. Now there is a movie that has come close to representing my existing. The Seventh Seal by Swedish film maker Ingmar Bergman. The Seventh Seal is a wonderful film, classic must-see film, that portrays a medieval knight (named Antonius Block) played by Max Von Sydow traveling with his companions through a plague riddled landscape where those who are dying from the black plague are all around. He is accompanied by the character of death played by the stoic Bengt Ekorot. The character of death is portrayed as a tall pale human figure in a simple cloak and it’s closer to what I am. At least it’s not the hooded skeletal figure with a boney finger protruding from the sleeve (laughing). In fact, I really love the attitude of the Knights squire played by exemplary actor Gunnar Björnstrand. The squire has a sometimes humorous and accepting attitude toward death with the understanding that it is the ultimate end of all living things - while the knight does everything within his power to stave off Death, going so far, as to play a zero sum game of chess in an attempt to outwit Death. But, of course, in the end they all die. And people are left to contemplate is it better to accept and welcome the inevitable or better to fight it by any and all means possible at any cost?

L: It’s been a pleasure talking with you. As we get ready to wrap up this discussion, do you have any final words that you wish us to know about you?

D: Thank you. No one has previously ever taken the time to know me. I found this very enjoyable indeed. I’m actually going to refer to another song - this one by The Animals, called Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood. I just want people to understand. I’m not a bad guy. I’m just something that happens and we will meet up eventually.
That’s all. Thank you.

“I can’t breathe” (a poem)

“I CAN’T BREATHE!”

The long long night in America
violence, hatred & anger
200+ years overdue if you ask me
and not in the least surprising

“I can’t breathe,” “I can’t breathe!”
The fires of protest burn brightly
and the media focuses on the event
not the root that caused this burning bush to grow

Another black man dies
in police custody
“I can’t breathe,” “I can’t breathe!”
each word like bullets fired from a gun
verbal shots ring out
while 3 cops pin a black man down
one brutally kneeling on the neck
and a 4th stands by complicit

It isn’t enough to suppress the black and brown man
his black and blue soul suffering
under the weight of white oppression
and the poison goes to the very top Mr. President

racism given a badge
There is no honor here
It’s not courage that carries a gun and uses force
only a white coward dresses in blue
and cynically claims
“I’m only doing my job”
when they crush the life
out of a black man already subdued
“I can’t breathe,” “ I can’t breathe”

If we are surprised by the violence
we should be ashamed
If we are shocked by the brutality
we shouldn’t be

If we do nothing
We are complicit
“Please, please, please,
I can’t breathe, please man.”

And another black mans soul
ascends to heaven to early.
“Please, please, please,
I can’t breathe, please man.”

I wrote the above poem in reaction to the brutal killing of George Floyd at the hands of Minneapolis police and the nationwide protests and violence that followed 5/31/2020. 

4 essential tracks for this time in America:
The Last Poets – HANDS OFF!


Gil Scott-Heron – HOME IS WHERE THE HATRED IS

The Last Poets – RAIN OF TERROR

War – SLIPPIN’ INTO DARKNESS

Bonus Track – From the film SLAM starring contemporary poet Saul Williams.

 

coronavirus 2020 #4

messages from the future #18 evn smlr
Isn’t prevention merely a deception? Doesn’t it mean there is only a delay?
The hard truth is WE WILL ALL DIE most by disease. What’s the big deal? Get ready for it. Don’t panic. Be calm.

The music track below will not be for everyone. And there were several tracks I considered by this artist. Diamanda Galas with here 7 octave voice in her track “This Is The Law Of The Plague” from her PLAGUE MASS recording is a haunting experience worth listening to. She “shreds” the voice like a guitar player will “shred” guitar. Let it move you.

4 haiku on death by suicide

Living, one’s own terms
no judgement for suicide
Dying, ones own terms

********************

Sweet Sweet Suicide
The last exit from life’s stage
Stigmata of choice

********************

On a high blue bridge
She jumps, flying toward the earth
Releasing all cares

********************

It takes great courage
To take the reigns of death
There’s no mortal sin

yet 3 more haiku on death & dying

No more dreams to live
Heart stops, brain ceases, life ends
A cold grave welcomes

*********************

Freedom on the wind
A bird will fall from the sky
Its heart beats no more

*********************

And when the end comes
Can there be beauty in death?
Flowers in the snow

3 more haiku on death & dying

Ending transitions
Matter to anti-matter
Life turns into death

********************

Flesh will decay fast
When life is present no more
Bones will decay slow

********************

Circumstance unknown
I know neither time nor place
When death comes for me

3 haiku on death & dying

When death comes to call
Alone I will fade and fail
remembered no more

************************

When the body dies
Software will be deleted
And hardware destroyed

************************

Autumn to Winter
All life has been drained away
Dry leaves in the fire

ramblings on suffering

RAMBLINGS ON SUFFERING (6/21/19)

Of all living things
the most fortunate are
those who escaped….

I saw a still-born hippo
floating in a pool,
it’s legs reaching to the sky
as it’s grieving mother swam, circling around it.

Why did the opossum cross the road?
Did it not see the car speeding onward?
Now just another memory of life
flattened on asphalt.

There’s a black man hanging from a tree, like my savior,
with a sacrilegious cross burning in the yard.
The sounds of wailing through tears
mocked by fleeing hooded jeers and laughter.
And I’ve seen a black man stopped by police
because of the color of his skin
Unjustly harassed, searched and thrown against the car
only to find nothing.

My dear Ophelia, drifting underwater
what was your last thought
watching the last air bubble, wobble
and rise toward a liquid sky?

To a woman: Did you feel free
the moment you jumped
from that high blue bridge
and flew toward the earth?
The broken red wings of your spirit
spilling through your cracked skull
onto the pavement one summer morning.
Your twisted body, lying there
in front of me behind the wheel,
on a street called North when you went South.
The subject of a undisciplined and indiscriminate passerby
who just had to wiggle out of her red van,
before the police arrived, get up close
and take a photo with her cell-phone.

The mosquito gorging itself
on the blood-feast of its host
takes no notice of the hand that will kill it.

The fly for all it’s many eyes
still cannot see
that it feeds, mostly, on shit.

Does the flower feel pain
as each of its petals fall until
all that is left is a withered stem?
Does the tree feel pain
when its limbs are stripped from the trunk
during the storm or when
this living thing is cut down
by the chainsaw massacre of deforestation?

I’ve seen wild mice care for the injured young in a nest disturbed.
I’ve heard the piercing, shrieking squeal of injured rabbits.
I’ve seen the Killdeer risk its life to distract a predator
and I’ve looked into the sad, fearful eyes of an unloved dog.
I’ve seen a deer hit by a car get up and limp away
only to die by the side of road while looking back
as if to apologize for disturbing traffic.
I’ve seen a butterfly with a broken wing
clinging to hope while wishing it were back in its cocoon.
I’ve seen the fish
stranded too long on the beach
its glassy eye blinded by sunlight
its gaping mouth filled with sand and
its scales sticky with death

In Alaska, I found a cassette tape
by the side of the road
the middle of nowhere
the wilderness, no one around for miles
wet and muddy, its case cracked
I don’t know what made me
pick it up and take it home.
I let it dry, cleaned it, rewound it and carefully placed the tape in a new case.
My proud first attempt at restoration.
Then I put it in the player and pressed “PLAY”
I was assaulted by the sounds of thrown objects
hitting something and someone,
cursing, screams, cries, anger, hatred, vicious argument,
begging and pleading.
There were no names.
Only he
Only she
and the sound of a crying child hiding in a corner whimpering “please stop”
Threats and the dull sound of fists hitting flesh
meting out punishment where once there was love.
I sat listening. Frozen. Unable to move.
As the sun set I cried.

I’ve smelled living death
The stink of blood mixed with piss
as the cancer-fill man stood naked by the toilet.
His unbathed pasty flesh clammy with sweat.
He is too weak to bathe himself so I have to help
as I try to disguise my gagging reflex;
and I wonder if this is what the mortician sees, feels and smells.

And I’ve smelled the death of a slaughterhouse
the mindless cruelty and knock of a thudding blow
to the head of a cow with a stunbolt
the still live animal lying helpless, it’s throat now slit,
blood gushing in rivers onto the dirty, stained concrete floor,
the twitching limbs of a dying years supply of hamburgers and steaks.

I’ve even smelled the death
of a carcass in the hot summer sun
at the dumping grounds of livestock no longer “live”.
Cattle, horses, pigs, sheep, goats piled indiscriminately
the rotting remains, not yet destroyed
lying in an open trailer to a buzzing soundtrack
the pungent waves of nauseating stink
this unmovable feast for flies and their maggot young
The bodies juices oozing
from the rusted corners of the container.

I’ve heard the uncontrollable impulsive
wailing of the living that accompanies
the release of the recently dead

Maybe I’ve seen too much
Maybe I’ve heard and smelled too much.
Maybe I’ve even said too much.
But of all the things that have touched me –
Have I let them move me?
Or do I stand in shock,
immobilized by the glare of oncoming lights
that are driven by forces beyond my control?

I sometimes wonder
if the luckiest child is
the one never born
into this world of suffering –
and of those already born;
if the most fortunate ones
have already escaped
the suffering that is yet to come.

White Supremacy?

White Supremacy

Forgive me if I do not take your hand
White hand
Leprous hand
White as snow
You sound like help and look like death

Forgive me if I do not take your hand
White hand, leprous hand, white as snow
your heart is too close to the skin
you cannot see what I see
Your deformity prevents you
from feeling the pain you cause

Forgive me if I do not take your hand
White hand, leprous hand, white as snow
I see the disease you bring
Hidden among your so-called gifts
Your virtues tainted by
The supremacy of your unclean hand

Forgive me if I do not take your hand
White hand, leprous hand, white as snow
The diseased heart has spread to the hand
You build your gated communities, armed fortresses
Of wealth, leper colonies, prisons of your own making
Separating you from a whole world of wonder

Forgive me if I do not take your hand
White hand, leprous hand, white as snow
You seek to unify YOUR family
By separating ours… mine
You burn bridges and build walls
Usurper of truth, teller of lies

Forgive me if I do not take your hand
White hand, leprous hand, white as snow
The lesions of your thinking
Discolored by the deafening roar of hatred, intolerance & FEAR
I could feel sorry for you
If it were not for the swift kick
Of your Jackboot and the Searing heat of your tiki torch

Forgive me if I do not take your hand
White hand, leprous hand, white as snow
The prophesy has foretold
You will starve, you will lose all you had,
You will die by your own white hand
And when there is no more white
Who will be left to dig your grave?

Forgive me if I do not take your hand
White hand
Leprous hand
White as snow.

I was born….

I WAS BORN

I was born in 1960. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  I will turn 60 in 2020.
I turned 20 in 1980. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  I will turn 80 in 2040.
I turned 40 in the year 2000. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

All of my present has been
neurotically ricocheting
back and forth between
my past and my future.

I turned 40 in the year 2000.
When I turn 00
I will return to
what I was
before I was born

At peace.
At home.
In total oneness with
existence and nonexistence.

….. from the mobius journals…..

The War Machine

LIFE IS CHEAP

LIFE IS CHEAP

The fuel tanks are empty
need more lives
the price is high
to create wealth
for the privileged few

roll on up to the pump
the politician attendant is ready
to stick the hose into the emptiness
of the war machine to pour gallons of lives
that it may roll on roll on roll on

the war machine
feeds on lost lives
cutting down life
for greed and death never say, “Enough!”
they only say, “more bodies for the machine”

The war machine knows
knows what it needs to survive
it elicits feelings of pride, patriotism and honor
where there is none

The machine knows that propaganda
will bring volunteers to die
more efficiently and will reduce
recruitment costs

“Fight fight fight
they are wrong
we are right
you are part of ‘WE’
join now!
for the sacrifice”

Even religion supports the war machine
Gods punishment on those who are not like us
the religious fervor of “God is on our side”
stop abortion, we need more lives for the machine

When there are no more human lives
the war machine will stop
unable to run it will rust to pieces
chunks, hunks & clumps of cold empty metal
returning to its elemental source
ashes to ashes, dust to dust
a reprieve on the planet
a reprieve on the life that remains

Who is left to bury the dead?
will Antigone not rise up again
to do what is right?
bodies lie in the open sun
their weapons for tombstones by their side

….on dying….

I don’t know why but this morning I wrote in my journal some thoughts about dying.  Thinking about how we as survivors sometimes make dying so difficult for those who ARE dying.  And I wonder if technology is not causing more suffering in our ability to hold on to the dying for longer periods of time – in essence, not allowing them to be free.

When we die:
It’s not important what we believe when we die. It is important that we are at peace with what we believe.
If we doubt our belief, death can be a time of great suffering. And survivors are often keen on making sure the dying person believes the same as they believe – so the survivors may be at peace. But that is incredibly selfish and foolish. At time of death, it is the survivors responsibility to make sure he dying person is peace with their own beliefs – their own mind. It needs to be ALL ABOUT the dying person – not the survivor.

How do we, as survivors, smooth the way for those who are dying? How do we smooth the way to pass from this life to the next – or from one state of being to the next? Do we make it easier to slip out of this mortal coil – to free the spirit? Or, does our own suffering take precedence over the person who is dying?

Do we use technology to hold on those who are dying? If we tell doctors to do, “everything within their power” to ease the physical suffering of the individual does that just provide an illusion for the survivor that the dying person is at peace? Is medicine and technology always the best answer? Who ultimately benefits from medicine and technology – the survivor or the dying?

Death is about letting go for those who are dying and for the survivors. Here are some great thoughts on letting go and learning to let go.

One of my favorite artists. Enjoy The Divine Comedy’s LEAVING TODAY. A very poignant song considering the subject of today’s post. Listen to the lyrics as if it is a dying person saying goodbye.


and after the goodbyes have been said….TONIGHT WE FLY….the spirit of the dead survives and can be celebrated by the living in new appreciation of the life that was and the life that remains.

Bones…Flesh…Breath…Life

[fyi – this article originally posted on my prev blog 3/10/13]
craw #7

To many titles came to mind when I created the image:
“TWIN SONS OF DIFFERENT MOTHERS”
“BESIDE MYSELF”
“GEMINI CRIES”
….. etc.

What would you title this?

Music today is by post-rock band HAMMOCK. Enjoy their song and this inspired video (best in full screen), BREATHTURN

I’ve always been drawn to the old testament prophets in the Bible they were the creative masters of their time. One such prophet was Ezekiel and the following passage has always inspired me when I’m feeling close to death (physically, creatively, spiritually etc.) It is unusual in that is starts from a place of death/decay/destruction and comes to life. It seems to fit this image and the inspirational music. And this text about moving from death back to life is better than any Frankenstein story. Enjoy.

“The hand of the Lord was upon me, and he set me in the middle of a valley; it was full o bones. He led me back and forth among them, and I saw a great many bones on the floor of the valley, bones that were very dry. He asked me, “Son of Man, can these bones live?” I said, “O Sovereign Lord, you alone know.” Then he said to me, “Prophesy to these bones and say to them, ‘Dry bones, hear the word of the Lord! This is what the sovereign Lord says: I will make breath enter you, and you will come to life. I will attach tendons to you and make flesh come upon you and cover you with skin; I will put breath in you and you will come to live.'” So I spoke to the bones and as I was speaking there was a noise, a rattling sound, and the bones came together bone to bone. I looked and the tendons and flesh appeared on them and skin covered them. Then, I said, “Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe into these bones, that they may live.” And breath entered them; they came to life and stood up on their feet.
…Son of Man, people say, “Our bones are dried up and our hope is gone.” Tell the people this, “I will put my Spirit in you and you will live.” ~ Ezekiel 37:1-14

The bottom line: no matter how dead we may feel. It doesn’t matter how dead we perceive others to be, there is ALWAYS hope. There is a Universal force (whatever name you give it – God, Allah, Yahweh, Buddha nature, Jesus etc) that can and will give us what we need to carry on. You can be the light. I believe in your victory!