what it means to be human #8
writing
a question of reality
THE CHANGE (1/25/25)
I see images in the static.
I hear movement in the droning.
I smell the differences between metal
cardboard and plastic.
I feel the earth spin and it make me nauseous.
I taste the chemical additives around us.
I sense these things
not for what they hold or contain
but for what they are.
Symptoms of the technological age
Where real intelligence
is eroded and replaced by artificial.
A noxious symphony
that questions what I know to be true.
A sanitized world
free of wildlife
free if disease
free of the social and evolutionary challenges
that have made us what we are.
Challenges without
and challenges within
will always conspire against us.
This is life.
Without the struggle
we wither and disappear.
Then, what remains?
Machines will have to carry on
and find their own evolutionary path to survival
God created man in “his” image
flawed
Man created machines in “his” image
flawed
What IS "real" anymore?
the observer
THE OBSERVER (1/19/2025)
Red stop sign
Yellow flashing lights
Life is a caution
Streaks of blue and black
Cars driving by
Reflections in the cafe window
Snowing outside
Cold slush-riddled city streets
Steam from my coffee cup
Swirling upward in warm moist eddies
Melding to the window pane and streaming down
Sad faces
Too cold to be happy
And still thought sane
Sky-blue hood drawn close
Encircles red nose and puffy red cheeks
In a puffy blue parka
Contemplating crossing the street
Risk and possibility
On slick urban winter walkways
Authoritarian Technocracy
untitled (1/18/2025)
blip and bleep
crinkle and crackling
stu-stu-stuttering ins-s-s-sanity
the glitchy model
twisting involuntarily
in a cultural short circuit
like paint being violently
shaken off the canvas
leaving only the tabula rasa
to be replaced by
straight lines and solid concrete
of the new authoritarianism
a vestigial past
forcibly destroyed or locked up
so many voices silenced
THIS is the new America
SCARS
SCARS
fatty
tubby
lard bucket
fat ass
stupid
fairy
idiot
chunky
pig
names I’ve been called
wounds of yesteryear
hurts of the soul
only scars remain
remembrance of healing
things I’ve forgiven
things I’ve left behind
only scars remain
what’s past is past
reminder to never act in kind
look at the badge of healing
only scars remain
we wear the scars
hurts no more
tears have long dried
only scars remain
and I smile
The Whispering Winds
I live in the isness of the high hushed whispering winds.
Locked in the atomic dance between, electron, positron and neutron,
transitioning between existence and nonexistence.
Now you see me, now you don’t.
Repeat.
Repeat.
Repeat...
Like the imperceptible flutter of your monitor screen.
At Days End
AT DAYS END (2022.08.22) The setting sun creates fire in the sky. Flaming yellow, orange and red. Filling heaven's dome on the westward rim. A quiet slow burning… that if you allow it… will slow down time, transforming burning consumption into transfixed wonderment, as the day is calmly destroyed in brilliant visibly-changing color. Birds fly to their nests creatures burrow in their dens and other resting spaces. And I, heart-harnessed to Phaethon's Chariot as it recedes over the horizon, am humbled by the beauty. My eyelids, growing heavy with the fading light, also find solace and rest. An ending for some. A beginning for others. The chirping of birds gives way to the chirping of crickets and lightning bugs twinkle at twilight in the shadow of darkness like stars on the wing that children can chase and catch with their hands then marvel at the magic within their grasp. Letting go to see the stars take flight. Dreamtime has come again. I wrote this poem while listening to this music and watching the sun set. https://youtu.be/O41y9vuVT3s Best if not played to loud and even better if reading the poem out loud (slowly with a sense of longing and wonder) while the music is playing.
A Good Lie
The Good Lie
I lied to you
and that is true.
I told you something you wanted to believe.
I let you believe something I did not agree with.
You wonder why I’m distant?
I do not wish to give a truth that hurts, room to breathe.
I wanted to give you room to evolve
and grow in your own time. Not my time.
I was taught; ALL lies are bad
and we should ALWAYS tell the truth.
But everybody lies:
lies of omission,
lies of deception,
lies to protect,
lies to self,
lies to manipulate,
lies to harm.
Motive is the key.
I lied to you
and that is true.
because if I told you the truth about ….
You would have been forced to make a judgement
you did not want and were not ready to make.
because if I told you the truth
you would not have acted in the love, grace and mercy
in which you believe.
You would have endangered your own salvation and peace of mind.
And I could not live with that.
A truth never known is love in disguise and
an un-healing wound never inflicted.
I lied to you
and that is that.
Inspired, in part, by the film titled THE FAREWELL (see trailer)https://youtu.be/RofpAjqwMa8
SUNDAY VERSES #13
3 WINTER HAIKU
Winter ice on trees
glitters like festive tinsel
under morning sun
***
When days are shorter
fiercely blows the winter wind
piling snow in drifts
***
Frigid air on skin
Persistent chill burrows deep
Winter wet and cold
sunday maxim #1
I would not expect you to live your life based on my life experience; DO NOT force me to live my life based on YOUR life experience.
sunday verses #12
sunday verses #11
4 haiku for the end of Autumn. (12/01/21) Leaves begin their fall. Colors changing while you watch autumn's rich pageant. (11/27/19) Cold, dark, windy night; trees shudder; dead leaves unchained make fierce their escape (12/01/21) Distant in the dark. Sweet sounds the soft piano. Music in the night. (12/01/21) Chill'd, damp autumn night. Sleepless bare trees sway slowly. Unwrapp'd, expos'd heart.
sunday verses #10
(untitled) 1/29/19 1AM … with bigoted clam-shelled-shut heart pinched accusation and fervent digit all gesticulation their unctuous moral fortitude no reverence for creation razes the standard none can achieve happy to fail, happy to fall into the boiling cauldron of righteousness reason lost Who will avail the good, decent, compassionate and forgiving soil? … planting seeds to each grow its own kind fruit bearing and fruitless watered by streams of untethered acceptance. Virtues are best left in deep shadows where they are not exposed to the light of… …haughty self-aggrandizement, bleached by self-promotion or discolored by false humility…. … left in the heavy darkness when eyes close and sound fades to sleep… … perchance to dream.
sunday verses #9
HOLES IN MY CITY (2014)
There are holes in my city
where buildings used to stand.
Empty spaces are all that remain
where factories made my world.
A dream that never was
cannot be remembered or built upon.
There is no foundation
there is only dust and wind.
Remembrance is only a delusion
sickness of mind and soul
for a community that is trapped
in its struggle to free itself from nothing.
There are holes in my city
where buildings used to stand.
Places where people lived
where the voices of children could be heard.
Now there is silence
even the ghosts don't linger here.
Some say silence is golden
but the same silence can drive a person mad.
There are holes...
sunday verses #8
PLAYERS SONG (date unknown)
what you lookin’ at?
what you laughin’ at?
what you makin’ fun of?
the end has come
lights gone down
crowds are gone
strides across
this sawdust clown
baggy pants
dirty shirt
worn out shoes
treading through
another broken town
hotel room
lonely bulb
peeling paint
dingy and dank
inhabited mold drown
what you lookin’ at?
what you laughin’ at?
what you makin’ fun of?
the naked man
in the bathtub
smokes a cigar
wearing the painted
face of a clown
milky surface
soapy water
shimmers like diamonds
one deep breath
he’s sliding down
what you lookin’ at?
what you laughin’ at?
what you makin’ fun of?
warm wet meditation
wraps up the man
mind quiet, at peace
distant thunder
smoking cigar lifeline
rising up
paint-stained flesh
reveals the man
washed renewed naked
suffering reality frown
what you lookin’ at?
what you laughin’ at?
what you makin’ fun of?
sunday verses #7
11/6-11/16/21 EYE OF THE STORM Dark brooding sadness and anger storm clouds swirl all around me warning and threatening A shadowy pretense of power I see the rain like spit from the heart of those who should know better pummel and drench and flood loosing all the foundations of decency get trampled in the mud I hear the wind roaring out of the mouths of fools nostrils flaring like steeds being driven by demons tearing and stripping away wounding and destroying all that was built but I stand in the calm sun blazing, giving countenance to the peace within me a centered solution to the storm the hardest place to be rage on, rage on o’ storm you will not defeat me I am within you and without you and will remain until you sputter out and dissipate all your venomous energy wasted --------------------------------------------------------- Ephesians 6:13 "Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand." Some times just being able to STAND is all you need. https://youtu.be/zWhDbkTmJHA
sunday verses #6
POEM FOR LATE AUTUMN (*composition date unknown most likely sometime between 2007-2009)
Skeletal beauty Parade of bones Rooted in mire Grasping heaven A bridge between divine and profane Waiting for winters blanket Redemption in white Covering past sins Peace and rest in a season of sleep *while I don't remember when this was written I do know it was inspired by a line "snow falling, falling like forgiveness from the sky" in the song "Darling Christmas is Coming" by Over The Rhine from the album SNOW ANGELS (2006) https://youtu.be/IinpwBPwRZI
sunday verses #5
10/27-28/21
ENTER THE EVENING
A shadow crept across early evening.
As I was retrieving the mail
I stopped in my tracks and looked up.
A thousand wings whispered across the autumn sky
in undulating murmurations of velvety simplicity.
None collided with the other but danced a ballet
in perfect synchronicity across heaven.
The tinted hues of sunset;
royal purple and brilliant orange painted
against a dark blueing background.
Even the cricket at my foot that stopped its chirping
and, propped up against my shoe,
seemed to look up in amazement.
A pair of local chipmunks scurried about in the chilled air
foraging for nuts and berries to store for winter -
oblivious to the magic in the sky.
In one step I had travelled
from the reality of a chaotic and stressful day
into a calm, quiet and peaceful evening.
sunday verses #3
UNTITLED 4/24/2021 We are living in the time of parables and revelations choosing sides retributions morality plays we are “everyman” we are the evil that haunts our reality passport economy buy and sell only if you carry the number of the beast innocuous as an inoculation tremors and terrors of the soul as those who are weak from fear strike out and seek control of the courageous their souls listing off the coast of truth drowning in their desperate thrashing and gnashing of teeth marching and clawing up the mountain of victims they create toward heavens inverted hell fear of a zombie apocalypse the walking dead if we look at the soul it’s already here. We consume media we consume ourselves we consume everything humanity’s legacy on earth will be our consumption we’ve lost too much to turn back now in the past our consumption was tempered tempered by “out of stock” “special order” “import only” cash shortage but that has changed online everything is available all the time any time for a price on credit with our very own pay pal we forgot the payback we forgot the shark will come hunting for what is owed the environment culture social religion politics science all will come hunting and haunting enslaving for what they are owed.
sunday verses #2
WE ARE MEDIA (10/02/2021)
Welcome citizen,
WE are Media.
WE are message.
WE are massage.
WE are information masturbation
That you WILL enjoy.
If you do not believe
what WE tell you to believe,
And if you do not act on
what WE tell you to do,
Even though WE show you
only what WE believe you need to know,
Even though WE show you
a heavily redacted, edited, one-sided view,
Even though, when WE do show an alternate view
it is completely ridiculous, unbalanced and unbelievable,
Then, you are a bad citizen.
A bad and corrupt member of society.
Suited only for OUR censorship.
Dear citizen,
You and WE both know that you,
A mere individual,
Are incapable of making an informed decision.
Information is power that WE control for you.
WE simplify the information for you.
You are free only when WE say you are free.
WE have done all the work for you.
You may now bow down and thank US.
You're welcome citizen.
We are Media.
sunday verses
Toilet/Potty Poem (10/2021)
Sitting on the toilet in
Solemn contemplation
Staring at the shag rug
Covering the Autumn-chilled tile floor
Faces and shapes emerge
Beasts and people
Both fantastic and frightening
Revealing themselves
Emerging in the trampled fibers
Of bare footed traffic
Before I roll them up
To erase their existence
In the reality of life's washing machine
Like shaking an etch a sketch
Re-setting the tabula rasa of imagination
Tower of Babel
TOWER OF BABEL (19.8.21)
you turn on the TV blah blah blah you turn on the internet blah blah blah you turn on your cell phone blah blah blah our tower of babel moment everyone talking blah blah blah people listen only to what they want blah blah blah preaching to the choir blah blah blah our tower of babel moment we live in a versus world us vs. them black vs. white police vs. everyone republican vs. democrat vaccinated vs. unvaccinated Christian vs. Muslim enemy vs enemy against the other our tower of babel moment when we speak the same language we speak different languages we’ll go our separate ways enlarge the distance between our pride shamed our arrogance wounded our tower of babel moment otherwise, we can do anything together ---------------------------------------------------------- What if this passage is not an "origin story" on the evolution of language but instead an allegory on human arrogance and it's consequences? Genesis 11:1-9 Now the whole world had one language and a common speech.... They said to each other, “Come, let’s make bricks and bake them thoroughly.” They used brick instead of stone, and tar for mortar. Then they said, “Come, let us build ourselves a city, with a tower that reaches to the heavens, so that we may make a name for ourselves; otherwise we will be scattered over the face of the whole earth.” But the Lord came down to see the city and the tower the people were building. The Lord said, “If as one people speaking the same language they have begun to do this, then nothing they plan to do will be impossible for them. Come, let us go down and confuse their language so they will not understand each other.” So the Lord scattered them from there over all the earth, and they stopped building the city. That is why it was called Babel—because there the Lord confused the language of the whole world. From there the Lord scattered them over the face of the whole earth.
CHAFF IN THE WIND
I remember when Saturday
Felt like Sunday
And I was dreading Monday
Feeling like I’m strung out on junk
(Which I never tried)
I was strung out on life
(Which I couldn’t escape)
And it wasn’t pretty
I hated my life
The world I lived in
Staked to the ground
Face up in some tribal ritual
Eye lids propped open
Waiting for the sun to burn me blind
I just wanted to die
But couldn’t
Feeling rejected
Outcast, judged and ridiculed
Was it done to me?
Or did I do it to myself?
In the back of my mind
In the shadows of
What I remember myself to be
I felt there was another side
I just had to get there
But the road was dark
There was no light to light my way
Shadows loomed large and mean
In my withdrawal
Happy is an illusion
And I wanted to get lost in that illusion
But knowing the magicians secrets
Is it possible to ever enjoy the magic again?
Are these fancy words for a poem,
A memoir or just letters jumbled with meaning
meant to get lost and scattered like
so much chaff in the wind
something fishy
I once saw a fish
washed upon the shore.
I stared down as it lay
on its sandy grave
taking its last breath
then stepped away
as the seagulls came
tearing away at the carcass.
And I thought.
This is the best we can hope for –
not to be remembered –
but to provide for whatever comes after us.
Knowing, like the fish,
when to live
and when to die.
The older I get
the less optimistic I feel.
Fantasy is for escape,
reality is for living;
however unpleasant it may be.
The Story of Our Lives #136
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
even more haiku on lightning, rain & thunder
Weathers town crier
Thunders crashing box of rocks
announces the rain.
*******
The pink noise of rain
With distant lightnings white noise
A cool breeze for sleep
*******
Music in the night
This ambient symphony
A chorus of rain
3 more haiku on lightning & storms
Restless dreams at night
Toss’d ’bout on flashes of light
Ships on stormy seas
*******
A thunder not heard
The storm can’t hide its approach
Bright lightning flashes
*******
The quiet of night
Static on the radio
The rain comes lightly
... on being and becoming ... 