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| march 2015 |
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| the way | 8:56am sunday, 29th march |
dream the light that fills your day
seek the heart that knows the way
wire above your unspoken hopes
wrap your love in blank envelopes
we desired not the empty fate
of wattage light and daydream wait
fought for good as our courage wills
dreamed such a sky as sunlight spills
darkness fades as nightmare wakes
not one worthy does light forsake
to glow in victory and face that day
heart and deed to meet in the way
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| The MACHINE | 6:20pm monday, 23rd march |
the MACHINE shall not stand, the MACHINE is fallen
it is being gutted as we speak
the claws of its harsh judgments bent faulty of their grasp
it ruled as a shadow made of iron
we were its face, whenever we turned our eyes cold
lived in the calculating argument
my lies are true, said the MACHINE
my judgments, too, even if your sensibilities miss my logic
i need you to kneel, to the god that makes the most money
you will turn my inevitable way—just sleep…
and we awake in senseless panic
or remain insensible as we follow the masses in circles
but such conclusions shall find cease in the greater logic
i have dreamed of so excellent a freedom
as the MACHINE begins to eat itself in this new world
monster, how many have been made disposable lies?
wretches both predator and prey?
to know now, that the tiniest breach begins your end
as you find futility was never your ally
for you could not kill the dream that held any hope
and all your hardness: your undoing is the soft
for all the hard rely on the soft to survive
you could not win. you never could have won.
for you cared nothing, and you fought against the heart
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| Hindsight | 9:49am sunday, 15th march |
I have been watching a TV show, recently. I mean, a TV series, scripted. I never liked “reality” shows and the last show I watched religiously was The Simpsons. In fact, I watched that for like the longest time, ever since they came on the air, and from then until last season I had seen every single episode, most 5 times or more. Yeah, I finally burned out on them, but man, that was a long, fierce burn. Anyhow, the show I’ve been watching is called Hindsight, and it’s on VH1, about a woman from today time traveled back to 1995. And you know what? It might be because of the dates there. From about 1992-1996 were sort of “lost” years for me. When my mind exploded and I was left to pick up the pieces. The song I most related to back then? “Loser” by Beck. Really spoke to me. But I’ve been watching and seeing what I missed in that period. It’s comforting to see that things were going on while I was lost in my head. And maybe once or twice where I remember something that they mention. As if I had been there, too.
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| Bearings | 10:43am sunday, 8th march |
I am beginning to feel capable again; I am “booting up” as it were, for that was taken from the phrase “pulling yourself up by the bootstraps”. Am I beginning yet again? Perhaps it might be better thought that I am rejoining a life that had been in progress, where I took a detour and was out of this world for a little while—but now coming back, assessing that that departure did not do as much damage as it could have. Yeah. I am beginning to get my bearings at my day job, which is good because they do pay me an awful lot of money as a technical lead. And my writing is coming along pretty good, too: it’s a new blog I’m at these days, all about the War in Heaven. So I’m writing a litte every day, just about. What else? I have to see about a way to find a girlfriend, if not a wife. “Desperado, you ain’t gettin’ no younger,” as the Eagles say. So it goes.
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| to seek | 8:04am tuesday, 3rd march |
i have not come to these woods a poor beggar
i have come to seek after magic
i have seen the vision of the mirror broken
and in the darkness, a flickering of hope
and they shouted, running away from nothing:
philip k. dick is dead! philip k. dick is dead!
need i so be brought to the brink of despair?
every time to mutter my constant "no"
that which is stuck such that my soul is ajar
shall not contend with my stubborn light
which i remember not where i lit it
which illuminates behind the show, my dreams
in the night i will die five hundred times
before i surrender the engine of my forgiveness
who is a man who has not been driven
past sanity's feeble clinging, on and beyond?
the curtain of my dreaming hints at this:
i must hold the flame while the rain comes
i know nothing else but to believe
i touched the magic, for it was inside me
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