Poetry Collection 2 - 1999 to 2000
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INDEX
Title Heaven's Glory Through The Pain Learning to Lose I Can't Remember Anonymous Sweet Sadness A Frog's Life Clothes *Brain Storm - Brain Cloud *Illusion Of Control *Below the Realm Why Me Incomplete Plug Me In (I'm Wired) Dirt The Monkey Kings Wrong What The Maniac Made Calling On God |
HEAVEN’S GLORY ( an experience had on a trip to Lake Powell)
8-11-98
Sleep drawn away by deepened awe,
I this night light's glory saw
A black veil spread of astral glitter overhead,
as I lay on Earth’s warm stony bed
The stars came out and shone tonight,
combining to make a beautiful sight
Each one twinkling smooth soft tiny light,
together in grand chorus illuminate the night
In time came peeking a proud shining moon
His voice full speaking drowned their dulcet tune
He was loud, His face so strong,
puffing proud he carried on,
Squelching the sweeping chorus song.
He called and clamored to belong
Yet His song solo was also glorious
A voice single and euphonious
On and on droned his egocentric shout
till tired Clouds moaned, and came to fill his mouth
But alas He heaved and choked and quickly spit them out.
Then Gentler ones tried to hide his face and block His tiresome song
but He summoned up the wind, which blew and moved them on
As His boisterous song rose in crescendo to a peak
To the very East, a greater light began to speak
A raucous roar full of glory, put that proud little moon to shame
He’d lost the floor, the telling of the story. He whimpered, and began to wane
before the great orator, burning hydrogen for flame
As the great one shone his shiny mane, above the broken plane
The clouds all bowed in greeting, each one dressed up in his name
The great one stole the sky, longer than all the rest
More that they of twinkling eye, and him of changing crest
Such a magnanimous story, the great one did unfold
Revealed all in brilliant glory, a telling brave and bold
And ALL things above and all below, hid from His flaming call
His proud brilliance to bestow, He sought to dress them all
But in time He too did leave, His tale ending again with grand display
and what a nice needed reprieve, so marks the end of day
The stars now take the sky again, long awaited lambent friends.
Each one's voice it quietly sends, until all in full chorus blends
One can with deep inspection see, that in their tiny simplicity
they are as good or greater, than he that great orator, the scorching one can be
Yet they so far away, only a gentle light portray
of all things clothed in luminous dress, I like the tiny stars the best.
8-11-98
Sleep drawn away by deepened awe,
I this night light's glory saw
A black veil spread of astral glitter overhead,
as I lay on Earth’s warm stony bed
The stars came out and shone tonight,
combining to make a beautiful sight
Each one twinkling smooth soft tiny light,
together in grand chorus illuminate the night
In time came peeking a proud shining moon
His voice full speaking drowned their dulcet tune
He was loud, His face so strong,
puffing proud he carried on,
Squelching the sweeping chorus song.
He called and clamored to belong
Yet His song solo was also glorious
A voice single and euphonious
On and on droned his egocentric shout
till tired Clouds moaned, and came to fill his mouth
But alas He heaved and choked and quickly spit them out.
Then Gentler ones tried to hide his face and block His tiresome song
but He summoned up the wind, which blew and moved them on
As His boisterous song rose in crescendo to a peak
To the very East, a greater light began to speak
A raucous roar full of glory, put that proud little moon to shame
He’d lost the floor, the telling of the story. He whimpered, and began to wane
before the great orator, burning hydrogen for flame
As the great one shone his shiny mane, above the broken plane
The clouds all bowed in greeting, each one dressed up in his name
The great one stole the sky, longer than all the rest
More that they of twinkling eye, and him of changing crest
Such a magnanimous story, the great one did unfold
Revealed all in brilliant glory, a telling brave and bold
And ALL things above and all below, hid from His flaming call
His proud brilliance to bestow, He sought to dress them all
But in time He too did leave, His tale ending again with grand display
and what a nice needed reprieve, so marks the end of day
The stars now take the sky again, long awaited lambent friends.
Each one's voice it quietly sends, until all in full chorus blends
One can with deep inspection see, that in their tiny simplicity
they are as good or greater, than he that great orator, the scorching one can be
Yet they so far away, only a gentle light portray
of all things clothed in luminous dress, I like the tiny stars the best.
THROUGH THE PAIN
9/98
Some live the abundant life, surfeit of suffering, smothered in strife
conscripted to live life to the pain, Rife with displeasure, and joy’s disdain.
A life like Poe or of Van Gogh, Full of struggle, grief and woe
Left alone insane to go friendless in the end.
A wily wicked winsome world to them it would not bend
There's one thing free and ample, which life will give full measure
Affliction, anguish, agony, discontentment, and displeasure
Some do all to escape it, to avoid this harsh reality
their backbone how they scrape it in ducking things that just must be
Others try flying high to flee all this misery mundane
they mess with the intensity and in doing fry their brain
conscience, honor, how they rape it. Life’s motif can’t grasp or shape it
In earth's wet muddy clay pit, pleasure is through the pain, through the sweat and spit
For from suffering is born pleasure, stemming from the brain
A serum it will mete and measure in response to all the strain
Life most certainly will throw you punches, sorrow in abundant bunches
yet amidst the misery rises finer transcendent beauty
Built in for the coping the brain employs its doping
and this gives cause for hoping between pain's interloping
So what will your lot be? Amputation at the knee?
Triple bypass surgery? Or cancer of the brain
What for this year be your pain? Quick! Choose well your malady!
As for me I think I’ll be...Certifiably...Crazy, Cray-z, Krazee
9/98
Some live the abundant life, surfeit of suffering, smothered in strife
conscripted to live life to the pain, Rife with displeasure, and joy’s disdain.
A life like Poe or of Van Gogh, Full of struggle, grief and woe
Left alone insane to go friendless in the end.
A wily wicked winsome world to them it would not bend
There's one thing free and ample, which life will give full measure
Affliction, anguish, agony, discontentment, and displeasure
Some do all to escape it, to avoid this harsh reality
their backbone how they scrape it in ducking things that just must be
Others try flying high to flee all this misery mundane
they mess with the intensity and in doing fry their brain
conscience, honor, how they rape it. Life’s motif can’t grasp or shape it
In earth's wet muddy clay pit, pleasure is through the pain, through the sweat and spit
For from suffering is born pleasure, stemming from the brain
A serum it will mete and measure in response to all the strain
Life most certainly will throw you punches, sorrow in abundant bunches
yet amidst the misery rises finer transcendent beauty
Built in for the coping the brain employs its doping
and this gives cause for hoping between pain's interloping
So what will your lot be? Amputation at the knee?
Triple bypass surgery? Or cancer of the brain
What for this year be your pain? Quick! Choose well your malady!
As for me I think I’ll be...Certifiably...Crazy, Cray-z, Krazee
LEARN TO LOSE
9/98
There was a man of myth and legend who had not lived a day
portent of his mighty coming would give all ear to sway
How great, how powerful he would be to rule in highest majesty
the lame to walk the blind to see, and all mankind would last be free
He greatest of all men would be…. This so widely said…this so hoped to be.
… so in these grandest expectations, mankind was blinded not to see – the simple reality of true majesty.
For when the greatest was said born to earth
‘Twas lowly inception amongst dung and dirt
his birth it was but silent dearth
few heard the herald of his worth.
Few followed home the lodestar’s tail
to see that King which it did hail
Distraction for one of greatness attention did divert
Surely not a simple baby born in squalid dirt!
His coming greatly overlooked
by the loads languished long for him to see
The meaning of greatness sadly mistook
for royal blood’s prosperity
His life was but humble and simple too
And quick he learned as tall he grew
to a life full of work, toil and sweat
Shaping wood to create something better yet
With the simplest tools of hand, and focus clearly set
While musing how soon he’d cast his net and do the same with man
Soon to be betrayed, hated and despised
For telling truths to the hard of hearing called lies,
and working magic on men’s eyes
A miracle worker of wisdom wise
In all Earthly things he was last and plain
His life full of sacrifice and fasting
Not one thing of substance did he gain
Yet left to all His gifts most lasting
Greatest of all shall be the least
the last one to partake of life’s great feast
shall in the end be first and best
you see life is a devious test
for what you would think is first is last
and what is best is worst
come freely to the dry desert well all ye that truly thirst
Life’s hardest lesson is learning how to lose
since winning’s the obsession, it’s what we all would choose
But sometimes you must lose to win
Shunning avarice, self, and sin
For many in their winning lose
Splendidly dressed without their shoes
This greatest lesson life will teach
(what is, is not, and what is not, is)
when transported across the breech
learn to lose with dignity
comported in quiet and gracefully
in disappointment shun despair
the broken fragments regroup, repair
Rejection, abjection and dejection
may push you to perfection
to win the greatest prize of all
and in the ending, the puny and insignificant
will tower above the worldly tall
He greatest of all men would be
and yet they hung him to a tree
and he suffered endless agony
alone to die in misery
And he said “come follow me”
Hope can I better, for insignificant me?
9/98
There was a man of myth and legend who had not lived a day
portent of his mighty coming would give all ear to sway
How great, how powerful he would be to rule in highest majesty
the lame to walk the blind to see, and all mankind would last be free
He greatest of all men would be…. This so widely said…this so hoped to be.
… so in these grandest expectations, mankind was blinded not to see – the simple reality of true majesty.
For when the greatest was said born to earth
‘Twas lowly inception amongst dung and dirt
his birth it was but silent dearth
few heard the herald of his worth.
Few followed home the lodestar’s tail
to see that King which it did hail
Distraction for one of greatness attention did divert
Surely not a simple baby born in squalid dirt!
His coming greatly overlooked
by the loads languished long for him to see
The meaning of greatness sadly mistook
for royal blood’s prosperity
His life was but humble and simple too
And quick he learned as tall he grew
to a life full of work, toil and sweat
Shaping wood to create something better yet
With the simplest tools of hand, and focus clearly set
While musing how soon he’d cast his net and do the same with man
Soon to be betrayed, hated and despised
For telling truths to the hard of hearing called lies,
and working magic on men’s eyes
A miracle worker of wisdom wise
In all Earthly things he was last and plain
His life full of sacrifice and fasting
Not one thing of substance did he gain
Yet left to all His gifts most lasting
Greatest of all shall be the least
the last one to partake of life’s great feast
shall in the end be first and best
you see life is a devious test
for what you would think is first is last
and what is best is worst
come freely to the dry desert well all ye that truly thirst
Life’s hardest lesson is learning how to lose
since winning’s the obsession, it’s what we all would choose
But sometimes you must lose to win
Shunning avarice, self, and sin
For many in their winning lose
Splendidly dressed without their shoes
This greatest lesson life will teach
(what is, is not, and what is not, is)
when transported across the breech
learn to lose with dignity
comported in quiet and gracefully
in disappointment shun despair
the broken fragments regroup, repair
Rejection, abjection and dejection
may push you to perfection
to win the greatest prize of all
and in the ending, the puny and insignificant
will tower above the worldly tall
He greatest of all men would be
and yet they hung him to a tree
and he suffered endless agony
alone to die in misery
And he said “come follow me”
Hope can I better, for insignificant me?
I CAN’T REMEMBER
9/98
The greatest tragedy of life is that after all the hardship we forget
The things we’ve fought so hard to learn slip through a tattered neural net
What’s the point of living, learning, gaining experience with sweat
when in the end a brain barely burning is destined to forget
What’s the point of passing through eons of time, as many say souls do
Just to have ourselves washed away at birth, without even a residue
In our birth beget begot, Our past's worth forget forgot
Just like the sun to set, FORGET Forget, forge t t …..
If I lived before, what was it all for? If when spilled out dazed upon the floor,
If the I that was is me no more, then what the hell was it all for?
Why gain knowledge at a heavy cost? Why pay the high price for learning
when soon fleeting, it’s all snuffed out, lost., fit for the trash or burning?
Or soon out of date and obsolete, consigned to the compost heap
The futile fate of a life complete, resigned to soft gum toast and sleep
Flash forward there to the end of me, drooling in a chair so helplessly
Now you gasp to clearly see the full entropy of me
and you long too so helplessly for that me that I used to be
Do I have the use of words or are they precious departed too?
Can I conjure images and thoughts like I used to do?
Or am I just a skin bag full of degenerating carbon goo
A pathetic shadow now of that brilliant one I was
A burden to all who must now have me in their trust and care
Being teased unknowingly by grandchildren huddled round my chair
Who, like fireworks for amusement, taunt my mind to flare
Left hidden in the back room like a toy for their amusement
Dignity what came of thee, I plea helplessly as beneath me I ooze excrement
Did it really happen, was I really there? If so I don’t remember.
My mind goes dim as grows thin my hair. Like the fire's dying ember,
fleeting is ambivalent life. How thin the air in December
All things come, grow, slow, and go. So why not too your mind and all you know?
Like fire, a pyre consuming a burning desire to gather from life all I can, burning it to ash
Then snuffed is the flame, and all you struggled to gain and retain, is blown by the breath of a fan
I think therefore I am. I forget therefore I'm lost
Yes lost, forgotten by me as well by you, in time.
Out of sight out of mind, pushed 6ft under by the grind
yet the consciousness of all human kind
continues on forward to unwind
Of all religions on this fleeting planet, I’ll give a quick explanation
They spring from the promise of improvement and self perpetuation
While everything I see tells me plainly
it’s more likely to be degeneration, deterioration on to
extermination annihilation, and obliteration of all sensation.
9/98
The greatest tragedy of life is that after all the hardship we forget
The things we’ve fought so hard to learn slip through a tattered neural net
What’s the point of living, learning, gaining experience with sweat
when in the end a brain barely burning is destined to forget
What’s the point of passing through eons of time, as many say souls do
Just to have ourselves washed away at birth, without even a residue
In our birth beget begot, Our past's worth forget forgot
Just like the sun to set, FORGET Forget, forge t t …..
If I lived before, what was it all for? If when spilled out dazed upon the floor,
If the I that was is me no more, then what the hell was it all for?
Why gain knowledge at a heavy cost? Why pay the high price for learning
when soon fleeting, it’s all snuffed out, lost., fit for the trash or burning?
Or soon out of date and obsolete, consigned to the compost heap
The futile fate of a life complete, resigned to soft gum toast and sleep
Flash forward there to the end of me, drooling in a chair so helplessly
Now you gasp to clearly see the full entropy of me
and you long too so helplessly for that me that I used to be
Do I have the use of words or are they precious departed too?
Can I conjure images and thoughts like I used to do?
Or am I just a skin bag full of degenerating carbon goo
A pathetic shadow now of that brilliant one I was
A burden to all who must now have me in their trust and care
Being teased unknowingly by grandchildren huddled round my chair
Who, like fireworks for amusement, taunt my mind to flare
Left hidden in the back room like a toy for their amusement
Dignity what came of thee, I plea helplessly as beneath me I ooze excrement
Did it really happen, was I really there? If so I don’t remember.
My mind goes dim as grows thin my hair. Like the fire's dying ember,
fleeting is ambivalent life. How thin the air in December
All things come, grow, slow, and go. So why not too your mind and all you know?
Like fire, a pyre consuming a burning desire to gather from life all I can, burning it to ash
Then snuffed is the flame, and all you struggled to gain and retain, is blown by the breath of a fan
I think therefore I am. I forget therefore I'm lost
Yes lost, forgotten by me as well by you, in time.
Out of sight out of mind, pushed 6ft under by the grind
yet the consciousness of all human kind
continues on forward to unwind
Of all religions on this fleeting planet, I’ll give a quick explanation
They spring from the promise of improvement and self perpetuation
While everything I see tells me plainly
it’s more likely to be degeneration, deterioration on to
extermination annihilation, and obliteration of all sensation.
ANONYMOUS
February 12, 1999
A world full of 6 billion proud and counting
And I but one tiny bell ringing loud and mounting
Lost within the swarming crowd
A quiet voice lost singing
when others scream so loud
Nothing special am I
Born to live and die
Unknown, Unidentified
So heave a heavy sigh
When realized you like I
will most likely live and die
Forgotten, Unrecognized
for all you called a life
I leave no one behind
No marker or road sign
To say he was here, he lived
No progeny I give
No one will look back and remember me
A nagging forgotten memory
Among all the lives now past
and all that currently grow
like a sea of blowing grass
I’m buried in a row
left in the wild wind to blow
on an ever changing breeze
Try to find your sweet individuality
among the sands that edge the sea
From a distance too do we
look the same as all of these
We are but a deluge of faces
All pretty much the same
Only differing in our places
and too but by a name
And most of what I see, in all humanity
merely man disgraces
and belonging puts me to shame.
February 12, 1999
A world full of 6 billion proud and counting
And I but one tiny bell ringing loud and mounting
Lost within the swarming crowd
A quiet voice lost singing
when others scream so loud
Nothing special am I
Born to live and die
Unknown, Unidentified
So heave a heavy sigh
When realized you like I
will most likely live and die
Forgotten, Unrecognized
for all you called a life
I leave no one behind
No marker or road sign
To say he was here, he lived
No progeny I give
No one will look back and remember me
A nagging forgotten memory
Among all the lives now past
and all that currently grow
like a sea of blowing grass
I’m buried in a row
left in the wild wind to blow
on an ever changing breeze
Try to find your sweet individuality
among the sands that edge the sea
From a distance too do we
look the same as all of these
We are but a deluge of faces
All pretty much the same
Only differing in our places
and too but by a name
And most of what I see, in all humanity
merely man disgraces
and belonging puts me to shame.
SWEET SADNESS
February 12, 1999
Wear your sadness like a flowing gown
Draped upon you while lying down
Pull its collar up to your chin
Wiggle and waller, pup, snuggle in
Sleep now sleep, half living obliteration
In sleeping forget all dysphoric sensation
Forget, forget all you desire
Naked cold within pities glow
This gown a cold but drawing fire
Apathy, distaste is all you know
gripping the heart doomed to expire
it’s trim a soft smothering pillow.
At 2pm, numb, bedsore
begin the day that you deplore
The sky is gray The room is dark,
The mind gives way, and hope departs
Feel it, it is ever there, that dingy din hinging deep despair
which bangs the bricks between my hair
Through which wild winds whisk away all care
Sweet sadness a warm and gentle whine
This haunting madness, is it ever mine?
All my songs sing out in minor keys
All my longings shout upon bent knees
Oh God, my God, are you even there?
This I cry with intense despair
I fear the worst for all mankind,
that we’re merely flesh, trapped within a mind
And in this all my hopes unwind,
Spirit quelled like a bird that's felled
before hard mountainous logic, inclined
February 12, 1999
Wear your sadness like a flowing gown
Draped upon you while lying down
Pull its collar up to your chin
Wiggle and waller, pup, snuggle in
Sleep now sleep, half living obliteration
In sleeping forget all dysphoric sensation
Forget, forget all you desire
Naked cold within pities glow
This gown a cold but drawing fire
Apathy, distaste is all you know
gripping the heart doomed to expire
it’s trim a soft smothering pillow.
At 2pm, numb, bedsore
begin the day that you deplore
The sky is gray The room is dark,
The mind gives way, and hope departs
Feel it, it is ever there, that dingy din hinging deep despair
which bangs the bricks between my hair
Through which wild winds whisk away all care
Sweet sadness a warm and gentle whine
This haunting madness, is it ever mine?
All my songs sing out in minor keys
All my longings shout upon bent knees
Oh God, my God, are you even there?
This I cry with intense despair
I fear the worst for all mankind,
that we’re merely flesh, trapped within a mind
And in this all my hopes unwind,
Spirit quelled like a bird that's felled
before hard mountainous logic, inclined
A FROG’S LIFE
8/99
wiggling woggling in a pool
I spy the flagellate wog
Just like those I’ve seen bottled in school
I scoop you from the bog
Who are you frog, what will you be?
I ponder with excited dismay
My hand losing water gradually
Flipping floundering fish can you tell me?
As I carry you away
I guess that soon enough I’ll see
a bull or leopard possibly
a chorus, cricket or green maybe
In a old coke cup swimming gingerly
I watch you swim the long drive home
A mystical mystery full unknown
which will soon appear magically full blown
once you’ve morphed to shape full grown
Your identity will be full shown
In your grand new home swimming mesmerized
A large jar mayonnaise family size
my eyes peer wide in at your size
as with your tail you hypnotize
and at me back from your glass jar view
stare you with huge comic bulging eyes
Making you look brainy book worm wise
by this temporary distorted disguise
I feed you bread and cereal flakes
and soon I see that’s what it takes
to give you hind legs growing longer
and keep you happy growing stronger
soon your front legs too pop out
I sing aloud and dance about
“My frog’s a forming fore my eyes!”
What a lovely green-brown slime surprise
soon to shed your wog’s disguise
becoming a frog before my eyes
Soon from your jar you must be freed
An aquarium is what we need
But money gets this thing we lack
and my pockets have none, not front nor back
I’m only ten what can I do
to purchase this fine house for you
I could form a club and charge dues
But they’d all want to play with you
Sharing you is something I can’t do
So instead I use my head
It’s time I was making my own bed
I’ll get a job and earn our bread
Enough to furnish your new homestead
Delivering the daily spread
Soon your home is such a castle
that I don’t mind the daily hassle
of balanced bags upon my cycle
swerving in a path maniacal
Then the day came that I feared
limp and lifeless you appeared
my eyes swelling now lightly teared
my baby frog has grown a beard
old frog now not long for this world
your feet all bent, toes warped and curled
I will miss you when you leave
I hold and kiss you as I grieve
A frog’s life fleeting fast away
One of my months is yours a day
Are Frog’s lives then of more worth I say
valued by their meager way?
Little frog of change your life changed me too
Your life I rearranged, when I swiped you from the blue
Little frog so strange what the small things do
I hope my kindness through your life has made it up to you
Where will you go next my frog faced friend?
I’m quite vexed it must depend
on what you've learned from the frog’s way
That, I can't judge, I cannot say
This is where my text must end.
Adieu, farewell, Goodbye my friend.
I’m sure I’ll see you unrecognized again
and repeat in new ways this crazy spin
of life evolving to hand from fin.
8/99
wiggling woggling in a pool
I spy the flagellate wog
Just like those I’ve seen bottled in school
I scoop you from the bog
Who are you frog, what will you be?
I ponder with excited dismay
My hand losing water gradually
Flipping floundering fish can you tell me?
As I carry you away
I guess that soon enough I’ll see
a bull or leopard possibly
a chorus, cricket or green maybe
In a old coke cup swimming gingerly
I watch you swim the long drive home
A mystical mystery full unknown
which will soon appear magically full blown
once you’ve morphed to shape full grown
Your identity will be full shown
In your grand new home swimming mesmerized
A large jar mayonnaise family size
my eyes peer wide in at your size
as with your tail you hypnotize
and at me back from your glass jar view
stare you with huge comic bulging eyes
Making you look brainy book worm wise
by this temporary distorted disguise
I feed you bread and cereal flakes
and soon I see that’s what it takes
to give you hind legs growing longer
and keep you happy growing stronger
soon your front legs too pop out
I sing aloud and dance about
“My frog’s a forming fore my eyes!”
What a lovely green-brown slime surprise
soon to shed your wog’s disguise
becoming a frog before my eyes
Soon from your jar you must be freed
An aquarium is what we need
But money gets this thing we lack
and my pockets have none, not front nor back
I’m only ten what can I do
to purchase this fine house for you
I could form a club and charge dues
But they’d all want to play with you
Sharing you is something I can’t do
So instead I use my head
It’s time I was making my own bed
I’ll get a job and earn our bread
Enough to furnish your new homestead
Delivering the daily spread
Soon your home is such a castle
that I don’t mind the daily hassle
of balanced bags upon my cycle
swerving in a path maniacal
Then the day came that I feared
limp and lifeless you appeared
my eyes swelling now lightly teared
my baby frog has grown a beard
old frog now not long for this world
your feet all bent, toes warped and curled
I will miss you when you leave
I hold and kiss you as I grieve
A frog’s life fleeting fast away
One of my months is yours a day
Are Frog’s lives then of more worth I say
valued by their meager way?
Little frog of change your life changed me too
Your life I rearranged, when I swiped you from the blue
Little frog so strange what the small things do
I hope my kindness through your life has made it up to you
Where will you go next my frog faced friend?
I’m quite vexed it must depend
on what you've learned from the frog’s way
That, I can't judge, I cannot say
This is where my text must end.
Adieu, farewell, Goodbye my friend.
I’m sure I’ll see you unrecognized again
and repeat in new ways this crazy spin
of life evolving to hand from fin.
CLOTHES
8-99
The hairs we wear to cover our shapes,
some like pears and some like grapes
hide hairy backs and arms of apes,
so much we care for fabric drapes.
You’d not soon pose without those clothes, that snooty nose you’d quick dispose
if not for all those well cut clothes, Shirts, slacks and shoes in endless rows
and so the ego grows and grows, like the fleshy folds beneath those clothes
and soon you grow shy to expose, the mammoth mounds masked tight below
In our cheating quest, to enhance our insulation
We've looted nature's nest, and swindled all creation
Shorn stolen hair off bleating sheep
Carved cow’s hides they'd rather keep
Plucked duck’s down off peep by peep
Filched the silk from tiny worms spinning in their sleep
We've even cropped, the moppy flop, from off the heads of cotton
And all this blatant thievery Mother Nature's not forgotten
Through time she's stripped us nearly bald and left us more the beggar
At borrowing we're ever called to amend body, arm, and leg hair
So by trying to trick nature, nature has tricked us
And now we're left to steal our hairs from some unsuspecting cuss.
Clothes they make the man, But what they make I question
Don't they make him more unfit? And make him less the best one?
Separate from environment, Separate from reality
I'd soon know what dire meant, If you separate my clothes from me
Are not clothes a model? A figure of our deception?
Like from breast to bottle, the con in our conception
Do not clothes disclose our disingenuous ilk?
Distaste for what's our own, a taste for others milk
Clothes they make it plain, our tendency is this
To avoid, evade, cover up. To hide the hide that is.
They shroud the truth, all our uncouth, embarrassment and shame
But running from the issue only caused us more the same
By clothes obviation, and through time's rude selection
we're our own odd creation, on a path to smooth complexion
This there's no resolving, we are the hairless apes,
And now we're all evolving, into pears and grapes.
8-99
The hairs we wear to cover our shapes,
some like pears and some like grapes
hide hairy backs and arms of apes,
so much we care for fabric drapes.
You’d not soon pose without those clothes, that snooty nose you’d quick dispose
if not for all those well cut clothes, Shirts, slacks and shoes in endless rows
and so the ego grows and grows, like the fleshy folds beneath those clothes
and soon you grow shy to expose, the mammoth mounds masked tight below
In our cheating quest, to enhance our insulation
We've looted nature's nest, and swindled all creation
Shorn stolen hair off bleating sheep
Carved cow’s hides they'd rather keep
Plucked duck’s down off peep by peep
Filched the silk from tiny worms spinning in their sleep
We've even cropped, the moppy flop, from off the heads of cotton
And all this blatant thievery Mother Nature's not forgotten
Through time she's stripped us nearly bald and left us more the beggar
At borrowing we're ever called to amend body, arm, and leg hair
So by trying to trick nature, nature has tricked us
And now we're left to steal our hairs from some unsuspecting cuss.
Clothes they make the man, But what they make I question
Don't they make him more unfit? And make him less the best one?
Separate from environment, Separate from reality
I'd soon know what dire meant, If you separate my clothes from me
Are not clothes a model? A figure of our deception?
Like from breast to bottle, the con in our conception
Do not clothes disclose our disingenuous ilk?
Distaste for what's our own, a taste for others milk
Clothes they make it plain, our tendency is this
To avoid, evade, cover up. To hide the hide that is.
They shroud the truth, all our uncouth, embarrassment and shame
But running from the issue only caused us more the same
By clothes obviation, and through time's rude selection
we're our own odd creation, on a path to smooth complexion
This there's no resolving, we are the hairless apes,
And now we're all evolving, into pears and grapes.
BRAIN CLOUD - BRAIN STORM
The clouds thicken, forming slowly they hang in the air
each ones gloom feeding off the other. Sucking light and life from the terrain below.
They gather together pulled by the vacuum of mutual despair, huddled in their pessimistic mass. Telling stories of misfortune, criticizing the atomic elements, or revealing the earth's inadequacies increasing the feeling of depressive despair to whoever will listen.
The light which does make it through seems to have had the life beaten out of it
Enough light to know its daytime, but not enough to make any thing of it.
As the cloud packed pressure builds and grows within its huddled critical mass
the atmosphere reaches that point where things implode upon them and infighting begins
Sparks of contention start to ignite within the clouded mass and many begin to release that hatred outward toward any opposite pole. Its density of despair has become critical and each crack electrifies every molecule. At the height of the catharsis tears are shed as will is broken and the need to be big and important dissipates into a need to be accepted
to condense and whirl with delightful despair
they form in chaotic but ordered clouds
given shape and platform
they rain gently down
to quench a troubled landscape so dry
to answer the questions what and why
Gray matter folded looming dark
charged with potential
illuminated with spark
the drizzle grows stronger and no longer gentle
Neural nets usher thoughts back
Causing the owner to ponder and know
The calm before the storm
as sadness precedes madness
my thoughts escape the norm
and swing from good to badness
The clouds thicken, forming slowly they hang in the air
each ones gloom feeding off the other. Sucking light and life from the terrain below.
They gather together pulled by the vacuum of mutual despair, huddled in their pessimistic mass. Telling stories of misfortune, criticizing the atomic elements, or revealing the earth's inadequacies increasing the feeling of depressive despair to whoever will listen.
The light which does make it through seems to have had the life beaten out of it
Enough light to know its daytime, but not enough to make any thing of it.
As the cloud packed pressure builds and grows within its huddled critical mass
the atmosphere reaches that point where things implode upon them and infighting begins
Sparks of contention start to ignite within the clouded mass and many begin to release that hatred outward toward any opposite pole. Its density of despair has become critical and each crack electrifies every molecule. At the height of the catharsis tears are shed as will is broken and the need to be big and important dissipates into a need to be accepted
to condense and whirl with delightful despair
they form in chaotic but ordered clouds
given shape and platform
they rain gently down
to quench a troubled landscape so dry
to answer the questions what and why
Gray matter folded looming dark
charged with potential
illuminated with spark
the drizzle grows stronger and no longer gentle
Neural nets usher thoughts back
Causing the owner to ponder and know
The calm before the storm
as sadness precedes madness
my thoughts escape the norm
and swing from good to badness
ILLUSION OF CONTROL
The greatest myth pushed upon mankind
is that they control their errant mind
that they can control what governs them
cerebral firings cortex and stem
You can achieve whatever you dream
A-Ha! then I'll be the One Supreme
You'll accomplish whatever you wish
OK, I'd like to breathe like a fish.
Biology and chemistry
combine to make a destiny
of what you’re able
to do and the best we'll be
These control what you are don’t fight it
learn to walk along beside it
Let not there be this self deception
Pathways were placed prior self perception
Your brain was walking its path already
before you came walking upright and steady
So do the best within your means
to be all you can within your genes
The Egg precedes the Chicken
The Chicken that will see
Within it are the codings
of all she'll ever be
this the Privilege of Primacy
for within four there is one two and three
And as for the question of Chicken v egg
It's The Chicken you dolt!
I yell not so Vague
The greatest myth pushed upon mankind
is that they control their errant mind
that they can control what governs them
cerebral firings cortex and stem
You can achieve whatever you dream
A-Ha! then I'll be the One Supreme
You'll accomplish whatever you wish
OK, I'd like to breathe like a fish.
Biology and chemistry
combine to make a destiny
of what you’re able
to do and the best we'll be
These control what you are don’t fight it
learn to walk along beside it
Let not there be this self deception
Pathways were placed prior self perception
Your brain was walking its path already
before you came walking upright and steady
So do the best within your means
to be all you can within your genes
The Egg precedes the Chicken
The Chicken that will see
Within it are the codings
of all she'll ever be
this the Privilege of Primacy
for within four there is one two and three
And as for the question of Chicken v egg
It's The Chicken you dolt!
I yell not so Vague
BELOW THE REALM
Below the realm
of thought and consciousness
and even the sub conscious mind
lie billions of organisms, diverge, digress
moving on their way.
A man is comprised of gadzillions
of these microscopic entities
living within us their host
carrying on as they please
And of this greater purpose
of keeping us alive and fit.
they care and know nothing
These organisms have come together
by mutual benefit.
Do they contribute to our thought?
Do they have minds?
They certainly have lives of their own,
yet tied and intertwined.
How is this vast community
all orchestrated to form a fully
functional individual?
Probably in the same way
our collective existence
helps form the cosmos.
Maybe the collective consciousness and beings
of all living things
forms the body and mind of god
after this same manner.
Each mostly ignorant about the other.
each a neuron in a string.
Below the realm
of thought and consciousness
and even the sub conscious mind
lie billions of organisms, diverge, digress
moving on their way.
A man is comprised of gadzillions
of these microscopic entities
living within us their host
carrying on as they please
And of this greater purpose
of keeping us alive and fit.
they care and know nothing
These organisms have come together
by mutual benefit.
Do they contribute to our thought?
Do they have minds?
They certainly have lives of their own,
yet tied and intertwined.
How is this vast community
all orchestrated to form a fully
functional individual?
Probably in the same way
our collective existence
helps form the cosmos.
Maybe the collective consciousness and beings
of all living things
forms the body and mind of god
after this same manner.
Each mostly ignorant about the other.
each a neuron in a string.
WHY ME?
8-99
When considering all the people I could be
I look at myself and ask, “Why Me?”
Sometimes posed in misery,
at times in guilty contented glee.
There’s not so much that separates me
from all others in humanity.
Emotion, experience, and philosophy
These belong to no body.
For the things I know, the things I see
are seen and known eventually
by every one and every body
that crawls the earth or sails the sea.
What separates them from me?
Of all the people I could be so easily
I’m here inside this machine called me --
a running program of individuality
downloaded to me a cloned copy
dispersed to hordes so much like me.
I have their strength, their frailty,
their dilemmas of mortality,
their need to find eternity,
their need to belong in family,
and be loved for clever ingenuity,
or just for being simply me.
If you made a clone of me
which one would the real me be?
The same in personality, physicality, mentality --
Am I he or is he me?
Two, which would you my soul decree?
Both would be versions of me.
Of all things that are and be
I ponder so preponderantly,
why me in vast reality.
How is it that I came to be?
My existence not necessity.
Why me, why me, why me?
8-99
When considering all the people I could be
I look at myself and ask, “Why Me?”
Sometimes posed in misery,
at times in guilty contented glee.
There’s not so much that separates me
from all others in humanity.
Emotion, experience, and philosophy
These belong to no body.
For the things I know, the things I see
are seen and known eventually
by every one and every body
that crawls the earth or sails the sea.
What separates them from me?
Of all the people I could be so easily
I’m here inside this machine called me --
a running program of individuality
downloaded to me a cloned copy
dispersed to hordes so much like me.
I have their strength, their frailty,
their dilemmas of mortality,
their need to find eternity,
their need to belong in family,
and be loved for clever ingenuity,
or just for being simply me.
If you made a clone of me
which one would the real me be?
The same in personality, physicality, mentality --
Am I he or is he me?
Two, which would you my soul decree?
Both would be versions of me.
Of all things that are and be
I ponder so preponderantly,
why me in vast reality.
How is it that I came to be?
My existence not necessity.
Why me, why me, why me?
INCOMPLETE
Nothing’s ever finished
It’s always left undone
plans and projects peter out
and dim with the setting sun
so excited at the start
head buzzing like a whirlwind
the hungry beat of an eager heart
relenting once pressures begin
Quick to lose interest, diverted yet again
consistency escapes and then
madly off on a doing spree the shiny coins to spend
to touch all the initial things that lay within my ken
The tethers have been cut
The eyes of a guideless glut
Open doors never to be shut
Some say I'm off my nut
Forget the pleasure of a job well done
In the starting is all the fun
Endurance hard for the sprinting one
I'm off again, can't finish what I've begun
Herein lies complexity and my complaint complete
that I'm compelled continually to compete with incomplete
Nothing’s ever finished
It’s always left undone
plans and projects peter out
and dim with the setting sun
so excited at the start
head buzzing like a whirlwind
the hungry beat of an eager heart
relenting once pressures begin
Quick to lose interest, diverted yet again
consistency escapes and then
madly off on a doing spree the shiny coins to spend
to touch all the initial things that lay within my ken
The tethers have been cut
The eyes of a guideless glut
Open doors never to be shut
Some say I'm off my nut
Forget the pleasure of a job well done
In the starting is all the fun
Endurance hard for the sprinting one
I'm off again, can't finish what I've begun
Herein lies complexity and my complaint complete
that I'm compelled continually to compete with incomplete
PLUG ME IN (I'm wired)
Learning to breathe underwater
Connecting with the poles
Atmosphere Earth’s daughter
Brain's hills and dales and knolls
Sum ergo Cogito
Mind Motor Magneto
Finding the secret soul of creation
in blinding light speed meditation
one too many knocks to the head
significance pervades, everything's connected
Signs, meanings, symbols
My compass off its gimbals
Motion is Time, Time is Change
And Change is merely Motion
Time the elements rearrange
Making movement land and ocean
In My Mind Are circuits strange
And strangeness gives the Notion
That I can circumstances change
Midst life's non-stop commotion
Learning to breathe underwater
Connecting with the poles
Atmosphere Earth’s daughter
Brain's hills and dales and knolls
Sum ergo Cogito
Mind Motor Magneto
Finding the secret soul of creation
in blinding light speed meditation
one too many knocks to the head
significance pervades, everything's connected
Signs, meanings, symbols
My compass off its gimbals
Motion is Time, Time is Change
And Change is merely Motion
Time the elements rearrange
Making movement land and ocean
In My Mind Are circuits strange
And strangeness gives the Notion
That I can circumstances change
Midst life's non-stop commotion
THE FOLLOWING 3 BLOCKS ARE POEM IDEAS
deus ex machina - god from a gadget
god is intellect from chaos
god is genius, god does not change
god is Static Genius
Weltschmerz is German for world sadness and describes the condition
brought on by thinking to much about the world
Perception Is Perspective
Subjunctive Subjectivity
We see only what we have names for
The complexity of thought is only as complex as the language with which to express it both internally to oneself and externally to others
deus ex machina - god from a gadget
god is intellect from chaos
god is genius, god does not change
god is Static Genius
Weltschmerz is German for world sadness and describes the condition
brought on by thinking to much about the world
Perception Is Perspective
Subjunctive Subjectivity
We see only what we have names for
The complexity of thought is only as complex as the language with which to express it both internally to oneself and externally to others
DIRT
We humans are but polished dirt grown up from the sun and earth
Within ourselves dirt lives inert for our slimy bloody birth
sprouts from our muddy mother earth
Everything around you was born out of the earth
So don’t let it confound you this deep distaste for dirt
we scrub it from our fingers, we wash it off our clothes
we suck if from the fibers, yes anywhere it shows
Dirty dirt, despicable dust For these we harbor such disgust
How we deplore things on the floor Those creepy crawlers even more
God must us, thrust on earth's crust, ultimately abhor
Filthy grimy, squalid dirt Muddy gooze oozing squishy squirt
or Dry Dust Distilling micro fine In over time you draw a line
Dirt it haunts us everywhere affronts below above behind us
Our space it begs to share Maybe to remind us
to watch our glowering glare for dirt is what defines us
For from the dust of the earth god created man
and in his deep disgust went off to wash his hands
leaving us through the millennia to try and understand
Just what we are made of midst all this dirt and sand
Through time we've woven warped tales
We now think ourselves above it
That we snootily white glove it
and pretended we have none of it
So much money, sweat, and time
spent banishing the grime
this loathing of the dirt may be
some twisted psychology bent on betraying grin
hatred of the dirt within deep under the skin
It's all dirt - Just polished dirt
The rich they push to get more of it and at the same time rise above it
climbing up the hillsides above the dirt which they sprang
To escape the fact that they're from it.
We humans are but polished dirt grown up from the sun and earth
Within ourselves dirt lives inert for our slimy bloody birth
sprouts from our muddy mother earth
Everything around you was born out of the earth
So don’t let it confound you this deep distaste for dirt
we scrub it from our fingers, we wash it off our clothes
we suck if from the fibers, yes anywhere it shows
Dirty dirt, despicable dust For these we harbor such disgust
How we deplore things on the floor Those creepy crawlers even more
God must us, thrust on earth's crust, ultimately abhor
Filthy grimy, squalid dirt Muddy gooze oozing squishy squirt
or Dry Dust Distilling micro fine In over time you draw a line
Dirt it haunts us everywhere affronts below above behind us
Our space it begs to share Maybe to remind us
to watch our glowering glare for dirt is what defines us
For from the dust of the earth god created man
and in his deep disgust went off to wash his hands
leaving us through the millennia to try and understand
Just what we are made of midst all this dirt and sand
Through time we've woven warped tales
We now think ourselves above it
That we snootily white glove it
and pretended we have none of it
So much money, sweat, and time
spent banishing the grime
this loathing of the dirt may be
some twisted psychology bent on betraying grin
hatred of the dirt within deep under the skin
It's all dirt - Just polished dirt
The rich they push to get more of it and at the same time rise above it
climbing up the hillsides above the dirt which they sprang
To escape the fact that they're from it.
THE MONKEY KINGS
We are the monkey kings
Vote for us to rule you
You we regard as Ding a lings
We'll lie, and cheat, and fool you
We so called "un-primitive" primates
Acting just like primates do
Trying to win favor by fawning flattery feigning
pretending to ply the issues of your worst complaining
Majorities changing like the wind,
like flags we realign our stand to win
And show a face to those who'll look
Of power, resolve and "I'm no crook"
Your vote, your backing, your alliance
we'll buy with a trinket or small appliance
We gain favor so easily
by proffered promises and policy
that often we know can never be.
power kills integrity
A show of strength a beating chest
says "I can run this tribe the best."
Each one posing posturing
With cronies fighting in the wing
Yes, We'll do almost anything
To be your next monkey king
All hail to the monkey kings
Taxing our land and all our things
All hell to the monkey kings
And with it ruin dominion brings
Pray now to your monkey god
To help you win your piece of sod
To stake your claim with beaten chest
To help you dominate the rest
So sophisticated in our evolution
That we'll be decimated in our own conclusion
We are the monkey kings
Vote for us to rule you
You we regard as Ding a lings
We'll lie, and cheat, and fool you
We so called "un-primitive" primates
Acting just like primates do
Trying to win favor by fawning flattery feigning
pretending to ply the issues of your worst complaining
Majorities changing like the wind,
like flags we realign our stand to win
And show a face to those who'll look
Of power, resolve and "I'm no crook"
Your vote, your backing, your alliance
we'll buy with a trinket or small appliance
We gain favor so easily
by proffered promises and policy
that often we know can never be.
power kills integrity
A show of strength a beating chest
says "I can run this tribe the best."
Each one posing posturing
With cronies fighting in the wing
Yes, We'll do almost anything
To be your next monkey king
All hail to the monkey kings
Taxing our land and all our things
All hell to the monkey kings
And with it ruin dominion brings
Pray now to your monkey god
To help you win your piece of sod
To stake your claim with beaten chest
To help you dominate the rest
So sophisticated in our evolution
That we'll be decimated in our own conclusion
WRONG
Premise of Poem: Tribes who live in close relation to the earth gain a collective perspective which is correct concerning their relationship to the land. They realize that they are totally dependent upon it for life in every respect. The land takes on a godlike aura in their minds, giving or withholding, blessing or punishing. These tribal people gave the earth a respect higher than what they gave themselves or their kind.
Modern man's perspective of themselves and the earth is wrong, yet a people holding the correct perspective to the land are easily pushed off and overtaken by those who feel they can own and possess it. This is very ironic that the earth would punish those who respect it and reward those who rape it. The whole premise of primacy dictating possession and ownership is also a ludicrous argument I wish to explore. It's interesting that many times a wrong perspective can be beneficial. We think that what is correct and honorable is always best, yet wrong many times has its advantages.
Cheaters do prosper, and nice guys finish last. Nature is replete with examples of life forms who cheat, steal, or use another form of life to their own benefit. In every respect life battles other life to live. There is nothing honest, upright, or virtuous in living, when you displace, dominate, or destroy other forms of life to do so. Yet in the extreme respect of all life even vegetarians are killers, users, and thieves, taking what they do not own.
So the earth favors those life forms who take, use, dominate, and destroy thus ensuring her own demise over time. This all seems so wrong, yet it is right, being the reality of all forms of existence. The final irony is that in our avarice and unchecked growth – we will actually be our own demise – forcing ourselves off the land and into great suffering just as the American government did in it’s greed. Our disrespect for nature which has gained us so much in the short term will be our undoing and Nature shall have the final claim
Wrong - Primal Primacy (Reservations)
3-24-00
Around me are the things that have always been,
Earth, air, sun, water, open land
Around me also things that have never been before,
Pavement, buildings, fences, people more and more
Indigenous people always pay, invading men took their land
They took it all away the land they once roamed the land that their ancestors called home
A concept their ancestors could not understand, Land was always thought to be owner of man
How could puny man in his hand hold the land? The land that made and gave life to man
((((Now nature is being pushed off the land onto reservations by the puny hand of man
without thought and without hesitation. But what modern man can’t understand
known by the primitive nations, Is that land is the owner of man, it’s demise is his cessation)))))
Wind in the trees - claims primal primacy
Sand in the breeze - Claims primal primacy
Wings flying free, everything came before you and me
Nothing here but land and sea
This was all ….long before you and me
No man owns the land….This will be true again
No tribes will survive the swelling sea of man
No clan after man, we'll all have no leg to stand
No tribe after man (Will Survive)
<Repeat to here>
Stare into the void, the void of man
Staring forward, see it there,
Stare into a time of balance
Where life lived without awareness
Millions of years without a mind
Did it all foresee human kind?
Looking back when time began
Was it all playing up to man?
Long before we came and long after we leave
Nature plays it's game of primal primacy
And the first shall be last and the last shall be first
and this puts the twist in infinity (And that’s just the way it will always be)
Repeat
Premise of Poem: Tribes who live in close relation to the earth gain a collective perspective which is correct concerning their relationship to the land. They realize that they are totally dependent upon it for life in every respect. The land takes on a godlike aura in their minds, giving or withholding, blessing or punishing. These tribal people gave the earth a respect higher than what they gave themselves or their kind.
Modern man's perspective of themselves and the earth is wrong, yet a people holding the correct perspective to the land are easily pushed off and overtaken by those who feel they can own and possess it. This is very ironic that the earth would punish those who respect it and reward those who rape it. The whole premise of primacy dictating possession and ownership is also a ludicrous argument I wish to explore. It's interesting that many times a wrong perspective can be beneficial. We think that what is correct and honorable is always best, yet wrong many times has its advantages.
Cheaters do prosper, and nice guys finish last. Nature is replete with examples of life forms who cheat, steal, or use another form of life to their own benefit. In every respect life battles other life to live. There is nothing honest, upright, or virtuous in living, when you displace, dominate, or destroy other forms of life to do so. Yet in the extreme respect of all life even vegetarians are killers, users, and thieves, taking what they do not own.
So the earth favors those life forms who take, use, dominate, and destroy thus ensuring her own demise over time. This all seems so wrong, yet it is right, being the reality of all forms of existence. The final irony is that in our avarice and unchecked growth – we will actually be our own demise – forcing ourselves off the land and into great suffering just as the American government did in it’s greed. Our disrespect for nature which has gained us so much in the short term will be our undoing and Nature shall have the final claim
Wrong - Primal Primacy (Reservations)
3-24-00
Around me are the things that have always been,
Earth, air, sun, water, open land
Around me also things that have never been before,
Pavement, buildings, fences, people more and more
Indigenous people always pay, invading men took their land
They took it all away the land they once roamed the land that their ancestors called home
A concept their ancestors could not understand, Land was always thought to be owner of man
How could puny man in his hand hold the land? The land that made and gave life to man
((((Now nature is being pushed off the land onto reservations by the puny hand of man
without thought and without hesitation. But what modern man can’t understand
known by the primitive nations, Is that land is the owner of man, it’s demise is his cessation)))))
Wind in the trees - claims primal primacy
Sand in the breeze - Claims primal primacy
Wings flying free, everything came before you and me
Nothing here but land and sea
This was all ….long before you and me
No man owns the land….This will be true again
No tribes will survive the swelling sea of man
No clan after man, we'll all have no leg to stand
No tribe after man (Will Survive)
<Repeat to here>
Stare into the void, the void of man
Staring forward, see it there,
Stare into a time of balance
Where life lived without awareness
Millions of years without a mind
Did it all foresee human kind?
Looking back when time began
Was it all playing up to man?
Long before we came and long after we leave
Nature plays it's game of primal primacy
And the first shall be last and the last shall be first
and this puts the twist in infinity (And that’s just the way it will always be)
Repeat
WHAT THE MANIAC MADE
5-2000
Mind made the lover, the sane in fact strayed
From games to recover that the brainiac played
Entwined in another, gone main intact braid
Searching to discover what the maniac made
Ooh look what I've become
Goodbye hopes and dreams of yesterday
Time has swept you all away
The smoldering shock has left me numb
Oh look what I've become
Grandiose grandiloquence
a tongue verbose, brain packed too dense
neurons snap at light speed intense
Scintillating every sense
My mind has leapt from off the fence
doing a decimating deluded deca-dance
Thought rational not bent to stray
into the wild imaginary fray
The Maniac came and took that away
Replacing mind of yesterday
with a mind of warped and tangled wire
of which within there smolders fire
Ooh look what I've become
Goodbye hopes and dreams of tomorrow
Times of joys sublime to culminate in sorrow
The smoldering shock has left me numb
Oh look what I've become
5-2000
Mind made the lover, the sane in fact strayed
From games to recover that the brainiac played
Entwined in another, gone main intact braid
Searching to discover what the maniac made
Ooh look what I've become
Goodbye hopes and dreams of yesterday
Time has swept you all away
The smoldering shock has left me numb
Oh look what I've become
Grandiose grandiloquence
a tongue verbose, brain packed too dense
neurons snap at light speed intense
Scintillating every sense
My mind has leapt from off the fence
doing a decimating deluded deca-dance
Thought rational not bent to stray
into the wild imaginary fray
The Maniac came and took that away
Replacing mind of yesterday
with a mind of warped and tangled wire
of which within there smolders fire
Ooh look what I've become
Goodbye hopes and dreams of tomorrow
Times of joys sublime to culminate in sorrow
The smoldering shock has left me numb
Oh look what I've become
CALLING ON GOD
November 2000
Oh my plight, to pick a fight, to pick a fight with God.
Of all the foes that I could fight my choice might seem quite odd.
But I'm upset, on him I fret, my mind continually is set
to place my bet on what I'll get when pulled in by the reaper's net.
And not thing one has he done yet, to calm the sting of that black net
Angry at apparent apathy of a parent who's said to be
watching, caring over me, as over falls I plummet, out to sea.
Cast off in a skin tight barrel, that thus far floats me out quite feral.
Floating free, midst swelling sea, no way to guarantee what's said to be
I've pondered heaven, pondered hell. I've scoured the path, retraced the trail
from heaven's halo to devil's tail. Just what is true I cannot tell.
I wish I could believe in you, and not make such a big to-do,
just passively accept it's true, never questioning why the sky is blue.
I've searched the church, my inner self.
I've looked in books stacked on the shelf.
So come out coward! Show yourself!
A fight betwixt the giant and elf.
Or billing better: 'twixt elf and giant,
for I'm the one who dares defiant!
No longer son to be compliant,
faith now dying, no more reliance
on things outlying the scope of science
So now a fight I pick with you, God of all creation.
A cow from bite of tick will move its tail in irritation.
So slap me, squish me, squash me down, at least I'll know you're there.
Harm me , hurt me, hit me hard. By blows I'll know you care.
Sure I'm scared of being scarred
with a finger flick you'd leave me marred
or tied up, dragged, and feather tarred
But I'm sick to death of this canard
"Come out and fight meek mighty man!"
This shout's my fright freaked flighty plan
"All I ask is give me my due, I just want a look at you!"
At this I clutch my chest, turn blue,
God at last has touched my heart, true.
And touching burst it full - I'm through.
"Oh my plight to pick a fight, to pick a fight with God"
on any night if the moonlight's just right you can read this phrase and nod.
For tis scribed upon a granite stone that heads a hill of sod
And still to you I cannot tell, whether not there is a God
November 2000
Oh my plight, to pick a fight, to pick a fight with God.
Of all the foes that I could fight my choice might seem quite odd.
But I'm upset, on him I fret, my mind continually is set
to place my bet on what I'll get when pulled in by the reaper's net.
And not thing one has he done yet, to calm the sting of that black net
Angry at apparent apathy of a parent who's said to be
watching, caring over me, as over falls I plummet, out to sea.
Cast off in a skin tight barrel, that thus far floats me out quite feral.
Floating free, midst swelling sea, no way to guarantee what's said to be
I've pondered heaven, pondered hell. I've scoured the path, retraced the trail
from heaven's halo to devil's tail. Just what is true I cannot tell.
I wish I could believe in you, and not make such a big to-do,
just passively accept it's true, never questioning why the sky is blue.
I've searched the church, my inner self.
I've looked in books stacked on the shelf.
So come out coward! Show yourself!
A fight betwixt the giant and elf.
Or billing better: 'twixt elf and giant,
for I'm the one who dares defiant!
No longer son to be compliant,
faith now dying, no more reliance
on things outlying the scope of science
So now a fight I pick with you, God of all creation.
A cow from bite of tick will move its tail in irritation.
So slap me, squish me, squash me down, at least I'll know you're there.
Harm me , hurt me, hit me hard. By blows I'll know you care.
Sure I'm scared of being scarred
with a finger flick you'd leave me marred
or tied up, dragged, and feather tarred
But I'm sick to death of this canard
"Come out and fight meek mighty man!"
This shout's my fright freaked flighty plan
"All I ask is give me my due, I just want a look at you!"
At this I clutch my chest, turn blue,
God at last has touched my heart, true.
And touching burst it full - I'm through.
"Oh my plight to pick a fight, to pick a fight with God"
on any night if the moonlight's just right you can read this phrase and nod.
For tis scribed upon a granite stone that heads a hill of sod
And still to you I cannot tell, whether not there is a God