III.
“Don’t lose yourself!” yelled
The captain to his crew,
And the crew to the passengers,
And The passengers to their
Children, and the children
To their imaginary friends,
And them to the Overman.
The clarinet plays a beautiful
Melody, wandering around
Space, looking for ears to
Latch onto. Like an expansive
Sea, rising ocean levels,
Flooding the lowlands, displacing
Helpless men and women.
Run faster, carry little, save
What can be saved, and leave
The precious cross behind.
“When I smile, Satan smiles
Back,” yellow teeth, sharp teeth,
Looking for prey. Maybe those
Helpless men and women. The
Screams and the pleas, soon shall
(under the influence) become
Cries of anger and raised fists.
“Don’t lose yourself!” yelled
The captain, the angel, but the
Eyes, those eyes. Bloodshot and
Deep, they’re in for the kill.
And the teeth, the teeth. I
See the chunks of meat dangling.
Laugh, and the world laughs
With you; Weep, and you weep
Alone. I guess I’m alone then,
And the echoes of steely laughter.
IV.
A note from a stranger:
Meet me at the place where
You first — I have no idea,
The handwriting is illegible.
Walking down the crowded
Streets, perhaps I saw you,
Head down, eyes fixed on
The glare of the phone, going
Straight and having others go
Around, and perhaps I did
In fact bump into you. You
Know, that intersection, right
Next to that shop that smells
Of lavender and something
Sweet. But first things first:
“Who are you?” And you might
Sweet. But first things first:
“Who are you?” And you might
Say: “The guy next door” “The
Local politician” “Your
Daughter’s school teacher”
Or maybe “The garbage man”
Yet it hardly matters. Who
We are doesn’t matter. Yes,
No it doesn’t. Go outside,
See how much the universe
Cares. About what you had
For lunch, how bad your
Break-up was. But that’s ok.
I care. So talk to me; let’s have
A conversation. I’ll start.
“How are you this fine [time
of day]?” “[response]” “Oh
that’s interesting. Tell me
more, I care about it.”
“[response]” And so on.
V.
Lucid dreams and blurred
Images, it is difficult to discern
The muddled words spoken.
Turtles rising from underneath
The sand, and raining diamonds.
Vending machine monster, while
Nietzsche sits down and reads
The paper, and the wooden stool
Collapses to the cheering of
Wild children etc. The constant
Flow of images pile up, fiery
Imagination unleashed, the
Brilliance of A+B=C. Association,
Combination, formation of new
From old, old from new. The
Hunger is real, the thirst is in
The mind, but also in the throat,
Hoarse voice whispering, “Help
Me, someone please help.” NO.
Help is for the weak, and good
Is overrated. Think hard, think
For the new combinations of
Letters that will befuddle you
And me, and then the maniacal
Laugh as the man behind the
Keyboard tilts his head in confusion
As to the “meaning,” the “message.”
Tell me, son, where is meaning?
Under the rainbow. Exactly.
Precisely. Shall we go then?
On the wet bench, waiting for
Sun and rain to collide, and the
Kaleidoscope of colors to be
Unveiled, and then the endless
March to be absorbed, immersed
Where glory and happiness is.
But no pot of gold, only the chirping
Of insects and the soaked soil.
Toil forever, walk forever, be
Sisyphus, be the determined
Fool, torn shoes and swollen
Soles and worn out souls,
And eventually, walk out onto
The otherside as a crooked
Dying man, with a wrinkled face
And a sad complexion. [sigh]
Where is the rest when there
Is no rest, when there are places
To go but nowhere to stop?
Give us this day! But it is always
Night, under the starry night,
Cloudless, and the watchful moon
And the warm breeze, perfect
For creation. The greatest creation.
Wait. Let the motions die out first.
Let the leaves stop whispering and
the water stop flowing. And then
tune out the world, let the world
Turn white, pristine and clean,
Unpolluted planet, pure earth.
I think this is how everything came
To be. I can imagine the old
Bearded man, in his infinite wisdom,
Closing his eyes, filtering everything
Out, allowing all the poison to drain
Away. A deep deep breath, and in
The fingertips a spark, a surge
Of imagination. BANG!! Out of
Dreams come reality. Out of
Ambiguity comes clarity. Form
Appears, and appearance is formed:
The world through touch and smell,
The world through careful ears,
The world through raw eyes.
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