Happy Days

For crying out loud, stop it!

In the eternal lie there arises a truth,
One who harbors this illusion is mistook.
No means no and will we ever know,
The purity and perception of a look.

I have glanced at means,
I have glanced at ways.
Me glancing forward means no ways,
Selfish bottoms are plump with dreams.

Dreams of nothing...

Yet, most trite swells from insipid places.

As harbor lights fill us with joy,
Mere humans succumb to its ploy.
Wiring figures of lines and planes,
Bold is the giver of names.

The player of games,
The bible of James,
Are the most soul soothing flames.

Mercy!

Becomes an absolute in the eyes of the sinner.
Hope!
Takes your fear and moves it.
Justice!
Blindly swallows power.

All is incomplete,
I am incomplete.
Truth is incomplete.
All is incomplete.

Wide Open Spaces

In  a  defensive    world  we  can  not    tolerate       this.                           Breakdowns...        Make                  believe      is     real!!!     I believe   in               the      "money"       fairy.    Is there any doubt of its power?        She has burdened me with debt and it's daughters have sucked the life from me.

Harpies have nothing on this....

Withdraw fees

  

Lost

I'm just a singer...

hope floats

fear is lost hope...

YOU are the only important part of anything.

This is where we are.

Trolls and Other Miscreants

Feeding my zombie-like brain is difficult. I am of the ZOMBIE DEATH generation. We feed on your brains and this is not easy. There will be heads on the pike before my term is over. We learned well, but not well enough, from the GREATEST GENERATION.

Chickens always come home to roost and this translates into Americaneze as reaping what you sow (blowback).

Through the thicket of the most brainiac of ideas comes one startling conclusion.
 
Masters need their servants.

Bottom Lines

It's a funny thing that happens to most of us. Life (such an ordinary thing), living (putting food in our mouth and all that) and the pouring of emotions on our world stage is but a glimmer in time.

It seems that with age comes many chronic problems, but the one that stands out most is my true appreciation for most of my fellow travelers (not the greedy souls who suck us dry, nor the selfish ones who cry why), but the ones I love. The ones we love.

(the rise in income inequality equates with the Reagan years.)

St. Ronald the Reagan was not the beneficial leader some of us have come to believe. He was a shill. Nothing more, nothing less...

Reckonings and redemptions are harsh folk. Beware the trail you leave if you fail to understand; it is ridden with ash and gore. A gasping people await to breathe again and this will come; all untruths must pass eventually.

We are alive (we always have been.) We care about things. This is how it begins and ends. History is a bitch.

Paint it Black

Every bit of hope I have is tinged with fear. I obsess over the possibilities that pervade my mind. There is a contingent that seeks to destroy us. Go tell Moses of his failure to lead us. He only offered temporary seclusion anyway. What one of you is not CHOSEN? The Hebrews stole their religion. The Christians did likewise and the Muslims have tried to perfect it... They all have failed, but it doesn't make our existence any less true or our canons more false. It is our grand expression.

Explanations are simple in their mythic form. Rising above all myth is truth. There is darkness and there is light. This is as simple as it gets. In our darkest moments we have an inner light. It can be anything we want it to be. This higher power is within each of us.

I am, you are, we are...

Creation and Myth

     Composing is part of  our daily duty. To make our strife important we may embellish our truths. I have no problem with this. I believe in YOU and I will never cease this belief. You may seek to undermine, or over mine, me in my perceptions, but I have never wavered from my belief.
     I have created a world within my brain and it has sustained me. I have hopes, fears and bothersomes that have plagued me. I have tried to disregard them and I have tried to ignore the tediousness that bothers me so. My life is my given. I am and have been lessened (in the strict sense) by it. Failure becomes (in the long sense) a consuming passion and devours my soul with it's mundane and oblivious nature.
     I worship the stories we tell. They have been my life's blood.  In their world we live by a different sense of rules.I would kill, sacrifice or otherwise die for any immortal beings if I had the chance. What I have in this realm is choice and I choose life  I am not super human nor supra-human. I am your friend, your brother and your neighbor. I am your savior; as you are mine.

    We are creators and we are myth makers.


    I love our stories and that makes me happy.

Little to Offer

Plodding through all I am unstruck (my word so fuck you) by the need to identify with subcultures. For that is what we have attuned ourselves to; subcultures. I had pretended I knew what culture was about until I faced the sub-culture. Now, I know only what culture is not about. Sub-cultures exploit.  If I have my special place within a unique group I am safe. Damn the barbarians!

I am a Marxist. "I refuse to join any club that would have me as a member," the sage once uttered.

To his personal dismay there are clubs devoted to him today. Irony is lost on those most prone to point it out in others. I truly shake my head and for this I am rewarded with headaches of the most severe kind. They go away, eventually, because they involve the rattling of my brain within its cranium instead of true thought.

The battles, tribulations, crises we have allotted to us are minuscule compared to the ability of each of us to see and do good. There is nothing in my experience that can't be overcome by love and light. Be good to each other in your own way.

That's all I have...