Intertwined in an unending present,
Eternity rumbles across the bedrock
scrubland,
Thunderstorms range Across vast slopes, anvil cloud-ships sailing in slow
procession towards nothing at all.
Mother
Mountain holds them
tight,
Unyielding,
squeezing in desperation
for every last drop they will part with.
Juniper
claw scrapes at the sky, scorched Earth to the naïve,
But
here, amidst the scalding dunes and broken talus slopes, Life has a way of
flowing in mysterious directions,
blurring realities of the living, of the dead.
Shadowless
inferno screaming in the silence of late summer,
Only the
wicked of heart could love a place such as this.
(I
am home.)
Black
figures float on the thermals above,
Death
cloaked in clarity, vulture guardians soar in eternal flight,
Keeping watch for the glazed eyes and cooked flesh
Of
the next wanderer to succumb to the unrelenting rays of the ominous fires
floating above.
(Truth
is the desert.)
They
say the dead whisper here…
In
the lands of Trinity and Chaco,
The Glanton Gang and Geronimo.
Blood runs thick in this ground,
Infinite
turmoil soaked in deep,
Saturate.
Scalp
hunter nostalgia in the sunbelt of empire,
Always
asking “What happen to the Wild Wild West?”
…but it never left.
---
(Here,
She keeps
me seated here, in this moment.
Wrapped tightly, tightly wrapped.
Entwined,
tangled here in long breaths and quick glances.
The setting light instilled in her eyes,
Intoxicated by circumstances this fool doesn't deserve,
Destroy me,
I will never know better.
Silver
rain materializes in the clear void above.
Slapping drops strike the chipped windshield, wipers
Scrape
back and forth over the dirt stained glass,
Creaking to
the mutant pulse of a straining engine riding atop skipping, balding tires.
Dusk in the desert,
Awe
in the heart,
Life
spiraling towards the in-between,
I am lost to passing seconds.
“Keep me here,”)
---
New Mexico,
New Mexico,
Fuck
Tibet save New Mexico.
I am reminded of a dead man, a man who had not so long ago
convinced me that, “This is the most beautiful place on Earth.”
If only I
could have known the magnitude of letting such a thing enter my heart,
For nothing has meant more to me since,
And
I’d die for nothing less.
But what’s
the use?
What’s
the worry?
Enculturation
in pure observation,
We
were born to watch, to take note, to forget...
"The Earth (creator)? What more is the Earth (creator) but a feeble gift which has long run dry?"
Stripping her naked,
and raping her to
the fucking bone.
Pants
slide to bony ankles,
fingers type the endless fantasy away, clammy hands keep the heart confined,
glared images
reflect pixelated flesh off stoic hollow eyes,
Shame
leaks in,
sometimes,
between the electrostatic of heavy breaths and the tinny scrpited conversation of a false love
shared by all involved,
audience and actor alike.
Onanism for
the masses, the
human married to the machine..."I don't need anyone but me."
The circles grow and conquer.
Anything to fill this void, anything (DOMINATE!!!)
Hyper-individualistic credit cruncher
We
can't do a damn thing for ourselves but we'll go to the grave believing
otherwise.
And
we’ll call it normal, routine, even progress!
As
televised armageddon wages war upon the colonized mind,
Hope
and Change interwoven into the sitcom of your choice.
Sit back
relax sit back relax sit back relax
As
we pause for a short commercial break from this
Compromised life
brought to you buy Starshit Coffee.
Birth
school (work?) work (school?) marriage (divorce!) death, and that’s if you’re lucky...
fake love fake tits fake heart fake thoughts..."honey i'm home(?)!"
to a white picket nightmare where they're all smiles and everything's "A-OK!"
Motto ingrained...
“Suck it up, keep it in,
time is
money…Time is Money, time IS money!, TIME=MONEY?, … = $”
(Give
me a symbol for wasted life.)
Surrendered to
white noise, there are too many voices, .
We
can only add more.
Each and
every, a talking head in their own right.
Us
and them, forever
In
repeat, us and them, separation and
Dissection, excuses for isolation.
But life’s
better without compromise,
Isn’t it? Without inconvenience, without struggle, without
meaning at all?
Maintained
and manicured,
9 to 5 forever, until you’re dead and gone and all you’ve to
show is a paper trail
of half completed forms and stacks of old paystubs.
…just keep busy until you’re dead and gone…
Whirlwind waste in the zombie disco,
“Life
here is great!”
---
(Rift valley home
Pulling, tugging,
Warfare imperceptible to our eyes.
Geologic conundrum,
Humanity is
a rift valley.
But
driving north on 528,
I don’t really care…
Fucking Rio
Scumhole, the California Fever spreads in its decay across the ancient mesas.
Hand-pecked inconvenience,
Sweet
sacrilege,
Sacrifice
made to the Pixel Gawd for a quicker route home...
(God is the desert)
But anymore, I can't keep from fixating on this
blinding idiocy of
Track-home
dystopia we call Modern Life. The insanity of every waking hour, the psychosis of every dreaming second.
"I'm Lovin' It!"
"Just forget it," I'm told, "just let it go."
"You're right, you're right, I'll do my best..." with the bullets arching out of Ciudad Juarez to the south and La Floresta dividing and
conquering to the north... out of sight, out of mind, sleight of hand puts the heart at ease...
"you're right, you're right, I'll do what I can to forget."
And
they wonder why I’ve been drifting away for so long…
(Am I growing in reverse?)
And all the while she stares out the car window,
Talking
some, but it all goes by so fast...
Constant complaint pours from isolated lips, but lately I've been determined to show that I’m something more,
that I'm a better than this apathetic shell I've seemed to have grown so nicely into,
Show
that I’m not just another misanthrope,
Another
hostile,
Another
angry soul screaming in uselessness over abstractions and lunacy,
Another
twenty-something stuck in a fucking ditch.
Lost to this bitter self doubt that swallows so much,
But
this moment is too good to care...
Erratic human nature sure beats the hell out of a day
scratching thoughts into a
journal that will never respond, no matter the volume of
blood or tears poured into it.
“Take it all in”
I keep the thought alive,
It’s all I can do.
But these dreams merely fuel the fires of impossibility, nothing ever matches this wild
imagination of mine.
Expectations
spoil under the blessed sun,
“If
I said what I meant would she see me the same?”
The thought poisons as it stews and ferments in the mind,
Soon,
too soon, it will spilt and spill from this loose mouth of mine
Heavy thoughts in a heavy world... when was truth ever taken well?
But god damn (god damn!), she's pretty, every color leaking from that piercing gaze, those canyon lips, her sandstorm-sky skin.
(Beauty and the Fucking Lunatic?)
Like the glint of autumn seeping into my weary heart,
her presence consumes me, then she's gone...)
---
Constant
unending sensory input from a million different points
All
screaming “Attention, Attention!”
Just For You! Just For You!
Hum static
engine roar television billboard parade… the lol insomniac never rests.
Cityscape mirage… all just a dream, some say this city will
dissolve…dust to dust, just
drain
the
Blood
and it will all be gone…
But these years
sacrificed to the pixel gawd have got me spinning...
(Time traveler’s remorse?)
Info
junky, heavier doses in ever increasing need, “Give Me More!”
The patriot continues
Defeated by 9 to 5 (8 to 6 7 to 7 eyes wide to eyes closed)
Their
Chairs and Their Desks and Their Standards and Their Opinions and Their Needs
Defeated by the bachelors of the psuedo-arts and the collage of the UNIVERSity.
And all
they ever ask, as though it were my defining characteristic,
is what I wish to do when this dull ride is through and the paper tiger is obtained?
While I squirm
and grimace and never have the answer their looking for,
my truth lay surfacing in my eyes:
“Slave to none,
When I grow
up, I want to be a slave to none.
…to
live the day for the day’s sake.
I want to be a slave to none.”
Aspirations as thick as the dirt in the air,
If only they knew...
The dark histories left abandoned, undisturbed,
In
painstaking earnest, they are kept hidden in layers of flesh and bone.
When such deviltries are made by no mistake, the ticking populace has only a to be pushed over the edge.
Civilization is a time bomb, humanity is a fuse.
If only we
could run from all the lies we so eagerly tell ourselves,
If
only we could stem this tide of unabashed insanity,
If
only we could awake,
If
only…
(The mantra of if only)
Telltale Truth under the cerebral floorboards,
temples pulse with the constant reminder,
“This can’t be right.”
We all,
Wounded
wanderers,
Isolation sinks deep, leaving
Us with memories of a past
That
haunts even the most steadfast of souls
How it captures our attention as though thought could will
it into another form,
Another
story
Another
outcome.
Wayward gaze,
Horizon
stare,
Always,
So
far away.
Plugged
into a plastic present of noise and light,
Always,
Staring
blank.
Post-traumatic despondent,
Perhaps lips wrapping the barrel of a gun in the morning sun
will silence the pounding
Juggernaut hidden under the plain clothes of a working man.
Standing in front of a fill-up station,
Morning
rush hour, the sane race with their maddening intensity, cabin fever empire.
Now,
a screaming man, mind aflame,
suddenly surrounded
By
a mob, a sea, of black and blue badged anger.
“Mountain majesty, take me away”
Gunshot
ending swallowed and forgotten
By
mechanized hordes inching impatiently towards the coming green.
A
bullet in exchange for a routine, there is no difference…
A witness
to the everyday,
Blind to a violence coated in normalcy,
But it’s
everywhere,
It’s everywhere…
Just
keep driving…
The
fever grows in the heart of America,
we stir so seldom in our restlessness.
Impossible
to reconcile why one has it so good while the other has it so bad,
But our fates were never hidden in the smoke and mirrors of
this tepid holocaust.
Existence bleeding out, never
To
return again, the only constant we’ll ever know. Journeys may
be shared for a time,
But
ultimately your path is yours alone. Your own messiah,
your own master, your own mentor, your own executioner,
terrifying (beautiful) isn’t it?
This life,
This
busy grind,
Could
never deliver the salvation so many seek in their turmoil, their despair.
(How much does the the large
Fulfillment(TM) cost?)
Happiness
lay in the spontaneity of each and every moment,
in
the in-between. If you long for a destination, you will
be
disappointed as the path continues still, fading ‘round the next bend.
Despite all that is done to counter,
Life continues all around,
In its unending struggle.
Medicine
wheel tribulation, enshrined and enthralled
In
the eternal return.
Many
ends are near,
As
are many beginnings.
Death venerated...time tumbles along, a wagon wheel spinning into the arcs of unending.
And when, at last (!), that glorious day arrives and the setting light finally meets
your fading eyes, in that
Moment when all moments cease, when eternity’s hand falls
upon your left
shoulder, beckoning your frail heart to become one with all,
when you
finally die, will you leave this life saying:
“I
lived this life a slave to none.
When I finally grew up, I was a slave to none.
I
lived the day for the day’s sake,
I
lived this life a slave to none.”
Or will the emptiness fill in, leaving
you to the same sickening feeling you were lost to your entire life... never quite sure of
the
here or there, just certain of the oblivion, the nothingness creeping
across your heart and mind.
Eyes kept on the prize,
but what did that mansion
full of shit get you beside a wedding full of acquaintances and a
funeral full of strangers?
Decisions, decisions, decisions (distractions)...
When it was all so simple,
Make your mind
You are God
Decide what to be
and go be it