Goodbye 2008

Here's a poem to end the year with;



find the shimmer
find the tear
find the rip

find the place
that will let you slip
beyond light of faded days

and into the heart
of the twisted maze


turn the corner
turn the wall
turn the tide

turn the eye
from that which must hide
beyond where the sane would scream

and into the deep
of the drowning dream


down the river
down the drink
down the sea

down the drain
of eternity
beyond touch of time and light

and into the dark
of the final night

n't (end of a species)

we did
to be alive.
graves for the didn't.

we would,
'til it was easy,
then we just wouldn't.

we should,
and we know it.
we chose the shouldn't.

we could,
until we stopped,
and found we couldn't.

Worm Time

Three years down
in throb and pale
all mysteries resolve
at pace unknown
and yet you call
as if you knew
the brightest star
will fade and fail

The space between
lies silent and stale
leaving words unsaid
but sting the same
the shortest dark
can still conceal
patient they wait
for the final nail

they twist and turn,
reach and yearn,
ache and burn,

in fear of the worm.

Coin

Spread thin
over cosmic skies
all things desired, none achieved.

Wound tight
in finite detail
nothing desired, all achieved.

paper & pen

First a few moments to mourn the passing of paper and pen. They will be missed.

...


Ok, at least I will miss them. It seems that as we get more and more involved in the brave new world of the internet, we loose the need for and the comprehension of paper products. All we need these days is a few post-it notes for scraps of information like phone numbers and login passwords.

Other than this minimal function, and of course in school (the last bastion of all things luddite) , no one has use for the glories that are stationary. And a sad day it is too.

I, for one (and probably only), have always had a warm spot in my heart for the stationary isle. Seeing all the wonderful pens arrayed in all their splendiforousness, choosing just the right one. Oh, the revelry of it all! I used to try and find the finest felt tip, or rather the felt tip with the finest point, I found that drafting pens were the best for what I wanted, even though I wanted them just to write with. Now, I find myself craving the gell pens. Words fail to describe my joy, so here are a few wordless lines;




Of course, pens were just the warm up for the main event;

Paper !!!!!

An endless view of sizes, shapes, thicknesses. All different, all loverly! Except wide lined. Toss those under achievers right into the fire barrel. It's only college lined, or blank for me. Oh, Joy! the thick ones with dividers, so it's like having three differend notebooks in one cover! The smaller one to show you can economise! The tiny ones for phone numbers! Happpy, happy! And all the ones in between and beyond. I. Feel. Words. Failing. Again.












Hmm, I think I'm better now.
(No comments from you out there!)

I look around my desk at this very moment and see seven different notepads, and I know there are more behind me, but let's not talk about them.

It appears that I'm at the end of my ramble for the nonce. (that means for now, or some such, silly.) Take care, and go buy some stationary, or at least a nice gell pen.

Immaterial

They look for all the world
like porceline dolls
around the grave

and for spite of all their
dressed interventions
they will remain

The lights flash, bodies move
strings and springs bind them
behind their eyes

unlocked and come undone
disperate made better
in darkest dream

And so it goes and grows
until dearth returns
with change unbound

they sit in grave demure
waiting for time when
ashes fall down

But a silent voice cries
and no ear will hear
the words screamed

I'm still here, I'm still here
like an angel on the freeway wall
I'm still here
why do you act
like it's nothing at all
like I'm not real
not real
at all

The wrong side of a one-sided ribbon

Following a thought to it's conclusion does not connote agreement or belief in said thought.


Let's , for a moment, consider reincarnation. The belief that after death our soul is reborn into aanother vessel. Many people believe that by living a good life you could be reborn as a higher species than human, like a cow. (Some how coming back as a cow does nothing to promote this belief system to me. I guess I just have no interest in some farmer putting his cold hands on my udders at five in the morning) Others believe we've lived many human lives in our souls return to flesh. Of course everyone can't be Napoleon, Caesar, and Marie Antoinette, all though it seems like those hypnosis regression dudes always work with the famous rebirthers. Where's the ditch diggers, and that silly farmer with the cold hands? Ok, this moment's over. Move along.

Albert Einstein brought us the theory of relativity, which states that you can't escape your relatives. Well, it's a rough aproximation of that. Anyway, Einstein says everything is relative. An event Albert can see from point A can appear different from the event Brett can see from point B, even though they are observing the exact same phenomina. (do Do dododo) Fairly well understood by those who make a living at understanding things like that. Also included in that whole relative thing is Time. Yes, time is relative depending upon the point of observation of the observer. Another step on the mobius path is made.

Now this one's a little harder unless you watch a lot of Science Fiction. Let us assume (and we're all aware of what that leads to) that time is not the linear construct that we know and love. Let us put aside all the practical knowledge we have that time flows from past to future. Let us claim to belive that time is a force of nature rather than an absolute, and we can stand outside of it and observe it as a whole, moving back and forth along it's length looking at whatever little bit catches our attention. Hold that thought. Hold it. Hold. It.

Get out your mental blender with the metaphysical attatchment. Take one part reincarnation. (the human kind, not the moo-cow kind) Add two parts cream of Time is not a straight line. Add in a heaping heap of the souls of the departed exist outside the Space-Time Continuum. (I snuck that one in on you didn't I) Mix till liquified and serve over Ice-9.

Now what do we have. How about reincarnation along the time line out of cronological order. your last life was in 500 ad, before that 1492 ad, before that 2118 bc, before that 1902 ad, before that 3024 ad. And your next life after this on right now will be in 67 bc. Now is that wierd or what? But I'm not through yet, this is all still kind of linear in a slightly mixed up way. Why couldn't your next life be concurent with this one? Yes, you could be living your next life right now at this very moment in Baltimore, or Tokeo, or Dover, or even three blocks over in the very town you're in right this very second! Silly? Yes, but think about it a bit. You know that guy you absolutely cannot stand at all, and don't know why? It's you! You don't like the you you were when you were him, so you have this unrational hatred for him, because somewhere deep in your mind you remember just how bad you were when you were him. Or another angle to try is Soulmates! yes that special someone special that you knew the second you saw them that they were the one for you. It's You!! So in sync with your next life that both youse are drawn into that heady togetherness that is soulmatedom. It's as if you have the same thoughts and ideas, likes and dislikes, because you do! Do you ever go some where and see someone who acts just like someone you know back home? of course you have, and you know why you found someone like that out where you never expected to see them? Because it's the same soul as the person you know back home, living another incarnation at the same time. Make's you wonder (makes me wonder at least)

I hope you've been sufficiently twisted for the evening. If not, it's not for lack of trying on my part. So, off with you now. I need to figure out how to get my elbow out of that mixer. (that metaphysical attachment is quite painful)