A Grounding and a Taking-off

At times I feel as though I must stop and assess what I am doing when writing this blog. I use it to get at topics that raise my ire or to figure out an issue by writing about it. Sometimes I use it to exclaim or complain upon good art, whether it be music, concerts, poetry, literature or everyday occurrences. But in all cases I wish to get at the extremes we encounter in life. Extreme emotions like pain, fear, elation, disgust, contentment, melancholy, boredom, passion, depression–you name it–are all legitimate things that comprise the human existence and should thusly be embraced together, equally, for in equality, accommodating all of these diverse emotions defines what it is to be human, in all it’s extremes, excesses, and dearths. Living to celebrate extremes is to see and experience life as it truly is; not facing them shuns the passion life has to offer.

The Buddha said, “There are only two mistakes one can make along the road to truth; not going all the way, and not starting,” and from this I see what happens when one travels in a maudlin fashion–in one instance a person may become static in life and be too fearful to make the journey itself, and in another a person may have no destination (it really should be direction) for the journey; one must instead travel understanding the highs and lows the journey offers and understand the beauty of these, knowing of course that a first step must be taken, no matter the cost, looking toward the end, but also knowing, as the Buddha omits here, that reaching a presupposed destination may not be the point of the journey at all.

Hopefully the first two paragraphs don’t create too much of a non sequitur in conjunction with what follows, but it makes sense to me. With that little preamble I break from my normal fair and provide a short bricolage composition…

…inspired by the nameless one …

There I see her standing, a lovely creature
She stands, looking at me, and again
With her hair covered
And green gloves on her hands

A bird makes it’s noise
Asking you to agree
With it’s vicious call
And it’s pointless, bloodthirsty
Now, a blue jay sings to you
And raises up the ante
I use my left hand to touch your round ripe heart
And slide the other down your panties

I am swimming slowly dear, dear
Opening my eyes underwater
Where is the history to look forward to?
And quite, you turn me on

Like florescence
Like a single song

You race naked through the tall grass
Scarring the demure things
You leap into the abyss, but find
It only goes up to your knees
Still from the corner of my eyes I see you
I shadow you for hours

It’s all caving in, dear
All incorruptible, faculty has gone
I see a history, over and over
And still, I may be wrong

Like a solution
Like it’s quite gone

We stand awed, facing
The words keep circling themselves
The crimson hue casts about
Carpeting the anticipation

It’s all sucking in, dear
All incorruptible faculty has gone
Remembrance rearing it’s manacled head again
And babe, you turn me on

Like a freckle
Like an orgasm


I kiss your wounds, and in our eyes they disappear
You hold me tight, and our minds, once distraught, now crystal clear

For a moment

This entry was posted in Commentary, Essay, Poetry.

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