Tag Archives: blog

When your pulse tugs, listen.

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If you could hold it in your hand

Like dust tied down in space
And time, paused for the occasion

Would you?
The heart of your whole life,
The culmination of what truly mattered in the end
In the right now

If you could, would you?
Stop striving, leaning into the noise, pressing into the rush in that non-thinking way
And hold dearly whatever it is you hold dear?

Can you pinpoint it if you try?
And in the finding, could you revel in it deeply enough to feel alive?

We don’t, that’s my conclusion
Open-ended yet certain

I see a consortium of forests
With no trees
A pavilion of hearts
With no beat
An ocean of eyes
That can’t see
And nobody anywhere is dancing

Me?

I want to hold you in my hand

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Generation X or Generation Why?

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Generation X or Generation Why?

In a seldom stillness
Our species grows nowhere

An unstoppable force
Yet an object unmoved

Some of this has to do with the things we haven’t done, the bucket
So filled with expectations

Listing them, we too
Are insatiable with wanting
and dissatisfied with truth

Such a textbook example
Of the toll taken
Of the climate
Of the times

Horizons from the future forewarn,
and in so doing
Write us of the view:
We are cold amidst trends of global warming
We are least despite tendencies of more

We are all on a quest for admissibility,
an admonishing journey
Which should be deplored
Away from sensibility;
Of insensitivity, towards

And awareness is hiding in wait
for the prohibition
Of our antonym-driven distinctions:

We are young or we’re old, we live or we die

The divisions through which we see
Are preconceptions of the mind

And all the while
The earth is quaking
Yet no one can feel it
For mistake-making busy-ness

Too busy
Too soon
The child of the crack will so similarly fall through
Down, in this way leaving the wise disappointed and the innocent confused

…for emptiness, there will always be room

We owe it all to the ones who came before; the ones who come after
Will make the same guiltless claim
Denial, because it’s easier than ownership
And we, a laziest species, have
Became

Everybody’s Last Name Should Be “DotCom”

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Everybody’s Last Name Should Be “DotCom”

Who knew there are real-life conferences for real-life bloggers sharing real-life fantasy versions of why they blog, and who they are. An enigmatic oxymoron of sorts; a dichotomy dressed as a conundrum; frankly, the most dubious juxtaposition of worlds I can possibly fathom. And I rather dislike this vicarious experience, to be quite honest.

Isn’t the implicit anonymity of a blog somehow distinctively integral to its very appeal? I love the possibility of a particular writer being as poised, brilliant, sharp-witted and mysterious as their social media presents them as being… Which explains my disappointment once I discovered that such a conference is not merely hypothetical…

My senior year in college, I voluntarily took a C in my Logistical Metaphysics course, when I had earned an A all semester. I had spent months entertaining the professor’s bland and mundane notions that everything “real” had a practical, logical explanation; and that everything “supernatural” also had a practical, logical explanation. I spoon-fed that instructor every bite of what he wanted. I filled his ego with all sorts of empty confirmatioms that I was actually learning something from his lack of imagination. Did I disagree with him, about bigfoot being fake and ghosts being mere psychological projections of the observer? Not necessarily. But on my term paper, I finally cracked. I couldn’t take it anymore.

I wrote simply: “Whether unexplainable phenomenon are real or not, whether supernatural occurences are logical or not, I will still show my children fluffy dragons in the clouds. I will tell them trees dance because the wind makes them happy. I will see all the wonders of the world, the ones that won’t bear witness to a brain inside a box. Life is not about reality’s essence. It is about reality’s possibilities, in all its beautiful forms.”

I would hate to discover the wizard behind the curtain. I like to believe in Oz.