Tag Archives: philosophy

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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Hindsight happens.

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Hindsight happens.

It’s not what you look at that matters; it’s what you see. –Henry David Thoreau

I fully knew the probable outcome going into my situation. I forged ahead anyway.

I’m one of those people. I have to experience the truth for myself. If it isn’t firsthand knowledge it doesn’t feel like truth. It feels like secondary opinion.

Head knowledge is different than heart knowledge, and people like me will choose a broken-hearted wisdom over ignorant bliss every time. Without exception.

I’ve worked my way through the mine fields, planting a plant or two and singing my songs when I could. I came into things with a “can-do” attitude… I will leave humbled.

Willingness and ability are only divided by the variable of opportunity, of circumstance. I’ve at least learned that.

I wouldn’t do it again for any amount of money, or any promise of hope. Promises get broken. Money spends. There isn’t much worth gambling on or hoping for in this world anymore. I never really was the betting kind anyway. I simply took chances, and I took them not to succeed but to learn.

Succeeding in learning isn’t fun. For what it’s worth.

I’ve built a monument to tragedy in memory of innocence. I’m not sure which hurts worse: the memory or the tragedy.

Time measures our lives in units of sorrow, in incremental fractions of longing. In the moment, we only see what we can’t wait to have. Afterwards, we only see what we can’t get back. The “now” is a mistress of misery in this unseeing way, and the world –so madly– keeps spinning.

Nakedness, dawn breaking. Feel.

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Nakedness, dawn breaking. Feel.

Emotions,
Wet blankets hanging us
The guts wrench
With twisting sensations
Of sickness
Bodies and lives

A song can take us by surprise
And just as quickly, kill us

Our ideas for tomorrow from the wilting of the spring’s tulip
Take their lead
In this oppressive summer heat

Unquenched kisses for woman primed, for a lady who will and has
Wait
Like knees in the fold of an ironed slack, a tug,
A pull, an infinite night for years upon years
Heaps of them all piled
Are piling

Can the forward motion go on
A lifetime without being kissed back

Empty lips, hollow soul
Unfold into nothing, explode

And still the winter will swallow
The seeds from the tulip inside,
As if tucking a death into one’s self
Should be so easy
…It is, in this small way

Seamless greed, the autumn keeps
Its secrets free of shame
And me, uneased
Unhinged and thieved
And always never being the same

But I a lonely nocturne came
And in
The shutting doors
The fruitless branch
The hiding place
Will be remained

A tight-rope walking
Dance of flame
A lonely girl
A nameless name

The breasted beak
Will speak and break

Out, away, forever

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

Clarity

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Clarity

This morning I sat beneath a pecan tree, seventy-five or so feet it reached into forever
I watched, I observed the sunlight dancing on its leaves, like a gold necklace or platinum band, her leaves were also made for the limelight
I partook in it too; photosynthesis through a ninety-degree angled morning sun; isn’t it something how powerful sunshine is?
I asked how it happens, that in the silence of her posture she cleans the air I breathe
Silence, and stretching

Seasons come on in this way, cause and effect

Her roots are reaching deeper, begging the Earth to have her forever

Though just in case, she lays her eggs, her seeds into the ground