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I like listening to the sound
Of beautiful melodies
Ones I haven’t the heart to play
Ones I haven’t the strength to ignore
Mostly those that come in waves
After morning, noon, and night
You can hear them like catching
The glimpse of a shooting star
Barefoot atop San Jacinto
Bend Oregon or Williamsburg highrise
Naked in the ecstasy of flight
Knowing even as your approaching
You’ve already begun to disappear
I wish I could have been
The air of reason
Forever calm
Before the storm
Instead of becoming
Those howling winds
Those howling winds
You knew before
But having been
Picked over plenty
Like a jukebox full
Of another’s score
And though I never
Sought to reign
Like Aprils Fool
I seem to pour
Two squirrel play
a fun little game of cat and mouse.
Both scurrying up the tree,
diving face first from branch to branch.
Like little cannons they shoot
back and forth between tree limbs.
One wagging it’s tail, the other
feigning ignorance, like two lovers
they quarrel, never knowing really
who’s cat, and who’s mouse.
Or what started all this in the first place.
One commonality I’ve noticed
Is that, people love to tell others
Not to subscribe to another’s bullshit
But watch, and listen to their own.
Another commonality I’ve noticed
Is that, these same people
No matter how delusional
Will acquire followers like sheep to a Shepard.
And they do it warmly, and with a smile.
And they’ll agree with you entirely.
They’ll make you feel safe.
They’ll tell you what to see and how to see it,
Treating you like their own personal parlor trick.
Their greatest illusion will be their acceptance.
While the bullshit they feed
In return for a profit—they’ll make themselves
The prophet—which they need to feel sound.
One commonality I’ve noticed
Is that, people who can’t be alone
Will do everything it takes not to be alone
Even when that means taking you with them.
They will win your will, with or without your consent.
They will make it feel like your own choice
To gain your trust, and dissolve you of fear.
Though fear isn’t always a negative—
Often it’s a tell tale sign—so
These commonalties I’ve noticed
Are geared to my liking, but at least
I’ve got the peasants fortune to tell you
That, prophets for profit will always be cunning.
And though wolves wear many clothes,
So do Shepards.
For some reason, people
just keep on sticking around—
no matter how I push them away.
And God knows I’ve tried, yet
still as the evening air
they remain, willing and shifty
to see me from my darkness
onward, till dawn.
If we can accept ourselves
in life, and that in this life
we’re living, the right way
and the wrong way, mostly
aren’t ever in alignment
with our true nature of self,
rather it’s often
sideways we must go, sideways
like the pebble in the stream
knows only one direction,
and that chaos when reversed
reveals itself as precisely
the way it ought to be.
I never wrote a word, not until
I’d said my peace,
misconstrued and gnawed on,
beaten to a pulp,
dead as embers—burnt black on arrival
to a silent mass, ready
and aching to be heard.
The Devil to one
is God to another.
It’s a cycle continued
that is, until
we stop looking to the sky,
stop burying our trauma,
and look our neighbor
dead in the eye,
without retaliation or judgement
and listen, to one another’s heart
which beats to the same rhythm
as a newborn babe
that is, until
birth begins
its earthly decay.
Whatever you decide, do it without the need for validation.
To seek validity is but a farce. It’s like aiming to make a splash in a rain puddle.
A child learns early on whether they care to admit it or not, that their choice is theirs and theirs alone. Nobody really cares more than it takes them to realize, eventually with age, that nobody really cares.
Sure, a mother cares deeply, but only as far as it interrupts her well being.
A father can break his back many times, but only as many times as it serves his cause.
Progression doesn’t come from an audience. Progression comes from within.
Progression comes from love, awareness, and nurture.
And although social media tells a different story from reality, we seek it, crave it, we often need it, but do we really?
Perhaps the greatest lesson we can learn from posting our day to day lives, morality, and hardships is that we are all equally as alone as we are the same—myself included.
Not too long ago, there was a time, it seemed, the world was much larger than we could ever imagine.
Driving cross country felt then like an achievement whereas now—after doing it more than a dozen times—it feels more like a routine I’d rather not admit.
Mostly it’s this that scares me.
Desensitization. It’s this that makes me wonder.
What’s the point?
The point is to treat yourself with the same dignity you would a stranger—a child.
The point is to look beyond life’s blessings, with eyes wide shut, and understand that all will be regardless of whatever validation you seek.
We can learn this by simply looking at a flower bloom. We can understand this by accepting that although, it may seem, the flower dies, another will take its place, as equally and wholly as beautiful as its former.
So whatever you decide, decide knowing, you aren’t as separate as you feel—we are all one.
If you’re not sure
then pause, wait
and listen to the sounds
of conscious—nothing—ness.
Words Of An Average White Male 