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Oct 2010 · 637
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Travis Dixon Oct 2010
For the words
that heal & heave
boulders through
walls, meaning-
less barriers of hate

For logic & reason to
forge tomorrow today,
this moment that ebbs
& flows so fluidly
through paradoxicity

For the meaning of
being, life & love,
colors of things beneath
our luminous sun, reflected
in the iris of time

For dreams forgotten in
the dead of night, the moon
carved high in the void
of lives borne & buried,
half-remembered, but…

For what matters
between something & nothing
though we can’t see it
clearly, it’s there
begging to be found

For the choices
that carry forward, not back
against voices of truth
that bellow deep within
these fleshy heaps of sin

For my soul’s intent,
which seems hell-bent,
or at least inflamed,
with desire to puzzle,
create, pattern & game

For the joy gone
hiding in plain view
that beckons laughter
out of silence, droning
across the roads

For inspiration
bubbled up raw, collected
scoops of sinewy thought
whizzing & whirring faster
each cycle, begins anew

For clues to history’s
key, to unlock our stories
for all, together at once
with abundant humility
to sustain this tree

For the blocks & atoms,
wavelets & platelets bouncing,
skipping, hissing & twisting
reality betwixt our view
with simple pleasure

For the purpose
in this poem’s lines,
words & characters forming
a lattice-like guise, all
in the name of feint surprise
Sep 2010 · 1.6k
Aspect Ratio
Travis Dixon Sep 2010
Your aspect ratio’s wrong.
Stretching the truth
this long sows fertile ground
for artifacts, glitches,
quirks & bugs, worming
& squirming beneath pixel
shrugs. The worst kind
plump the frame to god-
awful proportions, bloating
bigger & bigger & bigger ‘til
vision’s engulfed.
Or the kind that squeeze
spaghetti confetti onto
our plates, drenched in
the Sauce of the Week
that “can’t be beat!”.
Your skewed parallax
attacks the facts at hand.
Recycle your *******
fax machine this second before
it grows smarter than
you. Yes, you—with the rolly
polly eyes & feint surprise—
quit pretending you’re dumb,
'cause you ain’t that numb
to the stings & pangs of change.
Your sloppy hacks produce
quantity @ the cost of quality
to benefit the greedy & satisfy
the needy, becoming seedy
to the logic of reason.
Correct your inputs to render
outputs worth tender & please
remember, it’s what’s within
the frame that’s important,
so get it right.
Sep 2010 · 649
Our Scar
Travis Dixon Sep 2010
Our scar is broad,
& we’re told to
never forget.

How could we?
We all felt the collapsing
& silencing of souls
across that horrific
Tuesday morn.
The burning flames ignited
our fiery passions,
anger & revenge, ones
that many wish to fan
today.

Let’s remember
love’s power to transform
fear into courage
& use our courageous love
to conquer revenge
& spite, useless
in love’s embrace.
Let’s extend this grace
to those who despise us
& want to destroy us,
for their reasons
are as physical as ours—
born from the tragedy of loss
& focused through the lens of revenge.
Let’s heal our scar
through the lens of love
& shine it
in the face of fear.

United we stand, divided we fall.
A cliché too true for us to brand,
& a lighthouse to guide
our wayward hearts
across this ocean of strife.
Let’s not only stand together,
let’s march together—
not in lock-step, but in
beautiful gaits that shine
our unique
character traits,
most of which resemble
the freedom
we carry forward.
Let’s carry it & remember
that its woeful weight is
but a small toll
for life’s endless
beauty.
Dedicated to all who perished on September 11, 2001.
Travis Dixon Aug 2010
I feel the changes.
They’re scary but I’m keeping calm.
Panic is good for no one.
Life is exhilarating.
You have to move with it, not against.
The hard part is figuring out which way you’re going.
But it doesn’t matter; we’re going wherever the hell we’re going,
so you’d better pay attention to the ride.

You mustn’t fight your unique way of life.
It is yours and you chose it for a reason.
Accept that you are exactly where you’re supposed to be.
All is well in the universe.
Suffering is the struggle to accept change.
Accept change with an easy laugh and the suffering goes away.
The synchronicity of life is part of the joy of shared existence.
It proves to us daily that solipsism is but a selfish naiveté.
We have never been alone, even in the depths of our loneliest nights.

True, we feel apart,
but it’s merely an illusion,
the sleight of distraction
spurned by our need
to generate income, which feeds
our fears & desires,
coddled & enflamed
by a fierce media
creating dreams
for others to buy or believe in
but hopefully both
because then
the machine
churns
faster.

No blame.
Forgive, then remember.

We’ve a break, a recession or depression,
or whatever session you want to call it,
it’s reality — you get what you pay for.
You make an honest living or invite problems down the line.
A problem is still a problem even if you postpone it.
They don’t just disappear; you fix them.

Each problem is unique in structure,
the way it weighs upon you,
the ins & outs of unknown routes
& dark “what ifs” that persist like cysts
in the back of your mind, little vortexes
spinning wildly about, ******* us in
when we get lazy & distracted.

But it’s not all hard, not all the time.
Some problems are like puzzles that are fun to solve,
which may be why we have so many lying about.
The problem is that instead of solving puzzles
we should be loving each other.

Unconditional love isn’t easy, but that’s part of the work.
Some say no good deed goes unpunished.
That’s part of the work too.
Invite the life you love,
not the one you hate.
Every choice you make in life
carries the balance of this weight.
Aug 2010 · 3.7k
Logical
Travis Dixon Aug 2010
This techno—
logical revolution
is nothing but
our evolution,
a bio—
logical institution
founded for the reason
we strive toward
& expressed in
the singularity
that pulls forward—
the infinite alchemy
@thesoulofourbeing
wants us to
accept it,
connect it,
& let it be.
This sim—
plicity just might be
as simple as we want,
as beautiful as we want,
& as perfect as we are.
Dance
with life & death
in the moment,
for now is the time
to thank your being
for existing,
& listening
to the logic
of it all.
Jul 2010 · 1.2k
Holomindful
Travis Dixon Jul 2010
a warm glow shifts softly
in space & rhythm.
i pull the curtain aside & sit in the back--
a handful of seats, but only one
gets worn, the others
fool the mind into believing
imagination defies physics
to drink from the creative cauldron,
that ever-boiling vessel
churning out new
patterns & threads,
weaving fresh fibers between
spirits & minds.
the holographic hardware,
whirring too fast for ears.

our mind is the web & we spiders
spin the silk,
carefully or sloppily,
connecting the strands to catch
not flies but images,
sparks, bulbs & flashes.
often small, but once caught
emerge as a garden of gems
whose faces refract & reflect
until nearly all gems become one.

what's required is
a bright enough light
with fluid agility,
to illuminate & reflect
the whole nebula through
one, clean face--
perhaps the original gem itself;
for what would our mind be
without that raw crystal
forged in the stars?
Jul 2010 · 778
inside my room
Travis Dixon Jul 2010
there's a room inside me
whose warmth is unmatched,
no floor boards, just grass and soil
watered from a blue sky ceiling,
each drop reflecting the room inside itself
before splashing into tiny crowns.

in the soil dwell my bugs
whose bustling towns get the jobs done
so that night may pass peacefully
under the soft glow of stars.

in the corner dwells my tree, old and wise,
more than a million rings wide,
and it releases a sigh every time
i enter the room to sit beneath its arms.
its roots grow endlessly below,
silently nourishing itself & my room,
providing a sturdy balance for the structure.

in my room the walls are not solid,
they sway back and forth with the wind,
made of vegetables and vines,
plants and flowers of all kinds,
reaching up toward the sun just like me.

in my room there's a sheep dog
who sleeps near the tree, until i arrive;
his head pops up, tongue pops out,
and tail wags all around. his eyes offer
a gleam of companionship and understanding.
we both drink from the pond, where ripples spread,
slowly from side to side, always bouncing back
smaller ripples to cross once more.

in my room, i like to lay on the floor at night,
and watch the moon cross above me,
like an ancient alchemist transmuting
the sun's gold and pouring silver into my room.

this room inside of me, i want to share
with a girl who also watches the moon cross;
a girl who has a room inside as well,
so that a door may open between them
and someday form a home.

one day my room will perish, or perhaps
it will fuse with that ancient alchemist,
and a new room will emerge.
7.22.08
Jul 2010 · 995
Setting
Travis Dixon Jul 2010
As the waves crash the spray glows along the ridges.
In a cloudless sky, a kite plays around the sun
in a breeze that can hardly be felt,
as if in slow motion--as if it's growing tired--
just like everything else.
On the beach wall sit wanderers and travelers,
couples and lovers, the happy and the sad,
all come to witness and share
in the end of another Saturday--
a surprisingly warm and clear
December Saturday--and no doubt
Saturn is smiling from his throne.
The birds, the gulls, they sense the transition,
just as aware of the daily phenomenon as we are,
perhaps filled with just as much wonder and beauty as we are,
because birds look better in the setting sun,
just like everything else.

As the sun descends slowly toward the horizon,
as the horizon slowly engulfs the sun,
I look wearily into a new year,
one filled with great hope and great despair.
There's no doubt this country will be struggling greatly.
The question is whether we'll weather it,
like usual.

As I stare at the sun it consumes my vision.
A flaming ball descending into the sea;
the dark negative trails burn into my retina & glide
upward like smoke into the chromatic sky.
The horizon distorts its apparently perfect circle,
appearing like a melting pad of butter;
a mushroom cloud of an atomic bomb.
It accelerates toward night as it approaches the horizon.
Its rounded top distorts into edges,
now looking like a house.
And as it douses itself in the sea like a hot iron sword,
it becomes but a twinkling strand of golden beads
on the surface of the waves,
finally disappearing,
leaving only a distinct glow in the sky
where once,
it was.

The wanderers and couples
shake out of their giddy trances & move
into the chilly San Francisco evening,
and I do the same,
wondering whether my final sunset
will be as calm
and beautiful
as this
one.
Jul 2010 · 822
the sky is falling
Travis Dixon Jul 2010
800 points down
plummeted the DOW:
seven hundred billion
waiting appropriation
from our pockets

poor lawmakers
have to do their jobs
but they hide too deep
in trenches they dug

panic sets in
on Wall Street
while Main Street’s
been panicked all along

the walls are crumbling—
this pig’s too big
to sit so high
above the clouds

give the corpse
to the masses;
Pork: it is what's
for dinner

my wallet’s thin &
thinning by the day
& it makes me think
money’s worthless, anyway
Jul 2010 · 930
Last Monday
Travis Dixon Jul 2010
One, two
legs over the rail.
Up to her neck
in dead skin,
peeling & revealing
a throbbing pain
within.

The Bay below:
secrets & dreams
asleep beneath
its glittering seams.
Golden Gates span
from her vague
& distant face;
searching the moon,
cratered & dry,
aching to find
that hidden continent.

You’ll find it
beneath the waves
,
said the moon.
Bitter chill slams her eyes,
prying them open.
Seagulls cry out
a warning to the
blissfully deaf.

One, two
feet in the air,
rushing past
& oh so fast
as memories stream
from brightening eyes
& hair lunges
at receding clouds,
anything to clutch,
for one last touch
before—

Bubbles flee the scene,
exhaling at the surface
a life set free
to ride the winds
of a suffering world.
Jul 2010 · 5.7k
Like
Travis Dixon Jul 2010
Like this.
Like that.
Like this
likes that
that likes
these & those.
Liken this
to that
lichen which
grows
so slow
over corpse & stone,
the likes of which
so few know
or like, let alone
love, like
we know
we should.
Jul 2010 · 714
a wild notion
Travis Dixon Jul 2010
of unseen motion:
the sweat-filled top-hats
poured over children’s eyes
in hopes of trees to sprout;
we take a fall & pick ourselves up
in a carnival game of shoot the ducks:
a miss here, a hit there—
the tally grows higher,
moving ever faster
consuming ever after
the tempo of olden lore
churning at a hellish pace,
the teachers must race instead of teach
students, prodded sheep, toward
a finish line engraved in stone
strung out for all to flee
stories of life’s deafening lessons
a million hear & a million don’t,
the numbers grow & time all but slows
for countless tries & bitter cries
against death’s beautiful gaze,
eyes a-glaze of cloudy white,
never again to drink the splendor of night
through the tarp of forever & never
a spine of consciousness cracked & severed,
fed to the dogs of lessening love;
for his friends, his kin—
his heart aches of sin,
like a coyote howling under the harvest moon,
a sanctified orb hung in the sky,
the ashes of explorers & lovers
upon its battered surface
exposed soft for the child’s glee
to find the reasons why, never answered
before the next question’s cry
from the ruins of thought,
built with the measure
our ancients wrought.
Jul 2010 · 566
Deserted
Travis Dixon Jul 2010
Yesterday circles above me,
waiting for my strength to drain.
this god awful desert tortures me;
this heat, this pressure, this smell—
i can’t taste anymore, just breathe.
my feet trudge wherever they must;
the next mirage, mere sand & dust.
my burnt ember skin peels off in layers
& my knees hit the crust.
how can i deserve this? i cry out.
& Yesterday’s shriek pierces the air,
my ears can’t stop ringing, it’s all they hear.
on my back now, i force my eyes shut.
give me blackness, i cry.
but the sun bleeds through no matter
how hard i try,
& the night has been absent
for what seems like months.
Yesterday circles closer, closer,
just right above, wings fanning my face.
i hear it now, it’s finally landed;
but i dare not move as it claws near.
a rush of cool air kisses my face,
i breathe deep, breathe long,
& dare not let it go.
i can smell it now, just inches away-
a most foul stench of pure decay.
but as it draws closer, closer,
i hear a whisper, from where?
i don’t know, but it says:

Fear nothing.

i peel my eyes slowly, lash by lash.
the everblue sky never looked so nice,
and how the sun radiates such glowing warmth.
i can’t help stare at it, feeling its rays,
brighter and brighter and brighter and—
Yesterday’s a thousand miles away.

— The End —