Riding on this Amtrak through the Empire State
I see what were once ash trays, sealed up for the public safety.
That metal flapping open is but a distant memory.
I'm reading a hardcover Bukowski collection while everyone's streaming movies on their MacBooks.
I'm writing this with paper and ink while everyone types away on iPhones.
Our headphones symbolizing how much we don't even care to be more than strangers.
Or why our paths may be crossing right now.
Like the tracks connecting beneath us.
No one gets off this train
This is what we've become
This is where we are headed.
I can't help my age,
but my soul feels this is wrong.
...all because of that damn ashtray.
Have you ever heard those flat harmonies of death, where operatic assertions resound throughout damp and ancient crypts of macabre folklore?
Time is slowly running out, and the flame of life is flickering in the winds of captivating finality.
Although haunting screams are like echoes which transcend fatty spreads of digestive mediocrity, the stalagmites and stalactites of gothic caverns display their erect features which defy rational explanation.
Feel the depths of soulless forests as they chant messages of reconciliation amidst tangled weeds and branches of self-stimulation.
Amitriptyline can facilitate sleep at the end of an indulgent evening.
Rows and rows
Brick by brick
Cubicles and doors
Everything is happening
The moon is the same moon
The sun is a shared one
Every story is different
Each room differs
The walls keep us together
Appearing to keep us apart
Never at the same time
Or at the same thing
We eternally go
a notable image..
in night sky
A creator or
A centered aging
says it all..?
The unusual shape?
A definite torus..
expressed as Torus..?
Boundaries of cones
form an X..?
Creation of symmetry
Why unusual colors
Red and Blue..?
Left and Right
Male and Female
As hydrocarbon molecules
colors building blocks
for organic life..?
Center Light transforming
to component colors..?
In a few million years
the Red Rectangle nebula
will probably bloom
into a planetary
They had begun to question consciousness,
turning solid matter into fuzziness in their brains,
rendering not atoms, nor photons, nor particles,
only cold energy, halucenogenic stardust joints.
For the exclusionary few to whom the material
had never meant shit to a tree or a fuck to a rabbit,
it was the cash-cow of quantum reality,
ambiguous poetry for a Beat Generation,
Uncertainty in free verse chapbooks.
So they wrote of our interconnectedness ---
the Ginsbergs, the Levertovs, the Ferlinghettis ---
till the gravity of space-mind curved imagination,
a nation falling unheard without a whimper in the forest.
The rabbits running in the ditch,
Beatniks are out to make it rich,
Oh no, must be the season of the witch"
--- Donovan Leitch
I'm lying here with the light on. The fan is set on speed 3, and it's pointed directly on me. Social networks dance on my computer screen. Faces of people, some of whom I've never met, spout endless minutia. So do I. We'd like to think that all of this is bring us closer to one another, but that is anything but the truth. This faux interconnectedness is just another way to live together, alone. These pills are beginning to take hold. My mouth is dry, and not even the coldest, clearest water can quench it. Sometimes I equate staying up that one last hour with having that one last drink. It's the one that always kills you in the morning.
It's 4:45 AM, and my alarm is set for noon.
Land-mark times of
uncertainty and imbalance, new
paradigms for hearts and minds,
flowers growing through stone cracks,
unconscious becoming conscious,
between pieces of this cosmic puzzle, where
God means the Wisdom of simplicity in
human untapped depths of wisdom, fear
as a primal universal human reality
on the edge of extinction and breakthrough
power to change the outcome
the synchronization of the nature and the existence,
time of unspeakable intensity,
the higher and the deeper dimension of being,
Black Road or Xibalba Be,
day in its sacred Zero point,
mass ejections shooting highly,
nuclear bulge of the Milky Way,
cosmic alarm clock ringing in human psyche,
time of change
leaving seeds for the future,
being in-between two important seconds
with minds founded in duality,
teetering between the
extremes of extinction and illumination...
Humanity in a rut
Which way to turn
As we all burn
Paying for that four letter word hate
The one that so many regurgitate
Spoken out loud
Emanating into the crowd
The crowd of humanity
That reeks of such profanity
That to hope for some saving grace
In this uncivilized place
Is, I am sorry to say, sure to fail
As the divine within us has become frail
What happened to LOVE?
Peace symbolized by a white dove?
In what direction do we as a species travel?
As our interconnectedness continues to unravel?
I have not an answer now
As all I can do is bow,
My head and pray
For all those affected on this tragic day
(c) 2012 Shawn White Eagle
I agree....just simply through my Experience.
I understand the fine tuning acquired & required as we unVeil New & refined Capabilities
~Waves of Revelation, surging inside of You
~ as you feel a Personal Amazement of all previous Moments ~synchronized~
~that directed the bigger Picture of the a transformative situation
I realize I gain in blessed gifts for my service through proper conduct, awareness through dichotomous states of Eagle Eye Concentration, incorporating full sensory ~Engagement~
... at the same time I Release a part of my Conscious Attention into ~Extended Awareness~
Bless my Befuddlement...I..I..mean I am having a recent frustration causing conflicting feelings about the role I see Myself contributing as in the Grand Procession of These Kind of Things....
I am mainly Elated , Honored, Focused, Excited, and, Well, gawddarnitt...Git me ma horsee ma...We's gots a good long ride, Theys'alls a'beans tellings....I hears
Phase In,Phase Out
Bob Marley says when music hits you you feel no pain
But when I feel music I can feel the pain of so many suffering artists
I can feel the pain of Nas, Mos Def, and Talib Kweli.
I can feel the pain of Isaac Brock.
I can feel the pain I feel inside of me
Music is my independence, or one of its many manifestations
The universe has no limits when I am being blanketed by the warmth of music
And to me this is the greatest form of independence
I can experience myself through someone else’s experiences
That to me is interconnectedness
So how can I be interconnected yet independent?
How can I feel the warmth of music while at the same time it chills my bones?
Music is like life full of contradictions, but without them would cease to exist
Music is like life so personal, but shared by all peoples
Music is like life it takes courage to listen to your own as well as other voices
Music is life because for so many that is all there is left to live for.