It’s not true; not all the way, but they say “it’s all about your choices.”
It makes no sense to me. I’ve never been much for inexplicable and
inexhaustible benevolence.
I find I spend copious time figuring my meaning, in situations I over
analyze into mathematical equations...am I conscious,
or just a calculator?
Or...have I been (and hopefully still am) living, breathing, feeling…?
flesh.
I question...is this stealing life?
This is evading death.
Arguably, our beginning is our end, no? Upon inception of life, have
we not inherited death?
Yet again ponder...is there fate? Do they matter? (that is, my choices.)
I was once told, “if you can dream it, you can do it”. Shall I still build
the perfect life?
I’m beginning to be overtaken with impatience that surpasses my
innate benevolence.
I cannot say which is weaker, my spirit, or my flesh.
Once I’ve punched in my last numerical decision, how long will my
finger hover above ‘enter’-
how long until the outcome appears on my mortality calculator?
I often lose myself in the turmoil of emotion. Not cool and collected
like the others. It’s been decided, no I’m no calculator.
She seems to always descend at an uncanny time. An uncouth cold-
caller, that Mistress Death.
“I feel young”, I croon. Unanswered by my withering flesh.
I consider my carelessness, wishing I had been the master of more of
my choices.
Sometimes, it’s one-in-the-same, self-defense and benevolence.
I’m just trying to find some connection, but still I question, “is that all
that makes this life?”
Will I ever find definition and solid intention strong enough to be
named the same as all the other countless, hazy perceptions we
call life?
I find myself to be robotic in response and anxious in nature. Perhaps I
AM an inhumane Calculator.
I consider myself a fine hostess, even admittedly, to thoughts that strip
down my benevolence.
“Death to those demons!” is my rising cry, “death!”
Death to unfavorable and unforgivable decisions, may they be buried
in my future choices.
May I think logically, and not be seduced into lethargy by the sinister
siren calls of mortal flesh.
I cannot quench my questions, they crawl in droves beneath my flesh.
What am I do to? What shall I make of my life?
How little do I truly control with personal decisions, how much will I
suffer from others choices?
Is it more dangerous to be over zealous or indeed catastrophic to
function merely as a calculator?
How does one prepare for the permanence of death?
Have we soured into surface common courtesy in the guise of true
benevolence?
I contemplate this often. What it would take to retain a group consciousness in distress…
true benevolence.
Perhaps if we did not so often succumb to the momentary gratification
of pleasing our flesh
we would feel more peaceful, knowing we gave our best, to enter the
vault of death
grateful and complete, finishing the entirety of our life
with no devious schemes for feigned success or entitlement; no
manipulated calculations.
we’ve all heard it before, “It’s all about your choices”
But the choices of the best differ from the choices of the rest and
it all depends on who’s willing to fight
their own flesh for a chance at life before imminent death.
There’s no calculation for conglomerate benevolence.
Human flaw will always persist.
C.e.M. Written 0ct.5 Edited Oct 6
Oct 5, 2015
Oct 5, 2015 at 8:34 PM UTC
I awake
Still in a daze from yesterdays
Hazy plays
Turning to find
The clock reads "plenty of time"
Nothing but the whisper
Of your breath
The rise and fall
Of your chest
Nonsense words and laughter
Rolling between
Your secret dreams
I wonder if they concern me?
You've stolen all the blanket
And left me shivering
But somehow I feel warmer
Than I've been since I was young
Asleep again
Seems like a repeated reverie
Still can't get lucid yet
I wonder if she's here with me?
Wandering this surreal reality
.......
I awake
The daze makes way
For the anxieties of day
But I don't worry much
When you're close
Enough to touch
The clock reads "go back to sleep"
But I'm fine to pass the time
With you here all night
Tangled up in sheets
Darling, you're just too sweet
And I'm having trouble
Ever wanting to sleep again
Goodnight, I hope you're here
When morning comes.
Sep 20, 2015
Sep 20, 2015 at 2:56 PM UTC
secondary vices
were always compromises
to the original morality
you sought.
somewhere in the pages
and peer pressure
and stage pressure
and slave wages
you forgot
you wanted memories
to mean something
and dreams to be
achieved.
But now life long
is long gone
and you lose your steam.
though I can no longer
imagine it
the way I fathom
insatiable hunger
will linger
a little longer.
perhaps someday
I'll be stronger
and I'll be able sonder
more than pessimistic ponderings.
Today I'll go under
and asunder my imagination
from fruitless creation that leaves
me listless and disagreeable.
If the future was foreseeable
perhaps I might be more careful
however knowing the complete anthology
of my defeat would never push me forward.
Is it fortunate I'm blind?
either way I'm falling behind.
C.e.M. September 13. 2015
Sep 17, 2015
Sep 17, 2015 at 1:14 AM UTC
Some people want to be remembered
Others would rather forget
Some seek a misplaced grace
Still more drown in regret
But we're all smaller than something
Together, greater than anything
Alone, reduced to nothing
A single invisible suffering
Half-life static decay
Mental chemical waste
Earth bound grounded plague
Over-stimulated daze
Broken bottle haze
Acid rainy days
Tragic little plays
****** ******* maze
Everything's trivial
In the literal sense
That answers don't make a difference
And facts won't bring deliverance
Your life is a misprint.
So just keep crawling down the road
And see just where it goes
No one knows.
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 7:51 PM UTC
True decadence envelops me
(No) Need to breathe
Floating on pillow seas
(No) Need to dream
Searchlights flash on, scanning
For the evidence
That this is real
Thoughts all scattered, brain
Tangled in labyrinths
This I feel
Swept away from the sands
Of experience, into new bliss
Falling down from the tower
I have built, just to start again
On something more beautiful
Grandiose gleaming heart
We create our own constellations
Spirits drawn into the clouds
Bodies burst from the pressure
Gravity pulls the particles
Stardust becomes marvelous
All is filled with light
The heavens birth delight
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 7:40 PM UTC
The sound of the tentacles
Wrapped tight around my head
Fails to drown out the drone
Of the future, dead
Elating the meantime
The question ignored again
Does anyone know where
They really begin?
An answer won't conjure itself
A seed can't remember its fall
Every labyrinth distraction
A lost cause.
Hands that quiver and shake
Quickly in the dark
Grasping for poison
Among the shadows of the stars
Maybe the trick lies in
Lying to yourself
Like a snake who bites onto his tail
Swallowing all of its selves
Forming a circle from a line
Endlessly eating in ignorance
Till there's nothing left at all
No instincts to fail
The outside observer
Never makes the distinction
Between circles and lines
They grin and think
"At least it's not my life
I'll be just fine."
And on trudges the line
On goes the time.
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 7:01 PM UTC