Dec 2014
You wake up at 3:30 in the morning and
You realize there ain't no way you're going back to sleep
No matter how badly you want to
So you climb out of bed
Careful not to wake the person next to you
And you settle into the couch
In the front room
Just you and your dated iPhone 4 to keep you company
A dark ennui begins to settle so
You try to break it
By searching Tumblr for pictures of attractive women with (insert search term: Big Natural *******)
You don't feel like a pervert, though
It's not what you think of as p o r n
No arousal, only appreciation
Woman is indeed God's most beautiful work of art
But it's so **** early in the morning
Melancholy wants to join in, you can just feel it, but it's too **** early
So you turn away from your exhibitionist Tumblr girls
And look straight into the darkness of the room
It's so vacuous it feels like Nothing
But you know there can never be Nothing
So long as the Observer recognizes the lack of matter that makes it appear empty
There IS something here, it is
Consciousness
As long as Consciousness exists in space
There can be no emptiness
Consciousness is One
There is Nothing without it
You wonder if you're turning into a guru
Look down at a Tumblr gal
Grin and think "Maybe"
Consciousness exists, there's no arguing that
But is it something we each have inside us
Or is it something we partake of?
Do we rise in the morning and jack in to the matrix?
Do we shut it down when we fall asleep?
Or does it exert control?
Do we come when we're called and go when we're told?
Is consciousness God?
If so you can consciously commune with God at any moment
Simply by being acutely aware
Of everything around you
Seen, heard, smelled, tasted, touched
The thoughts in your head
Your reactions to stimuli
All part of the filling up of Nothing
A light goes off in your head
You think "that's a cool name for a poem"
So you decide to use it for the poem you've been writing in your iPhone's Note program for the last 30 minutes
God loves the Creative Process
You copy and paste the text from the program into the post field at Hello Poetry
Set the alignment for "right" (since you haven't done that in a long time)
You think, "Well, here goes nothing"
And tap the Submit Poem button
***
You're reading the poem
Hoping there are no grammatical errors or typos
You're telling yourself you won't be too disappointed if no one likes it
Or if people say "that doesn't read like poetry"
Realizing that it doesn't but
What the hell?
You shut down your iPhone
With one last goodbye to Suzy Brickhouse
And cease to exist in it's technological consciousness
You realize there ain't no way you're going back to sleep
No matter how badly you want to
So you climb out of bed
Careful not to wake the person next to you
And you settle into the couch
In the front room
Just you and your dated iPhone 4 to keep you company
A dark ennui begins to settle so
You try to break it
By searching Tumblr for pictures of attractive women with (insert search term: Big Natural *******)
You don't feel like a pervert, though
It's not what you think of as p o r n
No arousal, only appreciation
Woman is indeed God's most beautiful work of art
But it's so **** early in the morning
Melancholy wants to join in, you can just feel it, but it's too **** early
So you turn away from your exhibitionist Tumblr girls
And look straight into the darkness of the room
It's so vacuous it feels like Nothing
But you know there can never be Nothing
So long as the Observer recognizes the lack of matter that makes it appear empty
There IS something here, it is
Consciousness
As long as Consciousness exists in space
There can be no emptiness
Consciousness is One
There is Nothing without it
You wonder if you're turning into a guru
Look down at a Tumblr gal
Grin and think "Maybe"
Consciousness exists, there's no arguing that
But is it something we each have inside us
Or is it something we partake of?
Do we rise in the morning and jack in to the matrix?
Do we shut it down when we fall asleep?
Or does it exert control?
Do we come when we're called and go when we're told?
Is consciousness God?
If so you can consciously commune with God at any moment
Simply by being acutely aware
Of everything around you
Seen, heard, smelled, tasted, touched
The thoughts in your head
Your reactions to stimuli
All part of the filling up of Nothing
A light goes off in your head
You think "that's a cool name for a poem"
So you decide to use it for the poem you've been writing in your iPhone's Note program for the last 30 minutes
God loves the Creative Process
You copy and paste the text from the program into the post field at Hello Poetry
Set the alignment for "right" (since you haven't done that in a long time)
You think, "Well, here goes nothing"
And tap the Submit Poem button
***
You're reading the poem
Hoping there are no grammatical errors or typos
You're telling yourself you won't be too disappointed if no one likes it
Or if people say "that doesn't read like poetry"
Realizing that it doesn't but
What the hell?
You shut down your iPhone
With one last goodbye to Suzy Brickhouse
And cease to exist in it's technological consciousness
