She went from squating
To standing,
Three million years
Ascending;
And then,
She started dancing.
I had a three second vision
Of time-lapse evolution.

I'm struggling to comprehend this desire to be desired
The forces of nature and evolution in which we're mired

No matter how far we travel into space,
Or how many organs we manage to replace
We cannot transcend the basic instinct
To preserve the species from going extinct

The world keeps spinning at a whirlwind pace,
No time for contemplation, it's the human race
If you don't keep up you'll vanish without a trace
A terrible fate that we can't seem to face
Is to have ourselves and our lives erased

Is this all there is then?
For this great species of women and men
We've struggled, survived and conquered
But our genes are still our masters
We splice study and duplicate
And try to decipher the codes
But must make time to find a mate,
Before we're too old

We've been to the moon and travelled back
We've fought world wars and pandemic attacks
We've studied the brain and consciousness
We've challenged society's prejudices

But no matter what we achieve, build or transcend
We're haunted by the spectre of being barren

The ant, elephant and amoeba
Redwood, fungus and bacteria
The chimp, owl and lowly cockroach
May not have weighty subjects to broach
But for all our millennia of evolution
The name of the game's still reproduction
I wonder if we'll ever be
Even as evolved as sea anemones!

It was just a question between kids, or maybe
between a monkey and a tortoise; one who
liked to climb trees; the other more pleased
with taking his time

How did things start; the question waffed
by dry air, watched by the hands that set it
in motion coming to rest as a most fortunate
tenant on the back of the pitching shell

If it was an explosion maybe that’s why we
cannot live delicately though butterflies
and falling leaves pass through this life; even
as a mirage; owning their resistance to death
as a dream owns our fears

It must be like that; we live like animals;
reacting to forces that we cannot control
or understand; spreading our minds apart
like buildings scattered by what another
man described as victory

Though reason remains within us the decisions
we make cannot stick to walls that refuse to
stand still while time records every doubt
as to the meaning of islands and arks

But why would we blow something up to
create something new unless what was
to come was penance for horrors that a
youthful God witnessed in his progeny;
only the cross knows why

They keep asking me
Did I do anything different
Not one bit
At last he appreciates me.

You're probably reading this from the same place I'm writing it
behind a desk
outside the box
trapped in a corporation
free in my thoughts

You're probably reading this for the same reason I'm writing it
because words matter
because it doesn't matter
the way everything matters

You're probably sick of reading
probably
yet we are hardly anything more than what can be proven
we're probably
the invention before probability

The loving  likelihoods of life
like crawling before walking
like falling when learning to walk
like walking into runs

The statistics of confusion
divided for the mystical equation
of adding all things make believe
subtracting all things real
and solving you for yourself

The dog that covered
His ****
With an extra kick,
Is he an ancestor?

Studies have shown that corporal punishment
at a young age
only results in learning disabilities,

God smacking the grey matter out your brain...

So the cycle of self, ego, perpetuating abuse, goes.
It is a series of footsteps, streams that become rivers;
and we are composed of these chaotic streams: energy
Dreams.

And my brother is a perfect window into "America"
He has a five year old boy, a Girlfriend with a boy and a girl;
They both believe in tough love and hitting;
On Sunday, as they were entering my mothers house,
his son hit him with a snow ball near the crotch, so he hit him
in the stomach, and I saw the boy lose his breath.

"You're a terrible father."  
I picked him up as he started crying.
My brother said he was bad all day before that.

What am I to believe?
That you are raising, caring for, and loving unconditionally,
or you are ******* up as a parent by hitting your child?
What am I to believe? That glimmer of light is a deamon
or that the deamon is you, my brother.

When you slap your child, or any animal, you reduce it
its brain, its body, and its mind. That's why alphas ****;
they just want to reduce the other males around them.
Its an evolutionary trait that carries through to today.

And so do fools, my nephews mother wants to medicate him...

when science meets spirituality, mind spirit
we replace the box with a tree, a galaxy.
We replace the pill with therapy, and community;
petrol with the sun, burning a hole
in the unity of our dreams and the whole of our destiny.