this morning I awoke to find little lettered squares imprinted across the side of my face,
           then didst I realize, that cyber space had finally done its number on me
                        slither slather blither blather slobbering  cyber chopper
              knee-**** hackneyed pavlovian dog speak of impetuous  heartlessness
             stereotyping  label blasting  categorizing  pigeon-holing  generalizing
      multi tasking bifurcating bloviating palaver,  ever clingy maudlin  inflamed impassioned souls
         trolling   the myriad  disparate windows looking for some misbegotten stimulus  
so invested in their hatred and fear that peace is the most threatening thing they can imagine   ------      and me?
the sneering cynical maladroit among the masses of averageness and mediocrity...

Today we have few heroes
Few live the life of Kings,
Few go the extra mile to win
The wondrous praise it brings.
Most walk the path of averageness
Most strive to play it safe,
Where convention glides to keynote
And contention is a waif.

Nobody pulls the dragon's tail
Nobody stretches out,
To walk in shoes of restlesness,
And lash the Devil's gout.
Nobody grasps the horns of hell
To cast care to the wind,
Nobody sticks their neck out
Making ego's soar rescind.

Why do we lie in fallow turf
Where textures are so bland?
Why do we slouch in listlessness
Each idle hand, in hand?
Where is the pluck and passion
Which allows our pulse to flail?
Go find the guts and courage
....TO YANK THAT DEMON DRAGON'S TAIL!

Marshalg
@theBach
Mangere Bridge
21 March 2010

Dedicated with love to my youngest fledgling, Solomon, who is venturing forth in his first business.

One day you will know.
One day you might understand.

Any averageness you ache for, you will not find here.
No organization, nor solidity.
I am a whirlwin of inconsistency.

My thoughts are never ending.
My body is never resting.

These feet will never settle on solid ground.
This soil will always forbid it.
Like sinking sand, it embodies me if I give in to its suddle ease.

I'll run my race.
This never ending pursuit of wholeness.

You can't keep up.
Your desire is what keeps this earth above your eyes, where every other living soul chooses to reside.

The only noise is a departing train
when I wake to daylight at eight o'clock.
The slow white edges darkness back in vain,
groping the averageness of the city block.
I know for certain, yet feel half-unsure,
life will always go on --
what about after I'm dead and gone?
Unfounded conviction beginning to blur,
I step outside to steady rain
Confronting an inarticulate pain:

most go unescorted to the grave.

All day long I try pushing back the thought,
try focusing on my tedious work,
but truest fear -- what was and now is not --
deepens like a glacial cirque.
Certainty's fickleness falls far away
as momentary happiness
from nowhere, more or less,
solidifies into one more day.

"The mean reds are horrible. Suddenly you're afraid and you don't know what you're afraid of." -  Holly Golightly, Breakfast At Tiffany's

i've been having the mean reds lately.

it's a paradox. how you're never the best, but when better ones come along, they pale in contrast to you. somehow i've come to love you in all your averageness, found beauty in your flaws. somehow your insignificance gave me a place to settle upon.

it's comfortable in your arms, and your smell assures me. please never allow me to lose you.

I wish to experience sober the bravery of drunk
I wish to experience adult the immediacy of childhood
I wish to experience the unconstrained love of the innocent and unbroken
I wish to emerge myself in the hope of he who has never suffered disappointment
We all get the possibility to live life at its fullest
Why do we aim for satisfaction and settle for even less?
Mediocracy is a principle of averageness, but ought never to be a goal in itself
Unique. Human. Individuals.
Do not forget your pride
Do not underestimate the value of true joy
I do believe in charity
Do I believe in Me?

The jogger stops a while to catch his breath,
a sweaty grimace painted on his face.
Perhaps in half-light it appears a grin
to others - actually he feels like death.
With averageness as his only sin,
he thinks, how apt to go in such a place.

Her memory is blank beyond this place.
She draws a rasping, thin and ragged breath,
inhaling scents of forced carnal sin.
The caked make-up is falling off her face
but all her thoughts these nights have been of death;
a cigarette will reapply her grin.

The old man looks around and gives a grin
at all his children gathered in his place.
For months he has been waiting for his death,
his lungs to finally run out of breath.
The ghost of life still lingers on his face,
a long, benign existence free of sin.

Bejewelled silky hands still slick with sin
support, neck-like, a head which wears a grin
that looks like it's been stolen off the face
of mannequins and plastered into place.
Her role in hastening his final breath
still haunts her. So it shall unto her death.

This industry is headed towards death.
They think intelligence is just a sin
and try to cut him off at every breath.
He finally allows himself a grin.
With this he'll put them in their proper place
and wipe that smug expression from their face.

The kiss of malnutrition on her face,
a souvenir from those merengues with death,
lies testament to horrors in this place.
Though poverty may be a fatal sin,
she bears the burden with a toothless grin
and croons her lullaby under her breath.

Behold my face! They all know I am Death.
But truth is, there is sin in any place;
I'll grin the same before I stop your breath.

There's nothing good found,
In the one different from the rest,
Ready to head west,
While others look north;

Of a different shade,
And not to be confined,
To the averageness of existing,
Without actually living, fully.

“Be happy!” They zealously scream
From spittle flecked mouths
Like it’s so bad to be unhappy.
Happiness, contentedness
Stagnation.

Tell me why I should seek what’s above happiness
Transcend comfort or reject contentment’s gravity
Resign to your fate of obscure averageness?

I miss the woman I lost
I regret the opportunities missed
I lament my poor decisions
So I won’t do it again.