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David Dec 2014
you see,
well rather ironically
you dont...
or at least i dont
(...my mistake)
(that was my perception/projection of "you" based on "me" because we (again sorry or/ sorry again) can only see the world egocentrically)
i lost my glasses last week
havent seemed keen
on finding them on the streets of
O, (Oh) (OH) how i keened after them (IO)
driving on a mirror this morning, mourning, before the sun, a rose, arose.
i finally noticed them gone.
the acid lined upper middle class road from my
(socially speaking)
lower class acid ridden
(economically speaking)
upper middle class mind
had dis(re)appeared^(infinity)

all time was lost

and for the first time in my driving career
i found myself, spending more time looking at the street than at the road
shooting stars of red streamed after taillights
as if always trying to catch up
  greens joined in from lights above
...but did not muddle the stars  
like the perfectly controlled watercolor artisan

what Virtuoso, what Perfectionist, what Letter-dash-letter of a being
could create such an immaculate emasculating picture (lack of question mark)
i am humbled.

p.s
i gave up looking for my glasses
my vision seemed perfectly clear
so was yours (Sorry)
Word Study #2
Nat Lipstadt Jul 2015
~~~

"When she was a young girl, Clemantine displayed the large courage to endure genocide. In this essay she displays the courage of small things: the courage to live with feelings wide open even after trauma; the maturity to accept unanswerable ambiguity; the tenacity to seek coherence after arbitrary cruelty; the ability to create tenacious bonds that have some give to them, to allow for the mistakes others make; the unwillingness to settle for the simple, fake story; and the capacity to look at life in all its ugly complexity."

David Brooks, NY Times, July 7, 2015
"The Courage of Small Things"
~~~

and you ask yourself
could I write this any better,

and you no/know/no
the answer well before the asking

but these combinations of letters
don't mere resonate,
they sound bells, all kind of bells,
wind chimes, mean car alarms, church bells, door bells,
sounds of nature soothing,
harsh noises so terrible
only humans can devise and extract,
not found in nature

the ringing sound of
the compartments of your brain,
clashing for predominance,
each with their own agenda,
and you silence them and write

thus compelled,
to review, define truths egocentrically,
examine your spatial perceptions,
ask the better, important question

do I have the courage of small things?

The easy answer is a runaway
yes or no,
the certitude of a familiar self-
(confidence, hate, righteousness, loathing),
the sadness of deprecation,
the pleasure of surety

and you know,
even the fools know,
neither are true answers,
only easy ways out

you chew and chew each small courage,
acknowledging insufficiency on any scale,
some here and there, maybe as good as average,
some here and there, far worse than most

in only one do grant yourself a passing grade,
and even that,
barely, minimally

"the capacity to look at life
in all its ugly complexity."


for here you are,
measuring and minding,
tallying and totaling,
in full public view,
knowing what only you know,
if, you this small courage, possess

I answer diffidently, fearfully, dangerously,
treading the line

in this above all, I must be a striver,
for all else,
even the simplest life,
is complex beyond reason,
see the ugly, say the ugly out loud,
permit to admit

for without this first step,
threshold, door jamb, Styx crossing,
you will never be able to summon,
you will never possess
the starting line courage of
asking and answering,
running when the starter pistol fires,
in a manner
unexcused, undisguised, fully disclosed,
and find the
beauty in
simplicity

do I have the courage
to do the summming up
of my smallest things,
that together
are truly
courage writ
large?

~~~
July 8, 2015
8:00am
NML
Please read the article in its entirety

http://www.nytimes.com/2015/07/07/opinion/david-brooks-the-courage-of-small-things.html

if you cannot access, message me and I will email it to you...
Mark Lecuona Feb 2012
Laying prone next to death which may or may not be my neighbor; knowing that nothing I remember will save me; knowledge, useless knowledge, a required accompaniment to my carefully selected claret smiling with assurance as I infringe upon their right to object to the depths of my retort.

A wrinkled sheet ignored but useful in its random spread across my torso draws the sweat from my pores as I save the planet from my presence while the restlessness of unmerciful insomnia instills a quiet uselessness to my thoughts which I egocentrically assume will yield prose worthy of public display.

As the knowing is swallowed whole, as the last hardened cheese ******* on a plate, it becomes relevant to believe in anything unproven as further observed phenomena is no more or less a sequel to a play yet to be understood by genius or idiocy whose consciousness rival one another in their need to be loved by a suffering mother.

The bullet crosses the boundary between dream and threat into an assumed position of relevance in every step I take towards a repetitive life filtered only by the need for a decision; unhappy with or without; each the same yet held aloft by the delusion of a chance encounter with a heart I will use but never protect.
ShamusDeyo Aug 2015
the world of the Creative
is Egocentrically Positive
Like the Barking of Dogmas
Baring Teeth Like Logic Jaw
Lost in a Magical Madness
Creative Collect like molecules
revolving in shared Spark
illuminating the Dark
Alpha Neural Synapse of Light
in Creation of the Thought or Sight
Cast into the Universe to be Caught
in the Masses Nueral Net


All the Work here is licensed under the Name
®SilverSilkenTongue and the © Property of J.Flack
Brittany Ann Jan 2021
What a great heaviness it is

to be an empath

surviving in a world

that is often discovered to be

egocentrically brutal

as well as incessant.

To be a collection of reticent voices

in this world full of such

powerful shrilling white noise.

To be determined as weak

by those who know not of

the very resilience required

that can only be formed

out of true humility.

— The End —