Stop with the opposition
It’s time to transition
Change our position
To violence prohibition
Earthlings frazzled condition
Orwellian contradiction
War is peace, an affliction
Hate becomes our addiction
Death, too common expectation
Hope it’s not our relation
Feel the devastation
Of each in every nation
A peaceful revolution
Could be the solution
Start with absolution
Kindness promotion
Love thyself devotion
**
** where this should have stopped
Forward the motion
Not just a notion
Calm the commotion
Pare down the consumption
To ease the pollution
Spare the frustration
Of poor inhalation
Strive for exaltation
Politicians proclamation
Bile regurgitation
End the deception
Heirachy cessation
Need a long vacation
From mental constipation
Fate all anticipation
Chaos accommodation
Mundane fascination
Arcane clarification
Reason justification
Heaven imagination
Terrorist placation
Hell reservation
Limbo destination
Evolving stagnation
Mirrored reflection
Duplicating rejection
A bad disposition
Having good reputation
By clever manipulation
Childish maturation
Adult consternation
From sleep depravition
A simple proposition
Turned this long rendition
Effect less causation
Without contemplation
Of a summation
Or realization
Just a finalization
Of this dissertation
To stop opposition
The trouble with eternal recurrence.
Do you believe in reincarnation?
No.
Did you believe in it. in your last incarnation?
Yes.
Will you believe in reincarnation, in your next incarnation?
Not sure, will have to see how this one plays out.
Would it help if you had “proof” ?
I read it somewhere,
No print, no proof.
I heard it somehow
Not sound proof enough.
Logical conclusion, perchance
Or just strange circumstance
Energy can not be destroyed ?
Make it disappear, like a hemmroid
Who says so? The proverbial they?
“They” sure have a lot to convey
Energy only changes form.
A nice theory, to accept as a norm
All nonetheless, improvable.
Of making reality re-doable
If it would make everyone kind
It’d be a worthwhile trick of the mind
If you came back as someone to be
The last person, would be your enemy
Unless you learn to get along
To right all of your wrongs
I wrote this to find a conclusion
Only to finish with more confusion
So said the “Complimentary” water.
I was going to let it go at that, which I probably should have, then these “flowed” out of my head.
Water, water, everywhere, and not a drop to drink.
So said the philosophical frozen bottle of water.
2 + 2 = 5
So said the “Orwellian”, bad math, bottle of water.
To be or not to be.
So said the Shakespearian 1/2 full, 1/2 empty bottle of water.
Stycallus: /stī-‘kal-us/
1 : a small hardened, skin formation on the thumb(s).
1a : a tiny nubbin, an evolutionary outgrowth on the opposable thumb developed by excessive texting, swiping, and twittering.
2 : the last biological outgrowth, before human entropy accelerated in an unstoppable degradation with catastrophic results.
Origin : American English of stylus and callus
First use : today 2016
There are no more wild horses
Just mindless discourses
None left to be wrangled
Feeling acutely strangled
Sad to have the capacity
To create this depravity
Not only the equine
Humanity in a confine
Pathetic to have realized
Everything is commodotized
Life has been condensed
To that which can be fenced
From animals queued for slaughter
To how we drink our water
Although to be fair
Not yet paying for air
At least not to be breathed
But cooled to be relieved
I expect it will likely trend
The purchase of oxygen
I am just as guilty
Perpetuating this reality
No chance to get frantic
It’s all too systematic
Vague separation, church and state
Better off to completely eliminate
Passing through what is so vile and rank
To know the redemption of Shawshank
Living this life, more or less insane
Collectively be Andy Dufresne in the rain.
Difficult to be romantic
When everything is plastic
Nothing else to be done
For I am only one
To surpass of what we are capable
And not be the stable of the stable
Good ideas, there are a zillion
How do you enlighten 7 Billion
Pay the price, not count the cost
For all the souls that are now lost
Closing the doors, I do give a darn
Be the horse that escapes the barn
The road is my oyster
A paved type of cloister
However bumpy steep or fair
World problems are fixed there
Whether curves or a straight line
None that are solved are mine
Gear down and climb that hill
Thirty years it’s still a thrill
A little left or right I must steer
Getting paid to sit on my rear
Driving between dotted and white line
Thinking of the fun ways to rhyme
Stop at red or go at the green light
Inside the cab, I am recondite
Some think my schedule is hectic
I find it peacefully hermetic
Get out and thump that tire
It’s to write that I aspire
Three trailers behind me draggin’
Some call it a wiggle wagon
Rolling along down the highway
No one to tell me to do it my way
Coming to the end, it’s time to yield
Looking at the world thru a windshield
Thinking out loud. ..
Wait, … thinking in alphabetical, english word, sequenced, seemingly appropriately, punctuated digitized pixels.
So far in this life, it seems as though I’ve been circumstantialy forced, or genuinely inspired to question nearly everything.
Apparently, I have a father, unprepared and reluctant, there, but embarrassed of his nitwit offspring with a pervasive underlying regret he didn’t have his vasectomy, one child sooner. .
Not to misunderstand, or confuse, growing up, my father, was in my life on a day to day basis. This isn’t some sad notion that no one was around, like you see or so often hear about.
However, looking back, I suspect, it is a little like in high school, starting one of those parenting child as egg class projects.
Sounds easy enough, right, just have to make sure, the egg doesn’t break. Wait, you can’t keep it safe, in a sock drawer, while you go about your day????
Shit. now responsible with no way out.
Another analogy might be that of reading a book. Either, one that seemed interesting enough to read, or one that was recommended.
Having the fortitude, regardless of how bad, boring or benign the “story” is, by circumstance (the book was purchased) (the wife was impregnated ) or commitment (said you would read it) to the printed end. (18). Then shelved, ta da obligation achieved.
While I’d like to think not, that I am “clouding” reflections of the past with the current “climate”, I can “see” where the present day overcast grey sky, storm looming, feelings come from.
Writing this, here and now, as it it is “spilling” out on the screen, gives me the realization that some of my posts clearly advocate a myriad of rational arguments for not having children.
Having an untenable overriding, sentiment, that I shouldn’t be here.
Printable penchant proof proving post pleas plausible perceptions personhood poof.
Time to leave, the sock drawer, it’s very dark in there, most of the time.
So, instead of being bitter and blaming, I’ll take responsibility and the high road and appreciate the wisdom he had for passing timely control over to the appropriate overseers.
The non apparent parent.
Immediate surrogate father figures.
Papa John
Quiet accepting presence. Just a nice guy, perpetually peaceful, gone, yet aspirationally relevant.
Uncle John
Guidance , taught me how to do stuff with my hands. plumbing, carpentry, electrical.
First to inspire me to question religious dogma causing me to question the “virgin birth stories ” by explaining how Joseph was banging Mary, and abdicated responsibility by claiming divine intervention.
George Carlin
Reason and laughter, think, question everything and proper use of language. Words, meanings, contextually appropriate.
Howard Stern
Humility and understanding. Every topic is funny and every one is fair game. Accepting all because they are funny and you can’t see race on the radio. Decide what is truth, utilizing the theatre of the mind.
Bill Hicks
Use the darkest image and language to brighten and enlighten.
Ed P.
Think with abundant rationale. Questioning god’s will with in arguable reasoning.
Also the usefulness of the quip of getting the change you want (usually in a work environment ) ” Let it be their idea ” Excersing detachment from ego.
Grandpa Albert
Taught me how to recontextualize to put words in perspective, looking at stuff from both sides, Making it okay to be the “butt” of jokes, as then you will get your turn.
Neil Peart Lyricist, Drummer Rush
Inspired my affection for reading, Reading how much he read, and creating the best lyrical adaptations that elevated and communicated stories in a briefer, meaningful song.
Steve Martin
At the time, unintentionally lent me his material since I had no personality. Still, don’t, save the occasional content and context questioning blurt.
.
Rock and Roll and other music
Holding my hand and carrying me like the proverbial single set of footprints in the sand.
One doesn’t buy over 800 cd’s simply for the love of music, well perhaps, I suspect though, looking back, needed a few “carriers.”
My Papa John was probably most acutely influential regarding core influences.
At least from the perspective of just being a nice guy to my chosen children’s children.
Papa John would tell me he didn’t know, even though I knew he knew the answer to my questions. With him knowing I was aware which made me learn to trust in myself because I discovered the answer.
Happy Father’s day.
Iron Maiden
Can I play with madness?
Give me the sense to wonder
To wonder if I’m free
Give me a sense of wonder
To know I can be me
Give me the strength to hold my head up
Spit back in their face
Don’t need no key to unlock this door
Gonna break down the walls
Break out of this bad place
You can have your ache
And keep it too (yourself)
The only reason I wish to not overhear or worse yet, hear of another person’s ailments is that it causes my ears to bleed.
Hopefully, this isn’t one of those Richard Bach “We teach best what we need to learn most ourselves. ” moments.
I suspect I could handle people wearing their heart on their sleeve, much better than their ailments in their throats and their infirmaries on the tip of their tongue.
Which usually occurs in a convenience or grocery store with someone you barely recognize. You give a kind nod, a friendly smile, and a simple hi, how are you doing?
As pangs of fear and regret surface, knowing you have unwittingly committed to playing response Russian Roulette.
Good, how are you? I’m great, good to see you, take care. Ahhhh, perfect. Bullet dodged.
The other is of course, is some jabbering jeremiad, about a myriad of medical maladies.
Now that I’ve gotten over my lombago, my vercitus, is flaring up again. Ahhhhgh.
The more interesting and evolutionary conversation to engage in, would be to discuss why some people feel compelled to openly disseminate revelations of their biological or medical well being.
Writing this makes me think if it happens more often, I should rig up a device to allow some crimson crude to flow from my ears.
That way either the person might leave in disgust, or inquire why my ears are bleeding.
Too which I could simply say, oh never mind that, it just happens when I hear a bunch of blah blah blah painful pontificating pursuant to elicit a empathetic response.
When you can tell me your vocal chords quit working, I’ll be glad to hear what you have to say.
The bleeding will stop as soon as we start discussing something relevantly important.
Perhaps it is just a guy thing, as Dr. John Gray of “Men are from Mars, Women are from Women are from Venus” suggests, the men are inclined with the instinctual notion of feeling like they have to “fix” things.
Unfortunately, I only have a commercial drivers license, not a medical one and therefore feel helpless. So ailments you feel compelled to share of which I can do nothing about and contribute nothing to our collective evolution.
Reading to much into it
That’s all my mind does.
Nothing is as it seems,
Regardless of the context
And the repetition of content
Or the crystal-ness of clarity
It is always something else
Black is never black
White is never white
Grey is always gray
Or 372 shades of it
Always a hidden agenda
Or nothing of the sort
Works my mind overtime
Open to interpretation
And then reinterpretation
One plus one equals two
Yet, given to an accountant
It can be what you need it to be
It’s 5 o’clock somewhere
That is not real either
For it is man made
That mountain of fallibility
Isn’t worth the climb
My approximations
Are wholly inaccurate
An eye roll or sideways look
can mean anything
Or impossible to categorize
Of frivolity, disgust or despair
A lot of truth is spoken in jest
But what is truth and what is jest
Must be something I can bank on
Could it be money in the bank
Kind of hard if it’s a noun and verb
Its very / vary existence
Is numbers on a screen
No screens, poof, no money
I need more clues
To magnify the code
If a guy works all his life,
to declare himself
An honest man,
Then, dies in the middle of his statement.
Was he ever either?
I thought that was the end
Of whatever this could be called
Not for one to stay in limbo
My writing is like my driving
It’s geared towards a solution
Destinations are too final
Only to restart to another end
A solution is temporary
Good but temporary
Like the proverbial mouse trap
A better one or better way
Is always being tried
Obviously I can’t conclude this
That would miss the pointless point
Now that I’ve figured what
I’ve been trying to decipher
Is kindness and happiness
Can always treat others kinder
And kinder, reciprocating too / to
Making myself happier and happier
A sort of regenerating reciprocity…….
It is not frightening, just a little scary
Mourning the loss of our sanctuary
This society’s ills, we are prone
To be so attached, to our phone
Like an umbilical cord, should be cut
Get us away from the attachment rut
This is simple, it’s nothing to deep
Can’t even turn it off, while we sleep
What’s so important, you can’t miss
Some people are on it while they piss
That’s not the worst, or the latest scoop
Others tend to talk on it while they poop.
Consider what the other person must feel
As they hear echo, and toilet paper unreel
I’m an adult I can handle the excuse
Much rather, than hear your stool loose.
Even worse to hear, the devastation
If you are suffering from constipation
Do not mean to drone and drone
The culprit is not always the phone
Thoughts wander, some so protracted
Helps explain why so easily distracted
Regardless what it is, always need more
Bipedal beings, or consumptive whores
That’s enough to cause some laughter
Wait, we need lots more ever faster.
No pointing fingers, I am so guilty too
Alien entertainment, on this planetary zoo
What if that’s it, what could be the harm
Under atmospheric glass, like an ant farm
I’m sure that is not it, mean that really
If it was, would you not feel silly
Doing whatever, going about your day
Knowing you might be some beings play
Picture that from the infinity of it all
Knowing you are microscopicly small
Perhaps there is no reason to lament
Just appreciate each and every moment
Finish this up, keep it light and airy
Couldn’t have written, had I sanctuary
Looking at the world through a windshield. 