The Drive Out of Mississippi. (what once was a part of...)
Monday, September 19, 2005
Thursday, September 15, 2005
I love a parade...
More so to say, that life is a parade, a constant shuffling of thoughts, people and cliches...
much like the way I start this post, and likely the way I finish it. See it is 1:40 in the am at this moment, a moment within the grasp of both today and yesterday, the dawn that we call tomorrow and well within the active darkness of the night that the day pours into.
Poetry, mere poetry, as John Stuart Mill pronounced, is about emotion- about conveying FEELING, but certainly thoughts convey feelings as much as words...
So I deem myself worthy enough to be a poet and a wretch all the same. A poet-wretch if you will, a Frankensteiny monster of very human components, I dreamed once, while waking that the parts of me were the pieces of others, that the parts of me went into others...
this is both a terrible thing to believe and an acceptable possibility...especially since I may or may not be an Organ Donor.
But imagine this possibility...
that organs could be harvested from the dead, like ghouls on parade...removing the dying corpuscles to get at precious livers, kidneys, hearts and so on.
That's a nightmare I don't care to relive, but I could see it in the natural and humanitarian movements in the aftermath...I don't believe it now, but I did in my frenzied state, only so much as it were conjecture, that when hospitalized and in a car wreck and possessing a body crashing and a mind flying high with a heart that refuses to slow down...
that was my wasted weekend.
that was my living dream's nightmare.
A frankenstein-patchwork made by men, robbed of a legacy by a system that loves and cares enough to bring me to GOOD parents and GOOD siblings and GOOD people all the same.
I'm a scot-irish bastard child with parents and a mother who has hence passed away.
My only goal is to give back, get back, and find the roots that bore me more or less as much as the roots that may bear me and my potential progeny.
My dream is similar to that of a modern prometheus, and I see no reason to give up fore-thought for foolish skull-dudgery. I'll dig my hands in dirt, dig up the remains of material culture, find the seeds to lay in the earth to grow my own garden.
I'll take what I need and disperse what I don't.
I choose the path set forth by Voltaire, the better part of Jefferson, the worst part of poets and saints and the best parts of myself, while accepting the rest of mankind as being as much a part of me as my journey...as their journey.
Fuck all y'all who would do us harm, who would rob us of our lives and vital components.
Who would poison their neighbor to make amends for their mistakes?
who would?
answer me this:
If I felt the need to wander this land, this world, this Earth, who would wander with me?
For this I need only myself, but I would like a companion.
One day, I do think sooner than later, though later rather than sooner will be just fine, I'll find my wife, and not be spoiled of the chance like Shelley's broken man, and I'll climb Percy's Mount, one cold and brutal and perhaps wise, if I have to find the heart of my love for this Earth and its people.
"I go to sleep and think that you're next to me" (Spoon- radio playing new rock 90.7)
EVERYTHING HITS AT ONCE
don't say a word
the last one's still stinging
back of my mind
I feel that phone ringing
and there is no way back from this
everything hits at once
what we needs is just what we wants
I go to sleep but think that you're next to me
I go to sleep and think you're next to me
don't make a move
when I walk out don't follow me
out in the car
can feel it calling me
and ooh you're so far away
but I can still change my mind tonight
I gotta change my mind somehow
I go to sleep alone but think that you're next to me
everything hits at once tonight
outside is all lit up with ad lights
in traffic we become on the way back home
part of something bigger than just on our own
I gotta change my mind tonight
I can still change my mind tonight
merging in traffic cross the lanes and then we become
something bigger than just anyone
oh and everything hits at once
what we needs is just what we wants
I go to sleep and think that you're next to me
------------------------------I go to sleep but think that you're next to me
...Like it or not...
I had one name on my mind in my haze, one face/two faces, but one pervading. (a choice I have to make still, with three basic options)
An Angel may save me, but they do work in mysterious ways.
Can a poet catch a muse that dares him to be inspired to action when all the while he can barely speak a word?
Would the spirits give me what I want if I paid homage to them again?
Can the dead do such a thing? would the living go along?
Forgeting mythos, I'll take a chance soon enough, right now I'm healing, cleaning, being. But there's more to life than waiting. Far more.
"I'm surprised that I'm alive..." though no airbag saved my life.
Neverminding some waking dream, some intoxicated hope for love and someone close and far from me,
Dare we choose to live our lives on a daily basis of cultivation?
Forget the doom of this generation, I'm meditating for the hope of the next.
Will you help me keep it in sight?
More so to say, that life is a parade, a constant shuffling of thoughts, people and cliches...
much like the way I start this post, and likely the way I finish it. See it is 1:40 in the am at this moment, a moment within the grasp of both today and yesterday, the dawn that we call tomorrow and well within the active darkness of the night that the day pours into.
Poetry, mere poetry, as John Stuart Mill pronounced, is about emotion- about conveying FEELING, but certainly thoughts convey feelings as much as words...
So I deem myself worthy enough to be a poet and a wretch all the same. A poet-wretch if you will, a Frankensteiny monster of very human components, I dreamed once, while waking that the parts of me were the pieces of others, that the parts of me went into others...
this is both a terrible thing to believe and an acceptable possibility...especially since I may or may not be an Organ Donor.
But imagine this possibility...
that organs could be harvested from the dead, like ghouls on parade...removing the dying corpuscles to get at precious livers, kidneys, hearts and so on.
That's a nightmare I don't care to relive, but I could see it in the natural and humanitarian movements in the aftermath...I don't believe it now, but I did in my frenzied state, only so much as it were conjecture, that when hospitalized and in a car wreck and possessing a body crashing and a mind flying high with a heart that refuses to slow down...
that was my wasted weekend.
that was my living dream's nightmare.
A frankenstein-patchwork made by men, robbed of a legacy by a system that loves and cares enough to bring me to GOOD parents and GOOD siblings and GOOD people all the same.
I'm a scot-irish bastard child with parents and a mother who has hence passed away.
My only goal is to give back, get back, and find the roots that bore me more or less as much as the roots that may bear me and my potential progeny.
My dream is similar to that of a modern prometheus, and I see no reason to give up fore-thought for foolish skull-dudgery. I'll dig my hands in dirt, dig up the remains of material culture, find the seeds to lay in the earth to grow my own garden.
I'll take what I need and disperse what I don't.
I choose the path set forth by Voltaire, the better part of Jefferson, the worst part of poets and saints and the best parts of myself, while accepting the rest of mankind as being as much a part of me as my journey...as their journey.
Fuck all y'all who would do us harm, who would rob us of our lives and vital components.
Who would poison their neighbor to make amends for their mistakes?
who would?
answer me this:
If I felt the need to wander this land, this world, this Earth, who would wander with me?
For this I need only myself, but I would like a companion.
One day, I do think sooner than later, though later rather than sooner will be just fine, I'll find my wife, and not be spoiled of the chance like Shelley's broken man, and I'll climb Percy's Mount, one cold and brutal and perhaps wise, if I have to find the heart of my love for this Earth and its people.
"I go to sleep and think that you're next to me" (Spoon- radio playing new rock 90.7)
EVERYTHING HITS AT ONCE
the last one's still stinging
back of my mind
I feel that phone ringing
and there is no way back from this
everything hits at once
what we needs is just what we wants
I go to sleep but think that you're next to me
I go to sleep and think you're next to me
don't make a move
when I walk out don't follow me
out in the car
can feel it calling me
and ooh you're so far away
but I can still change my mind tonight
I gotta change my mind somehow
I go to sleep alone but think that you're next to me
everything hits at once tonight
outside is all lit up with ad lights
in traffic we become on the way back home
part of something bigger than just on our own
I gotta change my mind tonight
I can still change my mind tonight
merging in traffic cross the lanes and then we become
something bigger than just anyone
oh and everything hits at once
what we needs is just what we wants
I go to sleep and think that you're next to me
------------------------------I go to sleep but think that you're next to me
I had one name on my mind in my haze, one face/two faces, but one pervading. (a choice I have to make still, with three basic options)
An Angel may save me, but they do work in mysterious ways.
Can a poet catch a muse that dares him to be inspired to action when all the while he can barely speak a word?
Would the spirits give me what I want if I paid homage to them again?
Can the dead do such a thing? would the living go along?
Forgeting mythos, I'll take a chance soon enough, right now I'm healing, cleaning, being. But there's more to life than waiting. Far more.
"I'm surprised that I'm alive..." though no airbag saved my life.
Neverminding some waking dream, some intoxicated hope for love and someone close and far from me,
Dare we choose to live our lives on a daily basis of cultivation?
Forget the doom of this generation, I'm meditating for the hope of the next.
Will you help me keep it in sight?
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