mind gone soft

when you stare long enough
the world filters away into
nothing more than light.
the harsh edges disappear
and the lines fade.
sometimes there is color
when your mind goes calm
and the fabric of reality
changes in subtle ways
that make the thoughts subside.
under this is a reflection of honesty,
a concept of truth
that surpasses imagination.
when it goes away
you're left there unaware
that there was
anything to it
in the first place.
the longer you hold your gaze
the more nonexclusive it becomes,
fluttering pixels of light
refracting in the minds eye
with eyes wide open.
sometimes
you never want to come back.
sometimes
reality drips clear from your glare
and the light washes away
an all inclusive illusion -
the only thing you've ever known.
and it makes you wonder what else
lacks meaning.
sometimes
it folds around you
like a ghost,
and you feel so far removed
that coming back isn't an option.

The unwritten Rule

I hear people saying
that we should
listen to our inner child,
that we should be more
intuitive and give in to our gut,
but what if your inner child says
fuck it? What then?

What if the only thing that
keeps you going
is your rational mind,
your logic?

And what if your rational mind
finds an irrational environment?
Do you suddenly evolve to your
surroundings and ignore a lifetime
of logical thought?

The rules change all the time.
Consistency is a thing of the past.
So you have to wonder,
who makes the rules?
Who enforces the rules?
What do the rules matter
if those who make the rules
and enforce the rules
no longer follow the rules?
You're only obligated to
follow the rules
if you can't afford to
break the rules.

Let us not speak of those
who bend the rules
because that's an entirely
different topic.

So maybe we should point
our fingers
at those who design the rules,
make the laws,
and enforce the laws
only for people who cannot
afford to break them.

like evaporation

at what point is it
that you decide
that you are ready
to expire?
is it at a certain age,
or after a particularly
great meal,
deciding,
it can't possibly get any better than this
?

perhaps the idea of finality
comes when one has decided
that they have suffered enough,
endured enough,
felt just enough joy,
or held their spouse's hand
for just the right amount of time.
i consider this often.
is death an accident,
a silent, creeping thing
that always takes its victim
by surprise
?
maybe death is a thing
that is felt before it happens,
and people who succumb to it
are allotted a final peek into
their life decisions,
allowed a special burst
of realization
into the cosmic mist that
eventually
envelopes us all.

another question
that i ask is -
is it possible to just give up,
to give in to the final
gasp of air,
the tiredness, the fitful days,
the blank expression
of a life too painful
to recount
with any real zest?

i consider my own death
when i'm about to doze off
in my soft bed with clean,
bleached sheets.
i close my eyes and look into the
darkness beyond
and wonder if i'll be granted
a swift end
where there is no longer suffering-
to travel into a void of nothingness.
maybe there will be some type of
reward
for my endurance.
maybe there won't.

there is either something
                 or
                     nothing
when we drift away
and it's not as frightening
as being hopelessly awake,
trying to sift through
the madness of life,
counting pennies,
trudging through muck,
praying that when you fall,
you won't fall too hard.

but the truth is,
i don't fear death.
i only fear pain.
i fear the constant beating
of the sun on my brow.
i fear those who would do me harm.
i fear that there is a god
with the sickest sense of humor
since Genghis Khan.

but there's nothing to fear in nothingness,
at least nothing that i can remember.

an unsocial society

make love to your television,
let it lie to you,
let it become your ignorance and
oblivion.
fuck your phones, swallow
the complacency that it offers.
eat up the tablets and WiFi
connections.
suck down the GPS
like rectal discharge.
ban books and introduce
Creationism into the schools.
to Hell with Darwin.
kill the sciences.
there are more of us now than
any other time
in human history.
can you imagine seven billion
socially inept neophytes
crawling over one another
to get the latest version of the iPhone,
or the next gadget to deliver
misinformation
at the cost of common sense,
ethical treatment,
and compassion?
well, look around,
it's almost here.

for Van Gogh

there is beauty all around you.
it comes in the most simplest forms -
the purr of a kitten,
a single leaf falling in autumn,
a butterfly fluttering in the breeze,
the sparkle of the sun
coming through the clouds
when you thought
there would be rain.
this is what we are gifted,
and when you take notice,
even a starless night
holds some hope
of illumination.

the little things

i'm in a place of
expressive
distance.
i can't relate
with many people.
while i can understand their
suffering,
i can't seem to connect with their
motivation.
i see most things in life
to be a scam,
many of those things that other
people use to escape reality.
i believe that anything organized
is just a scheme to initiate a scam,
a way to generate revenue
for an idea that has been played
over and over.
i don't understand why certain people
subject themselves to religion,
politics, sports, television,
popular music, credit,
student loans, violence,
greed, self improvement,
doctors, or purpose.
this all seems like an elaborate dream
where absurdity wins.
we're all looking for answers
to unanswerable questions
with vague meanings.
we have X amount of time
to come up with these
answers after our wick is lit,
hoping to gain some type of insight
into the meaning of life before we're spent.
i think some people have missed the point
when they spend the entirety of their life
working
on gaining the most money they can before they expire.
then again, some of us fool ourselves into
believing we're writers when all we're doing is chronicling
a particular point of interest in time
to eventually be forgotten
when the genre is used up.
while others look for ways
to screw the public by any legal means necessary
to instill misery and hopelessness upon the masses.
don't get me wrong,
i have fell for scams.
i took out a loan from a
predatory lender
almost a decade ago
and defaulted on the loan when i was laid off
from my job after my company sold out
to a much bigger company.
the loan went into judgment
and i'll pay the price
according to the law.
it's a fact of life.
we don't always make the right decisions
at the right time.
some people have the luck
while others become swallowed up by it.  
but i learnt from my mistake of trusting
that my government wouldn't allow
such deceitful practices to take place, not to be
taken advantage of in what i was told is the greatest
nation in the world.
we become jaded by our experiences:
burn your hand in fire,
never put your hand in the fire again.
-become taken advantage of by someone you love,
don't open yourself up in the same way again.
we're careful after we've been used.
but yet we fall for the same old scams,
ran by new and shiny leaders
looking for a way to cash in on our sorrow.
we want the easy answers
when there isn't an easy answers to be had.
so enjoy the little things:
love your wife, your husband, your children,
accept what the world has to offer in the way
of small joys.
be thankful for what you have and not for what
you think you deserve.
and understand that everything you acquire
will have to be worked for.
nothing is free in this land of freedom,
not even love.
none of us are entitled to a damn thing
beyond the beating of our hearts,
and even that is subject to the laws
of change.
be simple
and live simple
and you'll miss nothing
of what life has to offer.

Listless Hope, Untainted and Grown.

When the bombs dropped
and the sky was lit with fire
and the ground shook
as if it were crumbling from itself,
Leh took to the forest
and hid among the trees
and the ferns.

A prism of color 
washed along the clouds
forming deep hues about the edges
that trembled like rainbows
stretched to breaking.

And in that moment, 
the sun
began to fade.
A dying flame
quenched in oil and fuel
as the last remaining light was
snuffed out against black.

Leh thought of what was to be lost,
of sand,
of ocean,
of stars and flowers,
of all she loved
and even more.
Everyone she knew,
smeared out in one final 
act
of aggressive hate.
And the whimper of life
was gone in a hushed explosion
that tore skin from flesh,
flesh from bone,
bone from marrow.

As she wept, 
the ferns lifted about her
and the trees drooped
and vines caressed the air
into a sphere that kept the fire away.

There were no gods laughing
as the last child sobbed its final tears
where even smoke is burnt
by the showers of flame.

Inside the cocoon, 
Leh felt the Earth seize
in great spasms
that rocked the
tiny pod.

The air inside was clear
and as fresh as April,
teasing her nose and
washing her skin in luscious silk.

Fulminate upon this wondrous land,
a million fingers wrapped in bomb
to tear the breath from stuttering lips
taking the sorrow away
as candy from the mouth 
of a screaming child. 

The last of the forest
swelled
and sheathed Leh
from the grief beyond,
of burning babes,
cauterized animal,
and scalded populace,
saving her single soul
from terror.

She wept so deeply,
her eyes sealed shut
and her mouth became but a frown
etched forevermore upon
gripping lips.

The moans of the massacred
hummed beyond 
the seed that enclosed Leh
and she tried to scream,
but no sound would come,
and her death would have been an easier ally
if only the peace of it would promise her
expiration.

The soft inside cradled her
from despair,
a moist that shielded her skin
from blister
and burn and rocked her into a deep sleep
that sounded of soft wings
arching through the bluest sky.
And how she slept was as impenetrable 
as lust devoured in need and sanctimonious 
want, 
delivered by the lascivious.

Soon,
it was as quiet as a fawn
nursing in the respite of Spring,
gleaning milk 
from the tit
of tranquility.

Stop forever,
she dreamed the words.
Sleep infinite in the womb of nature
and never awaken.
Let time pass as if it were but a wind
drifting in the soulless scope of  permanence,
lifting everlasting.
Hold this,
           she thought. 

Hold this.
                                    forever


The cosmos reawakened glorious 
in seed and sprout, 
lush pasturage
spread out across once despoiled land.
And Leh slept resolute
within 
the womb of wild;
wrought of life,
solidified and granted of innocence
which not to spoil
in the seed of soul granted to her
in universal love
for but a moment, a flicker of time
that lasted 
                         eternal.

When she awoke
and the seed opened,
she was revealed unto the world
            of amity,
        of union,
            of harmony
which rivers ran deep and clean
and clear,
and forest lay out upon unspoiled land
rich with fruit and foliage,
gleaming in the sun,
as ripe as spirit yet unborn -
where music trickled
through leaves and petals,
growing ever so softly in the misting rain
that cleansed the untarnished.

As she stood, 
she saw others like her,
washed of worldliness,
drenched in pure -
like dew untainted,
emerge from seeds like her own.
And their eyes seeped of innocent
astonishment
at the war that was not there.

In the distance
where great cities once stood-
a triumph to human accomplishment-
were now the remains of buildings
devoid of skin,
lathered in vine and flower,
a testament to
what would never 
                                 be again.

And the weeping was not of sorrow
but of what would be,
of what would become this new
lifting of humanity.

And they all stood naked
to the passing of clouds
washing against the bluest sky
anyone had ever seen.