Reflection: November 5, 2013

Every night I ride down Ave D.

Yet as the cool air greets my face,

I’m uneasy.

It’s the long stretches of familiarity that nurtures in my mind that awful solipsism. 

The devil that rips me away from the worthy emotions–

the usual emotions,

the human emotions–

and leads to depression.

 But,

Breaks in familiarity spark momentary peace. 

 

Two parallel windows

perched high among a

tall, plain white wall.

The windows chanting rhythmic pulses of the bluest

light.

 

Probably a television set 

An action scene with gratuitous amounts of gunfire

flashing loudly inside the home

 

But for now,

that steady silent beat

of electric blue 

grounds my wavering mind

with its unconventional beauty.

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Something bitter I wrote about “Old People”

Held back by the cords that we use to connect

Or so it’s seen by the elders who we don’t respect

No time for face to face, just Facebook threads

Or so it’s seen by the elders who we don’t respect

 

More interested in teaching me a lesson

Than finding out what I already have learned

Not at all concerned

That the thoughtless words

Which we spurn

and they churn 

lack efficacy

They continue in casting judgement 

Hastily

 

Now I’m not saying my generation lacks guilt

But you all insist on making it felt

Even when it shouldn’t exist

 

We’ll survive with or without your constant worry

So if you think that what you have to say is worth it

Then don’t hurry

But plan it

And be careful to consider our perspective 

And how similar we really are

Your generation equally disdained by the one before

 

So maybe you’re not wiser, could we agree,

Just because you had less technology.

But maybe you have some wisdom to offer

Because you too once suffered

The pain of growing 

The pain of knowing

 

So next time you have a message

Don’t condemn us for how often we text message

But ask what it says 

And who its to

You might be surprised that the things we say

Remind you of you

 

And then listen. 

And please, 

Don’t preach.

Just show us that you too

Are a flawed, struggling, recovering human being

Haiku-tiful

Some haiku(ish) poems which I once wrote and will now publish. Here you go internet.

 

Pill bottles left open-

Arthritic hands can’t grab hold-

To twist off the lid

 

The feeling of death-

Unwashed sheets and cigarettes-

Is this our future?

 

Clock ticks on the wall.

Bones groan when he tries to stand.

Time means growing old.

 

Bright colored clothing

Making music with our smiles

Young, alive, for now.

 

Patiently waiting

Front porch steps every morning

It’s here! Open it!

 

Broken glasses

Wood floors stained with juice and milk

Breakfast with the kids

Losing

As clothes start to accumulate on my floor I wonder if I’m losing my mind?

Surely that’s what life is. 

A slow process of mental atrophy. 

Reality becomes dimmer and dimmer until it is not recognizable

 

Only for some it’s not so slow

And their human mind is robbed before old age. 

No Florida golf games to occupy the decay of their “accepting self”

(The self that accepts without question the world’s bullshit) 

No, they are trapped in a diorama world of 9-5 and deadlines 

with their thoughts replaced by the “Insanity of Awakening”. 

Spend all day in a daze. Wondering why they cant escape. 

And this is me.

And this is anyone who realizes that all things are relative. 

 

But perhaps there is a twist in the narrative. 

 

Perhaps typically the stable mind is totally lost in life then death brings nirvana. 

But for the young and able bodied, death does not present this choice.

So, it is up to the sanity robbed wide eyed kid to seek nirvana on their own. 

While still a part of the very tangible world that they reject. 

And some find it.

In the trees.

In the streets. 

In music. 

In words. 

In friends. 

In clothes. 

In meditation. 

In film. 

In love. 

In simplicity.

In anything solid that can represent the untouchable oneness and peace of the universe. 

I

I am still searching. 

Or perhaps I have found,

but cannot access, 

and have yet another lesson to learn.

So I write-and-think-and-travel and

ex-

haust

myself.