comets22s

comets22s @ 2005-08-11T00:51:00

2005-08-11T05:52:19Z

a swooning overture to capitalism
pillars glistening with afterbirth
from the union of barely open wallets
and tightly stretched, dilated city budgets
with feet wide, toes reaching skyward, an
homage
eager plea
to the deity of investment

the high gloss lipstick
(from midrange department stores)
the tightest distressed jeans
(made in thailand by workers who
make a living putting holes
in otherwise functional clothes)

the product of warped Darwinian races
to get suburban housewives to sell
themselves
at the corner of Williams
& Sonoma

comets22s @ 2005-04-29T20:16:00

2005-04-30T01:29:23Z

(I'm finding myself void of passion, in a very "it's not you, it's me" sort of way. It's as though the most interesting things in the world are hovering in my line of vision, but all I can manage to do is stare blankly past them, focusing on some unimportant point, or perhaps not focusing at all.)

I've heard
that you should keep your eyes
high on the horizon
the road

that your gaze should be constantly changing
and if it can even be called a gaze
you're doing something wrong

my rearview mirror contains artifacts ignored
as you don't stop for those signs promising
the midwest's best
but it's not you, it's me
and i still see the crack in the windshield
no matter how much i try to look past

the exits fly by with their promises
of hotels and restaurants
green backgrounds and bold white fonts
but why stop if you quit being hungry weeks ago?

To let the engine idle, conditions ideal?
park and confide
in the carbon monoxide

exhausted

(None of you, by the way, should take this incredibly seriously- I've been trying to do assorted writing exercises, including attempting to write about emotions I don't feel)

starstruck

2005-04-30T01:09:08Z

Time for another incredibly rough draft.

you struck
with your best shot and
i stagger up
swinging and slinging
punchdrunk and bulletproof

tensing muscles flexing guns
demanding more
leaning against the corner support
my suit of armor chain mail
just another tin soldier
waiting for back up alloys
in barefisted moonlit alleys

bruised knuckles shaky hands
blurry vision adoring fans

flawed hero hanging on the ropes
dashing all her greatest wishes
looking at you
seeing stars.

Shifting

2005-04-21T06:48:31Z

I still don't know what I think of this, hence its friends only status (which I've actually never done with an entry before)

Shifting

The little black dress
think strappy
form fitting
short skirt hitting
just above the knee

Eraser-point stilettos
uncomfortable on a frame expecting
dependable and reassuring
worn t-shirts and Asics

She strides up, asks me
to dance
making me all the more aware
of that little black dress
and the ironic discontinuity of its
smooth curves
on my body pale
from standard shadow-dwelling

she's a dancer
confident, assured, fluid
but as she looks into my eyes
she only sees their constant movement
darting about the room & catching
glances of those who want to cut in

I am wrapped, trapped
in her arms, enjoying our
experimental two-step
but in constant fear of
stepping on her toes

And Alice Meets the Cheshire Cat...

2005-03-09T02:38:28Z

No idea on a title for this one.

A 200 watt incandescent
in a world of burnouts
and fading fluorescence

the heat sent in my direction
enough to turn my complexion
seven shades darker just
as my mood brightens

a perfectly aligned white flash
of insight
a crack in the mask.

Stumbling for Her

2005-03-02T03:19:46Z

This is intended to be slammed, so I'm taking some liberties with rhyme schemes and melodrama. If anything strikes you as too over the top/forced though, please let me know, since I like feedback and because this is still a pretty rough draft. It also lacks the font effects that it should have, b/c I'm dumb when it comes to LJ code. (edit: thanks to Adam/Hannah, I'm no longer LJ idiotic). Oh, and if you think this is about you? It isn't. Or, I guess it could be; I really have no idea who reads this. So just assume it isn't about you... or start humming "You're So Vain" to make up for it.

“Stumbling for Her”

If she came back and apologized
came back and pulled out every cliche she files
next to “it’s not you, it’s me” or
“I think that perhaps we’d be better off friends”
opened her folder labeled Mea Culpas for Perpetually Fickle Romantics,
stared at her Eurotrash Adidas, those black and white reminders
of how good she always was at tripping me up, and whispered
“I was so confused, I didn’t know what I wanted...
I don’t know how I missed that you were the right one for me...”

I’d take her back.

The instant she put her hand on my shoulder and started to speak
I’d silence her.
“It’s all right. I understand.”
When all I could ever mean by that
is “It’s all right. You know that through these eyes
every sign of your affection is
more of a reflection of my self worth
and the fragments of faith that I was finally putting together,
the fragments that convinced the world I was confident,
my fragments
You hurled those into Lake Michigan as the daylight was dying
They hit bottom at the same time I gazed across it, told myself I was over you
and knew that I was lying.”

But all you’d hear is that it’s all right.

I’d be miserable in my passive-aggressive silence
choking on my self imposed gag order as she continued scheming
And all while my mind would be screaming
This isn’t right for me, I deserve better
Not someone who exploits me, who gets away with it because I let her

We may be Young and Restless, but this has to end, this self destructive trend
because I want to be a politician, not a daily soap writer
Not to mention, the way you broke things off, could you get any triter?
I need someone who respects me, who knows what I want
Who doesn’t take each opportunity to flaunt her ability
to break me into pieces using anyone around
Someone who knows I read into everything
because I’m too much the intellectual
that my overanalyzing is perpetual
or better, someone who knows that’s just what I tell myself
when I really just don’t trust my judgement enough to go
with my first or second thought instead of my twelfth.

She’s not that person and I know it
I can’t trap her into my standards as easily as
she’s wrapped me around myself so that I fall over her every word.
But until I learn how to wish that person into existence, I’ll continue stumbling.

Coastal Pines

2005-02-16T04:22:59Z

How about a complete stylistic shift from the last post?

The cold droplets
soon became pellets of ice
whipped into my face
by winter gales

But I didn’t come this far to go back.

My hands were numbed
my eyes blinded
But I somehow found a
battered shell, empty of spring’s hope

I stared at it, resting in my palm
Completely mine. completely worthless
Closed my fingers around it
felt it transfer its pattern to my hand

And then I followed its path
Or my path? I made it.
watched it splash
among the capping waves
stumbled back towards my own path
and discovered I was surrounded by
more husks, these filled with seeds.
The sky lit up and the only thunder
of the day cleared my mind.

I had set out for the lake
and settled for the ocean.

Concrete

2005-02-13T23:34:50Z

I want a response so solid
I would break my hand
if I tried to fight it.
Concreteness.

I know how to deal
with concrete. It has its
borders and I have
mine and any attempt
to pass through ends in
scrapes and bruises

Flesh is (too) forgiving
allows for too many illicit
border crossings
when your guard is down

But right now, with your
patrol duties
your semiautomatic
prohibition
of the interaction I need to
stay sane your
gaze
(held barely too long)
still lets me glean
hope
I’d rather not have.

I’m losing myself as I
search for a
safe passage
Why can’t you just
build a wall?

And now we return to our regularly scheduled programming...

2005-01-24T06:00:01Z

If you think you're reading too much into this, you probably aren't. I'm more than willing to confirm or deny what it's about if you ask me.

Untitled (as of yet)

I don’t want this to be
another tired story of
a tragic hero who has had to hide
her supposed character flaw
since the day she realized
she could choose her interaction
with the world.

The metaphors of closets
and masks, and carpets
have lost their sweeping
shields and doors.
Because it isn’t that simple
it’s not something I can
compartmentalize then ignore.

And no weights have been lifted
from my pale shoulders
no shackles removed.
I was never anyone’s slave
but my own.
Which says little more than
I am myself.

I have been pounding on
the door to my own sanctuary,
the unfaithful lover crying out to
the betrayed romantic
begging for acceptance for far too long.
And with each reunion of raw knuckles
with slowly splintering wood, my resolve
weakens until the door swings
open
and we embrace.

Not more of the same

2005-01-18T06:00:58Z

I'm posting this because I haven't been feeling terribly creative recently, in truth, I've just been feeling terrible ("wow, this is one of the worst cases of strep that we've seen in Student Health in quite some time!"). I really enjoyed writing this essay, but fair warning, it might not make tons of sense if you haven't read "The Division of Labour in Society" by Emile Durkheim. Anyways, the prompt was sweet (in short- Analyze the importance of moral values in the past election with a Durkheimian perspective, conlcude by evaluating the plausability of this "structural functionalist" account.) and it managed to get an A out of my hardass of a sosc prof. I haven't incorporated any of his corrections yet, but, oh well. If the title itself doesn't scare you off reading it, I'll also warn you that its 6 pages double spaced, rather dry due to the fact that it's a sosc essay and my prof was constantly on my case for "overwriting," and on here mainly because the suspicious clicking of my harddrive has increased in frequency.

In the 2004 presidential elections, George W. Bush won with a clear majority of 51 percent, the first time a candidate has done so since his father, George H. W. Bush, in 1988. The polls taken of voters indicated that “moral values” were the basis upon which many voters cast their ballots. Viewing this event through a Durkheimian lens, it is the argument of this paper that the term “moral values” is an abstraction of the collective consciousness which results as organic solidarity increases and mechanical solidarity decreases. Further, this paper will argue that “moral values” can partially be seen as a conservative issue because of the difference in the perceptions of conservatives and liberals about the level of violence being done to the collective consciousness and the comparatively higher levels of mechanical solidarity in the areas that tend to vote conservatively. However, Durkheim’s analysis in this work ultimately fails to convincingly explain why “moral values” are so much more important to conservatives.

Emile Durkheim claims in The Division of Labour in Society that when the division of labor increases, “the individuality of the whole grows at the same time as that of the parts. Society becomes more effective in moving in concert, at the same time as each of its elements has more movements that are peculiarly its own. This solidarity resembles that observed in the higher animals..... Using this analogy, we propose to call ‘organic’ the solidarity that is due to the division of labour” (DLS 85). The United States overall has one of the highest levels of organic solidarity in the world, which can be seen by looking at the very high level of division of labor compared to other countries. He then argues, in reference to collective opinions in a society that is increasing in organic solidarity “Their unity no longer chimes with the divergences that have occurred. Thus they only sustain their existence successfully by taking on a more general meaning, and gradually die out” (DLS 121). Those divergences are apparent when looking at the American political spectrum today. While the term “moral values” is usually closely connected with “family values,” and hence, the religious right, that ignores the fact that the stances in direct opposition to the opinions of the religious right, such as pro-choice values and pro-gay marriage opinions are still “moral values.” While the specific issues cannot be resolved, there are very few individuals who would claim to be against “moral values.”

The necessary result of the increased divergence in opinion is the abstraction of the collective consciousness. Durkheim explains “this consciousness alters in nature as societies grow more immense. Because they are spread over a much vaster area, the common consciousness is itself forced to rise above all the local diversities, to dominate more the space available, and consequently to become more abstract” (DLS 230). “Moral values” is an abstraction of all the different issues mentioned above and all the different stances that can be taken on those issues. What has not been explained by this, however, is why the people who were more likely to actually say that they voted on moral values voted overwhelmingly for the conservatives in the election.

Durkheim argues that law is a manifestation of the common consciousness, in order to have a method for dealing with acts that offend the common consciousness and increase solidarity (DSL 35, 38-40). A Durkheimian analysis of the specific case of homosexuality would argue that gay marriage does not directly harm society, but is rather something that is prohibited to maintain solidarity (DSL 32). It is an issue which has been given a lot of press, and both sides have been heard often. On contrary opinions, Durkheim argues, “This is why a conviction opposed to our own cannot manifest itself before us without disturbing us. It is because at the same time as it penetrates into us, being antagonistic to all that it encounters, it provokes a veritable disorder. Undoubtedly, so long as the conflict breaks out only between abstract ideas there is nothing very painful about it because there is nothing very profound” (DLS 53).

However, gay marriage is not an abstract idea. Heated battles are being waged over it across the country and in the national mainstream political arena. Indeed, the harder gay rights activists fight, the harder the right is likely to push back. Durkheim remarks “As opposition is a danger that exacerbates [sentiments of collective consciousness], this strengthens their power of attraction” (DLS 58). The whole of the right does not even need to hold passionate opinions on the matter, as “the strength with which it is produced in each individual consciousness is reciprocated in every other consciousness. To acquire such an intensity for us, a collective sentiment need not even be felt already by us, by virtue of our own individual nature, for what we add to it, all in all, is very little” (DLS 55). In fact, the battle being pitched could be one that is utterly useless to society. Yet, as a result of it being turned into a rallying point by the religious right and our own president, it became one of those concepts that had no useful purpose in its conception, but “having survived, it becomes necessary for them to continue despite their irrationality” (DLS 62). So, instead of remaining an issue that many people hold an opinion on but do not pay much attention to, it as seen as a much more invasive concept, with much at stake.

Durkheim claims that when this occurs, “we do not allow, and cannot allow, violence to be done to it with impunity. Any assault upon it provokes an emotional reaction of a more or less violent nature, which is turned upon the assailant” (DLS 54). The “emotional reaction of a more or less violent nature” in this instance would be the eleven states’ bans on gay marriage and the election of a conservative president who pushed for a constitutional amendment to ban gay marriage. The conservative anti-gay and anti-abortion stances tend to be promoted most heavily by more religious individuals. These individuals feel, on the whole, that they have at least a bit of a personal stake in the issues, as the issues are seen as violence to their belief system. Liberals, on the other hand, have a tendency to be concerned if direct violations of human rights occur, meaning that they are less likely to see issues such as gay marriage as paramount in deciding their ballots.

The other clear Durkheimian explanation for “moral values” becoming a conservative concern is the comparatively higher levels of mechanical solidarity in the areas that tend to vote conservative. Durkheim claims that mechanical solidarity decreases as organic solidarity increases, because if mechanical solidarity is based on sameness and organic solidarity is based on difference, the two must be inversely related (DLS 105). The relevance of this is that the states that voted for George W. Bush as opposed to John Kerry tended to be more agricultural ones. The Heartland, the Midwest, and the South mainly went to Mr. Bush (red states), and the West and East coast went to Mr. Kerry (blue states). It is much more the case for people living in the blue states than in the red states that “Their natural and necessary environment is no longer that in which they were born, but that of their profession” (DLS 132). This is another indicator of a comparatively higher level of mechanical solidarity in the red states than in the blue states. Another common characteristic of the states that went to Mr. Bush is the low population density. Because they are mainly agricultural, the population density is not as high as it is on either coast. Durkheim proposes that “The division of labour varies in direct proportion to the volume and density of societies” (DLS 205). As such, there is more mechanical solidarity and less organic solidarity in the red states than in the blue states. This means that the common consciousness was more influential in those states, explaining in part the importance of “moral values” and why Mr. Bush won the election.

Within the discussion of the importance of mechanical solidarity in the current American political makeup, it is also necessary to discuss the importance of individualism. Durkheim argues “Collective life did not arise from individual life; on the contrary, it is the latter that emerged from the former” (DLS 220-221). He continues later on to argue that in societies with high levels of organic solidarity, “We deem intolerable a control we are no longer accustomed to. An acquired right to a greater autonomy is set up.” This gives a reason for the fact that almost all of the major urban centers in the country went blue. The more left-wing views on “moral values” are generally in support of the freedom of individuals to do what they wish. The left’s stances on abortion, on homosexuality, and on the death penalty are all rooted in individualism. This, however, is not given much weight until society has a high level of organic solidarity, as “the advance of the individual personality and that of the division of labour depend on the same cause” (DLS 336).

Furthermore, Durkheim maintains that “as society spreads out and becomes denser, it envelops the individual less tightly, and in consequence can restrain less efficiently the diverging tendencies that appear” (DLS 238). People in urban centers are less subject to scrutiny, meaning that people deemed immoral by religious standards face less pressure than those in the more rural areas of the country. He continues “the pressure of opinion is felt with less force in large population centres. It is because the attention of each individual is distracted in too many different directions,” meaning that individuals are perceived to have more rights and autonomy (DLS 239).

Despite the ability of structural functionalism to explain what happened in November in many ways, some serious objections must be raised. First, the level of organic solidarity in rural America cannot be ignored. When viewed in isolation, agricultural areas definitely have a lower level of the division of labor than urban areas, but they are a part of the American economic system and the global division of labor as a whole. They are still relatively advanced when compared with most of the rest of the world, implying that there is still a high level of organic solidarity. And, even if the indicators of organic solidarity and mechanical solidarity were even, organic solidarity exercises a stronger influence on society (DLS 105). The next flaw in the explanation is that the red states are by no means anti-individualistic. Places like Alaska are more libertarian than anything else, and there is a highly individualistic sentiment in reference to topics like the right to bear arms. This social fact goes directly against the idea of the blue states placing a higher emphasis on the individual, creating a conflict between the supposed level of division of labor and the supposed level of mechanical solidarity.

Finally, Durkheim argues that collective consciousness’ true transcendence of conditions should transcend not only those “individual particulars” but also that it should be “the same in north and south, in large towns and in small, and in different professions” (DLS 39). There is an easily viewable geographical voting pattern, and also a definite split between urban centers and rural areas, excluding Southern cities. Durkheim claims “It is true that local collective consciousness can retain their individuality within the general collective consciousness and that, since they encompass narrower horizons, they can more easily remain concrete,” but even this fails to explain the voting dynamic. The entire Heartland and South of the USA can hardly be considered local in the way that Durkheim intends. Rather, it seems that voting on “moral values” is less an issue of being part of a local community and more an issue of religion. This can be seen by analyzing large cities in the South like Birmingham. Birmingham has a very high level of organic solidarity due to it’s urban nature, yet is very socially conservative because of religion. The explanation for a religious solidarity that occurs with the same strength regardless of the level of the division of labor cannot be found in this book. Furthermore, non-religious rural voters placed less importance on “moral values” than their religious counterparts, meaning that their importance can not be viewed solely through analyzing levels of mechanical and organic solidarity.

Happy New Year.

2005-01-02T07:54:46Z

every room I went to
had those circle indents in the carpet
the kind that are revealed when you move furniture
that’s been sitting in the same place
for longer than anyone can remember

and my normal sock-footed slide
through the hardwood dining room
turned dangerous when
I nearly flew over
the table that had never been there

my mother’s youthful blonde hair
now comes from a bottle

the floral sheets
just look wrong on a bed which
has always had stripes

I wasn’t expecting everything
to be exactly how I left it
aside from a layer of dust

But I also wasn’t expecting
to be attempting to blend into the shadows
created by freshly painted walls

because I wouldn’t have guessed
that relocated furniture would make me
the object that’s out of place

Unconventional

2004-12-15T06:57:32Z

I don't usually do this, and I may pull this entry or make it private, or something within the next couple of days, depending on mood. But... the poetry format of this entry was far worse, I think, and I want to make sure I don't lose this if the mysterious clicking of what I think is my hard drive does indeed signify an impending crash. In fact, I'd suggest that you just don't bother reading.
Without further ado...

I’m discovering that for the first time in my life, I’ve found myself in the position of having a choice to write people off; and I’m actually taking the opportunity to do so. It’s a strange thing, to have gone through nearly 19 years on this planet, and to have not needed or wanted to really quit giving chances to people who haven’t committed absolutely egregious offenses toward me. More specifically, I find it interesting that I’m writing off people I would have earlier named as my friends, albeit not my very closest ones.

Why? I’m not entirely sure. Maybe college has made me more mature. It’s certainly taken away some of my naivete. But what I don’t know is whether that’s made me a better person. I was probably a better person before I started getting a taste of life outside my isolated suburban bubble, because then I had time for almost everyone who wanted it, and was willing to give people a lot of chances; I probably gave more chances than were deserved.

But somewhere between West Des Moines and Chicago, I got more impatient and less willing to put up with being mistreated. Perhaps it’s a good thing, an indicator that for once, I finally have a spine and am willing to stand up for myself. At the moment though, I’m just seeing it as a demonstration of the fact that I’ve become more jaded and callous, with a continually decreasing faith in human kind as a group, and to some extent, my own humanity.

That’s not accurate. It can’t be both at once, both human kind and my own humanity. If I’m losing faith in human kind, that should mean that I’m becoming more aware of my own humanity, because I’m becoming more disappointed with myself at the same time I’m becoming more disillusioned with the world, and ultimately for the same reasons. It’s merely a difference of scale. I’m not the person I want to be, and I’m not the person I’ve been. I’m disappointed with myself because when I take a step back and observe, I view me turning into the people that I’ve always loathed, those with no regard for others. I’ve spoken with people about this disillusionment with human kind, and everyone misinterprets what I’m saying and says, “Well, it’s just four years, it can’t be that bad.”

It’s not about the election, it’s not about George W. Bush. It’s not about red states, or evangelism, or the crumbling of the individualistic foundation of this country; it’s bigger than that. And it’s not about the genocides in Sudan, or the ones in Rwanda and Burundi that I was just reading about, or the poisoning of the Ukranian presidential candidate, though all of those play a role. I think the problem is that the more I learn about the world, the less I want to hear because I know it’s not likely to be good news. Ignorance really is bliss, sadly enough.

And what does all of this despondency about the world have to do with giving up on people? Well, on a personal, intimate level, it’s all related. I’m believing less in the goodness of people, and more in my own mortality. I’m realizing on a higher level that the time I have here is limited. So I’m being more selective about who I spend my time with. I give people a few chances, but if they don’t take any of them, I give up on them and move on–meaning that the bottom line is that on some level, I’m engaged in the same kind of uncaring selfishness that causes my unhappiness. Or maybe I’ve simply figured out at last how to defend myself from emotional vampires. It’s ultimately your call, though it should be mine.

Ironically, once I finished writing this, “Lost Cause” by Beck started playing. Even iTunes agrees with me.

From the archives... 2 fragments written relatively recently

2004-12-09T05:03:35Z

With a crimson anger
fueled by hypocrisy and evasiveness, I
set aflame the strings
that allowed her to manipulate me

and as I watch the flames
flicker and dance
they lash closer and closer to where
the numerous lines
held me enraptured
and then:
the painful recognition
that I've caused myself to get burned
--------------------------------------------------------

Before you acquired all the horses and
shields for your crusade to feed your hero fetish
did you stop to
think
that maybe they don’t want
their oppressor
as their salvation?

Useless, angsty, melodramatic garbage, what else have I ever posted??

2004-12-07T21:46:22Z

"Progress"

The workmen came today.
They told me “it’s just a small hole”
“it shouldn’t be a huge problem”
How reassuring.

“You’ll be gone when it happens”
that doesn’t change the fact that
You
are drilling in
My
space.

How is it that they do not understand
that I’ve grown quite used
to the way things are
and were supposed to be
and that I don’t want any new holes
or invasive procedures?

Size is not the point
my neatly compartmentalized world
is still getting torn apart
and I’m not even allowed
to witness the destruction
choking back a quiet protest
that would be ignored regardless

because it has to be “fixed”
it cannot continue to exist in its current form
as it has for an unmeasurable amount of time
more influential voices have dictated
“this has to be more convenient for us”
and as for me, and my space?
“Buy her silence.”
With useless gestures of placation
shiny currency with no real worth,
not when compared with
an undisturbed order.

safety gates

2004-11-19T05:53:59Z

Each goes by
with hushed whispers or barroom swaggers
tweed blazers, bowties
corporate status symbols, hornrimmed glasses
four dollar coffee
topshelf vodka
and driven, strident steps

“Well, you know Plato...”
“...Don’t we just need to strive harder for the laissez faire ideal?”

yes. keep on talking about the
world
in terms that avoid its truth
keep thinking in lofty theories
that have as much of a connection to society
as the beggar has to your gated community

your words and thoughts
don’t give him any more warmth on a wintry day
than the backdated newspapers he uses as
blankets

but you’re right.
when everything is discussed in language of Adorno this
and Aristotle that
it’s easier.
because the lazy, welfare receiving tax thieves
the white trash
the coloreds
the queers
and all the second class citizens that make up the great majority of the richest, freest civilization in history
are easily avoidable.

On a failure.

2004-11-12T01:54:51Z

The whole of society
rests upon foundations laid
by unskilled masons

As layer after layer is added
and the structures of relation
form jagged horizons
stretching to find their places
among the stars

that same foundation weakens
under the weight
of promises unkept
broken agreements
and unrecognized backroom deals

the question is not
will it happen?
But when?
Will it come crashing down upon
itself
a spectacular implosion of
ideologies, dogmas, and most important: difference
leaving behind only crushed rubble, shredded sacred texts
and glittering shards of stained glass
that reflect a still hopeful light
through the oppressive, choking dust.

More mid-math musings-- another page out of the same notebook

2004-11-11T18:52:23Z

Is it possible to be aware of a sensation
yet not know what it is?
The very idea defies
language and thus logic

words should be applied
or invented
until the sensation is defined

but cause
is not so easily derived
while gibberish can be created
and the feeling attributed to
gibberish
it doesn’t really do the tangibility of it all
any justice

for you haven’t really attributed a cause,
you’ve created one.

nonsensical is nonsensical, even if given a new name
and the only reason it could even be considered nonsensical
is because it’s merely the denial of truth.

Mid-math musings

2004-11-09T03:13:37Z

Focal Points?

When it takes this much effort to focus my eyes
it’s no surprise that mindful clarity
resembles a photograph taken as its subject passes
at 98 mph

staring blindly into reality interrupted
by dark black frames
sharp lines cut through an otherwise blurry picture

“I don’t know
if you could give us some helpful hints on what to
start with?”
“Well,
there are no helpful hints.”

So all we’ve really established is that there’s no
right way
to do things
meaning that I have a deadline
by which I need to figure out an answer
to a question without one.

Enigmas are fascinating because they have no solution

every attempt
to bring things back into focus
results in a further complication to the picture

the trick is that frames, which usually limit
an image to a confined space
so that it can be placed neatly on a wall
edges aligned with the floor
other walls
straight, regular lines

in this case serve no constraining purpose
reality exists inside and outside of them
so the lenses within can only clear up so much
a 2" x 1" space, two times over
yet the mysteries extend so much further beyond
a four inch block.

Inward vs. Outward

2004-08-29T06:30:36Z

This was written at work after a terrible week and then a burn from a 350 degree surface. I love the fact that I had a job that allowed me to sit outside, flip out, and stare at the rain. Regardless, it's an experiment in stream of consciousness writing, which I'd never tried before.

Free thought:

I feel the heat against my hand and watch my skin disintegrate
I pull back instinctively or because im a coward
and I look at myself, cooked like the animals that I no longer eat
having done a better job searing my knuckles
than French chefs do with veal.
Pain is truth.

Sitting against a brick wall I see rain in the air but none on the ground.
So I wait
Long after it should have, the pavement changes colors as water spots turn to solid shades and I notice the lukewarm droplets on my forearms as verification of my existence, my ability to feel something other than a lingering burn

The space in front of my unfocused eyes turns from plain to blue to grey to green to plain again. I stop and look up at yellow, expecting to see the sun, but my mind is playing tricks on me once I focus on the light its gone.
I focus harder on unfocusing to see if I can turn the world red or black. I can't.

I don't know how long I've been sitting motionless against the same brick wall on the same cement patch with the same empty expression on my face and in my eyes. the color changes may have lasted for seconds minutes or hours but seconds are minutes and minutes are hours, theres no way to gauge when looking straight forward and seeing nothing. time is just another way to make sure that there's some sort of systematic pattern to my random bursts of thought and action.

I can no longer tell whether it looks like rain because of the water in my eyes or whether the drops on my skin came from a source other than me. The separation between myself and not myself between internal and external between going through the motions and living isnt there. the sounds of the occasional raindrop could as easily be my heartbeat.

it hits so hard it bounces off the pavement. i want it to be bouncing off Me.
i am numb.

i can know i exist as an entity by looking down and watching the rain streak my khakis but that only proves i have a body, a shell, and could easily be hollow on the inside. perhaps i am.

the rain starts to come faster, harder, rebounding higher, hitting stronger. water pools. maybe a flood will occur, i want a flood, i want there to be an overload, an impossible, incalculable mass amount of something, anything, because it would mean that i'm not empty

Instead
I stand with my face pressed against the window, divided, a watcher not an actor, unable to break through, to slam through the glass watch the shards slash my fingers feel the rain no see the rain wash red hot down my arms send it to the ground in torrents and scream

scream in pain in fury in frustration unmuted untempered for all the screams that have never been unleashed in a lifetime.
howl at the sky with the cry of both the betrayer and the betrayed
pure emotion converted into intolerable soundwaves loud enough to be heard by all who ever had a stake in my vibrance and then some loud enough to drown out the competing thunder loud enough to stop all of the machines and the people that had ever tried to control me, ever tried to control anyone ever tried to assert their own self righteous sanctimounious sense of being right in their superficial steps

None of that will happen. I don't have the nerve

I let the opportunity pass, like I've let so many others, like so many opportunities have turned the tables and passed me. It wouldn't have been worth it, i wouldn't have been worth it, never have been

My world is grey.
no passion no fury no vibrancy no commitment no sunniness no anger no rejuvenation no rebirth.

Grey.

Filtration:
I burned myself at work today- hurts like a bitch. It's raining. And I'm losing my mind.

Futility (Revised Dec 07, 2004)

2004-08-26T05:36:05Z

Mid August

The crisp green leaf
slowly fades to brown

and spirals to the grass
deceived by a premature cold spell
with little regard for its effect on crisp green
leaves

the sky
shades of civil war uniforms
constant clashes of dark blues and greys
and clouds doing their best to outpace airplanes
as they speed across the sky because of

the wind as it
catches the fallen leaf and lifts it
up
trying desperately to return it to its rightful place

but gusts are sudden
and as soon as they arrive, they die
much like green soldiers
or even green leaves.

Night Vision

2004-05-30T07:29:03Z

Droplets hit
forming miniature canyons
supported by hydrostatic walls
only to be swept away
by rhythmic repetition

Brilliant shades of anger
lash out
sear through the clouds
My eyes dilate
and I’m blind

But in the flash
the darkness disappears
the world is illuminated
and in a fleeting, shifting window
the shadows can no longer conceal.

Upon Having Swerved a Non-Second Too Late

2004-05-14T06:41:07Z

Upon Having Swerved a Non-second Too Late

Stopped.
On the side of the road
Hazard Lights flashing
until the battery dies
and the car along with it.

Window down–no, door open
hunched crouched poised leaning
over the edge
for the waves of emotion and maybe toast straining
to pour forth from mouth

unable to Witness again
the fractured sight in the rearview mirror
A broken marionette tumbling down the hill
except marionettes shouldn’t bleed.

October 22, 2002

2004-04-11T03:37:27Z

The open daily scripture
dated a month before she left

The crisp shirts hung
exactly as they should be
if she were coming home

all those small details
unmoved
but probably not untouched

Too present reminders
of how much
and how little
has changed in a year and a half
since her death.

An option for fragment 1

2004-03-18T02:47:09Z

In these times when might makes right
and the right can easily be wrong
the world has taken a turn for the worse
petroplaning across an oil slick
with an inexperienced maverick at the wheel

“Riding shotgun”
hasn’t been taken this literally since the days
when a stuffed bear quietly ruled our hemisphere
with a very big stick.
It’s a rough ride once again.

I would hope that the bodies of innocents
act as powerful speed bumps
for our joyriding president.
but the shock of the world doesn’t seem to impact
his suspension
of morality;
nor do speed limits work when no one is watching

Someone needs to police the “world’s policeman”
halt his reckless endangerment of the globe.
Because problems come when
the scaremongers win
And the biggest epiphanies
are found at the end of a gun.

Fragment 4

2004-03-18T02:14:47Z

Everyone tries to interpret the nonexistent
and make sense of the spaces

gaps

and omissions

But how am I supposed to read between the lines
when no one follows the script?