The Pillars of Creation Cry Crocodile Tears

 

I wear my angst like a heavy old robe

Threadbare and comfortable

But it weighs me down in the morning

Keeping me mourning

For my unmade, unslept in,  fuckless bed

I get up off the treadmilled wrestling mat
And greet the day
Wrapped in robed dysphoria like a gremlin's security blanket

Tangled in wet hair and old coffee stains

The Jesus in my toast unbuttered

And burnt on one side.

But I like the occasional Spartan meal
Cooked in the bonfire of my vanity
Ashes make good fertilizer

Why do you refuse to see me?

Why do you need to believe I am what I am not
And not what I am?

You'd never sacrifice the lamb

Of those Gods you don't know,
But me you won't trust or understand

My trail of dust you'd toss

Heads up,
You win

Throw that confederate coin in Nietzsche's garbage bin.
All that glitters is not gold
Better dead than read,
Right, Red?

Garbage bin...

I have been

Garbage

Been so long

Too long in

In this been's bin.

That what you want?
To remember me as something you forgot?

Or to forget that you remember me?

One thing

I am
NOT
is a knot

A tight white Gordian fist of Fury

The Five fingered-strangle hold on man's desire...

My expiration date long ago transpired

Through the stomata of my Venus Fly trap mind

I was born of chloroform
My Tabula Rasa

Is a vacuum

My colorless, formless sweet smelling seduction

Evanescing into a vapor of chlorophyll green.

Making everything old new again.

I am the rebirth of the slick

A Wayne Gretzky white hat trick
Problem is the good guys don't always wear their hats white
or sing their notes blue

But...
I see you

I see through the fog
of
Shadows
And the prisms of trapped light
When I can
And
I can can
with a flapper's delight

I can

Can see

See you

I C U

I see of you
In you
Through you

You're the something that wants to be nothing.

I'm the nothing that's longing for something.

Because I know the yin needs the yang.

And no Tao's mountain fortress
of orange monk Tang
dynasty

Can ever deny
The sigh

Of the Desert's thirst.

Or the tremble
Of the rock at the touch of a leaf.

I have heard the Sky cry in the arms of the Night

I have felt the Ocean pound its pulse desperately on the Shore

Begging it for more...

More tide

More ride

More love.

You do miss understand.

Misunderstand.

Don't you miss understanding

The misunderstandings?

I sense this as clearly as stars sing out in dayglo bright:

Your flight

From sight and sound and mind

Is like a tuneless rhyme

You don't need a white face to be a mime

The roiling Sea of Life

Does not require us to run from strife

Or to run toward it

We just float on it

With our dead-pan dead man stride
Stroking

And our lotus blossom eyes

Look skyward

But that is the same as looking inward.

You and I and the night and the music

And the grass and the shade and the sun

And the storms and the lulls

And the streams of every nebula's cloudy dream

Are all one

Without division

There is no need

To unbecome

The deed is done

The seed is gone

We all are one...

We are all one...