Tagged: nature

Sedimentary Chest Cavity

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weeds, onion shoots
growing from the side
of abandoned dirt roads
careless carbon, without consciousness

not content nor contempt,
just being
energy in the atmosphere

always we press on
with the force, their breath
moving us through
eternity

the yoke splattered on my shirt
subtle reminders
that the soil and my soul
aren’t so damned different

and acidic pieces of death
in the air
passing through
keeps me moving
keeps me alive

the potholes 
keep me awake
on my long drive through Hell.

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The World in “Why?”

An open letter to critical thinking.

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 The same sights, the same sacred, lonely people. The same puddles, trees, cars.  I’m stuck in another cage. Is this all there is? Transcending through one cage after another, imagining some framework to progress, but we don’t move progress or regress. We move horizontally, shifting to a different cage, but still just as trapped as when we started.

There are varying grades of containment. In the heart of the woods, on the ocean front, at the mountain slopes, forgotten wetlands, I feel most free. The natural is fleeting landmarks to human spirituality. Simultaneously cruel and nurturing. A multitude of spiritual paradoxes deep within despite whether or not we know or acknowledge it.

I reach out to expand, to grow, but they’ve clipped my wings, they push my curious head back into my cage. They obstruct the view of potential in the outside world and I can’t have it. I’m ready to pull my hair out, to mutilate, disfigure, until someone listens.

There’s something to this. The self-expression, a window to Aristotle’s divine manifestation, (http://classics.mit.edu/Plato/republic.3.ii.html) and though I’m stuck in a cage in nature, I’m closer to transcending than ever.

Reality consists of perspective.

Death is not a thing to be feared, death is not something to be cherished.

It is simply the unknown. We only have one life, but we’re contained by the limitations of our body,

we can’t imagine what it would be like to be free of our aging bodies, but we’ve been given an opportunity.

A break from the eternal after. A chance to suffer, to show who we are, and what we’re willing to do with the chords that chime so intimately.

Proving what our love can do in another realm from the norm. We have all of eternity to be in the bliss of after, this is our chance to suffer, and have something to show for it.

This is the time to discover Humanity.  If you can, please, try something new today. Open a book about a subject you haven’t explored, a genre of music or literature.

Please anything to stimulate the mind. There’s so much to learn in the folds of history, so many skills mastered through the practice. It is a constant struggle to keep the mind elastic, but learning to be flexible in every facet of one’s life is an important, fulfilling skill. Curiosity trumps all.

The Trial and Conviction

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Limbs crack and break

Under grey

Cottage cheese snow

And the woods transformed

Into a barren battlefield

Fallen foe and friend

Frozen and forgotten on

The forest floor

In the end

the littered cigarette buds,

 plastic coated coffee cups,

the subconscious transaction

of future for convenience

Will be tried

as murder.

We all take a sip,

When we choke on air,

swallow toxic cake

whole.

Water thicker than ash

Slowly waiting

For lead poisoning

To take us all

Finding Blood in the Wreckage

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 He is a creation of mine

A figurative shit

I forced onto the page

Blowing a gasket

How much pleasure does it take

Before it isn’t about love anymore?

How man slits before the wrists

Are no longer clenching an escape rout?

There is a green fog

Fallen through the tree canopies

Into the indignant

Hazed mind

I want the music

Mindset, words

That makes stone walls crack

That makes men feel.

The Enigma of the Grey Page

stock-photo-wood-textured-backgrounds-in-a-room-interior-on-the-forest-backgrounds-114391438Tripping over the sprouting roots

Peeled

And sprouting from my psyche.

Looking for meaning

Within the incessant questioning

Why?

Mother’s crying behind bruises

Why?

The flair of fish belly

And the ocean is a barren

Toxic desert

Why?

Work, Class, Love, Work, Class

Through the wrong lens

Liberty is prison

Why?

The hand that once nurtured

Strangles smothers

The flowers are all dead

Why?

It doesn’t get better

We just keep asking

Why?

More Than Flesh

stock-photo-light-mediation-on-water-299497922Tripping over protruding root

Mother’s passive aggressive revenge

Broken branches like compound fractures

The hurricanes scream with

Cracking evergreens, aspens

Creasing trees and cannon balling ship masts

Falling soldiers, stiff with rigor mortis

Sabers of lightning

And sparking gunfire

Kamikaze forestry

Dry cracking birches

Like snapping muzzle fire

Squatting in the green

Burning down to the filter

Deep in meditation

What does it mean

To penetrate deeper than flesh;

To be further connected with the soul

Ram Dass,

You hit the flint

But they’re the ones

To burn down the town

Scorned Earth and my Feet in the Mud

When things are rough, [creativity/ingenuity/resourcefulness] will keep you afloat. In times of calm, it will allow you to fly.

via Musings — Dirty Sci-Fi Buddha

 

Love the image, love the message, and love the way it’s composed. We need more of this on the internet my friend.

 

And I’m reminded of the words of our forefathers

The great Emerson, Thoreau, London

The sermon of resourcefulness

And we could all be Robinson Crusoes

Drifting away on tropical clouds

High above the scorned earth

The hurricanes

I usually describe my process as working on new material, hitting a wall, then working through a self-critical phase, and then the break through. The moment when I remember why writing was the choice I made.

It makes considering the process of change. One identifies a problem, as one thinks through the process to change that problem, as one receives more feedback (more practice in their craft) they begin to understand how to work the feedback into their work, and they change.

On paper it’s simple, but I surprise myself each day over how easy it is to lose perspective.