Archive for March, 2009


Mar 26 2009 Published by under Words

Having a purpose can be a far greater obstacle to living the lives we want to live,
Having motives can keep us from the experiences we truly desire,

Rather than having none at all.

Fixation without flexibility, obstinacy beyond obsession, unbalanced,
Tears through creativity and shears through all forms of potential.
The necessary preconditional qualities that allow us to transition through normalcy
Into realms beyond our accrued experience cannot withstand the rigidity.
Melting away, crumbling beneath pressure,
Attention and plasticity are numbed to the point of shattering.

Needless expectations run amok allowing and encouraging
Defeat to rear it’s ugly head all too often.
Self-sabotaging traps set to ensnare a future incarnation,
Inevitably succeed in catching their prey.
Forgetfully transfixing, unheeded and ignored,
They chip away, bit by bit, at the foundations of our souls.

Contagious, heritable, both socially and informationally.
They persist long after the original hosts have taken their last breath.
And yet we still believe them to be ours,
Never realizing the true extent of their victims.

Deceptive and perverting, they twist the threads of truth into a binding rope,
Cutting into the flesh of all who grow beyond its bounds,
Giving birth to the most harmful people that walk the earth:

Those who believe their ideas are all their own.

No responses yet


Mar 05 2009 Published by under Words

Why do we clutch so dearly to abstract representations of a nonexistant past?
Why do we turn our minds away from all that actually is?
Why do we record, maintain, prepare, plan, describe, and defer, barely breaching beyond the bounds of a barren band of thought?
Have we chosen to become mere fictions, caught in a constant whirlwind of vacuous habitual tendency?
Are we stuck in the somnambulant fatalistic nightmares of our own creation,
Momentarily shaken awake ever so often by a genuine act or presence that dares to tear through our dearly held cultural insanities?

No. We are not.

It just might be that we are the nothingness amid everything.
The ubiquitous silent prescence, allowing all there is to be.
That which we are is not a role, nor a fiction.
We are that which allows the fiction to take place.
We are as directors and writers, the stagehands and opera house,
Rather than the characters and story being portrayed.
Composers and musicians rather than the songs.
Words rather than lies.
We are all there is, and all there is, is us.

Inseparable, unalienable, indivisible, eternal.

No responses yet

Modalities of Convenience

Mar 04 2009 Published by under Words

To the only thoughts worth thinking we give the least attention,
To the only acts worth performing we commit the least resolve,
To the only goals worth pursuing we devote the least effort,
To the only words worth speaking we allow the least expression,
We grew to be this way, but how?

What divine conspiracy is it that our conscious minds must sway every moment of every waking day?
Might it just be the frequent inclination of every human soul to wallow in distraction,
In endless degradation…

Might it be that we not only reinforce this behaviour,
But reward it consistently with interactions,
Meagre transactions of sensual stimulation upon preoccupations of self-deception.

We do.
We are.

We’re aware of it completely.
But is there anything we can do about them?
These roles, whether given or taken, can only take us so far.
Should we find new ones?


That wouldn’t change anything.
Should we cast them all away?
Son. Daughter. Student. Mother.
Teacher. Brother. Father. Sister.
Winner. Loser. Lover. Hater.
Do we as individuals really need them?

No, we don’t.

They are modalities of interaction conveniently serving social functions.
Nothing more.
The products of hermaphroditic parasites,
That cannot stand their own sperm.
But instead seek the DNA from a mate,
Giving birth to what we know as otherness.

Most societies that grow from these parasites are nothing but empty promises
Built upon the foundations of fictional entities that never once truly existed and never will.
Like miasmal dreams they sweep across the collective consciousness of generations,
And like all other illusions of this nature,
The unknowing creators will eventually become fully aware of what has been wrought.
It will fade away.
As will “we”, as will every “thing”.
Only the absence of nothing will remain,
Just as it always and in all ways has.

No responses yet