Analog Life.

Why is it every time I try to bring these silly things back, no one else seems interested?
Someone feel like dusting off some analog hard copy?  Maybe 200 characters with out a break, 250?  What would you say?
How would you feel if you had to wait a week to hear me?  Would you wait?  Would you care?
Maybe soon, when my silly new website is up, you may care.

Homeless.

I’m not saying I'm happy, because in some ways I'm not.

I'm not saying I'm sad, because really I'm not.

Its complicated. Homeless and fearless. My place was taken out from under me.

I'm just falling. Where did my net go? Here I find someone has been cutting holes in it for years.

Mindless holes, with only a selfish thought. Taking wicked pleasure in ever snip.

Finding your worth like the vampire and the cat. Sucking and feeding, tricking and needing.

Middle ground, sitting down. Maybe the race is over, maybe its just my three leaf clover.

Come quick, little gun. Signal start of all the fun. Let us be, let us run. Let all this mess be done.

Green Dreams

Waking driftings, nothing holding me down. Just a blur, just a passing frown. Green dreams of my children’s eyes. An imagine that makes me want to drop to my knees. Some thoughts are so big you cant think them. Some dreams are so crisp overcast glow, then burn your eyes. Then shine like ravens in battlefield skies. Dead ends are so mystifying to us, aren’t they? We always love to see that cliff or wall. But sometimes all I want to see is what lies behind it. What is it in me that drives such flagellation of other lives when all I have is now. Maybe it is in such that I allow myself to see what I hid from myself in my heart.

Pan en, then… Is that enough? Do we need more? Pan en pain, pan en tears, pan en silver light’s caresses. Theos en pan.

How can I turn wrong in such purity? Then why still fear my maturity? I guess that’s the lesson in these green dreams. Fear is not in my heart. The skies are overcast but wrap around us like angels wings. How can any of this be real when it feels so easy, so right. Just like in dreams when nothing seems to connect, and no one seems to notice, least of all the dreamer. What is the lesson if not that its very disconnected flow is a sacred Chao. What level do we perceive from? The Chao is a unique snowflake in Chaos blizzards dance. And oh how it dances and flows to its own beautiful music. Some can see past Chao and its twins, with grids of majesty and tearful power. Sometimes I can see the fragments spinning in my life and just accept them as they are. They still glint from the light source, for all fragments shine. Lost nows. It is these that we hold on to so tightly that we cut ourselves. Nows that can never be lost but in our hearts. When we despair of the break from now, and the pattern it follows. Will its edges be jagged or smooth? Will they be sharp or course? Gentle or hard?

But what, then, is this but window dressing? Would we scoff at The Three Graces if placed in the window of a Burger King? Would Monet’s fire be any less if placed in a rough hewn frame? Why do we dance so in the frames of our lives… All still shines from the soft sweet light at its center…

All I wonder about now… am I falling into it, or away from it? Do fragments spin away? Or past?

Time will tell… Time will tell.

Time, and the becoming there of

Every time I feel sure, again nothing is as it seems. Cold metal a forgotten dream. Now warm and liquid, now glowing from within with golden rays, quietly, faintly. But even the candle rages an inferno in the dark, cold, night. Now we count the days as they pass. The hours shift around in the stack, and only a few seem worth looking forward to. Oh how time changes us. But its all just an illusion. On how many levels? That the question, I guess.

Bridges rise and fall on the wind, and the torch follows its will, not mine. Ashes and dust replace mighty noble strength. And the wheel turns and all things return. But not for oh so long...

I know not what the morrow gifts us, but I can say, that for now, I am happy. I don't want to label this, I just want it to live on forever. Trust is something I will never give up on. I still give it away at every turn. I'm following my guiding star, and she will always keep me safe.

Taken

I don’t know how to feel. Your perfect, your taken. Should I be sad that I most likely never see you again? Should I be happy that your out there? That there are a million just like you. Goodness you had me entranced tonight.

Its okay, after the passing of the past, after the dispelling of Nuria’s enchantment, thank you for showing me magic is real. Curse you for showing me such magic and then walking away. I’m sorry, that’s not fair of me. Its just my loneliness speaking, its just your eyes dancing in my minds eye.

Today I turn 23. Can you imagine? Why do I still feel like a child? Today I swear I stand unashamed. Today I am calling out my demons. Come stand and show your cards. I am a man grown, full of love and a need to be close to a woman. I want to hold you in my arms, and kiss you gently, and send you to the edge of madness, send you to the edge of sanity, go with you to the extreme of pleasure. Today I am unashamed. I stand up for my right to love and be loved. The days of fear and loathing are past.

But.. your taken.. such a shame. I can say is, that man is a lucky man. Does he even know? Its amazing how I can’t get away with anything anymore. I complain that I feel isolated, and the next night there is 12 people over. I say goodbye to Nuria, and who is this angel at my door?

I’m not mad, I think I’m happy. I’m very happy. Its just a sign, but it’s a powerful one. I can’t help these feelings, I always have them, but today I am unashamed. I am 23, and a man, and full of desire. I need to hold, I need to love, I need.

Driver, Oh Driver

I would like to get off this ride. Maybe I never want it to end. Where did I go? How do I just do things and just watch? Sometimes I feel like I'm just watching, like someone else is the real pilot. I'm just hanging on the back of the plane, watching the air move past. Feeling as it rushes over me, touching with spectral tendrils. I know this happens, it doesn't bother me, I don't even know who's talking right now. Is it the One? Or the Me? I guess it's how you define 'me'. I've lost my dictionary, I just knows what feels right. And when it doesn't. I hid so far away, all night. Who did I send out on point then? Someone has to drive this crazy train.

Truth is a bar of a Starsoul. When it is gift wrapped in a soft cloth and given as a offering, it will always be pure. We simply react to its blinding light through our little red glasses. We all wear dozens of them at a time, each a slightly different color. They dance in our eyes and we do not see them. Sometimes the brilliance is blinding, so we let our glass grow cloudy. Sometimes the aurora will dance in colors we cant see, even through the clearest glass. But rarely do we see all the spectrum of the radiance at once. Its always wise to never trust your lenses, and I have. But it will cost. Today it will, but this is just the steps along the way.

Trade winds

The things that come out of my mouth. My god, if only I would listen to myself. Does it make me a hypocrite to preach the things that I can't practice? To tell someone that its easy to overcome things that I myself shy away from? No, that's not fair... I sometimes am filled with fear and doubt, but rarely do I let it cripple me like it used to. Do I just show a path that I too am on? I'm moving slowly, but I'm on my way home. You may beat me there, my dear, you may. But its no race, we all move at our own pace.

No, its okay. Words are easy, actions are hard. That's why actions speak so much louder, they have such power. Words are not but wind. But think of all that the winds can do. It may push my little dream boat to Elysium. Is that the destination? I just don't know. But I can tell you this, my dear, it's our destiny. All the currents push toward the tower, but we'll never know until we hall anchor and sail. Why do we fear the reefs and whirlpools? Its written in the stars, my dear, it is. If only we would raise our eyes from the horizon, and look to the stars.

Actual Fantasy

I live in a world of fantasies, how terribly normal they are.  Nothing holds me back besides my own thoughts.  Always battling with my thoughts, my expectations, my wishes.  Who am I fighting?  I'm fighting on both sides, its a civil war, with Artillery.  Just tossing mindless bombs, uncaring where they land, knowing that it doesn't really matter, in the end I will hit something important and cause yet another halt.  It was once said, all wars are civil.  At once it is the greatest truth and worst sick joke the world has ever seen, depeneding on the meaning.  All wars are civil because all wars are with oneself, projected outward, or worse still, focused inward.  But no war is civil.  All wars are horrible things, with no true winner, and oh so many losers... Losers without number, mothers weeping alone in dark places, fathers with dead eyes, brothers with heavy hearts, sisters with warm silent tears, and yourself.  Inside we are all of these things.  So imagine the destruction of a war turned inward.  Imagine being on both sides of a war, imagine every blow to be one to your soul.

I'm done standing in my own way.  I'm done with these wars of our fathers.  There is in this world such a thing as nonlinear shift in any system.  We see it all the time, where logic and structure brake down.  Sometimes its at the ends and beginnings, sometimes just at random places.  The moment before change, great change, feels much like any other, normal, boring, unimportant.  The second before the spark ignites a twig, sets off a branch, lights a tree, burns a forest.  Such a small place in time and space, such a small thing, and even before it is a small thing, even before it is, it was nothing.  Just another peaceful moment in a forest, the birds singing, the flowers embracing the sun with out a care.  Just another moment like so many others.

There needs to be no progression; that is a system I look for in nature.  Its what I seek so that's what I find.  What else would I see if I got out of the way?  What else would I see if "I" got out of the way?  Where does fantasy end and reality begin?  Can you point to a place and say "Here, this is it."?  I can't, just as I see the world I see past the world, because I am in my perception of the world.  My perception is the world.  So why do I perceive a world of linier expansion?  Easy, because I expect to see it, so the better question is why do I perceive a world of liner expansion?  Its a long and boring answer, and maybe its not worth going into.  Why give it all more energy then it already steals, quick and silent and so seductive.  The best question of all is why not stop?

Secrets are best when shared.  This is not a contradiction.

The war is done.  This moment needs no deflection, no conflict.  It can be that easy.

Missing

There is something I feel like I am missing, yet I know its something I have. I do have it, but its not enough. I am constantly surprised at myself. I’m no fool, yet sometime I feel like one. I’m not blind, yet I don’t see what you see. My world is a very different place then yours. Its okay, I love it here. I wouldn’t have it any other way. I just wish I would remember when in Rome, do as the Romans. I’ve let it cause some trouble now and again, but its also worth remembering that I am the stranger in a strange land. Do I have a home of my own? Where we can speak the same language, where we can just be. Its out there somewhere, I like to think I can feel you out there sometimes, calling me. Sometimes I like to think that you hear me when I call back. I say that as if its not true, how do I know you don’t?
When I look up at the sliver of a sliver new moon rising over the mountains. When I see its reflection dancing in the mirror. When the mud hens give me that look with their outrageously absurd face. It doesn’t feel so crazy an idea. What is crazy? There’s no such thing, there is just normal and abnormal. Statistics and majorities. The world tries to call me weird, and that’s fine with me. I would tend to agree with them, the truth is I am unusual. But the world does some very bizarre things too. There was a time, for thousands of years no doubt, where left-handed kids were thought to be simply obstinate. We used to tie children’s left hand behind their backs and make them write “the right way”. It sometimes makes me chuckle a bit, at the silliness of it all. There is no sense in thinking in absolutes like that. Right and wrong are equally illusionary. So am I wrong to think these thoughts? How could I be?
Here’s a secret that no one knows. I used to dream of an angel, Victoria. She would come visit at night as the world dissolved away, watching over me. I remember her wings, feathers long and white. Her face, always obscured, by haze or vale. She was secretive and sly, with a little smile, confident and enigmatic. Not a being one takes lightly. There was no singers or harps, just a quiet attendance. She was my focus, my talisman, and it was thoughts of her I used to still a ever flowing mind.
I tried so hard to believe my dreams were real. I tried so hard to believe my own lie. Some lies feel oh so good. Lies of caring and friendship, peace and grace. I miss her lies, or are they my lies? It doesn’t matter, she hasn’t visited in so long now. But there were others that took her place. Or did they? Maybe it was always her, just in a different guise. No matter, they have all fled, others occupy my twilight hour. Do I wait for her return? Should I call for the missing? A congregation of dreams. A counsel of fragments. What tune will we sing?

On Greatness

The world was once a mysterious place. There was a time, not that long ago, where legends walked the earth. A time where magic happened every day, just out of sight. When it was thought that the Holy Grail was real, a hidden and guarded secret. All one had to do was look hard enough and you could find immortality. At least as a legend in your own right. The man who did such a great deed would forever be remembered in song and story. Can you imagine such a world? Think of the people who set out to find such things, to explore unknown places, to find greatness. But the sad truth is most never found much, never achieved glory. What does it say about humanity? It comforts me to think about people braving imposable odds on not but a wish, a dream. People who set out into the blackest part of the map, faced real peril, for a chance at something greater. People who risked all, and lost, for nothing but hope… And then others followed in their footsteps, knowing the dangers, risking all again.

How small my gambles appear, how diminutive my dangers, how insignificant my troubles. All I risk is pain, how does that compare to life? All I could lose is dreams, and if I lose, my old life still awaits me. How easy life feels all of a sudden. And what do I hope for? The same things as the great ones who have passed before me. I dream of love and serenity, peace and joy, freedom and fulfillment. These are common dreams to humanity, and I dream them nightly. I think of the pioneers who settled the west. How they burned their bridges when they choose to trust in hope. I think how they wagered all for the same things as I, for hope. And there was no going back for them… Do or die.

Even the great treasure seekers were not so different. Because, you see, I don’t think they really wished for glory, fame and riches. These are not dreams in their own right, they are just one outer shell of true happiness. One of many. These are concepts that overlay a basic ideal: an easy life, a fulfilled life. But something does feel different now…

Has the modern world changed something fundamental inside us all? I wish I could say that it hasn’t, but I am starting to wonder… Have we lost touch with hope? There are still great doers, great dreamers, but has the average man lost something? I can think back to so many times where I lost because I never played. And why? Because I wouldn’t ante up. You still have to wager to win… that hasn’t changed, and I hope it never will. But how I greave for what could have been, if fear hand not paralyzed my actions. Is our attachment to the current state of affairs far greater now then our aspirations for what could be? For what will be? Are we existing from day to day, amassing and acquiring, our greatest hope simply not to lose what we already have?

There was a time when I lived this way, not that long ago. But how ineffectual… All structures are unstable, all forms dissolve and change. Chaos rules the world, but that’s not a cynical thing to say. Order is an illusion in our minds, its just a mental concept we attach to things. How strange it is to fight disorder. Its not a fight you can ever win, because it’s a fight with your own perceptions. Its amazing how I would rather cling to a supposed sure thing then risk greatness. Only because of a questionable outcome, will the new state of being be worse then the current one? Maybe… But how did I let that be the end of the conversation? How could I not ask myself, will the new state of being be better then the current one? How could I not let that be the balance for every silly anxiety that had me?

Things are different now. I wish I could say “no fear anymore”… But that would be a lie. Its easy to see these things and know these things, but in the moment of truth… do I still listen to that old voice? Its so seductive, so safe and easy simply to give in. Its been said that bravery is doing something even if your afraid. To disregard that twinge inside and push forward. People of old did it, in the face of great hardship. Surly they were afraid. How could I fail to do the same? And in the face of so little opposition. I’m almost ashamed of my past... But its not the end of the story. I can strive to better myself. Strive for greatness.