Carried Away (A Poem)

Carried Away

Scattered leaves,
various shades of chrome-yellow, and currant,
stream endlessly, carried away by the current
over and over again leaves pass, not
too dissimilar to discern the difference.
However, without the underlying knowledge that
there is change, there would only be insanity –
Still, the water, seamlessly drifts –
flashes of silver and white water rush to
the surface, rippling wakes
that never completely dissipate,
but eventually reach the shore.
It’s like this.
BNSF thunders and howls,
trees thrash,
wind ripples molecules
and you sit, sturdy enough to
not fall over, though on the edge
of some kind of breakthrough
that just gets missed and
carried away like the

breath on the wind.

Seriously, Again? (A Haibun)

How many times have i been a changed man

apparently   transformative forces are weaker than habitual ones

because everytime i think i’ve freed my  mind i keep going back to the way it was gradually usually, which is what makes it so hard to see

i start with this amazing energy and slowly i get the better of me

i once heard a paraphrase of a quote that went something like; if a bird thought the sky ended   he would stop flying. if a fish thought the sea stopped, he would swim no further

expanding your mind goes further than acquiring knowledge it’s having the faith that consciousness is limitless

it’s then that i notice that i haven’t noticed my feet hitting the ground

i’m walking   going through the motions completely unaware

how do you get in touch with that?

so as i stop to focus my attention on the inattention:

 

Above nighttime clouds a jetliner

Thunders

 

tireless, a finch chatters.

 

i laugh as i pass, there i go taking myself seriously again.

 


 

dog walking 

A Digital Nature

Billowing pink ephemera

mushrooms into bloated intestines

stuck within a generation

draped within the darkness of

ignorance i’m sticking to

technology

I was walking down the street the other day, looking into people’s houses, it was amazing they all, no matter how scummy, all had 58” or better flat screen TVs posted on the wall. As I passed stuck on the screen was the end of a political ad;

president trump was a saint

whose feet hung in midair,

his two finger pistols pointed, one at a brown immigrant lady

begging for the opportunity, so that

one day maybe her grandkids could be the next generation of spoiled american brat.

The other finger pointed at a bald eagle

the book of christ at his feet

heavenly clouds shine rays of celestial omniscience.

he had a special look of not really caring at all on his face, and i thought that’s where it’s at. i want to live like the white trash.

Did you know that at some point in your life

technological advances will surpass your intellectual capacity,

at which point your fucked.

obsolete

i want to get back to the land.

i want to work the soil,

sweat and toil,

i want to be intertwined with natures spoil,

the land i work will grow old with me,

and if i take care of her

she’ll be there for my kids.

Did you know, At some point in your life your mode of thinking will be obsolete,

at which point your fucked.

all rock and roll is pornography,

stuck in your ways,

stuck to a generation.

The Indians say our mind and body are a form of Technology,

even this form of technology seems to pass us by,

Draped in ignorance

we fade

into the rolled eyes of the youthful as society continues its gradual march.

but the land doesn’t really change,

our relationship with nature never really goes anywhere.

So that’s where I’ll stake my claim

i’ll tie my mind to nature instead

of technology, or generational concepts

of gender and race.

that way i’ll fade back from where i came.


*The line “all rock and roll is pornography” come from the song Hellfudge by Lard. The link is to enjoy said song, not to pornography! Although it might be just as offensive to some…

The Net

Consciousness is like a net; it can either catch you, or trap you.

We are here to discern change and differences. Which we do well, sometimes too well.

Am I comfortable right now? Does this benefit me? Is this what I want?

I’ve been here before.

I need to name this feeling.

Perhaps it’s not any one feeling, it’s a thousand things tied into one knot.

Intent on tension; intension

dis-ease; unable to be at ease; disease.

I’m trapped

Within a web of consciousness

The more I try to explain, the more I try to be understood, the more I wriggle, the tighter the bind

Let me explain;

Consciousness is a net

Like a murder of crows

Undulating caws, in unison,

What one crow sees, and knows,

The whole knows and sees.

 

So High

(fuzzy keyboard droning.)

I saw myself finally,

I was really high,

(looping guitar riff.)

I watched from the sky

draping the atmosphere

like a weather balloon

I saw my story;

an American TV reality drama

And I’m the one                                        (strumming acoustic guitar.)

who played the fool,    (female vocalists.)                 played the fool       played the foo-ool, he played the fool.

( unaccompanied.)        and how do you come back down      from this,

from this  life lived with remiss.

(looping acoustic guitar.)

Well,     I saw myself beneath a patch of bitter grey,

where everything seemed in dismay,

and I began to laugh,

it’s hard to take yourself seriously,           when you’re only as big as a pinhead.

He played the foo-hool, played the fool.

life from up here can get pretty strange,

everything gets rearranged (female vocalists humming.) I let myself go further on the tether.

(looping guitar, acoustic strum, harmonize.)

Up here in the stratosphere,                   I feel just like a feather,

No ignorance,       no pain,                 not even shame.

(musical interlude, tempo mezzo.)

It’s about then I realize I’m completely outta my head

and I put all introspection to bed.

Just like that I come back down,      falling on the ground,

nothing is clear, except misery and fear.

Now all I can do is continue to live my story,

even if it means being stuck

in an American reality TV drama.


First let me apologize for my poor attempt at turning this into a song. I had it in my head, but realize that it would not sound the same in yours. Although I will admit I do like this about poetry, or art in general, that its subjective, hit or miss, however it makes the act of writing feel like it’s all for naught.

Either way I’ve ruined the art of poetry either through my lack of music notation, or my inability to relate the rhythm through silence (pause) and word. I realized in writing this that I need to learn musical notation much better in order to pull this off the way I want and so consider this just practice.

thanks so much for your patience and of course for reading!