Soul and Feather

Compare the weight of the soul to a feather
Yours or mine would matter little
We are only human

It is the fate of man to suffer, as the Buddha told us
All life is just that
But where does that lead us?

To the truth, some would say
To Unknowing, others
Perhaps suffering is nothing more than itself

Perhaps it is unwise to agonize over the destruction of monuments to our past
Or the future of our unborn generations who have no say
Perhaps it is only a burning forest or a new highway

Tara will disappear along with our trees and nothing will be the same
But nothing is ever the same
And there is nothing new under the sun

Only man’s suffering over the loss of his past and his future
Can influence the weight of his heart against the feather of Truth
It is that suffering that can alter the balance

Wife

My wife got a spinning wheel. For those of you who do not know what that is, it is a thing that one uses to make yarn with one's feet. For pictures and other entertaining tidbits, see this: www.gotaspinningwheel.blogspot.com

An Eloquent Statement of Truth

Capitalism, which claims to produce Order by means of the reproduction of desire, in fact originates in the production of scarcity, and can only reproduce itself in unfulfillment, negation, and alienation. As the Spectacle disintegrates ... it reveals the fleshless bones of the Commodity. Like those tranced travelers in Irish fairy tales who visit the Otherworld and seem to dine on supernatural delicacies, we wake in a bleary dawn with ashes in our mouths.

-Someone said this, but I don't recall who (it wasn't me, but I agree)

Trope

Wriggling, worm-infested gut-beasts
Screaming for sustenance
Vomiting, shitting and otherwise excreting
Demanding all of reality conform to their whim
Lost in their own howling wilderness

And then they speak
Mystifying things
Invoking the nameless horrors of the truly fucked
Bleeding a screeching whine into our heads
A cacophony of rotting psyche

Finally, we succumb, automaton-like, to the law of age
And set them free, unwanted, into the seething masses
Full of the same wantings, undeveloped and unready
So they may consume all about them
Without thought, memory or conscience

A Quote

The Immortal One was known to the Greeks as Dionysos; to the Jews as Elijah; to the Christians as Jesus. He moves on when each human host dies, and thus is never killed or caught. Hence Jesus on the cross said, "Eli, Eli, lama Sabachthani," to which some of those present correctly said, "The man is calling on Elijah." Elijah had left him and he died alone.

Philip K Dick

Destiny (The First of Seven)

Most think of Destiny as an ending,
The final place where the road stops,
But this is only partly so,
Destiny is always first,
And all else that is follows after,
Grinding on in colors, smells, flavors,
Wars, betrayals, trips to the grocery store,
And, of course, deaths,
But that is the Destiny of us all,
And yet this is also not the end.

(don't believe me?
There is, at least, memory,
And that is less complete with every passing moment.
That is no kind of Destiny.)

So, now:
What can we believe of Destiny?
Is it, as the name suggests, Destination?
What Destination can there be, when time flows on?
There are too many questions here, and no answers.

A ghost, then,
Without substance,
Nothing.

Perhaps, Destiny is simply movement,
Purposeless, blank and riverine,
A kind of desolation we are born into,
Tasked with overcoming, and creating on our own.

You Are Listening...

Light fades at dusk,
but returns with the buzzing lamps
illuminating the sidewalk.
Walking through the puddles of
glowing drab orange,
lost in the fogginess it emanates,

You listen,
as always,
to the litany running sleeplessly through your head,
splashed by the expensive thumping car
screeching its blue glow into your skull,
until light fades at dawn,
returns with the same sun
burning the concrete beneath your shoes.

---

Bridges are crossed in the breezes
of trucks
speeding heavily
through a hapless, useless, redundant
town where things change
but just enough to raise prices
and push the people on
towards something
else
somewhere
else
replaced by more people
younger
maybe richer
probably no more intelligent
crossing bridges in breezes

---

Macy Gray says "having money sure is nice"
don't fear
I must agree
but there are problems with it, too

---

I have no intention of paying for uncommitted crimes.
Taxes and the RIAA are criminal and I pay them too much.
So, I will keep that to myself, and remain the self everyone sees,
and will see,
willingly.

---

I guess he got laid off
on american TV
ordering chinese on a
transparent green phone
too tired by the time the parade rained to put up much of a fight

---

When you give, you certainly do receive,
Cupid with wide eyes,
Stupid with arrows in his chest.

---

Cold and white fluorescence killing
What it touches
Touching what it reaches
Making fun of paying attentions
Charming the attack before
The minion's opinion
Charging the weasel with giving bonuses to the mostly deserving.