This is the world: it is upside-down;
a smile is a frown,
a verb is a noun,
a hamlet is a town.
This is the world: it is inside-out;
a whisper is a shout,
a grin is a pout,
a good man is a lout.
This is the world: it gobbles you up;
you deserve a goblet, you get a tin cup;
you deserve a palace, you get locked up;
you deserve a fair trial, a conspiracy is cooked up. Continue reading
Turmoil rules my mind.
A cloudless orbit through this life I can not find.
Choice and circumstance
form an avalanche:
waves of confusion engulf my serenity.
The end of the stream is concealed somewhere that I can’t see.
I wonder whether I shall care to search for my objective
while the only thoughts slithering through my mind are interjective?
I haven’t yet received orders from above me in the chain of command;
I surmise it is something I am supposed to demand.
But I crave to be free from this bureaucratic conglomeration
that everyone calls a new and independent nation.
Ghastly apparitions fly at me from every direction.
My thought-processes have been interrupted since their inception;
I beg them to leave me be; I beg for intermission.
They contrive some sort of fanatical initiation,
but I refuse – although my mind is cluttered, it is still functional.
Ignite your Might
Ignite. Find your fire.
Aspire. Reach. Reach upward. Reach inward.
Grasp at the glittering fragments of God and the Universe within your being.
Don’t deny the destiny of the ions within your living crust
that long to break away and connect with the Consciousness of the cosmos.
Emotions build a giant mass of towering obstruction
blocking off the sun, the air; the rigid, reassuring reminder of reality;
not allowing the usual broad-minded deduction
that the eye within the spirit can clearly see.
Courage – so easy to speak of this concept of fortitude;
the display – not so simple, is it now?
The presence of which in one’s context may elude,
the elusion of which we should not allow.
Buzz away the robots
like the unremitting ebb and flow of the tide,
the interrupting, enabling commotion does not dawdle,
the visits are short and pointed.
Objective: to interfere
with the Electricity jumping hoops
between linkages in the circuitry of our Thought.
My being is scattered
Frantic pin-pricks poke metaphorical holes in the fabric of my being;
the soft cottony material that envelops my thoughts, actions and words.
Holes stretch, become gaping voids, contents expelled into the universe,
searching for new quarters wherein to quarantine their quota of data.
The narrow mind finds its deconstruction
in the narrowness of its recesses,
the shrinking of the passages due to
mindless subscription to popular opinion.
Align your mind
A line aligns with other lines, and collectively, make a beeline
for you to see the rigid, solid connectors –
the confused threads flex, then intertwine,
awkwardly dividing the masses of people
into faceless boxes, into an anonymous steeple.
sly, cunning, conniving,
sneaky little gurgles emanating evil thoughts
create the stinging cold within my bones.