Halloween is the perfect time to write an epitaph...

Something to Impart...

Part Of It

Forced into this world,
and worse than that
Made to be a part of it
  Part of the human race
  Part of the animal kingdom
  Part of this earth
  Part of the entire universe
Part of this mass
  Inside the endless void of space
  Part of the emptiness as well
    but only a part of it

Not all of anything
  Not even our selves
    For even these
    are a part of everything else
     and every part of everything must claim its part
Part of a wHole
  Never complete
Each part in pieces
Each piece in parts

  What part do you play
  With what will you part
  Which pieces are yours
  How is it imparted at all

In such pieces; It's no wonder
  No wonder hearts break
  No wonder dreams are shattered
    The pieces are already broken
    Probably have been all along
Pieces, Only remnants
  Shrapnel from the ruins
  of some scattered and severed WHole
Parts of this departed thing
  that only might have ceased to be
  or maybe all these parts
   are all that's ever been
     of a fractured fictitious WHole

Being parts
  Is still only a part of it
  These parts
    Are only a part of whatever it is we are
The rest
    I cannot impart
    partly because
      these parts can only go so far

In these parts
  (Where I'm from)
  It's polite to give notice
    before parting
      -though parting is such sweet sorrow-

Apart from this
  I must be departing
    so that I may play
      My Part...

The applause sign is on...

Well Done

If you did it on your own
You decided to all along
If you ignored what other said
And trusted your own head
Well Done

If you stuck to your guns
Followed through on your own convictions
If you dismissed the little puns
And saw through the contradictions
Well Done

If you persevered
Conquered what you feared
If you admitted your defeats
But carried on despite these beats
If you fell flat on your face
But did so with honesty and grace
Well done

If you failed again and again
But kept learning and moving on
If you never thought you'd win
But rose before each dawn
If you still can't get it right
But refuse to drop out of the fight
Well done

When it finally comes together
And you know its never done
Though nothing lasts forever
And no victory is ever won
If you reach the point and peak
That you set your path to seek
If you ever make it there
And those below just mock and stare
If you breath the high, thin air
So clean, so pure, so rare
Well done

If you can listen to such praise
And not alter your virtuous ways
If you refuse to bow or bend
Because these words are not the end
Well done...

Hanging out...

To Hold or Hang From

Looking for a rope
  to hold or hang from
Searching for a hope
  to hold or hang from

Learned so long ago
How to be let down
Too much descending
Constant falling down

Standing still but falling
Ascend or drift away
Sinking feelings calling
Whatever they convey

Looking for a rope
  to hold or hang from
Searching for a hope
  to hold or hang from

Nevermind the ground
for it forgets us all
The heights that can astound
are the furthest from which to fall

Gaze upon the lines that dangle
Life lines extended
or traps to mangle
A past uplifted, or future ended

Looking for a rope
  to hold or hang from
Searching for a hope
  to hold or hang from

Without our own wings
The only way up, is to climb
Grasping to these things
Holding on with all our time
Lose our grip, and all that's left
Clinching tightly to each breath

Looking for a rope
  to hold or hang from
Searching for a hope
  to hold or hang from

Careful what you wish
Beware of what you hold
The end of many fish
Is lined the way it's told

All that extends beyond one's reach
Is a gambler's lesson yet to teach
All we hold or fall upon
Teaching us to just hold on

Looking for a rope
  to hold or hang from
Searching for a hope
  to hold or hang from

Hold on
Hang on
However long
(you can)

Another fragment...

The pieces of this piece

Let the words breathe

Their way onto the page

This way

No one gets hurt

That isn't already broken

See the simulacra scene

Projected in second hand screenings

of second hand stores'

second handed copies

Seconds ticking away

Seconds at a time

No firsts within them

But lasts in every one

Catch no glimpse of heaven

With eyes upon the scene

of all these things they've seen

They don't look for heaven here

The eyes find other things

See in them reflecting

on the various

hells

or circus

acts

All the abnormal things

Or the normal

Sub-standard/Standard

things

It's not polite to stare

It's impolite to turn away

It's expected that you notice

But not mention what you see

So don't say a word

Just breath

in and out

Try to look past it

as if it's both there and not

That way nothing

gets hurt

But what's already broken

No sobbing seen

No seeing scene

Just breath the words

onto the page

So they won't be heard

No one gets hurt

No one gets well

Nothing changes

Except whatever does

But that isn't for anyone to say

And if they do...

Shame

shame

(same)

Just breath the words onto the page

Despite how they might read

So no one gets hurt

That isn't already broken

So nothing breaks

But what's already shattered

The pieces of this piece

Breaking

down, away, or through

The pieces of each piece

left fully up to you

 

Reflecting on a rare occurrence of being in public...

Faces

I try not to look into the eyes
but the faces can be seen
all the same

Some look down
and away
Some seem lost
or stray

Some seem to be detached
from the skulls they're pasted onto
Some look like the skulls
themselves

Faces looking away
Away from everything
that looks to them
They don't want to be seen
and don't like much of what they do
see

Some faces look around
scanning the rest of the world
Some looking at other faces
or what the other faces seem to see
Looking for meaning
Looking for something
but what it might be
they don't seem to know

Some faces stare
eyes locked in some appearance's cage
Bound to the things before them
trapped outside of sight

Some faces don't seem to look or see at all
they just appear as if they are there
but not even there at all

Some look at me
I don't know what they see
I'm not too sure what I see either
I can't say if I'm less certain than they
Are

All of these faces
Each of them on their own
Some unique, some routine, some unseen...
So many different faces
They are all looking
All being seen

Every face tells a life's story
In a language of its own
No one else can read them
There are some things that can be translated
From the faces
To some facade

I see faces
I make them
What they are
What they're not
What I see
What isn't seen

Faces
Everywhere there's any one

In terms of biology
there are as many faces
as there are asswholes
Although those are not the terms
of our biology

What all these faces see
and all that they cannot
What all my own can see
and all that it cannot

A reflection of my own
provokes reflections of my own

What kind of face is this
What mask from which I speak
What face lies underneath

Faces making faces
On the faces of faces
How many different faces
Than the ones that I see
?

Something about doors...

 Before the Door

Standing before a closing door
Wondering how many more
Wondering how many before

Where I am and where I've been
After all, but before when
Ever always until then

Watch another now dead-end
Thoughts that lead to no amend
Move-on round another bend

Drift around an empty hall
Casting shadows on the wall
Listening for some distant call

Arrive upon a vacant scene
Wait to see the lights turn green
As it all becomes what could have been

Standing before a closing door
Wonder still how many more

Until the last will close behind
Securing all I've yet to find

Before the closing of this door
Wonder, wander, more, and more
Whatever might remain in store

As doors are closed before my face
I feel smaller inside a shrinking space

With each door still unsealed
Something greater yet revealed

Before the closing of each door
The world consists of so much more
Prompting wishes for each before

But to open a door and move inside
Is to enter the realm where dreams reside

Before the door
There is only more
Beyond it only what's in store
(Nevermore)

For all of you, from me...

The Abomination of We

Beware of those who say "We"
Instead of "You and Me"
That word is an abomination
Behind every desecration

We destroys identity
Of every solitary soul
We deprives identity
Empties out the wHole

We dilutes the spirit
Of the virtuous (so few)
We each time you hear it
Is inflicted upon you

It negates all that it claims
Deceives all it accepts
It should burn away in flames
Consume its own precepts

It steals of all its "selves"
Devours all its own
It empties all the shelves
Detests what stands alone

We is a lying death
Life is not its end
We is a polluted breath
An abomination to amend

Who's Ra?

Chant of the Sycophant

One word meant it all
Except its own negation

It was their battle's call
The unison of nations

HooRah, HooAh, Hua, HooYah, OoRah...
All the subtle syllables
Merged and mashed together

They flatter with this chatter
And shatter all that matters
Watch them as they scatter
Leave behind the tatters

To appease this slang is uttered
The way an engine sputtered
Both thick and thinly stuttered
Bred the way its buttered

Hear now all and none
In voices reduced to one
Is any fighting done
Are any battles won

One word for every end
One thought left to attend

Remember who Ra was
Seeing what this does
Consolidation so complete
The sycophant elite

A passing of thoughts in the night...

Inside a break

Inside a break
Where one moment gives way
To the next that overtakes it
Neither the passing of time
Nor the progression of such

Inside a break
Where thoughts settle in
The time out
That moves within

Inside a break
Where things break down
Or minds break through

Inside a break
Where the damage has been done
And the healing begins

Inside a break
Where feeling lost
Is a feeling as familiar
As being found

Inside a break
Between the verse
The chorus
And the mighty silence

Inside a break
Where there's no way out
No way back

Inside a break
Pushed and pulled
Collapsing past and future
Evaporating present tension

Inside a break
Moving on

In Abysmal Depths, We...

Dive Like Birds in Soaring Skies

In abysmal depths
We dive like birds
In soaring skies

There is no bottom
No ground to fear

Though birds can fly
We can fall
Fall head first
Into the endless depths of time

Can there be an impact
Without a crash?

Falling so long
We forget the feeling
Of gravity and ground
They are merely things along our way down

The only sense
Is of the air moving past us
Time and space left floating
In the wake of our descent

In the depth of this abyss
We dive like soaring birds up high
And somehow live
Deeper than we dive

A few words from last night...

With My Coffin

I'll carry my coffin
As far as I can go
I'll think of it so often
Until I finally know

What it is to be outside
Unburied, Above the weeds
What it is to be outside
With my desires and my needs

It is not death, but living
That comes with many fears
It is not death, but living,
That brings us all these tears

Though death is every ending
However life begins
Though death is every ending
That doesn't mean it wins

I'll carry my coffin
As far as I can go
I'll think of it so often
Until I finally know

First Chapter Teaser...

101.01 …SEE THROUGH PERCEPTIONS DIVISIONS…
…Staring into the oblivion that masquerades as the world around us, we see nothing… Eyes gaze out of a window, into the vacant fields in front of the facility… Everything is cloaked under the cover of overcast night and thick layers of snow… The earth is a blank slate of white, and the sky is an infinite black void… Hanging in the surface of the window before us, our reflection stares back at us, with our shadow cast over it… Reticent and stagnant as the scene we’re in; our mind focuses not on the images of blurred/cloaked simulacra, but pierces deeper through the surfaces in view… Our eyes are of little use to us in this view… Under our vacant stare, we contemplate the very nature of our perceptions… Gazing into the abysmal depths of this world as it is reflected back to us, with our own image and shadow impressed upon it; we wonder… How is it we’ve come to see this way? Pondering these notions, we seem lost to our-selves… Eventually we might consider the paradigms that may have contributed to our dissociated state, but right now it seems we’ve become far too accustomed to this depersonalization… Recently, we have begun to note the strangeness of such colloquial norms… Collectively, we have been urged so strongly to consider the views of others as more important than our own… Everyone in general and no one in particular seem to always be urging us; to walk a mile in some other entity’s shoes, to be more understanding of others, to remember we are all in this together, &c, &c, &c… Perhaps this has led us away from our-selves, and into some state of imagining our-selves reflected in every other entity’s perspective state… This practice of imagining our-selves displaced in others, and others displaced within our-selves can become confusing very quickly… In effect, we project our-selves into others, and imagine observing our-selves through their eyes; as if what we imagine them to imagine of us is what we are… Our own identity ends up being reduced to some sort of composite, of all the entities we imagine seeing in our reflecting-selves… Notions of our own identity are confused with some collective-impressions of what we are as a whole… Somewhere in this collage of confused simulacra we must still exist with some form of identity, separate from this collectivized perspective… Doesn’t there have to be a way to cut our-selves out from this haze of collective-confinement? It seems there must be some way to separate our-selves from the totality of this collective-entity and its intrusive impressions… Visualizing how we might see our-selves in the midst of all this, we imagine blacking out all of the things we are not, so they can’t project/reflect any images upon us… Inside this blacked-out world, we see nothing at all… Separated from the truth of our own reflections, we gaze into this darkness… Imposing our shadow upon the surface of every blank snow-covered figure and every reflective-plane, we try to see our-selves in this world… Oblivious as to how we might find our-selves in this darkness, we wonder why we are so compelled to find our-selves at all… Nothing appears to us as if it is everything, and everything seems to be nothing to us now… Seeing anything at all must require some new insight that we have yet to discover… What might there possibly be for us to see? We wonder…