When To Write...

Don't write to achieve anything
you won't
Don't write to acquire anything
you won't
Don't write to prove anything
you won't

 Write when you don't care
if it makes sense or not
 Write when it doesn't matter
how it comes out
 Write when there's nothing else
that you can bring yourself to do
 Write when nothing
makes any sense
 Write when everything
makes perfect sense

Write as a last resort
Write at the first impulse
Write when you can't scream,
or shout,
or speak,
or whisper
Write when you've already tried
everything else
Write when you've failed
miserably
Write when you've triumphed
admirably

Write without anyone in mind
Write without any ambition
Write without hope
Write with hatred
Write with love
Write with nothing

Write if you can't spell
Write if you don't know how
Write if you don't know why
Write if it's in your own blood
Write if it's your last words
 and no one else will read them


Writhe if you've truly lived
Write if it makes you feel alive
Write if you've never lived
Write if you're already dead
Write if it could kill you

Write if you're tired of listening
Write if you'd rather go blind
Write if you can't love
Write if you're hated
Write if you're unknown
Write if you're glad to be alone
Write if it will force you into seclusion
Write if you're lost in pure delusion
Write if you've finally seen past life's illusion

Or don't write at all

Either way
DON'T TRY

If you're trying to write
you'll fail
If you're trying not to write
you'll fail
If you aren't trying at all
you'll still fail
but it won't matter
You'll succeed in failing
It will be worth the loss

Writing is all about failure
When the words defeat you
its time to surrender
not one moment sooner
not one instant after

Writing is total defeat
and that's all it can be
It loses to everything else
and everything is lost to it
It triumphs over itself
this way

Giving-up Again...

See it over and over
everywhere
people that have
given-up
or are giving-up
again

Their faces
like poker players
without cards or money
but still sitting at the table
not interested in the game
but with nothing else to do
and nowhere else to go

They've lost their gamble
and lost themselves in the game
It's an easy thing to do
and impossible in a way
You must play to win
 and you have to pay
to even sit at the tables

Some don't even bother
to get a seat in the game
They know that no one wins
and they'd rather not even try
before they lose again, and again,
and again...

They think this means
they'll manage to beat
the losers
but the losers might be up
at some point
even if only for a moment
even if only when they first
take the chance with what little
they can put in play

It's true the winners are just losers
that haven't played it out to the end
They'll give it all to the house sometime
and come back to lose again

The losers don't know what they've won
the winners don't know what they'll lose
and the rest don't know anything at all

They're all giving it all up
again, and again, and again...
some slowly
some steadily
some swiftly
Everyone is giving it up
again, and again, and again...

The best gamblers
don't care
they come just to play
they can be winning
they can be losing
as long as they can play
they'll stay inside the game

They have given-up
on winning and losing
on staying away from the game
they don't even care if they have nothing
in the end it's all the same

It's the not the chance to win
but the chance
to take the chance itself
that counts in this losing game
and that's the only thing that's
truly lost
when it's given-up
again, and again, and again...

Practice of Epitome...

I can hate
 and be kind
be berated
 and not mind
I can scold
 and belittle
be bold
 and be gentle
I can demean
 and defend
be mean
 and amend

I can see the worst in people
and leave them well alone
I can wish the best for sheeple
and pretend to be a drone

Contradictions and convictions
commonly lack much comprehension
as eyes are averted in apprehension
perpetuating the course of man's condition

See what's left
of what was right
Become bereft
upon the sight
Then turn away
to look within
Find light of day
and stars again

Practice being
what one must be
so many things
for each to see
In a moment- fierce
In the next- docile
A heart to pierce
or an intact-fossil

Repetition and variation
The means of gaining
one's salvation
The practice becoming
what will be
whatever one ascends
to see

Of all the things
that each one does
within them all is some
because
and in these reasons
there is
meaning
against it all one's life is
leaning

So vast, and varied,
things expound so far
beyond mere wishes
upon each star
and deeper than any
immortal scar

This life of things
that live to be
become the sights
one longs to see
and the practice of
epitome

What Do You Call Obscene...

The truth is no longer
a matter of honesty
and honesty is no longer
a personal matter

The truth is whatever
has been decided
by some colloquial
presuppositions
preconditions
presumptions

Honesty is not what
you believe is true
but what it is supposed
to be believed as true

Honest declarations
contrary to preconceived norms
are detested as lies or worse
But to declare in ruminations
some perceptual platitude
is as if to intone a sacred verse

What do you call obscene

When this leads feet
to trod through excrement
and no voice may exclaim "shit"
for it would be considered indecent
and ears would not hear of it

What do you call obscene

When children are born
out of carelessness or stupidity
drunken momentum or some futility
into a world of diminishing potential
with resources being merely residual

What do you call obscene

When it is profane to express with great vexation
some public exclamation of "fuck"
but the masses may be reckless with procreation
with nothing to offer but hopes of luck

What do you call obscene

As it is considered noble
to demand the wealth achieved
to be redistributed unto those
that believe wealth is just received
and the prodigious
are maligned as insidious

What do you call obscene

As any virtuous future is ever precluded
by all that it must be consistent with
and the truth is perpetually excluded
by the preservation of ancient myth

What do you call obscene

As more of the same horrors
are retouched in reproduction
and passed off as if so new
or as if there's nothing else
that anyone could do

What do you call obscene

As the same insipid precepts
produce the same devastation
and any unorthodox concepts
are banned from conversation

What do you call obscene

Is it the words you were told not to say
Is it the hands that point in any other way
Is it anything you don't already approve 
Is it any attempt to move
 What is it
 What might it be
 What do you call it

What do you call obscene

Anything?

Is there anything there
anything here
anything in anywhere
  that's not just passing
anything lasting

Anything to keep
but not to cage
Anything that doesn't weep
or become consumed with rage

Is it anywhere to be
Any where to stay
Any way to see
 something unfading/not-grey

Searching and searching
but still caught in hiding
holed-up inside
disguises to survive
obscured and less alive
precluded from honorable pride
and as of yet to thrive

Is there anything left
in sight but yet un-seen
in view but not obscene
or is it all bereft
and fading in its death
with every exhaled breath

Is there anything in here
anything sincere
or is it just impulsive
anxieties made repulsive
is it in everything that's near
in all that's held and dear

Is there anything at all
anything, however small
to make any of it truly matter
beyond the ashes left to scatter

Is there anything worth more
than the end that's waits in store
any serenity that's not a bore
that can be taken through the door
into the nevermore

Is there anything there
anything here
anything in anywhere
  that's not just passing
anything lasting
  anything at all
anything, anything, anything
anything that's not all
just some any-part
of the same everything
in anything
anything at all

or is this all that's there
in anything everywhere
and unseen behind the glare
that blinds each vacant stare
rendering the eyes so unaware
the darkness just a snare

and is it all so full
even after the death-bell's toll
as it's scrawled upon the scroll
each portion of the whole
complete however sole

Is there anything so real
that none could ever steal
Is there anything at all
that can rise above the fall

Is there anything in here
anything in anywhere
  that's not just passing
anything lasting
  anything at all
anything, anything, anything
...

Caught in Is/Ought...

Caught in the snare
of "Is" vs "Ought"
Struggle not to stare
at all there is not
Blinded by the glare
obscuring what's sought

Trapped in the sight
of what is not seen
Obsessed with the fight
for what it should mean

Learn then to live
with the way it all is
and try not to give
my eyes to Le Mis

Remain as I ought
Contained in the thought
Not diluted like fizz
in the contrary is

For it is what it is
despite all I've sought
and life's too short for this
to ensnare till I rot

Leave then the snare
that is this Is/Ought
and continue to care
for all that I've got

Pet Genius...

All too many masters
and none too many free
Collars around the throats
Kennels and cages confine

Genius turned into a pet
Genius turned into a potty trainer
Genius doing stupid tricks on command
Genius relaying orders on command
in one big dumb animal-act
of a perpetually boring circus

No new acts
No new tricks

Just sit
Just stay
Just heel
Just roll-over
Just play
dead

Outside the show
the leash is kept short
if it even needs to be used at all
for there is nowhere to run
There is only the fenced-in everywhere

Genius awaits its next meal
Genius sleeps at master's bed-side
Genius obeys every command
with obedience
with loyalty
without question
without resistance
without genius at all

Patience is the master
Courtesy is the commander
Obedience is the order

Genius sits
genius stays
genius heels
genius rolls-over
genius mimics being
dead

Worthy?

Worthy
I was trying to be worthy
Living against the measure of some standard
Living as if I just might be able

I thought that was living

Before I knew it
Everything began to fade

Without the validation
of those  I sought to appease
reality came roaring into my mind's ear
There was nothing to be worthy of
Hearts and minds, as all things
Yearn for what is beneath or beyond them

All Love Is...

All love is
conditional
Even if the only
condition
is that it not be
betrayed

All love is
exceptional
Especially if no
exceptions
for it be
made

All love is
intoxicating
Though in toxicity
it must not wade

All love is
meaningful
Despite the fact
that such meaning
can hardly be
conveyed

All love is
vulnerable
but beware the kind
that's not equally
repaid

All love is
something
whether it ever amounts
to anything
or ever becomes recognized
in whatever multitude of ways
it may ever be displayed

All love is...

The Ease of Hate...

It's vastly easier to hate
than to love
It's even easier to be hated
than to be loved

Hate just is
It requires nothing more
than to begin
Sometimes it comes with reasons
sometimes a lot of them
sometimes pure reason
sometimes without any reason at all
Hate doesn't even need to concentrate
to be concentrated
Hate can so easily be
its purest self

Hate can be pointed
at anything
at everything
and it can last
without fading
without relenting
and without effort

Love has expectations
It demands
It believes
It aspires
Love must live up to
its essence
or it will so easily fade
and so easily turn
to hate

To be loved
is to owe a debt
to pay it is to love back
to default on repaying it
is to become hated

It's so much easier to be hated
It's almost inevitable too
With such ease, someone's bound
to look at your face
and find it worthy of their hate
and if you see this, you too
will so easily find a hate of your own
easing into place

Once the hate begins
its so hard to dispose of it
Even after the murderers kill
and dispose of their victims
there is so much hate remaining
to keep them at such ease
when the next target appears

To be worthy of love
requires a great deal
To be worth of hate
doesn't even require existence

How easily is love exhausted
How hard is it to even try to love
How easily is hatred enabled
How hard is it to even try to cease hate

The fires burn so easily
The waters dry-up so quickly
The thirst for blood is constantly there
The quenching of thirst or flame
goes almost unnoticed at all
as tears and blood are shed
into the ever emptying bodies
of drying waters, and draining lives

But as hatred subsides
after such venerable efforts
and the slightest sentiments
of solitary serenity succeed
there is something strong enough
something potent enough
to make an effortless endeavor of love
and to bring the ease of hate
subsiding

This precursor to love is enough to last
till whatever death may come
and enough to supply any life
that will so inevitably fade
For death and hate are surely
the simplest, most effortless things
that are relentless in lurking near
but the ease of hate
can bring something nearer still
and something yet easier

So let me make it easy for you
Don't slave-away trying to love anyone
Don't ease into the dying/killing nature of hate
Don't try and Don't relent
Love Thy Self
and let everything else
work itself out
or put itself at ease

In All That Isn't There...

I can see what isn't there
on a billion empty faces
in all these empty spaces
I see it in the eyes
that look all around
but always away

I can hear what doesn't care
in a million pleading voices
demanding restricted choices
I hear it in their words
that echo from beyond
these graves where they must stay

I can see beyond the stare
of a trillion vapid glances
from the depths of all their trances
I see it in the eyes
that are not transfixed, but bound
to colors all turned gray

I can hear beyond the blare
of dissonance declared
by the perpetually despaired
I hear it in the words
that sound more wrong than wronged
and pronounce no more than nay

In all that isn't there
there's something else
strangled, smothered, silenced,
secluded
It's all that's not there
that gets put in place of all that is
that makes this world
and so much in it
seem so hollow
and dead
and gone

In all that isn't there
there's something else
hibernating, hiding, haunting
hindered
It's all that's in its way
that corrupts and keeps it away
from this world that is so bold
and vivaciously alive
and vibrantly resounding
beneath the veil of vile vapidity

In all that isn't there
there's so much else that is
enough to fill the faces
enough to fill the spaces
enough to fill the sounds
enough to make it all resound
and more, and more, and more...

In all that isn't there
In all that isn't seen
In all that isn't heard
is infinity in exile
is divinity
is style
is everything
worth while
in all that isn't there

Speak These Words...

Speak these words I write
Speak to the eyes that read them
Speak without holding them captive
but captivate them instead
and set the free in doing
Speak to all that lives and is alive
Speak to all that has not yet died
or gone too far in dying
Speak to eyes that are not crying
Speak to eyes in need of drying
Speak to heads kept upright trying
Speak these words with meaning
Speak with honesty
Speak with feeling
Speak not only now
but when mouths are not able
Speak these words of life
Speak not as words of mine
Speak not as words alone
Speak as words are read and written down
Speak as words are read-back by sparkling eyes alone

If these words do not speak
to you or through you
They are not but words to you
and are not yours at all
but best left to silence
If these words do speak to you
they may be moved by your voice alone
If these words do speak through you
then they have already become your own
and may remain or continue on as such

If these words do speak
to anything at all
Let them be echoed
not in the very voices
that return in diminished remnants
of hollow ruminations
But as constant present truths
reverberating and resonating
in the living songs
of both new and ancient verses
that hold their meanings
closer to them than the very words
that have held or will hold them

Speak these words
Speak these words
Speak them and not any others
Speak them as your very own
Speak these words
so there may be singing
Sing them
so they may speak through
singing
Speak these words
and let them speak
let them be heard
Speak these words
SPEAK...

I Write About The Divide...

I write about the divide
between my self
and this world
&c, &c, &c...

I write about the divide
between all things
and each other
etc, etc, etc...

I write about the divide
between what might be
and what is seen to be
and what is not
&c, &c, &c...

I write about the divide
between the act of viewing
and the virtue of vision
&c, &c, &c...

I write about the divide
between definitions
and meanings
etc, etc, etc...

I write about the divide
between consensus
and individuation
etc, etc, etc...

I write about the divide
between wandering aimlessly
and wondering purposefully
&c, &c, &c...

I write about the divide
etc, etc, etc...

Some Facts About S...

In Morse code the letter S  is transmitted as ...

In thermodynamics the letter S  is the symbol for entropy

The letter S  is the third-most common consonant in the English language
 
In English, S  usually indicates third-person present-tense verbs

The use of S  in name endings was often used to denote "son of"

Dissolve...

From nothing
into something
then something else
etc, etc, etc...

Somewhere along the way
whatever it is that one becomes
will fade, will falter, will dissolve

The solutions in which
one becomes immersed
will inevitably dilute them
and dissolve everything
into its simplest form

Idiosyncrasies break-down
Complexities homoginize
Identities corrode
and something
that once was
no longer is
as it's been
or as it
can be
as it's
lost
...

The Usual Fight Card...

Faith vs. Reason

Hope vs. Effort

Trust vs. Illumination

Love vs. Value

Altruism vs. Investment

Sacrifice vs. Diligence

Need vs. Earning

Mercy vs. Justice

Lies vs. Truth

Evil vs. Virtue

Oblivion vs. Rationality

Dystopia vs. Reality

As The Mind Goes...

The mind goes
wondering
Then eyes go
looking,
ears start
listening,
Searching for
something
to send feet
chasing,
to send hands
reaching

When the mind goes
wondering
everything wanders
after some reason
to make sights into
visions
to turn sounds into
songs
to give words
meaning
to bring life
purpose

As the mind goes
wondering
questions can be found
more easily
but answers remain
ever elusive
whether lost or found
the quest for such answers
lead this wandering
  out of meandering
and back to wonder

As the mind goes
wondering
it returns to asking
where have we come from
where are we now
where are we going

As the mind goes
wondering
it continues searching
to discover some lost sense
of wonder
that exceeds its current
capacity
but compels it to continue
wondering
for that is the
destination
not to be reached
but reached towards
forever propelling
these thoughts onward
as the mind goes
wondering,
fading,
...

Another Lost...

Something else
has come
and gone
-a love
-a like
-a not-too-long

 It was all too soon
or just too fast
or not enough
or couldn't last

Like so much else
so many others
all alone or with anothers
left to leaving, wandering on
to see what's left
of all that's gone
as...

Something else
has come
and gone


Search again until the find
the song, the sound, the... (nevermind)
then sing it out, sing-along
until together voices
no longer belong
as...

Something else
to come
moves on

What was it then
that is not now
Whatever happened
and why
and how
Try to answer
but only sigh
(and how)
as...

Something else
that's come
has gone
-a love
-a like
-a not-too-long
leaving another lost
to just move on

at a loss for words
lost from meaning
or at a loss for words
awake but dreaming
finding for now
arriving and leaving
holding so tightly
then letting go
and screaming
as...

Something else
will come
and go
another lost
another searching
another finding
or just rehearsing

At a loss right now
wondering what is gained
or what is gone
or in a name
Try to lose this
sense of loss
To find more affirming
living thoughts
and soon enough
it will be clear
as...


Something else
that came
and went
another lost
another lament
another search
to be content

Still-Life...

The canvas was blank
before the brushes
went through their motions
ceased
and left the still-life
in its place

It might be placed
in a fancy frame
It may be committed
to a wall somewhere
Wherever it is left
it will stay there
unmoved and unmoving

The still-live will hang
un-alive and un-dead
as some stop to glance
at the recursive stillness
depicted with such redundancy

It may be removed
or tossed out
but it will only end-up somewhere else
and the still-life
will be there
still
resting

It will outlast
so many moving lives

Remaining still
amidst so much
life and motion
It will hang there for so very long
undead and unmoved

Even the sight of scenes
with ghastly dying things
is so much more vitally alive
than any and every undead still
What horror could be depicted
more hauntingly or sinisterly
than this gallows view
of the still-lives hanging still
on walls, in halls, and so many
vapid faces
everywhere