The Lion('s/s') Share...

The alpha-male struts proudly
watching over its pride

It harvests its prey
and takes the lion's share

The whole tribe feeds
off of the same source

As the alpha succeeds
the pride is kept alive
in many ways like this

When the alpha-male
is slain or surrendered
the tribe is endangered

The cubs are unprotected
from invading successors
and the lionesses are left
to submit to every rival

The lion's share
that creates
the lions' share
is lost to
  hunger
  scavenging
  waiting

This is the order of things
and this is the way it will be
There is never enough
and always too much

The true butchers
cry for the blood of kings
while weeping angrily
over the blood of beasts

This is how the pride
becomes lost
This is what the cubs
all too often learn too late

This is the order of things
This is the way things are
There is never enough
and always too much

Woe and Work...

The work itself is rarely difficult
It's the nonsense imposed on you
  The prohibited language
  The useless forms
  The dress code
  The pointless meetings
  and everything else
    that isn't your job
It's the petty co-workers fighting
  for a promotion
  for validation
  for favors
  and nothing,
  and nothing,
  and nothing
It's an incompetent boss
  that gets in your face
  blaming you for faults
  that are theirs alone
It's ignorant and rude customers
 that you can't ignore
  and you can't insult
 no matter how insipid they are
It's the endless parade of
 degenerate dummies
 deplorable decrees
 and dissociative doctrines
It's all these things that don't work
but that you have to work with
It's all these worthless woes
It's not the work at all

I can't say why
all this nonsense is made mandatory
I don't know why
all this woe is imposed on work
I don't see why
all these people insist it remain
I can't tell you why
it's more important to conform
than to excel in tasks you perform

I wish that people could be themselves
I wish they could work together sensibly
I wish they weren't so restricted and confused
I wish that people could be themselves
I wish they could just get things done
 and leave each other alone
I wish there wasn't all this woe
I wish that work was just work
I wish people could be themselves
I wish it all made sense

But it's not the way things are
It won't be that way any lifetime soon
So I suppose this leaves one hand empty
and another smelly and full
Oh well
It's not as if this work can't all be done
with one hand tied behind my back
It would be nice to be able to wash-up
but there's too much other pschyt
for me to worry about right now

I Am...

I started to speak the words
"I am..."
and then my sentence
confined me to a cage
that I couldn't see
This cage of words
limited what I am
and what I might be

Then I started to say "We"
committing a greater crime
betraying myself and others
by diluting each individual
into a formless/nameless mass

After that I went on
and confined us all
to some other all-inclusive
sentencing of the same nature
and we all went along this way
for far too obliviously long

Now I struggle with it
trying to be more than
what I said I am...
and trying instead
to live accordingly
with what things
simply are
and the notion that
like all these things
the fullest truth is that
I am...

Waiting For Sun To Shine (As If There Isn't Enough Light Within)...

I'm just waiting for the sun to shine
as the clouds stand still
while growing dense and heavy
I'm just waiting for the sun to shine
with no connection to my own will
as if its held behind some levee

I'm just waiting for the sun to shine
so I can reflect its light a bit
and pretend I'm shining brightly
I'm just waiting for the sun to shine
to bask in its warmth a bit
forsaking my own warmth (tritely)

I'm just waiting for the sun to shine
as if there isn't enough light within me
while the sun's eternal day goes on elsewhere
I'm just waiting for the sun to shine
or something to ignite from within me
while holding onto this unfixed stare

Waiting for the eventual
despite the events of living
Waiting through the perpetual
for whatever pathology is giving
Waiting for the conceptual
with the concept I'm still missing

I'm just waiting for the sun to shine
as if there isn't the same light within me
Waiting in this dark decline
until I cease to merely be
and seize the reigns- becoming me

Cognitive Elation...

Rising above ignorance
Transcending normality
Achieving ascension
  Cognitive elation

It's better than knowing
It's learning, yearning, working, growing...
Until achieving the living knowledge
Earning more than comprehension

What's common place
is often in poor taste
and common grace
is often a mere waste

Excellence, Achievement, Wonder, Awe...
Becoming Incredible
By doing Great Things
As personal vision is beheld
  Cognitive Elation

The sun shines brightest
upon those that reflect its brilliance
But brighter still
is the light within
that adds its brilliance to all illumination
  Cognitive Elation

Let the darkness see
that it may be compelled to shine
Let the enlightened speak
through more than just a shrine
Let the world choose to foster
more than petty inspiration-
  Cognitive Elation

Over Time...

There are times
when things perpetually
  go wrong
  become worse
  remain relentless
as if death is on overtime
trying to cut its way through
all you have
and all you are
before dragging
whatever is left
into a dismal grave
where your only relief
might be found

There are times
when nothing seems to
  add up
  work out
  matter
as if the sum of all your efforts
in all the extra hours you work
tying to make them amount to
  something
  anything
are all just futile measures
of compounding nothing
by powers of zero

There are times
when your whole life seems
  disappointing
  unfulfilling
  useless
as if there were a universal script
where your character was phased out
  without triumph
  without defeat
without notice
and you are left waiting for some cue
to perform your part in a scene
that was cut
along with your character
and any relevance
you might have had

There are times
that you have to get over
  Short Times
  Long Times
  Even Life Times
of trying to ascend the face
of a mountain of dung
as the rain pours heavily

There are times
you must get over
  sometimes
  many times
  all of time
If you allow these times
  to remain above you
  and act as if you are under them
then you will only feel the weight
of being under these times
as these times crush you
with the very dreams
that you left on the far side of time
and became detached from

There is time
You must get over
  the past
  the future
  the present
Your life, Your time
  is now
  is always
It's all under your thumb
It's all at your feet
It's all beneath you
Time is always underway
You have to rise above it
You have to get over time

Shackles No More...

When no man lives
for any other
nor binds another life
to their own
When value is earned
through productive achievement
  Not given
  Nor taken
and is traded freely with others
on the sole basis
of value for value
When tears are not treated
as if some entitled tender
and are dried by the noble fires
that burn in the eyes that hold them
When the poor and the foolish
are wise enough not to berate
or beg with vicious resentment
for the earnings of the prosperous
When no envy or sloth
are accepted as just cause
to venerate covetous thefts
When men and women are worth
exactly what they earn through industrious labor
When no chains tie them down
or bind others to them
When they are no longer shackled
and there are shackles no more

There in that dreamland of true freedom
There in that paradise of truest virtues
There in that place of individuated unity
There will be the land of great beings
There will be the age of great prosperity
There will be the illuminating euphoria
There will be shackles no more

These Things Will Lead To Others...

A bad idea
A delusion
A scam
These things will lead to others

A collapse
A catastrophe
An apocalypse
These things will lead to others

A reckoning
A redemption
A resolution
These things will lead to others

An ascension
A renaissance
A pinnacle
These things will lead to others

A plateau
A stagnation
A regression
These things will lead to others

A squandering
A surrender
A defeat
These things will lead to others

An Individuation
An Industriousness
An Independence
These Things will Lead others

A Virtue
A Valor
A Venerability
These Things will Lead others
These Things will lead to Others

The Needle & The Thread...

The needle takes the thread
into its tiny little eye
and hands guided
by a focused view
will move with purpose

The hands will take
the needle and the thread
weaving them in order to
   mend and manage
or
   make and mystify
as what was frayed or formless
becomes a functional/useful thing

The thread is but a strand
without the needle's strength
The needle is but a prick
without the thread to follow
And only with skilled hands
can they together be of use

This isn't a parable
it's not about men/women
it's not about people
  that are like the needle
  or are like the thread
This isn't a cryptic thing at all

Things are what they are
Hands do what they do
When hands move
the needle and the thread
with purpose and skill
this world becomes clothed
open wounds- stitched & closed

In fact hands hardly even need
the needle or the thread
How many things can your hands do
  all on their very own
  or with only some small thing(s) to hold?

Forget about the needles
Forget about the threads
It's all in your hands
It's all in your hands
It's all in your hands

It's not what you hold
It's what your hands
   will work to create
         and behold
         or fairly exchange
           with handshakes that mean
           something venerable and old
It's all in your hands
It's all in your hands
It's all in your hands

i am that grey sky today...

i am that grey sky today
hovering over nothing-lands
without any motion
but feigned emotion
as i pretend to be a blackened sky
knowing i'm just benign & gloomy
i am that grey sky today

i won't bring much rain
maybe none at all
i'll just diminish the sunlight
not enough to bring darkness
just enough to cast a dull dimness
i won't bring much rain

i am that grey sky today
looming until the night ignores me
and negates my negations
drifting until the dawn comes
to clear me out of its way
and make room for a sunny day
but as for now, all i can seem to say
is that
i am that grey sky today

The Short Hands Of Broken Clocks...

The short hands
of broken clocks
all pointing it out
Not the time of
  day or night
but what it comes to...

In hypnotic micrometer motions
tic, tic, tic... tic, tic, tic...
Perpetual pendulum-puppets
marching to the madness
of carbon-copy chromatics
as time torments the travels
of synchronized second-hands

The hands surrender seconds
of time, or second thoughts
Adding up the increments
like connecting little dots
of stories without plots

Funeral bells will sound
as the echoes of fallen trees
with ears nowhere around
Though the timeless eye still sees
  the forest through the trees
  the lifetimes in second-hands
  the stillness that still stands

The short hands
of broken clocks
all pointing it out
Not the time of
  day or night
but what it comes to...

Let time keep to itself
Let the second-hands
keep counting in circles &
continue revolving around
the same dizzying clock
Let them tic away at nothing
Let them tic away at each-other 
instead of giving them the time
to continue ticking off

To Live Like Beings...

Don't believe the things your told
Don't agree if you don't understand
Don't be afraid to make honest mistakes
Don't try to do anything, but simply aspire
to live like beings

Don't attach to what you cannot hold
Don't cower to a senseless reprimand
Don't hesitate to do what it takes
To achieve a true thing, before you expire
and can no longer live like beings

Don't let your death be a threat
Don't let fear taint your breath
Don't make room for regret
Don't live-out your death
Don't forsake the chances you get
to live like beings

To live like beings
to do great things
to let your heart be filled
to make your life fulfilled
to know your own truth
to retain the joy of youth

Know the things that children understand
before being trained to forget
Know that your life belongs in no other hand
and that days don't end as suns set
Know that everything is negotiable
and elation is more than emotional
Know that you can become anything
and you can achieve everything
Never forget these things
to live like beings

To live like beings
to live with things
to live without becoming mere things
to live as if with wings
to live as more than mortal kings
to live like beings

To Live
Love Being
and keep singing
to live like beings

The Parts I Write (Where's The Rest?)...

The sound comes easily
The song is elusive
The masses blare
makes many reclusive
In muzzled screams
or forgotten dreams

The parts in view
are never whole
and usually distorted
to fit a role

Backstage realms behind the set
Hole cards checked before the bet
Words in ink
away from meanings
A clever wink
to sway your leanings

Slight of hand
A grain of sand
Beyond all view
More than true

The abundance is there
behind the glare
So be aware,
 beware,
  or dare
     to do more than stare
     or just compare
and see the things so truly rare
things only silence may declare

Dirty Hands...

Hands without callouses
Softer than pillows
Extending empty palms
Begging for alms

Complaining of hardships,
of exhaustion, of woe
with sweatless-furrowed brows
Saying "... man- you don't know."
as if their true faces don't clearly show

They give empty words
of thanks with no intent
for every unearned dime
that they'll squander & lament

And to all that ignore them
they will viciously scorn
Shaking soft fists at them
because they won't mourn 

The dirty hands
of the under-handed schemers
defiling the sands
stolen from the hourglasses of dreamers

As the industrious creators
shake clean hands with firm grips
and pledge to produce
what the thieves won't eclipse

And the dirt on the hands
of those in between
that toil in virtues
learning what their lives mean
can be covered in mud
but remain honestly clean