The Annulus
There is a region between two concentric circles, that amounts to an in between point. At this gray intermediary fulcrum, when two concepts become indistinguishable from one another, where no discernible separation can be observed by an outside spectator, this annulus is what I’m interested in.
A trip without a suitcase, my body carried the luggage of bandages. Tiny tape piecing incisions from last weeks surgery, rest, on my abdomen. I grumble and I grunt. With cautiousness I quiver at the possibility of waking up; I assess the value of rising at the vellum of dawn. Pulling myself out of bed, to knit together a new day, seems so disconcerting. I, a rubble woman sing in lamentation. When rubble is at stake, who better to chorale the world? I pull myself together and receive another day.
A fog machine fluctuates in my head, I have drifted apart from myself so many times, I feel as though I am lost. My playback reel gabbles its third decade. Morning to night only transmit’s a shitty king of waltzes. I tell myself that I will sing on, I will sing for the child at heart; as she wonders on her rocking horse… of life. There must be something left to wonder at, isn’t there?
I look into the mirror and do not recognize myself. A small pampered architect weeps. I search for a substitute for the stagnating grate between my teeth. I touch my eyelids, the hollow, classical pillars of my sight. Who can impregnate the moment, when the threads of ourselves come loose? Who can help restore the coloration in our eye, our soul, when all hope is lost?
We humans beget openly, but sometimes distrait, we are tender. I reach for an eraser, but with the wrong strokes, I am left unchanged. Scarcely my pupils change their shape. My breath missed the needles eye. Lurking behind the toothpaste, was a patriot to cancel out the disaster of a question that plagues my mind.
Post surgery, I am alive, I live, but the haunting echoes of the frustration of being cruelly judged and condemned by a young doctor still tortures my weary mind. Harsh judgments condone life, in plumage they are superior. A bridegroom over words, I believe, is he who gives himself the possibility of being wrong. An open eye with a willing heart, looks the owl in the eye. The curtains close, angels hang in the air, as I add the finalizing touches of my mascara on. With a candid glaze I prepare to face the day.
Gilded by confusion, an image-- some good natured fowl peered it’s ugly head out my bathroom door. The incubation of an idea that the progress of the jaded is not progress at all, began. The offspring of the genuine need for a sense of belonging was hatching. Breed from necessity; I a collarless, headstrong woman, prepare to wander into the scores of human fodder to interact.
I, the unlabeled woman, like a un-muzzled dog, unscrew the nameplate from my front door. I carry my patented seating contraption and it’s unpatented owner to and fro, as I prepare for adversity’s departure. I advertise a repository of desperate “Sorry’s”, as I emerge under the windy cloche. Too gawky might I tread, when my hearts original knock beckons me.
My nerves are frayed. Stones eternal pulse-less longing, felicity I can not hoard. Fishing this way, I can not resist to fling a precept at a dizzy aphorist walking by me. An upsurge of starosity rises, all falls silent. How sad changes are, I think to myself. Recently saved by emergency surgery only to return to an emerging apathy in this snake-belt-antithesis of a community.
Scores of fodder… from here my neighbors expropriated all the pronouns and saved off the private shadows of little innocuous men. Serious embryo’s-- hope, filled with flesh, falls silent. Potential-- our aborted children pale-- crease the linen 6 feet under, where we buried the possibility of Being. With my eyes full, I anticipate the movement of my own death at the hands of men that simply do not care. The romping, idling spirit of wrath leaves me maintaining serious reservations.
The journey from flesh is the longest. The child in its first loneliness… liquescent… becomes clearer in sunlight. The mist of cattails lifting, fishing this way, can not resist…a knock. Steel rips through conflicting steel. Prisoners of speed tarry by me. The sounds of the phallic city, the lingo of exasperation. Nymph forgive me, for I know not what I do…
A rebellion accosted, I am committed to the tedium of a- this journey. Why must one engage? Integrity-- we can’t even agree if the sun is shinning. We as mere mortals are already limited. Yet liberally we embody the rights of a God.
Life is a pilot tested champion who stands alone to conflict and challenge human fatuity. The abysmally low quality efforts to create dogmatic absolutes and project our demands onto the world, as though we could assert control over all that is or ever was, is absurd.
With egocentrism some men destroy ruthlessly and justify their acts of hatred as though their every act was to be praised. Vigilantes exploit the greater good of life. Once nomadic IK. Beggars of questions, a curriculum confines, I confide, but the curricula are not a proper vehicle for it.
Totschweigetaktic. My little tra-comic scene of threat. I confront. A society that depends upon and utilizes their co-ercive services sucks. The self- destructive shake a common wall. I sit still a solid figure. I sigh. A surgeon saved my life. I surrender my will, till mystery is no more.
The surgeon restored my faith in man, but for how long can such a treatment endure, in a world so harsh in “her” opinions?
Abacus
The Ancient Greeks created an authentic place-value system, where positional numbers posited importance. The ancient’s had socially agreed upon realities, so that humans could advance themselves into communal superpowers that dominated our native Earth. An ancient person, just as modern man, would have questioned the ubiquitous stuff of life around him, and received no answer other than the echo of his own voice. The silence that befalls a man inquiring, demanding reprieve from a world that simply refuses to answer much less entertain his inquisition, is deafening.
The tantalizing curse of needing to find security and safety, a sense of stability and certainty in our environment, seems universal. Unfortunately our sole solace seems to derive from the comfort we receive from recognizing other frustrated mortals that also are condemned by our burden. When accepting another into our lives, a sense of belonging helps fill the empty void of confusion we must face, as we are thrust into the world and forced to sustain while being accountable for our own actions. Every man is responsible to create his own destiny. And in short, every action carries with it innumerable consequences that has the self as the ultimate author.
The Greek word axioma constituted a concept of: that which is thought fitting, self-evident, to weigh as a decision, something weighty. What is an axiom? Any formal system combines a set of axioms and rules of derivation. The rules are used to obtain (derive) theorems from the axioms. Axioms are something weighty enough that you can base a logical system on them. A algorithm is a sequence of unambiguous instructions for solving a problem; I.e. for obtaining a required output for any legitimate input in a finite amount of time. Einstein interrelated criteria relativity to absolve the idea of absolute truth.
Alluring Enchantment
Darkness stirs
Gives birth to light
A radiant glow
Comes into sight
The day she echoes
The opportunistic dark
I know I’ll return
My heart doesn’t want to embark
On a tedious journey
Why must I engage?
In the brilliancy of a stage
Of hollow, rancid men
The Point?
Lying in...
A sagacious play of apathy
Leading only back into the night
I try
But fire and ice within me fight
Tormented by Promethean fire
Even autistics have our desires
To escape the inescapable feelings
Ode to the act, of being inactive
Longing to return to the Self-
Same
Darkness from which mankind sprang
I feel lost and alone
The guardian of the night and day…
The tortured artery, caved in belief…
A need to return to the unknown.
Flow
I look outside and see
The trees dancing,
Swaying in the breeze
I step out and feel the wind touch my cheek.
I breath with ease
Glancing at the rays of light
Falling down upon my
Weak little body.
I sigh…
How can one fathom the concept of dying?
Is there a potential vision of not seeing?
A chance to be comfortable with the possibility of not being?
I cry…
All that’s selfish in me, longs to cling to life
Yet understands that Death is necessary and exists outside of my choice.
I Love.
And love living.
Will I be missed and mourned by the serenity of birds singing
Out of tune with the neighbors wind chime; before they shit on her car again?
Everything’s the same but different,
With my vision brighter… I squirm.
There’s a dim reality approaching me
Fast.
Amor Fati.
Why argue against the sun?
I try to understand how there could be meaning (other than what I create for myself).
After all, no one can justify these means
Life is a fight that we can not win,
What I say, what I see
We are never really free
From the burden of an end…
Perhaps this Is freedom?
The promise that all suffering will cease?
Confusing...
I sit on the dock of Grand Lake Saint Mary’s
Pondering how strange it is to know that the halt in consciousness is coming
Approaching fast and outside of my control.
I’m sick of complaining,
Then proclaiming that this is a beautiful life,
I have to accept that death is nearing
But I don’t have to pretend that I like this reality.
A crappy jumps
A white shimmering cascade
Of intent crashes down into the water
Momentary chaos surges from his actions
Then…
Calm-- Peace--
Nature restores itself to status quo
I wish I could heal me like that!
Nothing breeds nothing!
(And familiarity breeds contempt!)
I am not so powerful as the flowing water is
To resolve itself.
Tomorrow’s supposed to be a stormy day
Wonder if the fish will witness the birth
Of another tempest, rampaging it’s effects on Earth
With deadly accuracy?
I plunge a pebble into the lake
It’s ripples hold a mystery
With Damoclesean sharpness, I allude
That so long as I am alive-- I’ll live.
I act and will be acted upon
But will enjoy every minute of it.
My funk now fades away
Hey what can I say.
Does it do any good
To fear the unknown?
Life just is, what it is,
Might as well
Make the best of it, right?
Angst is pointless, I create a constitution
Why squander the time that I have?
Precious and few are the moments
That I now have
A reflection of me echoes off the lakes face
On the surface of reality
I am a resonating sight
I am…
Isn’t that enough?
Who cares if soon …I will no longer… Be.
We as mere mortals live this threat daily,
I’ve managed to not die for 11, 544 days of existence
And no man has escaped mortality thus far, that I know of!
Existence pre-seeds essence
And the existent holds the accountability for the cultivation of its own future…
The only determination, is termination
The preservation is the fruit of my own making
To hold off extinction;
What a responsibility to burden my shoulders!
The weight of the world can only cumber me, so far as I let it.
The struggle is only a curse so long as I believe it to be such.
If I think I can, I can.
To the bitter end, I’d sooner be Sisyphus
Then standing still with the tantalizing predicament
Of being terminally ill
Resting upon me.
I can’t understand what’s beyond conscious experience
Nor can any soothsayer who pretends that they can!
Is there harmony in this fact?
I flow through life uncertain
Of whether or not I’ll pluck
A flower--
the desert rose--
Up and thrust it back to the earth
Leaving it down cast, and in a bundle of biowaste.
Chosen to suffer
It’s a burden I’m willing to bear, I guess, if I must!
Rome slowly burned
Crossing the Rubicon, yielded to a fiddle…
But the blood red sea took heed to another.
Israel lives on through her children
Her experience
Is thus…
Immortal.
And so…
The vanished
Remains.
On Friendship:
Why does the world assume that we mature as we get older, and not just rot?
Deep in my heart there is a trembling question, as to how exactly 7 billion humans could be present on earth and still, I feel alone tonight. I seek a beckoning candle to guide me through the darkness of a broken heart. I searched, and I search, but I could not find, a way in the world to find a peace of mind.
What are expectations?-and how do they influence our opinions of those people around us, that we include in our lives? A magnitude of factors determine our lives not just DNA and family upbringing. Factors like experiences and how we choose to interpret their importance, who we opt to mold ourselves after and what courses of actions we decide to take; are equally as important.. Our efforts and our locations, our environments both internal and external help construct an Identity and sense of Self.
What is the importance of…Friends? Relationships, individuals we select from mainstream society to situate ourselves closest to, play a drastic role in our lives and the way we view ourselves. Companionship is a core need for sentient beings. But, how do we go about procuring such a bond for ourselves? How do we maintain the stability of a connection to another?
Initially we look for common interests. Is there a particularly interesting person around you? Are you curious about who s/he is? Do you dare approach them and see if they reciprocate your fascination in existence? Once you know someone, how do you perceive their importance? How does s/he construct reality, and is it similar? Do the two of you share commonalities such as interests or beliefs? What is most core to both of you and can you share a bond based on it?
I often ponder why I like the people I like, and end up smiling. More often then not, my friends are kind and sensitive people. Primarily the fights and arguments I have with my companions revolve around me unrealistically expecting them to do something that they can not possibly do/be. The revelation that I am thinking only of myself, in a narcissistic longing to profit me vs. my friends, shocks me. I encounter realizations of who I am, when I encounter other. I exist only in so far as I act and am seen by other. And how I act determines who I really am.
My friends can only do what’s best for ensuring their own survival, and I must acknowledge others needs as equally as important as my own. My understanding of the importance of other creates a sense of self that is humane. Because I have internalized morality and the vow of “Do unto others”, I find myself to be of a very loving and sensitive nature. I embrace others. I care about others. I most expect them to do likewise, because I myself appreciate these qualities as most significant in my life. Tonight I’m alone. He walked out. He didn’t see worth in me. Openness and honesty. Love and loyalty. Great virtues. I sit alone! I feel rotten. When I drop to my knees I feel closest to heaven, why does this humble life feel so much like hell tonight?
