Sometimes serious

Only in fairy tales are there kids who love their parents back without knowing about the indifferent apathetic universe. Only in lore are there kids who are grateful - who are satisfied knowing- that there are people who take charge of their life and who care about them and feed them and make troubles their own Before going into the space of empty thought and loss of purpose. Only in a story is there a kid who understands the value of what he has not yet lost. You can start a story about a man who was happy about his job and his family and about the little joys of life You can start a story about a woman whose family is everything for her and who was sacrificial and truthful and joyous and giving. In reality, such a lady is in denial. In reality, she is pretentious. In reality, such a man is not curious In reality, such a man is dull. Question-less, flat. Happiness in a tale is the lie that must keep the possibility of real happiness alive. Truths that...

Consumption is passive. We all have to buy to live, work to buy. But what we buy is passive. Mostly only based on availability. Mostly only choosing one out of many. Mostly only harmless sustaining and expensive taste. Let other men slaughter your animals You're no hunter, let other men kill. Let others, still, clean up your dirt That job is too rich for your class. Let others spend hours searching for diamonds wrapped in the blood of their brothers. Let others do your paper work. Don't get blood on your hands, no. Don't spur war. Don't you. Don't you get mud on your hands either. You can't wash away everything clean, all the time. Just be an intention. Just be a motivation for war. No panic. Just be the 'society' everyone can point at when they try to explain civil dissonance and rigidity and violence and absurdity. Stay put. Blame conditioning. Blame lack of will, herd mentality. Blame the education system that taught you ...

This is not a world for daydreamers. If your thoughts wander often, we apologize but this world is not for you. But this is not a world for being gentle and talking through your troubles until there is semblance of joy. This is not a world for beauty No more than what will really sell. If you thought otherwise, we apologize. But it is not a world for softly resting your head against assurance. So please, just. Find out what catches peoples' attention. What is it that people like. Find out how to put things so that They will buy the most From the money they spend by making other people buy other things. This is not a world for song and dance, We apologize. But if you want to lose yourself there are other ways As long as you purchase. This is not a world for feeling. It is a world for sensation. Didn't you figure that out already when you read about evolution? It is not a world for justification So if you think otherwise We apologize But this is ...

I I don't know what it is about you That makes my body talk like it does Every time it thinks of you. And the magnetic movements it makes And every shape it forms  Is all because you made it Whatever it is now. You made it beautiful not in the sense of a morning Or an oil drawn landscape But in the way of a volcano or a truth That is beautiful because it is stark  And because it is. You make my body acknowledge its being a whole with every part Rather than an attribution, or a simulation For the brain itself to map its skills on to. In the way that all of the earth is It is alive. Red blood flows in it much less than Its realization of itself. II The terrifying truth in my arms and face and legs And the cynical jester in the head Talk to each other so often these days There is no lie on the body.  No truth exists in the mind. If it has borne wounds, and been burnt If it has recovered or rotted, If it has sparkled or calmed, It i...

Does it help that some of us are lost together?  When what we look for doesn't exist in the same place,  And no other validation would do, to reassure? When we know the beating of the heart that we desire to hear And the warmth that we desire to seek. And the caress that would excuse the darkness in our act Which would forgive the bleakest desperation of our soul Doesn't exist in the world anymore And we must live a lie, and build up a castle.  A showplace for our personalities full of glittering smiles. And turn inwards to that image for reassurance Till we get thrown back into the night in the desert Where our naked desperation breathes the cold air And shrinks, and feeds on no love to live by Finding others as lost as you As depraved as the soul has become after seeing all these years of never having been home And never having had a tinge of an idea validated. Maybe if a significant amount of time passes There will be a surge in the heart again...