The Sound of Geese

We are the sound of geese,
going south.

We are the sound of kissing mouths.

We are the sound of shuddering,
repelling and attracting.

We are creatures, safe in sound,
oscillating.

We are the sound of geese,
going south.

We are the sound of passing mouths.

Dreams & Deja vu

My Dear, rest.

It’s all going to be OK.
Take in the waves as they lap at your feet.
Enjoy the wonders of this beautiful world of yours.
For the world is truly yours and it is at your fingertips.

Enjoy life & DANCE.
Dance in the magic that is creation.
Experience turbulence and know it will soon pass and morph into something anew.
Anew. Behold we make all things new.
Your something anew is coming soon.

Alien Message to Mankind

“Until recently, mankind lived in satisfactory control of its decisions. But it is losing more and more the control of its own fate, partly because of the growing use of advanced technologies.

Independently of your own will, your resilience will artificially decrease and you will slowly but surely lose your extraordinary capacity to make life desirable. Such plans are on their way.

Should a collective reaction of great magnitude not happen, this individual power is doomed to vanish. The period to come shall be one of rupture.

This break, however, can be a positive break — as long as you keep the creative power alive in you.

We reached the conclusion that freedom is built every day, as a being becomes aware of himself and of his environment, getting progressively rid of constraints and inertias, whatever they may be.”

An Old Memory, part deux

Assuredly, I would have lost my mind eons ago if I was resigned to the metropolitan constant, to the influx of the city complete.

I vaguely recall the places I used to frequent around there. Areas where the horizon met the sky in a near faultless correspondence. I would sneak away with a most fantastically mediocre bottle of red wine. Only to sip it softly off the neck, as gentle as I can perform any one thing.

Lights peak from behind me on the trail. I think it is far too quiet for a train. It must be patrol. I saunter casually, move aside. I am not alarmed. I come to a small overpass or bridge, it’s dark, and it lays some ten or so feet above the ground, above my head by only three.This small rail bridge defends a dried up creek, a most insignificant crack in the earth.

I cork the Noir and proceed to position myself in the dark, away from the approaching lights, in those wet shadows of both late late night and early early morn. A city block away, above me, the sound of metal on metal and the rumble of their nigh consent conjoin in a cacophony of brash brilliance.  I realize this is not unfamiliar at all. Foreign pressing hard, adjacent to native. This is an authority of another sort all together.

Everything is in shadow. I am waiting for this train. The automated lackluster machine approaches the bridge. Suddenly one large continuous tremble shakes the the Earth awake. The train passes over, roaring above me aloft by inches. The wheels buzz by overhead completely naive of my fragility a few feet below. This archaic foundation supports this metallic mammoth like an ancient Egyptian Madonna. We are both rattling.

Absurdly, then, I realize the most captivating part of this place is the — calm. Like facing rapid water, knowing the shape of the current because — it’s already pulled you under. It was so close. It was that close.

There were a lot of places and memories like these around where I used to live;  water, trains, rivers, floods, rocks. You know the sort. The sort of things that are solidly and unabashedly without equal.

My Father Once Told Me of Love

And we’ll walk and talk of stories
I’ll start swapping mine for yours
And you’ll tell me not to worry
About whatever came before
You’ll stop me on the sidewalk
brush my hair behind my ear
and finish your smiling thought by saying
“Baby it’s all or nothing out here.”

My father once told me of love
or more so what it’s not
whatever it is, or was
by now I have plain forgot.

The Great American Spirit

Our life is a sneeze to please.
But sometimes we’ll break free,
Just to be replaced, or
repackaged for a fee.

Don’t submit to entitlement issues.
Government run by excited piss tissues.
Take a percentage off the top, I got lots.
Taxes, brackets, what a racket.
Twenty fourteen is but a dream.
Empty your pockets, it’s not what it seems.

Hoard it up like TLC, check your vitals, you ain’t like me.
Hoard it up like TLC, check your vitals, you ain’t like me.

We all want to be royalty.