“If you were to live forever or die right now, which would you choose?”
That question sat with me all afternoon
I tried to justify living forever
Which is easier said than done
I argued that I haven't lived enough
This book is only a quarter full after all.
The words form a puddle on the ground as they sputter from my mouth,
When I saw my reflection in the puddle
I realized I could die at any given moment
Nothing is promised.
I guaranteed myself just another moment
If I continue to sit here in silence.
If I don't move,
If I just listen,
And breathe
Maybe the clock will think twice before ticking.
The stars are out and they’re worth considering,
with their glimmering, glittering, shimmering,
like fireworks flickering but more regularly appearing
in the black hole sky.
In Europe there are Ukrainians, Albanians, Scandinavians,
Romanians, Lithuanians and maybe a couple of Canadians,
but out there, in the dark black void-of-space, there are Aliens.
Ok, well, statistically, there are bound to be aliens.
your author has no first-hand knowledge of extraterrestrials
I have galactic questions though—you better believe it. For instance:
If light is the fastest thing in the universe,
why is darkness already there when light arrives?
Could dark-matter be chocolate? and
How can we roll our clocks back if time only moves forward?
This is when having a physicist for a boyfriend is handy
—as well as those times you need a ‘close encounter.’ wink.wink
.
.
A song for this:
Fiction by Yard Act
CanyonsMan/Woman/Chainsaw
Walking backwards till we are here again,
the illusion of space-time was dispelled,
with life seen as a movie, the truth plain,
yet cat of curiosity’s not belled.
At the stillness point, though we are complete,
spontaneous intent causes action,
fulfilled instantly, so we’re bliss replete,
yet deep down there is dissatisfaction.
Ego erased, one with the universe,
within the whole, although integrated,
desire simmers, for better or the worse,
causing movement of tides unabated.
Scriptures affirm truth as love, light and bliss
but till desire’s quelled, something is amiss.
Trick Questions
Our heads are round
so our thoughts can
change direction- but
that sometimes means
going around and around
in never ending circles
we can start again any time
Distance and time permitting
unless we punch a hole in these
distant walls that are separating us
I truly want to see her again and again
I really do remember her and regret
ever saying that I don't
Trick questions sometimes get wrong answers
Especially on bright sunny days regardless
of location and time of year
Unanswered Questions
Is a promise made in thought binding
like one made verbally or can it be disregarded
no matter what it happens to be as though meaningless?
Is a dream in which enthusiasm gets sincerely expressed
and a promise made an indication of good desire or even
some kind of indication?
Is it possible for such a dream to somehow come true
without even an unexpected boo hoo over a broken heart
and maybe over feelings of regret?
Can the promise be sincerely kept, and the friendship continue
regardless of what the promise happens to be even years after
the regretful end of a friendly conversation involving a wrong
answer?
Time creates many questions, but some may never get
answered although at least some deserve to be – will they ever be
as time trickles on like a water in a creek?
How is it that I can miss
someone that I don't even know?
It's driving me insane,
how can such thoughts be so?
Why is it that my soul
cries loudly in the night,
while searching for a woman
who's not within my sight?
Why is it that I crave
the brush of her soft hands,
and anxiously await
her impassioned demands?
Why is it that I long
to taste her honeyed kiss,
and drift away with her
through rapture's sweet abyss?
When will these feelings stop?
They're tearing me apart.
I'll never feel her touch;
I know this in my heart.
So why can't I let go
when nothing's there to hold?
Why can't I walk away
before my dreams turn cold?
I must begin to search
and find the key within
to vanquish all this pain
and not let darkness win.
Today I'll let her go
and seek her love no more,
but will I ever be
the man I knew before?
If we acknowledge Mother Earth,
How is it we discount her daughters?
If might doesn't make right,
What have we left out of the world?
What do we make of this world… that was made for us?
If we look up to Father Sky,
Is that why we look down on Mother Earth?
Or have we put words in the mouth of the wind,
When we mouth the words of our fathers?
Have we not learned from whence they came?
Ask me something easier
Mama used to say
When I wanted reasoning
Why it goes the way
No one says good word about
Yet they do agree
With those they can live without
Pretty easily
If the fools are able
To control the wise
What’s the wisdom’s fable?
How it satisfies
Is it dialectic
Or a consolation
That comes off too hectic
Closer to frustration?
Why the chosen rulers
Aspire to be great?
Why the fools can fool us
Are we that afraid?
Why do they contest?
Can’t they live a little?
Why there is no rest
For the wicked people?
Why the time can’t stop?
What’s the point in queues
If they can bring up
Anything we choose?
Why the sun and moon
Shine too bright this summer?
Why you’ve gone too soon
Poor little Mama?
Clouds fill the sky
Does it smell like rain?
I’m not sure, it’s dry
I can hear the train
Come over the bridge
To the other bank
But I have no speech
All my questions sank.
Why?
The interrogation of my terrain remains united with the departure of my illicit rout.
Unanswered;
It remains unanswered.
Every neglected weep of desolation seems to surrender into a twisted sense of homecoming.
As if I sought for it.
As if I craved for it.
As if I was such a deceiving fool to find comfort in the con of my own coiled hatred.
Every huff of laughter blooms in the scored rage of my cruel consciousness.
Every wretched scald for logic cuts through my stripped armour of malice.
Every beseeched gouge for a way out ignites the contamination of my polluted isolation.
Why?
The secluded sagacity of my sadistic void fades with the shaves of my skin.
As if an answer would demolish the fences of my enclosure.
As if an answer would kiss my wreckage back together.
As if an answer would dim the conceited lights of a blinded stage; a theatre dedicated to the amusement of my liberated decay.
I ask you a question.
Yet perhaps, all this time…
The answer has been inked onto the rot of my revolting ruin.
I am my own void.
What’s your favorite color
What was potty training like for you
Have you ever swallowed a bug
What flavor was your first ice cream cone
How many raisins can you fit in your nose
How far can you spit a watermelon seed
Have you ever farted in church
What was Grandma’s favorite saying
Have you done any “recreational” drugs
Are you seriously trying to answer these questions
Scamper perches on the oak’s thin wrist,
tail curled like a question mark
he hasn’t quite asked yet.
Morning light spills over him,
and he blinks as if the sun
has just whispered something
he’s not sure he’s ready to hear.
He studies an acorn
as though it contains
the blueprint of being~
turns it, weighs it,
presses his nose to its quiet shell
and wonders, Why does anything grow at all?
He pauses mid-sprint
to consider the wind:
Why does the wind come?
Why does it leave?
Why does it never stay long enough
to explain itself?
Sometimes he stares at the sky
with a seriousness
that startles the blue~
as if he’s trying to decide
whether the clouds are wandering
or simply lost.
And when dusk gathers
its purple shawl,
he sits on the fence rail,
small paws folded,
asking the last question of the day~
the one even the trees
lean in to hear:
What does a life mean
when all its moments
are this brief
and this bright?
Questions
Questions aren't a form of Disrespect.
Was the World better when you were
Young? Or you were just too young to
Notice it's flaws.
People think disrespect is something to
Tussel about, It's not.
It's something to keep an eye on, I have
Thousands of questions in my mind, I
Have too much to say, Wanna hear?
The world stood still, then moved again,
But now with rhythm you held no blueprint,
No plan nor masterkey, yet questions remains
To unlock ourselves, So why remember
Questions missed? Why not bother with it
At all? Because always issues wanted or not.
Questions remains.
If God was not here
Who walked with me?
In that little room with a bit of light
Holding onto whispers of the mind
I've met the others
who call on your name
sign your name to messages
and have been locked away
Am I of the number?
Where is the line?
If God was not here
who was with me all the time?
Roses can be red
Sunflowers can be yellow
What color are we?
Do you question reality?
I do sometimes;
Today I found myself on the second floor
Of a fast food building;
Sitting nearby the window
In some bench-like chair;
There were three of us;
One in the corner;
One in the middle of the small room;
And I nearby the window;
For a while I appreciated the fact that we,
As species,
For a while,
Were able to eat each its respective food,
Without gnarling and snarling at each other;
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