Digging for Meaning

We live in a fog.  The daily Sisyphean chore is to  try and clear that fog. If you can watch your breath, that is enough. 

I have made up my mind, About your unsound mind. I have made up my mind, About your unsound mind.   aha.. and so have you, is it? And yet, here we are cackling at each other. aha.. and so have you, is it? And yet, here we are cackling at each other. I can shout louder and I have stapled shut my ears. and how dare you look away? look at me! hear me! I can shout louder and I have stapled shut my ears. and how dare you look away? look at me! hear me!  listen to me! LISTEN TO ME! listen to me! LISTEN TO ME!  and stop pushing me, stop talking Your problem is YOU just won't listen. and stop pushing me, stop talking Your problem is YOU just won't listen. Oh yes, oh yes? talk sense you numbskull. YOU are a lobotomized dandelion you are a snowflake robot. Oh yes, oh yes?  talk sense you numbskull. YOU are a headless cocroach You clueless sheeple. YOU shut up YOU shut up Listen to ME Listen to ME You You ...

Things turn into cash once they are stripped of their lives - their breath, their freedom, their dignity or their joy. A fish on the table and a cubicle dweller.. both are united in their solvency, their ability to be stripped of their lives and turned into money. This solvency is our own making Hold up your hands against the sun and your favourite gods Do they dissolve?  Hold up your heart and see if it beats for them Hold your joys in your hands and fling them towards the system, does it stick? For a better world first we need to walk away from this world.

If I were a king, I would declare it a birth right & a duty to look up and feed one's soul with the beauty of sky. Every soul deserves to feel the majesty of the great above -  The ominous greys rolling whites serene blues or the orange blue kisses of the setting sun... There is beauty in every sky. Every sky is free of our smallness, our worries, our angst. All hopes, dreams and realisations converge upwards above clouds and above satellites in the great beyond that our gazes seek and find above us.

In the middle of the maelstrom, the saffron vortex of hatred, The man stands battered, by swirling dust of ignorance eyes stinging from all that wide-eyed and yet blind outraging ashamed by his smallness ready to lash out impotently against his own interest against his own people.  ___ Flag bearers must be blind for if they had eyes, they would desert to join the throng at the sidelines screaming to stop the madness. But how can they stop anything without getting sucked into the vicious vortex? unfortunately the only thing the blind understand is the remorseless fist. and the ones with open eyes at the sidelines can't close their palms into fists without succumbing to that old human malady - remorse and guilt. ___ Who with open eyes will take up the challenge of raising and raining fists in-spite of the remorse and the guilt against the hate engineers, the profiteers of commotion, the instigators of dust storms?

Come fall, what if our house sheds its roof? like helpless leaves, slaves of seasons. Decay collecting underneath naked sky piercing us with its raw hostility. Should we rather be moths and caterpillars then enjoying the delicacies of the decay? Or the birds who roam in search of a house they can call their own for awhile.

a bird, a weightless soul pouring out its music into nothingness...

i am the little air particles jostling, fighting to be breathed in by you. breathe in, silence every cell of my body taught with anticipation. darkness and questions groping for the past to bludgeon open the future. breathe out, sight of your smile bellows me upwards in bliss. i dance and i sing and i land gently on your skin. caressed flooded with love we are blind to time finding eternity of bliss in a moment. for a moment to dissolve into another for the life on a roll forever i am the little air particles.