Turning the Observation

Turning the observation, faceted

Like fine, cut glass, the ‘real’, refracted

Colors split prismatic, as tacit as

What solitary silence, intact, said

Were tones of sound overheard or color

Glimpsed though mists by the eyes of some other

Turning like colors, what were glimpsed

Faceted, refracted, as said, “Color”

Walking unfocused halls of memory

Walls lined with portraits and landscapes

Softly diffused temperate temporality

Scent on a cloth brings persons remembered

Inspiring ghostly touch of absent hands

From an old time gently dismembered

Intemperance tolerantly escapes

Transplants of casual theft from foreign lands

Who we are

Tread here this plastic earth

Seismic karma rejoicing in tectonics

Reveling in the friction of our birth

Each step a leap of faith

Catatonic

Where it is in front of you, on a tray

For your pleasure, Sir, Madame, entertain

Perhaps this fine brew of fermented day

Head on the track facing the oncoming train

It’s not real

(I think I can)

It’s not real

(I think I can)

It’s not real

We who deceive ourselves endlessly here

Lacquering trays of liquor in colors bright

To have and hold tender

Wanton fear

Safe from some unknowable ghastly plight

And the glass shared with friends

And the buck seen browsing amid trees

And the girl facing the prospect of ends

And the boy with his hand between her knees

And the open field starry with wildflowers

And the somnolent lawn mowers of dusk

And the old men with their beer in the shade

And the baseball game on the radio

And the talk of the troubles and powers

And the sweet corn roasted in the husk

And those who know they truly have it made

And those who only think they maybe know

Outside the aquarium, outside the glass

Green with neglect and algae (not envy)

Sound surfs quantum waves of air or water, alas

A song of loneliness and singularity

Of the grass that dies just to live again

And the mountain that must only endure

And the stream that sings along its journey

And the calm water mirroring reflection

And the mind in love imagining perfection

And the heart that beats alone inside me

And the realization of surety

And the innocence no cynicism abjures

And the grass that dies just to live again

Receiving endlessly water and air

My own daily portion gaily gift wrapped

Freshly fragrant delivered maidens fair

Lingering poised by the hall mirror, rapt

In themselves

Sigh

Shaken with pleasure, poison and passion

Cocktail concoction of art or science

Capturing a youthful body and face

Sheathed in silky fashion

Fast said, yes it feels like a rejection

I only want you because

Even there, the hint of shame, admission

The cannot passing of forever was

I look away, head hung, ego afraid

Avoiding you for the familiar buzz

Safe within my own head, meaning-fishing

While the price of intimacy is paid

You’re the “I need you” song

My mistake

My need for speed

Yet the clock is beautiful in its make

My decay precious as it clocks my speed

Your absence a joy as it shows my need

The anvil to my hammer gone missing

I need you not to be my last mistake

Song I want desperately to sing

We are born, we live, we die. In between, everything constantly changes. There is pain and pleasure. We try to avoid the pain and seek the pleasure but in reality it is all good. It is all the physical experience. It is what we signed up for.

Tuning into the idea of separate perspectives we are confronted by the mind boggling prospect of billions of viewpoints, each one unique and different. Our poor brains are not equipped to conceive of the reality of such a number. There is no place large enough to contain several billion people so that one could actually see all of them. Perhaps on Jupiter...

The question many of us ask is, why? I say that we are the manifestation of God's need to be everything and nothing. You may say something different. I believe you could say that God is anything and it would be true, because God is absolutely everything. Our separateness from God is a temporary illusion God adopts in order for God to experience the physical existence.

You are on a mission from God. Don't miss out on anything. Experience everything you can. It's your job.