Wednesday, August 8, 2012

25.19


25.19
Sometimes we pretend at being normal as we gather all the beatniks around the stage. Each one has a little drum in his hand that he uses to tap out a disjointed rhythm. You wanted their lies more than their truths. Together we built a glass palace that stood high upon the hill. When I held the stone in my hand, it felt authentic. I left you here sad and unfulfilled with so much more left to be spoken. I always thought of coming back this way and placing the jeweled crown upon your head. But, I was distracted by the wasteland. It was the wicked void that called me on, to journey forward into dark upon dark. I was standing under a tin roof and wishing I had a friend, someone to play legos with. I conjured mister Bo jangles under the cloudy sky. He danced around your Shirley Temple and we all clapped and shouted for more. You said he was your hero when you used to believe in the magic of dance steps. I wonder what you believe in now. Do you still believe in me? Even when I put the blindfold over your eyes? You said this was ordained by god. You said that god’s blessing made it legal. I never thought of this as a crime. It was your smile that said, “go ahead, take a chance.” You stood there with your papers in your hand, you had on your reading glasses and the blue jean jacket you stole from Herman. I listened as you spoke about desire, dreams, and vision. I always liked you in your sweater and scarf, standing outside your house with your arms crossed. I always wondered who it was you were protecting. Traffic was backed up to the funeral home. We turned around and went back home. It was a little too precious, a little too conventional. We are hiding inside each vignette, meeting at the chateau. We made an external object inside this fake space. Can you feel the pieces work on each other? We are in bungalow two, a small universe. I forced you to touch the evil charm, standing erect amidst the brambles. Sometimes I would pour you straight out of the can. I was only expressing my feelings. It is all about expression now. Before we measured success by individualist means, nightly we threw drunken wild parties. Herman was such a big alcoholic. He would compensate by being overly macho. He was afraid of being considered a cutie-pie. We settled down in the suburbs with our drinking and depression. You would comment on the hunger of nature. We kept humping away making more centipedes. The speed and the energy was all a part of the experience. We are amino acids struggling up out of the slime. We put a grid across our hearts to prevent others from looking inside. You say it is all about divide and conquer, pushing forward the technique. We live in a mechanical world that is filled with and seems to exist only for machines. We need to turn things upside down and live for nature. We need to stop worshiping the machine and begin to recognize and value the animal.