City Limits

I was on a confused city limit highway in a rusty old red truck I borrowed from a dusty farmer driving in circles looking for my father. The thick metal body of the vehicle rattled as I shifted gears over the cheap asphalt, but all the parts were well built and she drove stiff and strong. The truck had gotten me through the barriers and obstacles that were in my way, but as I pulled around another off ramp to an underpass rest area, I was disheartened. There were no signs on how to get back the other way where my mom was waiting at the college to help me look for dad. Part of me didn’t want to go back, the roads there lead to dead ends into rivers and were more confusing footpaths. The only difference was that the roads there had art and spectacles around it where the highway I was on was utilitarian, streamlined and uncaring.

The off ramp lead me down to a strange parking lot. Several other cars were down there. Jeeps and BMWs and a Mercedes, modern and plastic and brittle. My old truck backfired and echoed with heavy gears around the underpass giving me looks from the middle aged layabouts and a couple energetic naive youth. I shifted down, pushing the handle so worn only the silver aluminum on the handle shown. I rolled my window down to ask one of them if there was a way to get back to the highway in the opposite direction, each I asked were friendly, they told me to follow the parking lot to the other ramp. I knew they were wrong, but I trusted them anyway. I knew deep down that I’d be going the same way I’ve been going.

I didn’t know if I was looking for dad anymore, or what I was looking for. I pushed the sluggish truck on , getting new power from each gear as the highway flew by around me. The cars of a generation speeding past me to whichever city we were on the limit of. The cars were driving themselves.

I thought maybe I could turn around if I got to the city and throttled up to overdrive. 

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Idealism

I look at myself and wonder why, 

It has to be such a lonely road to die,

Lonelier still to a life that’s true,

Knowing what I know without you,

Wishing for something just beyond,

Hoping that it hasn’t already gone.

I can feel what I must do,

And it might not be nothing new,

Makes grumpy stew

But I keep walking it without you,

Staring unblinking into the darkness.

Between breaths.

Try to make a fucking nickel while they make you roll a dime, I’ve got ice and fire in my veins from fretting from when I might die and how high I can get, the dichotomy makes me ossified to the troubles of anyone I haven’t met, worried about who I am and what it’s all comming to makes me forget to buy a new pair of shoes or go to the swimming pool, locked in a prison of fear and doubt until I can’t get feeling of the elements or hear all the voices of friends who wanna hang out, just a hampster in a cage just a pidgin who never goes out till my life has passed by and wouldn’t that be a crime? When you try to make a nickel and you’ve always had the dime, but there’s nothing to spend it on now when your years are gone and you get annoyed by all the noise as you stare in the void and what’s the point of playing the game with all the fake people and the fronts they claim to make sense of the world that it’s all cool and fine and just forget I said anything cuz it’s all bullshit anyway, all the stuff going on in the world why should we think about it any more when there’s no barrier to the evil but holding me up is an optimism from another era that tells me it’s all gonna get better. So I’ll just sit here and feel like 15 cents. 

Breath.

I’m at work, two women of middle age in a yellow bug, the kind with the flower holder, came in and would not stop laughing. “Oh valet. So fancy!” Everything I said was funny and I began to feel happy and laughed along with them about everything as they bumble into the restaurant. Their car (despite being a convertable) reeked of weed. All things have an explanation.

Wardgarble

There once was a wardgarble big and strong,

Who played the tambourine all day long.

With a jingle and a jangle she would step to a beat,

And never was bothered by those who wanted her to eat.

The wardgarble went hither and thither and all the way fro,

Through the sand, the grass and, all in the snow,

Through sea, and sky, and through our great star,

No place is beyond the wardgarble to mar.

With no sympathy, aid, or any remorse,

The wardgarble continues its damnable course,

A Jingle and jangle all through the night,

An unstoppable force of power and might.

Childeren’s book idea.

Today is another day
By this guy

Hey, it’s okay, today is another day!

To live and learn and find a new way,

To do all those things you’re good at,

like walk and run and jump and play!

To see all the people that you know go about their day,

and say hi to them as they go on their way.

Odillaly! Callooh Calay!

Enjoy the time while they have it to stay,

performing life’s little goshdarned play

while the cold embrace of the universe surrounds you

and strips away your ego

turning your vibrant achievement’s to particulates of grey,

Swaddles you in the comfort of nothing

and upends your hopeful attempts to survey

 

Titanic gulfs of interest amid existential parlays

Trying to chase your “true” potential day after day after day after day after day after day after day after day:
until the sound of that word makes you sick to your stomach and you realize that it’s all just time happening, night day it has no real meaning than it’s direct effect on when we do stuff and it’s all slipping away into the vast cauldren of bubbling something while our microscopic world spins through space around a small blip of light which is fifty million times bigger than the bacteria that live in our stomachs to help us digest cuz we’re an entire ecosystem, yeah OUR BODIES ARE AN ECOSYSTEM for small organisms who meet the same requirements for life as us because we can’t rationally draw a line (I guess it’s somewhere around viruses but that’s beside the point because the fucking scope of small things to big things is so mind boggling that I’m jaded to everything else now and I don’t know what has value anymore so I latch onto set ideals of what should be values and smoke and drink to relax myself from that constant factor and don’t close parentheticals because barriers are an illusion….

um

….But hey, It’s okay, today is another day

To make the story change

to figure out a better way

to laugh and love and jump and play

Odillaly! Callooh Calay!

Today is another day.

“Hey what’s up?”

I’m so bad at people and making decisions….but don’t feel bad for me, I don’t think I deserve it …oh god now I’m saying too much and you’re all looking at me and now I don’t know what to say cuz it’s just gonna dig a deeper hole where it gets complicated and people will want more explanations or to comfort me or they just won’t care at all and I don’t know if I can bear it if I say all this stuff and put myself and my feelings out on the line and then getting nothing in return but blankness and whatever because I equate people liking me to my own self worth and I can’t help it and I end up ashamed of myself for even bothering because I’ll know people will be making opinions of me based on what I say like “looking for attention” or “wow that’s sad” or even “What’s wrong” which are stuff that I think about other people sometimes because I’m selfish and I constantly need validation, but don’t bother  to validate others all the time, but they might not even want my validation cuz why would they have the same issues as me? and I’m not asking for you to care or worry about me because those are all the sorts of things I don’t want because I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m okay, don’t worry about me or think about me but DON’T GO AWAY because I’m afraid of dying alone and being alone and dying in general, but I keep making mistakes and driving people  away and why cant everyone just get off of eachother’s case and maybe I’m just on my own case or everyone is a jury and they are constantly standing over me to the point where all of humanity is just this faceless black shadow shrouding out the sky beyond it’s horrid godlike eye that looks at me when I go to a bar or walk down the street or register to vote and it watches me telling me I’m not worth your time because I’ve fucked up so many times before and it’s going to happen again and I don’t know if the eye is right or if I make it right because I don’t want to fail and I want people to like me because I validate myself by people liking me and I can’t keep track of everyone or even want to keep tabs on people or be involved with people because of the jury shadow eye thing and the longer time I spend with people the easier it is for me to hurt them because I’m bad at people and making decisions…but don’t feel bad for me, i don’t think I deserve it…now I’ve said too much the hole is very deep now and I don’t know if I have some kind of problem but all the online tests I take say that I’m positively average and on the one hand that should be good but a uniqueness is necessary to stay sane and I wanna believe that I’m special like my momma would say but I’m not special and that’s okay I’m fine with that so I’m all myself and If I’m supposed to be average that might mean that most people have the same thoughts as me and that means that they can maybe relate to having thoughts like me and maybe that might mean that….something. So anyway…no I’m gud.

Modern Prophets

Buddha’s got a necktie of wires, he’s sitting at the cafe dragging on spirits and sipping on all your time.

Jesus has a cellphone and he’s trying to look up how to give a damn enough to teach you how to fish.

Mohamed’s got a loudspeaker but it’s turned the wrong way and he makes his own ears bleed with words of righteous peace.
A horde of whiskey addled, good old American drunks glance sidelong down the bar at the dispensary where prophets jerk at each other and he holds his liver close with the next spinning sip down to the hole.

Moses is telling me to take two tablets and instead I take three and wait for the commandments but I only get suggestions.

Onion

I wonder how that Rolling purple foliage of an onion ended up ambling across the parking lot. That somewhere in the world an onion grew from the ground, was shipped, and stored, and sold,

all the while the flaky chemical structure growing closer to it’s final escape; the individual cells perhaps even aware that they drive into what would seem a vast and endless expanse.

It brings to mind that I may be breathing the same air that filled the lungs of Caesar or breezed through the deep hush of Brazil,

Whether the speck of dust that catches the odd light in the window could have been carried over the sea and the sands of Arabia, the same wind that pushes this ambling husk along its useless journey across the barren tarmac.

If we only knew the scope of effects, perhaps we would be crueler or kinder.

Moment

Once so far away,

is now arrived,

is now behind,

is with us forever.

life is a moment,

long and incoprehendable

brilliantly arising, confirming,and deteriorated

A jump, a wave, a pulse, a splash

from calm to calm

and punctuated by pure sun warmth,

the cool immersion of water,

the tickle of green grass,

the mysterious dark,

Life is a moment of everything.

A fantastical Drop in it all.

Ants & Telepathy

“Mosquitoes pay ants no mind. They lack the sustenance needed. And as I watch what looks like some kind of ant highway, a daddy long-legs marches above them through the tall grass.

Species that don’t bother eachother.

I don’t trouble them, but by my very nature I couldn’t live among them.

I’m too big.

And that’s why the mosquitoes like me.”

Do you think ants see themselves as individuals?

Not family relations, but the insects.

I mean If you take the thought experiment to say that maybe they could have a sense that they are one among many and not in the sense that they have thoughts and feelings. But I mean they could for all we really know.

Apparently the more ants you have in a group, the smarter they become, which seems to be the exact inverse of humanity.

In that regard, perhaps ants all feel and sense the collective colony, seeing the world as one organism. Rather than a bunch of ants working at menial goals, they understand the implications of it all, their place in it as more of an appendage. They would probably feel themselves closer to a plant, with far stretching roots and systems.

Such things would require a certain degree of what we would call telepathy. Whether you believe in it or not, I don’t think if it existed that it would be as simple as “talking” in other people’s heads. Words were around much later from any biological ability. It would be in feelings, images. or just plain impulses to do things.

I recently read that aboriginal Australian tribes have a “system” where when they feel a twitch or a pain randomly in their body, they can touch that place on them, enter a meditative state and somehow “see” a relative (an aunt if you will) or a location that they know. All the article told me was that it was startlingly accurate, as telepathy was just a small caveat to a greater conclusion about the brain.

In this busy world of business we live in of internet and numbers, perhaps that key part of the brain was lost or clouded from us. Perhaps it’s still there somewhere deep inside. It could be for all we know.