Music

Music drifts across and informs

So…

what is it

we are chasing

anyway? 

I know what I like, 

what I love…

and here I am

wondering

what to do….

Shouldn’t I know? 

Why am I asking you? 

Rhythm, 

meter,

time signatures…

all

already

worked out

long before

I first drew a breath. 

Here I am,

Like a fool,

grasping at the fringe;

still asking the darkness

to show me herself,

and explain to me

what to do. 

Man…

I am lost. 

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Markets and patrons

We have no real fear
of anything like hell.
Instead we have errected
bazaars and markets
at the throat of its entrance
and we pay for the privilege
of each visit and every stay.
The more we complain
that it has become
worse than ever before
the more we dedicate of ourselves
to it.
We have found a comfort
within our comfort
of discomfort.
We are made happy
in saying
we are unhappy.

Unnamed

The globe rotates on a point…

what point could that be?

You and I might call it an axis.

Even without a name

it would still exist

(and the earth would still turn).

For all-time things have done their “thing”,

unnamed.

To give a thing a name

is to attempt some level of control.

For what then, is “God” given a name?

For what purpose?

To name is to identify.

So I am named,

but still I know not who I am.

Funk

Why aren’t we more aware

of our “ups” when we are up?

When we’re down, it’s all too painfully real.

Deep, purple black wounds…

so drained…

an ugly funk.

I’m so down it’s silly…

Help me…

please….

Help me to get

up.