For Example

I own this black cat.
It loves my mom-
this cat who's really all that.
It's totally the bomb.

It loves my mom
just because she feeds it.
It's totally the bomb,
but she always calls it "Kit".

Just because she feeds it.
No one really knows why,
but she always calls it "Kit".
I think maybe she's high.

No one really knows why
she thinks she's named the cat.
I think maybe she's high,
so I'd rather name it "Pat".

She thinks she's named the cat:
this cat who's really all that.
So, I'd rather name it "Pat"-
I own this black cat.

yes, we're alive

This is coming up to the common third-year. And I don't feel like I did.
Life is coming up on the common half-decade, and I don't feel anything like a child.

Whoever said that adulthood began at thirty simply wasn't paying enough attention.
Everyone and thing changes.

In some ways, you're just like I've always remembered you. In some ways, you're new.
Sometimes, the new makes me wonder, feel in awe, like I'm spinning around in circles just to see.
Sometimes, the old makes us all sad.

There's a whole load of things we've been up to these past three years.
Most of them went unseen.

An invisible revolution.

And now we're new and fresh and honest. Or we want to be.
That's more than most of the world.

And I've been thinking too much about the past these past years. Thinking or wondering or dreaming that I'm seeing where we're going.

Perhaps, I'm still just a fool. But it's okay now.
I'll be deaf if you'll be my music.
And you'll be blind if I'll be your memory.

Othertimes, I just wonder.

The future isn't blank. The future doesn't exist.
And it's we that make it.

Whatever is the meaning of all of this, we'll come to soon enough. And we'll see it face to face and the smoke and mirrors will clear and we'll comprehend those things we never even saw.

Someday, maybe I'll be clear to you.
For now, we'll be the drunkards drinking from life.
Tomorrow, maybe we'll keep drinking
Or else we'll be the ones hung over.

And that's just fine.

Are We the Living.

This is beginning of a multitude of problems.
This is the end of finding resolutions.

Perhaps.
But the way of things is the way things have always been.
For this is the result of how things got to be.
And of the way we were meant to be,
the choice is already complete.

No, but the end is never circular;
The beginning never straight.
And the road is a sphere we travel in,
never a line we walk across.

Change is inevitable - Change is life.
The world lives and the world changes.
Life lives or it is left behind.

Yet we often only regret ourselves--
Seeking stagnation. Suffocation.
Overwhelment of the mosquitos of our own sufferings.

Yes. We often invite the silence, the stillness:
A placid lake where nothing stirs;
A deadness seeping into our presents,
in order to simply just go nowhere,
on into a deepening greyness.

Out of all of nature,
We are the greyest-
The creatures who fear life.
Those that sink from exterminiation,
to do nothing in its stead.

Strange--
that we should be the immortals.


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After a long hiatus, it would appear that poesy has sprung upon me.