Plants Are Like People

Plants are like people.  First, they will be organized, usually rooted, and counted somehow.  They must be fed, watered properly, and tested to measure their growth.  Plants are kept on large scales to insure that most survive, though they are all still prone to eradication.  Before they were organized by someone in charge, plants would roam free and wild in the hills and crevices of the world, evolving, changing with those around them, no one species dormant with its own unchanging kind, but alive, learning, adapting to all that surrounds it. Now plants live by masters.  They are raised in boxes and treated with pesticide.  They were once a blessing to earth but have become a controlled substance.  Plants are like people.

Kickstarter

Thank you readers!  It is always heartwarming when you come across my blog and I hope you've enjoyed all you've read so far.  More poetry is coming!  I'm currently working on more projects, and my first novel, a sci-fi poetry collection, will be self-published, (eventually).  Keep an eye out for Memories From Another Universe on Amazon!!  You can help kick-start my marketing by pledging a donation on kickstarter.com at the address below.  All donations large and small are greatly appreciated.  Thank you so much for your generosity in helping me reach my goal.  Read more of my poetry for free on my blog. :)

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October 1st, 2013

In my car, it's all packed up
On the street next to my park
I am uphill, looking down on it
Sort of saying goodbye.
Not really though, I know I'll be back
It would take a permanent altering lifechange to keep me away
Bittersweet familiar, mostly sweet but never perfect
Attached to.  We need to break up.  But we can still be friends.
This has been a long time coming, we've both known that.
But you will always be my past.

Also, this love.  This love I harbor,  This perfectly irrational unconditional emotional surrender.  You are right, we cannot work, and somewhere inside I have always known this.
You fucked me right here, where I'm sitting in my car, in another place, and with my selfish intention, that I must try to stop.  That selfish intention that drives me to irrational emotional surrender.  I can no longer fall for this state of mind, by the one I possess.  I must be rid of it, I must respect the emptiness it brings and be fulfilled with natural possession of my own.


PART TWO

It's funny that I feel more comfortable in the car than down in my park on a nice patch of grass under a tree.  A little ironic, this car is my freedom.  And by possessing my life inside of a vehicle I have condensed my emotions into the glass windows.  Love, anger, paranoia, patience...are all clear self-images through the windshield.  I only have myself to focus on, and my distractions are all tucked away in the Colorado totes.  I have no job to go to, although I hope to find one in the Rockies.  I do have a lot of crap.  Maybe not too much, but definitely a bit more than I want.  Lately have been trying to let go of stuff.  It's hard when I've spent the last six years accumulating nice-ish things for myself.  Oh, and it's tough when I want to buy a camping stove, propane, and tire chains, which all each take up just a bit more room.  Still have enough space to sleep, and for three passengers, (or two with gear/dogs,) can CRAM in.  Like, hippie-pack.  That's all that should matter.  Good times await.  The new world awaits.

It's funny how I hit the familiar spots.  I just did a lap through Good Sheppard Church on a dark-for-8pm Thursday evening and have no idea why.
As I left Chez Jose after a free beer from James and a free margarita from Raphael, it was awesome to get a call from JJ as I was unlocking my door to leave to god knows where.  But....
I don't want to be charged for an x-ray and I don't want to pay for any root canals.  After several sessions JJ feels the same as I about wanting to finish my treatment.  But the timing doesn't seem to be right on this one.  So where am I to go from here?  It's a 2 1/2 day trip for a 2 1/2 hour drive, and here I am, eating old work, making rounds through my old church.  Jesus pamphlets are $2.50.


PART THREE

Everything makes so much more sense with a companion.
A lover, a friend,
Someone to criticize, and someone to reflect from
An unconditional, entirely understanding bond
Sort of like that which I have with my teddy bear.

Although I always wanted to go with someone, I can see it now - going alone will be better.

Creating Truth

Truth is created in many ways
Such as a lie, a variation of what is
An imagined possibility one creates
So in some reality, each lie is a truth
And this world has progressed from creations,
Things that were once lies
Possibilities that became.

We all speak to be heard
And one thing inside each of us listens
For one thing.
One connection.  Relation.  Mutual feeling.
We all long to be together,
And here we are, apart
Stuck in a body, stuck in a mind
So aware of what we choose to see
Our senses react to what we're instinctively inclined to.
We know there is a connection
Foolishly we try to prove it, title it,
And as we conform to politics, religions,
Mass followings of pyramid schemes,
We forget this connection
Or misinterpret it
All of us have a power.
All of us use it differently
And all of us judge each other because of it;
Hate brings the masses to a place I do not expect to be pleasant or peaceful
Hate for yourself, your neighbor, and the God who treated you so poorly
But if we remember, fellow people,
All of us contains this hatred, this love, this power.
How we choose to focus it, as a mass of energy congruently reacting,
Is the lie I tell today that will be truth tomorrow.

(wake up)

it isn't drama

it's truth

it's awareness

it's giving a fuck about something other than the playoffs...or finals for that matter.

a lack of emotion is more dramatic in its denial than this honesty

we should be outraged.

Slug in Progress

Said a slug atop a tree trunk

As the light went away

Regard not weather, or if the sun has sunk

Be slow and steady in work or play

Slide with all the slime in you

Give food to the ant who lies broke with a fly

Find reason to clear trail ahead of your glue

And sing a slug song to all winged passerby

Even if a hungry bird will try

To catch more than a song that day

And reckoning war is just how one slithers by

And instinct it must obey

A bird may discover as she will eat

To fill her craving will never quite defeat

That loneliness that drives every hunger

We may slowly decay our own hearts asunder

As one slug we could snail alone in a shell

Create our own slithery reality of hell

Or wriggle on, for day is dawn!

In dryness or rain we defy any pain

Gradually a slug's life will slip on

Leaving slime on each trail he did gain.

What It Is

Have you forgotten what you came here to do
And what you have been connected to
If you've transformed life into a chore
And abandoned what's worth working for
Do you remember what it's like to have more?
Dreams, oh yeah, you kind of see, now
It's not about when or where, it's about how
Your thoughts may be dimensionally restricted
But at least you can measure pleasure before you're addicted
You insist on continuing to take it easy
But life is a challenging symmetry of queasy
And dreams, oh yeah, it's a bit clearer still
If you can't handle nightmares then take the blue pill, but
If you know what you must do and are positioning to dive
You're already awake and truly alive
For those of you afraid or not very assured
Step out of your own way, be not obscured
There is a task I'm singling out, but
I have no idea, only You can carry it out