So, here we are, now, lost in annals of
a troubled cosmic mind; our avatars are shed,
our bearings gone; we're left to stake our way and thus
we cross into unmappèd territory of awareness, then
we'll know the feel, the sentimental bliss;
ecstatically releasèd from the coil, for we've let go,
though fast! Ephem'ral is the joy that gives the way
to pain made flesh, but we'll not act today for we're
alive now! More alive than what we ever were in "life"!
We took our lives forgranted: being led astray from that
which truly matters in this world: one's family
and friends, the chocolate chips in life,
and romance, passion; and true love,
so vital for the such is such a vital part
of what a human is and is integral to us all!

If I may say, the view from here is utterly spectacular.
The cosmic meadows are brillïantly aflame. No one's
to blame for supernovæ that destroy the matter all around
them as, to them, it seems harmonics from destructive blasts
from æons past are satisfactory enough to justify
their battles with each other and themselves
to find out who will be the "alpha star",
the toughest of them all.
Amusing still is when the novæ detonate
and paint the sky a bloody ultraviolet and infrared
from swelling from a blatant self-absorbed façade.

In "life", I missed it, missed it all.

The wise ones, wise beyond their time,
in all sobriety avowed that this and these,
our time and days, are fleeting and
that we should make the most of what we have
because our time on earth is unchivalrously cut short
and we should cherish every sunrise, moonrise, and
comradery, ignoring vicious spiritual homicide attempts
by those with old and strangled, forlorn dreams
and who gave in so long ago to "nos" and "nays"
and know those bitter souls shall see their dusk
and there was not a single forgery among
the stoic dialogue of those who were so wise
beyond their time and, still, the images
were fluidly miragèd by the windscreen of
the images that we perceive, and, still,
we swallowed every wicked lie
and well-imposter'd sensory mirage
with sugar, cookies, toast, and tea
but now I know the reason why
so many vehemently try to take the cake in life
and hold their sight away from light,
the shining messenger of hope,
that hopes to pierce the eyes and ears
of conscious minds so bound by social ways that bind
and find the chosen children in due course
without remorse or easily-disposable regard
for marred and wicked ones
who try to crush our hopes to slush and all because
they've given up so long ago
and ruptured their aborted, tortured dreams
and goals and won't believe that passion can and will
unearth the joy and famished hope
from hate and girth that happily represses each
immortal soul but still can only dig its own
cadav'rous hole much deeper, deeper still for those
who will embarrasèdly hide their muddied faces with
unsympathetic walls and they shall fall, the ones
who happily create unsav'ry atmosphere for hopes
and goals of hopeful souls who know the way
of reason shall, with joy, experience a coming season of
acceptance in their realm and then the wicked ones
shall be remorselessly erased and thus shall never taste
the freedom to express and we shall have
the golden opportunity to finally be free from fear
of persecution from the stupid, sheltered masses,
free to stand upon the heights and scream out for
the pressured ones, repressed in spirit and in life,
with pride and majesty, declare
"I fear you all NO MORE!!"

Yes, I can see it now.
Oh, did I waste my life?
Yes, in my chase of little tokens,
paper, plastic, even simple coins,
in my so readily-accepted race of 9-to-5,
so rarely calling mom and dad,
I spent but minutes every week
with my belovèd children
chasing down a grossly-insulting paycheck;
did I waste my life?
I will cherish my time at the next crank of the gears
I'm sure I'll remember this; I won't err next time,
in a time approaching all too soon
and this time, we won't hesitate
to glare down at the gods and to such passing fads
shout down with righteous pride, "I am reality!
I am alive and I am truer, truer still, at no surprise,
than you and the malicious ways, beliefs, and acts
you start so FUCK you and your wretchèd lies
and begone NOW, intelligence-insulting art!"

This time, it will be different.
I won't ingest the artificial gods
and stupid cultures of the spiritual fratricide
and hate that proves itself ridiculous and silly. After all,
such prejudice is such a termite's hill,
unnecessarily destructive and so easily preventable
for all we need is love, and love annihilates the hate
that barricades so many from a peace, a unity
of mind and body and we can't afford
to waste our time by squandering our lives
on trivial matters like repressing the variety
that grants our time on earth intrigue
so there shall be no broken spirits, easily forgotten, in
the local cosmic lost-and-found
and fooled are those who disbelieve
in our said unity of thought and heart,
the tragedy in our resurgence to the horrid coil,
and the infernal, mighty gears that take and drive us all,
that wrench us from our haulm,
and gyve us to our lives.

04/07/2005

Author's Note: "Death" in the cyclical "Devil's Triangle" trilogy. This poem has no beginning and no end. Start reading wherever you want, stop whenever you're bored. The progression is pretty self-explanatory (i.e. "Death" --> "Reincarnation" --> "Life" --> "Death" --> "Reincarnation" --> "Life" --> "Death" --> "Reincarnation" --> "Life" --> etc. etc. etc. etc. ) Hope you enjoy.

Posted on 04/08/2005
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