Thursday, November 19, 2020
Gotta Wonder Sometimes, If You Keep Digging For Grace, At The Bottom, Is There A Giant Box Of Irony?
Wednesday, November 18, 2020
When I was a child (
I thought as a child no no no no!!), I was sad and reluctant to use things that required batteries because I knew the batteries would run out of energy and that I couldn't afford to get new ones. Same with magic markers, soon they'd run out of magic and then they couldn't be used to make fanciful pictures with loop de loops to a better place, real or imaginary (in some childhoods it really fucking doesn't matter).
Stream of consciousness prose (from last year) 🤢:
The Whiskey Buddha:Sometimes you drink the bitterness to make the sweet taste better,There’s no BS in my blood.There’s unrelenting lightThere’s the arc of a madmanThere’s the edge of the momentAs only the moment knows.There’s blistering demandTo the Demian pathTo the things that shatter comfortAnd ring the silenced bellsThere’s no pageant with a permit,My sandwich board don’t have no neon lights.There’s demandThere’s demandThere’s demandTo take the pain for the gold,To paint pictures with loops and curls,To admonish the mirror,To the appointment with the stone.
The box in the hall is gone,It's tangled in the earth.And the price that it takes to love,Is set by the cost of the hurt.You followed the road to yourself,To its appointed end,You never looked backTo the things that might have been.The light from nothingIs always there when you're down.And your light from nothing will be hereWhen you're gone.