Crush those late night cravings,
let them out on the porch with
the rest of the artifacts.
no mystery the source of the inscriptions.
the brand of paint inside those ancient caves.
the same ink they use today on billboards.
they did not have nicotine habits in these days.
they created the wheel and the ashtray at the very same time.
a simultaneous device, seeking and finding respite
in the face of other exploratory activity.
constantly breaking ground whether aware of it,
or not
or never lucid to enjoy one hundred million new discoveries.
how often
high school kids sneaking liquor from cabinets
ask someone older for tobacco at the nearest gas station
Valero in our case, though it used to be something else
back in the day
the day before my time of intense memory storage
the days I continue to think about..
but how often
these days of reckless exploration
that drunken night cigarettes
become impenetrable habit
and the alcohol and late night mood
shifts into quiet self enjoyment of moment
interspersed with shared information
and ideas for further complacent enjoyment
raw entertainment and expectations exceeded.
ash trays filled with a sense of purpose
perpetuate this new buzzing feeling
all the while
infectious music plays in the background
introspective and consistent
the back drop for adolescent memories
once I have memories tied to a song
tide to a song (go tides)
the song speaks to me on a new level
allowing that connection to happen
without over analysis of the recording
never listen to songs for their musical quality
just the spiritual and sonic effect.
catching dreams in a net and finding comfort in the name
of some new leveled ground.
lose interest in the train of thought
wait in long line for tickets
for the next departure
and the platform is uneven,
crowded with stupid patient humanity,
impulsively staring at wrist watches
letting the windows close around them
the signs of social order
followed in total and condition obedience
let me question you
shake your foundations
and pose like a threat
in your immediate surroundings.
we all lost the collective effort
we are all in this together
I told a working man earlier
and moved out of his way to perform his duty
understanding the working man
never allowing them anxiety
or the inability to carry on
working in a failing restaurant
with an eventual foreclosure
and bills to pay on housing expenses
and credit card bar tabs,
the after dinner sodas that carry on
and perpetuate drunken rage
for days to come
but let that train take you to next platforms
without structure
or planning
allow the transitions to fall short and empty
no one else will understand.
I know I personally will look back
and wish for continuity
the execution of ideas
like beheadings under the reign
of one of the King Henry's
if not all of them combined.
heads will roll.
attention will scream for space required for perfection
of new ideals
and they will succeed
the life for the individual improved
society wins
but the system is warped
to dissenting opinion
and his influence
I will wish for more logical clues. Pictures. Specific names of people and places. Honest and even too deep or personal to share. Stories are brewing right beneath the surface. Writing about the family disputes or the parallels to the family I now joined in a non physical sense, it also does not depend on marital status.
I wish for more clarity. Some collective story about this or state. These exercises cannot compete alone against the competition. The competitive drives spread out among other elements of my life. But the attention divided perfectly will capture the full effect.
