…attempting
this journey, walking glassy ice, looking with sober senses: as it appears, is
a good start, but why it appears is better: this position in life, where those
people are crazy, despite sameness in our families: so drained these days,
looking at profanity, while nudged to believe: a featured pain, a drowning
paper, or an edgy professor: our ideals dying, our reality distasteful, where
love seems an inappropriate title….
It seems easy over there, where rules are concrete, and everyone
respects the title: a threat unknown, is a threat shadowed, while we smile with
coyotes: our shindigs laughing, our souls uneasy, our excellent performance:
but different people, with different priorities, consumed by “divine madness”:
those pretty mosaics, this Levitical dictum, or this anti-existence: they call
it solipsism, this deeply deprived damnation, where one is only certain of
interior operations: others are objects, even surface observations, and we can
never know or feel their existence: indeed, tell an infant that, or a young
child, rightly, the child would stare in amazement: but grayness is present,
this feeling in others, while mystics assert universality: our watery eyes, our
inner fire, our similar and sameness experiences: but those people, there so
different, they inhale different oxygen: our guts rebuked, so small, so large,
and such a disturbance. I record
seconds—enflamed by indifference, rewound and lying: where anger becomes
hiding, while too much pain becomes mawkish, as balance is far reaching: to
become so loving, fraught by guilt, while, in all honesty, we wrestle ideals
and consensus: no! I’m not contending shame, in this land of rivers, but merely
pointing to something peculiar: our vows are contracts, but loyalty is up for
debates, while, nevertheless, we assume a mutual understanding: those different
people, those different answers, while different people are often rude: this
slippery slope, where an idea—is said to support a number of assumptions: oh
for daughters, and oh for sons, while a father attempts to reason out something
quite selfish: this plan to live, this feeling in souls, where a daughter asks
concerning mother: to embed a feeling, to embed an emotion, while a son looks,
shrugs, and asks for clarity: indeed, us people, our normal titles, where a
title determines a person’s motives and actions and trustworthiness. We live uncertainty—judging as skeptics,
while participating in face values: a bit undone, or a bit too clever, while
cobras are watching: reduced to absurdity, unthreaded and discarded, while a
child unravels our balled up papers: this interior metaphor, when life seems
unfair, where one is forced to entertain our arete: it happens often, while
faced by innocence, for we feel shame, conviction, and a nudging towards
honesties: this moving chase, this fast paced reality, where we need a certain
comfort-zone: as laughs a hyena, running for miles, such hierarchy
socialization: our titles, our everything, our reason for loving us: us people,
dissociative, and needing pure familiarity: where our Humanities rage,
searching out those people, while wrestling with sensitivities. This small-large globe—our pensive angst,
those reaching rivers: our ad hoc argumentation, where we favor our position, while
reducing the value of others: those differences, as dependent upon perception,
where any group becomes both us people and those people: indeed, a bit for you,
this lacewing magnet, this dragon in femininity: that odd feeling, this deep
conflict, while normality is a bit colorful: this chemistry lion, this
attraction tiger, or this languishing chimpanzee: but Honesty is far, it races
to return, it runs over mountains and terrains and leaps over creeks: this
fulgent creature, while cheetahs are chasing, if but to abolish this lying
agitator: and there is Honesty, raging defenses, dangling by a noose: so
transmigrated, roaming and rummaging, so appeared in cities: this furious
creature, this laughing, “divine madness”: at turns churning, at wakes debating,
at graves pouring into cemented soil.
