Tuesday, February 15, 2022

Inheritance

 

one is blessed by his inheritance. facts are irrelevant. others are applauded.

 

behaviors are uncanny, disrupted, discomfiting. the hyena has become an epistemologist. sweet, raw contradiction—academic religion. remember the roots?  

 

we’ve come far as anti-socialites; responsible for causing riffs, pained by political acme, standing at the interior gates; offensive rancor, mental sewers, fencing a cartoon caricature. much indebted to scholasticism. the skies don’t have a mother.  

 

souls are jousting—fighting for redemption—many with trespass are pushing it out. the father said he gave birth to the mother. Eve and Sarah never contended. in one case, it was composed, like meter and music; in another instance, it fell from the skies, like meteorites.   

 

inner self is for attainment. therapy is pivotal. in stressing, we keep our eyes on what’s important. in due time, we learn about the incorrigible elements.

 

as a child, he absorbed nonchalance. it wasn’t by need, or fancy, it was osmosis. it wasn’t to defend the soul, it was proximity. either too mawkish, too impassive, or just normal. normality has unstable features.   

 

wells are running deeper. wells often without explanation. mirrors are in myriad hands. if I come to you, give in earnest, make it humanness.

 

purpose is for survival. many have been fortunate. others have been blessed—more so by inheritance. it becomes everything: frailty, power, strength when it hurts.

 

pain becomes glamorous—albeit, it looms, pain is not a conclusion. it becomes a passage—through fields, through countryside, through inheritance. some know the sun is unfriendly.

 

tottering and tethering our sanities. loving and consoling our souls. the touch is different at moments.  

 

each fact is analyzed. each fact bends reality. it is up-close and distant, it is alive and dead, it is a paradox.   

 

we’re cringing the big date—some yearning for the big date, others taking precautions to ward off the big date.  

 

most are concerned with inheritance—what has been given. like eating sugar apples, or sugarplums, some fruit is inedible. we must watch what we need to believe.  

Sonnet IV

    If I was Pablo in a feeling, I would assert love, I would cry fever—one begonia, three dreams.  If I was Neruda in my emotion, I would e...