A wooded path divided was;
Both routes had been seen.
So I honed my tools and wits -
I carved a path between.
I wanted that recorded; it’s been with me for years.
Dichotemy and artificial lines just lead to tears.
We have a nature: “Is”, “Is not”.
The safe word ‘neither’ is… Is what?
An option that we all forgot.
Not kidding; that first bit has knocked ’round my head for years. Never written – just thought.
I hate every… okay, I hate most things which are either/or. Sometimes, yes, okay, binary works. But.
Often, though, we succumb to pure logic: “not A” is defined as “B”, then “not B” becomes “A”, and we all have taken positions before anyone has the chance to yell that “not A” could also
On the entertaining side, contemplate this: what is the difference between a game and a sport? Is rodeo a sport? Horseshoes? Cornhole? (For the sake of argument, let’s exclude races along the nature of horses and Nascar.)
I’m stronger than tomorrow.
Then why are you still here?
Complain; bitch; throw your frustrations to the wind!
It’s the human condition!
If you really.
If tomorrow is more than you.
If it isn’t enough to rage, love, hate and care…
If your fucking humanity doesn’t spit at entropy tomorrow…
Can I ask a favor of you?
Would you mind laying back, doing nothing, dying? And allow the rest of us to get by without your bland acceptance of the toleration of the cosmos?
If this contempt hasn’t already set a fire of anger
(“who are they to say this?”)
(“by what right do they judge?”)
… well, then, I’m sorry; the future has already beaten you.
As for me.
I’m more than you. (prove me wrong.)
I’m more than tomorrow. (prove me wrong.)
I relish the fight.
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow again
If you’re beside me at the club, then you’re next to a friend
Take a hit, take a puff, take a shot, maybe then…
Then nothing; we’re already beyond that.
Jump up next to someone, then try to condemn them tomorrow.
Rock out, mosh next to – now they’re you.
Eat, drink, and be merry, because tomorrow we judge each other.
Party on, because we’re nothing more than everyone else in the crowd.
Thank goodness, and raise a glass.
I can’t remember the last time I talked to a stranger. No ulterior motive; I just wanted to talk. And it went well.
I hope I remember this. Not as an occasion, but in my soul. It’s so easy to not wade into the pool of humanity; we’re inhibitory motherfuckers, quick to judge and difficult to dissuade.
Except in bars, festivals, occasions when we welcome others and the lovely, alien opinions.
And, at the worst: we get to listen. To hear others.
I love to hear, because otherwise I’m only yelling into the abyss.
Between smooth and interesting.
Thought and worthwhile.
Easy? Valued? Loved?
Ride with pain, or slough off humanity;
There has never – ever – EVER – been a simple choice.
Rejoice in the complex; it means you’re more.
piece of yourself.
Tomorrow, I get to/have to/crave to man up. Human up, if you’re too backwards to allow that “mankind” doesn’t need to refer directly to testicles.
A large portion of the people I care about… They’ve gone astray. Kind of. In the sense that, while I may be wrong, they’ve done a piss poor job of being right. And, if I -am- right, well… Whom among us hasn’t argued truth in the face of belief?
Love and anger… Why aren’t they in the thesaurus? There are so few ways in which they can coexist without meaning the same thing. Can we, us, humanity, ever be boiling-level pissed at something we don’t understand enough to love, just a li’l bit?
So, so, SO ready to pick a fight. Except.
No anger without progress.
Never unleash without a purpose.
No drive without direction.
Tomorrow, I get to pick a fight while hoping I lose. Oy.
Turned inside again.
It’s not that words won’t come forth;
They stop. And echo.
If I may, cynicism is the baseline, the defined low point, of humanity’s quality.
What we know lays beyond what we feel
yet feeling shapes our knowledge
Combine the known and the felt
The least of the best.
Not so much to be cherished, but willingly witnessed,
awareness of the persistence of effect and cause
Fifteen seconds – two minutes – a freely made choice
and results, honestly received, from the pause
…Which constantly leads to melancholy consideration
of that uncertain world, “might’ve been”.
A bit of the shine of humanity cascades from the reflection of what might have been.
The simplest example of our most wonderful aspect
is seen when we trace failure.
Effected, affected, echoing the lowest trace element of the maybes tomorrow can bring.
When tomorrow hurts
When everything is wrong
Truth and logic, you’re right
You already have won
Give what’s needed
…My last couple weeks haven’t been fun.
And every time it got worse, I tried to make someone else’s life better. Not reactively; it just went that way. Met with a problem, I ran into someone with a heavier, more direct issue.
Shit goes down, and tomorrow still happens. It still might hurt.
Would you rather it didn’t occur?
Or will you stand facing, yelling, screaming, vocal, and cut that cockmonger up with what’s right, what is, what’s true?
I’ve made other people better while I was hurting. Of course I’d choose to avoid pain. But when I can’t…
What better response to hate than love?
What better “fuck you” than to, reflexively, evidence your contempt for said stupidity?