seen and not heard

thinking the other day about how there is no way to know when you are playing on a playgound that this is the last time you will slide down a slide, or play on the monkey bars. there is no way to know that after you walk off of the sand and out of those gates, you will be too grown for such things amd you will never return. and how old are you? 12? 13? 14? when you walk, without knowing, into this final, last future, where your feet will hardly leave the ground. like when was the last time i went to playspace, which was a wonderful place that was like a whole town with an atm machine and a hospital and a theater but it was all make-beleive, play things, and it was all for little kids. when was the last time i went there? i will never know. i never can.

last times. last times do not exist, they cannot exist until they no longer exist.

easily, easily, i could become a creepy old woman, of the kind that lurk around playgrounds. i already may be that woman today. but where is the fun until i'm wrinkled and stooped? and there would be rumors that i was a witch. no joke. and probably some kid would wander into my house, which would be very magical, and i would be this secret, magical, creepy old lady. the things one fantasizes about!

other things that do not exist:

-fear

-anger

-jealousy

-hysteria!

look past them, citizens.

transcend this shit! transcend this shit, and make some new shit, shit that isn't shit at all.

will we still poop in the new world?

In the depths of slumber

I will keep speaking. yelling back and forth with myself.
When will I learn these places of being. I am choosing to be real. Citizenhood.
How is it defined. Do we define it. What happens to a citizen lost.
Citizen Cane, Citizen came and gone and hopefully to rise again.
Life. I think about its complexities and I won't be afraid to say that I lose it.
Or actually I am afraid to say that precise thing.
I lose myself in this.
This layer. These intersections. This multi-dimensional atmosphere. I ring myself in bells of flute and harp and pum pum drum. Striking myself like a knife. It is blood my dearest. Is it melancholy? Who decides? What is next for me and you and I... I choose to be the fire.... and I choose to be maddening. / So I dive head first into the dust and rock of the earth, past primeval layers and arise like ancient mermaids, reeking of smoke and ash, a lava that burns all clean . sulphur. I won't speak by your rules. I won't make yours mine. I won't make yours mine. I won't die soon. Who am I talking to? Who am I rebelling against. Who is there to push me down. Is it myself? This is the scariest thing. That it is my very own self. That I am my worst enemy. That I am killing myself.
Because if you take responsibility for yourself and the places you are. If you dare to take responsibility.... If I dare and I do dare. It is not a matter of blaming anyone else. I have jumped that hurdle. It is not a matter of being the victim.
Can we arise? Is it possible to push past innocence through the fire and arise?

from Night Flight: New York

Muriel Rukeyser
Theory of Flight, 1935


from Night Flight: New York

Believe that we bloom upon this stalk of time ;
and in this expansion, time too grows for us
richer and richer towards infinity.
They promised us the gold and harps and seraphs.
Our rising and going to sleep is better than future pinions.
We surrender that hope, drawing our own days in,
covering space and time draped in tornadoes,
lightning invention, speed crushing the stars upon us,
stretching the accordion of our lives, sounding the same chord
longer and savoring it until the echo fails.
Believe that your presences are strong,
O be convinced without formula or rhyme
or any dogma ; use yourselves : be : fly.
Believe that we bloom upon this stalk of time.


I found this and liked it. I also dislike how the spacing of the words is changed when published. I wrote this in a stanza. I will have to figure this out.
-Appleseed

the dish ran away with the spoon

it's easy to try to contextualize love, and to try to match it to archetype and to case study, and to examine it according to model, but the only thing that's real, or at least the most real thing, is the immediacy of the love itself. the instant experience of it. which is way bigger than what you have to break it down into to study it, or even, really, to put it into words. here is a thing to remember indeed.

and it is the same with any experience in life. and it is the same with the experience of life itself. life is bigger than the words we use for it. and i for one am going to have to remember to know the words, bend the words, snap the words, melt the words, shift the words, USE the words--but at the end of the day, to be ok with living in the space prior to the words, and to be ok with knowing that the words are always only ever the surface, and sometimes no more than a poor reflection. of the world, that is.

this is being in the world but not of it.

on being young

I have been thinking lately about what the best part of my life is...is it that i have great friends who are constantly surprising me and challenging me to be better....is it chocolate which i would give my left pinky toe for.....is it boys who i have allowed to take meinto the fog of crazy making....is it partying.....reading....learning....dreaming???????But after thinkingn it and overindulging in all of these things I have comeo the conclusion that it is youth. i really just love being youn. it doesnt have anythign to do with what i do only the fact that i can do it bc i am j\young. i am 20. this age is the shit. jet set, play around, get serious, wear little s\clothes, wear big clothes and i can justify it all by saying I AM 2O i am young but at the age where i am appreciatign my youth and the possibilities of getting older. And i am sorry for the spelling but i am a bad typer, and this damn thing is on write over....

Blake

The Tyger

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?

And what the shoulder, & what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,
And water'd heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

William Blake (1757-1827)

pic- www.tonypollard.net

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psychadelicatessen (yellow submarine sandwich)

i'm realizing that i don't particularly give a shit about this thing that's happened in london. and i will say what a million people before me have probably said about that, which is that the greater tragedy is that you have to get so deep inside the newspaper to find that this kind of thing is pretty much happening every single day, these bombings, and on a larger level than 30 people, and the tragedy is that these lives aren't valued enough to make it to the damn front page.

all this to say that things are everywhere. this stuff is everywhere. the war that we are fighting is everywhere. the war that we are fighting is not disconnected from anything, anywhere. the war that we are fighting is within the human condition.

the fight to live like we want to live. the fight to love like we want to love. the fight to love like we want to LIVE, and to live like we want to love. the fight to be human like we deserve to be. and all that.

all this to say that all this is merged, all this is a part of the other parts, inseperably. which is why it's so important for us to do absolutely everything we can for ourselves, to make sure that we have carved out within ourselves and within our neck of the world something that can satisfy us. that's saving the world. freeing ourselves is saving the world. that has been said before.

we ourselves, we human beings, we ARE the balance between the potential and the actualized. the wizard and appleseed will both agree with me on this, for such has been the stuff of our correspondences lately, if a small part of the stuff. this has been the definite lesson of the past two weeks for me, personally, finding the point where i exist between everything that exists. seeing in a real way that we are nothing but vision. knowing that vision is realer than reality. that the actual lives inside the potential like a fetus in the womb. and not vice versa, at all.

this may be a lot of mumbo-jumbo. jumbo mumbo. it may be mumbly-jumbly. trying to untangle the mumble. what i mean is: because we are not seperate from the world, and the world is not seperate within itself, we can, and should, work from and in the localized point of our selves. also, the level at which the world is not seperated within itself is the level of formless idea and vision and imagination. reality--physical form and social construct and all that--divides it up, but is a part of it. so our vision is the world, our vision changes the world, when we engage our vision we speak to the world on its level. so dream, dream, dream, BIG. and you will move towards your dream, like it or not. dream selfishly! because you are more than your self, like it or not.

all that talk is just procrastination...move mofos!!!

motherfuckas been talkin revolution for a while now...but what revolution they talkin bout eh?...ive come to the realization that revolution has all these smaller and equally important parts to the bigger picture or end...things like

love

blogs

friends

family

writing

film

flowers...music...babies...painting...being naked at those unappropriate times...talking to the elders...eating food in the grocery store you havent paid for...loving more than one person at a time and having them love each other...climbing trees...reading children books...being extremely dark skinned and walking around with no lotion on...listening to only old school music...not dropping it like its hot...thinking r kelly's trapped in the closet is the devil in motion...having a house party and only inviting one person...stepping into someone elses shoe for a moment...wearing bright colors...forgiveness and the act of doing so...playing golf in the snow...making love to the person you are with like there is no option or other...

these are just a few of mine..what are yours?...if you dont have any get off you lazy ass and make some!!!...later;)