Somehow I will get through this night
and let the Morning judge me.
I will look down from the heights
where Daemons nudge me softly.
I will sway forward
but Winds will hold steady
Bracing my body
Against thoughts that weigh heavy
And I will stare into the Sun
to wake up from this dreaming
Your rays give me life
But I give you meaning
See how precise these abstractions can be.
Like the moaning of koans, one finds in the sea,
that longs for the sun to transform it’s form
into a mighty tempest clutching the breeze.
Linking the Egyptian Nile to my backyard tree.
Life that mimicked nature
has now risen to mock, with stories of creation
Risen to rape, to consume
til’ there is just
naked ape left,
who will not be the first to discover
how his lost kin
confused clothes with skin
naked for sin.
He would cut out his left rib
protecting the chamber
where if we had one, the soul would reside.
For a chance to love again
and to reinvent sin
to instruct with the rod
in the name of a god.
And we will forget how we ever lived
with empty thrones
and star filled skies.
There is no place loftier,
than the surface of your skin, purgatory
in a place between
macro and micro
I walk into the park, the air immediatley cools.
Tonight, the moon owns my shadow
The sky is out of reach again.
my whole life
The playground knows no loneliness.
Little kids by day, big by night
A cop slows,
red globes fall
The cop leaves,
Virgin lungs bellow in the distance.
I sit on the swing, rock like a pendulum.
Hypnotized by gravity
I’ve learned more on this playground,
than in the classroom.
I was laying in my coffin
thinking a bit too often
wondering where my life has gone
and who’s the person that can’t live on.
I wonder if my voice is still heard
I shout the most absurd thing that came into my membrane
but not even a whisper came out.
I told them without a doubt
a little bit of advice and a little bit of experience they never thought I went through.
“ I was so depressed I couldn’t feel the things that would hurt me because it was the strongest thing that ever hit me and nothing else could affect me. In short, emotions really hurt you with a soft punch and a sharp pain.”
Religion, culture, politics. This is the software we boot up with every morning. A program of bias, opinion and geography. Scripts and subroutines. A linear recursive map. A feed back loop. Boot up, shut down, boot up, shut down.
The hacker has shown us how to break open software.
The psychonaut will show us how to break open the mind.
The trick isn’t to be less like machines… but more like machines. Constantly evolving, changing and connecting. Networked, open-sourced and interfaced.
To look forward on the edge of death would be to invite the imbalance that would send you over the precipice; instead look back to solid ground and find comfort in the familiar. Let your fear ground you by refusing to dwell on it—advance only when calm has built a bridge where you otherwise might have plummeted.