As a writer, Carl Sandburg has long been an idle of mine (though I am not sure how this happened given that he has fallen out of favor with the writing elite and is rarely taught anymore), so whenever I have the opportunity I make a "pilgrimage" to his house. It is exactly as it was when he passed away, and, for me, it is impossible to not feel at peace surrounded by the over 14,000 books that he owned.
Clouds gather,
angels flap and fly away;
a sweet old lady wonders
“Oh dear, a storm is on its way.”
A storm is on its way,
always in some state of advance.
That's the trouble.
The storm itself is just a chance for rain.
Lightning explodes at the periphery.
Inside lights flicker,
everything shudders
with each subtle quake;
a child screams,
pulses pace quicker,
faces...
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Since a child
I have often wondered past
and asked the great silent nothing and nobody
why most whom
I most concern myself
to see me for me
could only see the version furthest from what I want to be.
I live day to day
swatting angels from the sky
and cursing devils
"fuck you, find someone else to come out and play"
You see...
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Go gently father of one,
son of many.
Know peace,
as you have shown to others,
as you have taught the world.
Do not forget your children,
for they have not learned enough,
and they forget lessons easily.
Do not fear being forgotten,
for you are in a pantheon
removed from the faults
of memory.
The world knows you,
the earth knows you,
the wind...
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Notes from the Ether: Entry 5
Movements and mechanics,
memories and motivations,
the past echoes out,
but echo longer it must.
Forget, forgotten,
tossed aside
and rotten,
so much goes to waste,
so little left to taste.
History without flavor.
A watch with good gears,
a movement approaching perfect,
but what future
can we erect
when no numbers
remain upon the face?
Now is but...
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Movements and mechanics,
memories and motivations,
the past echoes out,
but echo longer it must.
Forget, forgotten,
tossed aside
and rotten,
so much goes to waste,
so little left to taste.
History without flavor.
A watch with good gears,
a movement approaching perfect,
but what future
can we erect
when no numbers
remain upon the face?
Now is but...
Read More
Notes from the Ether: Entry 4
Today I celebrate,
but I do not wish my child
to do the same.
Today I applaud my society
for finally stepping toward
equality
for yet another group
naturally deserving,
yet denied for so long.
But tomorrow
I want my child
to look back with confusion
upon the importance of this day.
I hope that they will wonder
at...
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Today I celebrate,
but I do not wish my child
to do the same.
Today I applaud my society
for finally stepping toward
equality
for yet another group
naturally deserving,
yet denied for so long.
But tomorrow
I want my child
to look back with confusion
upon the importance of this day.
I hope that they will wonder
at...
Read More
Notes from the Either: Entry 3
A lone leaf falls,
fluttering in the still air first,
but all to soon
subject to the wicked winds wrath.
Tendrils of random trajectory,
chaos to a steady path.
The Leaf endures momentary
eternity,
in all its weight,
yet the fall
of the former soldier of continuance
continues unabated.
What is left for this once purposed protuberance?
When all...
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A lone leaf falls,
fluttering in the still air first,
but all to soon
subject to the wicked winds wrath.
Tendrils of random trajectory,
chaos to a steady path.
The Leaf endures momentary
eternity,
in all its weight,
yet the fall
of the former soldier of continuance
continues unabated.
What is left for this once purposed protuberance?
When all...
Read More
Notes from the Ether Entry 2
The latest latest
belays past favorites,
time passes
with omens perceived,
memories distort
to personas deceived.
The smoke rises
the sun sets,
the moon rotates
and we forget.
Too many hours pass
in a day that passes
too fast
filled with trust perverted,
knowing it's never the last.
The latest latest
belays past favorites,
time passes
with omens perceived,
memories distort
to personas deceived.
The smoke rises
the sun sets,
the moon rotates
and we forget.
Too many hours pass
in a day that passes
too fast
filled with trust perverted,
knowing it's never the last.
Notes from the Ether: Entry 1
Can the actions of a small group truly be analogous to society, can the reprehensible decisions of a few accurately approximate the behavior of those who have committed the greatest evils of recorded history?
I am so tired of philosophical excuses, worn out, trite escapes from culpability, all to often in the name of someone, some thing, some idea...
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Can the actions of a small group truly be analogous to society, can the reprehensible decisions of a few accurately approximate the behavior of those who have committed the greatest evils of recorded history?
I am so tired of philosophical excuses, worn out, trite escapes from culpability, all to often in the name of someone, some thing, some idea...
Read More
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neoop:
Profile filling nonsense