Submissions by fishead

I live in a cube.
My boxed existence is bounded -
Books to the left,
A Mexican knife to the right -
The browned greens before me cry out for help.
The plants struggle for life.
They are watered and fed -
Are lighted by the afternoon sun,
Then die.
I wonder why.

They are so like my life.
Reflections so unexpected,
Yet so real -
Where do they come from?
Why do they hit me now,
When their target is so vulnerable?

Some day this cube will explode
And I will be vomitted to my grave.

Will it...

Personal freedom is mine for the taking-
So speaks the ODAAT.
Free within my self - to be myself.
But who am I? Really?
What is the reality I crave?
From where does reality derive?

For years I have been:
the provider - the protector
the fixer - the manager
the lover - the husband
the father - the consoler
the peace maker
to or for someone else!

Always in fear:
of being wrong or offensive
rejected - abused
for being "me" - for not being "me"
as "they" expected -...

The power of the mind is endless.
Uncontrolled it wanders from the depths
of black despair to the height of shining elation.
A Hayden Quartet playing,
a jug of wine,
a poem reading,
and all hell breaks loose,
the mind explodes.
The total confusion of life's motivation
has left me ensnared in the stickiness
of the web of the giant spider-like incentive of life,
the basis for true existentialism.
We live today for today
for tomorrow we may not be.
I listen to a Christmas song -
beautiful in melody,
...