one moment of freedom

 
realization

a never-ending vision
the horizon perpetually receding
solitary, spinning
quite alone
eyelids dissolved
that second of freedom
when the heart

skips a beat

where is the ritual
that means more than this?
where has it all gone
if it ever existed at all?

opposite each other
a naked couple
straddles a white steel flagpole
gazing hungrily at the twisting flag
flapping lazily
in the warm breeze above
sweat glistening on their slick backs
they squat in unison
tilting heads back
grasping the pole then
sliding up its length
shimmying, legs elongating
their bodies stretch & merge
transformation of national pride
into tumultuous serpent
twisting on a skewer

meaning — in pain
or in fantasy . . .
what follows us
will be our shadow
our blood
hot & boiling
with hate
wanting nothing better
than to kill
our rotting memory . . .

to the insights
of the poetic vision
truth dictates ignorance
to replace purpose

nothing is as plain as it seems
when you put words to it
when you apply words to the world
hopping like a sand fly
ducking diving dodging hiding
behind between on top of
wind-blown dunes
alive with writhing copulation
through the swaying swishing cutting-grass
pink bodies entwined in a sandy furrow

this is it
the excruciating realization
that we are microbes
amoebas under the moon
in the grand scale of things
a grain of sand
washed up with a billion others
indiscernible
& that’s how it should be
despite the presence
of mediocre intellect
& a natural tendency
to think of oneself
as important
of some consequence
to the greater scheme of things
(whatever that may be!)
‘truth’ that elusive quagmire
of common census
inferring evidence
that many can make one
reality
& that it is
without variance
indisputable  . . .
bullshit!!!
statement of assumptions:
— everything changes
— smaller realities negate bigger truths
— mutability rules
— life begs meaning/purpose
— purpose/meaning is applied belief that is not necessarily determined by ‘truth’
— life is a metaphor for death . . .
— what else is there?

kids leaping clouds
as quick shadows scroll
across the concrete path
passing fast like planes above
everything collapses eventually

collapse = expansion due to reversal of time

my god, my god — why have you forsaken me?
why can’t we see wind?

early on, i walked the streets & recognised good & evil at play
— i first learnt of their essential nature through tv dreams & broken books that wept from septic wounds so bloody & so beautiful.
at home, i watched & participated in the tragic farce of human comedy performed on every urban stage, set against the fantastic nightmare of domesticity & banal relationships.
i painted hills with fire & houses with blood
— walked on the clouds throwing handfuls of dung down on skittering pedestrians hiding under clotheslines; old cars, smashed mailboxes, pornographic magazines held above their shaven heads . . .
i kept a journal painted with words & crude ink drawings, to record my existence in terms of my surroundings . . .

death becomes us
more & more
shifting stark worlds
impure to pure

the harsh white light awaits.