Musing

in the violence of words.

peace reframed, brings the hate out to enlighten us.

in streets, fighting for what is not attacked, from those calling out what is,

hiding truth in lies. bullets in babies. for the greater good. reframe, make palatable.

di

an eye for an eye, in god they trust, killing in the name of.

just whose god, or who is.

if everyone is to end up blind, or partially sighted at best, then in the land of the blind, a one-eyed person holds the reigns.

justify as you testify, but ther

you never see it coming, but you expect it none the same.

it comes in slowly, to its own fame.

& yet we never mention it by name.  

it rips your heart out, up through your soul, as you choke trying to pull it out of your throat.

and you expect it aga

Strolling thru some mediocre, twenty-four-thousand words some good, some bad, just so I can get to the point that I can write what I am meaning to say. And so often their slipping, but there is something in the scrolling that is strangely poetic and

an edge.

supposedly it’s good to have one

but what if that edge has you.

what then. 

it is there, lurking in the background. waiting.

waiting. for the right time.

it is the waiting that kills you. that swells deep inside.

gnawing away at your liver.

We are what we are, if only we could be happy with that

It was good, and then it went away. It does that.

The darkness creeps in and spoils an almost alright time.

My feet ache, and I haven’t been anywhere. It makes me feel like I am an old man. And

These worlds I create. Interrelate in their irrelevance to anyone but me. They circumnavigate the truth. as we all do. but these somehow more so. It is how it is meant to be. There is solace in their shelter. In their shade I roam. Out of view. far f

don’t hide from it, it lurks there for a reason. You can find meaning in it. if you dare. It won’t be pretty, and you’ll hate yourself for it, at least to begin with, I hope. If you stare hard enough, you just might see it for what it is. Or maybe yo

Generations lost to cracked screens.

Sharing links to forgotten dreams.

A world on display, curated for our pleasure. 

A world of lies that only sells leisure.

Where do we go from here?

Ai takes us away, we disappear.

The mirror so black we don’t rec

I won’t let them win. They keep trying to get in. to get through the door.  But I aint taking this shit anymore. Kiss the frog.  That is the price I pay. Get these words out. Get them out the way. So that I can move on. I am what I am, so what the he

explain the question.

It keeps ticking, this time bomb. And we make sure we’re standing real close. Most people disagree with me, that we are, if not already living in one, sleepwalking our way into dystopia. They ignore what is in front of them for

this is what we get, and we forget. we put it there

or at least we allowed it to happen. we never questioned the result.

we never questioned the questions that got us there.

or maybe we did, and we left the gaslight on.

who knows anymore? the only

when will we cut through our own bullshit and find truth? when will the lies be worked to be undone? It is okay to give in. it’s not a crime, usually.

just because we embody it doesn’t mean it will work. it might not, and that’s okay. It is not about

   king in your own living room.        

I am lucky enough to have lived to the ripe old age of 21 before the internet became a thing, along with mobile phones. 

I remember a time before now.

I am not saying it was better, but it certainly didn’t fee

It is hard not to become numb after a while. Especially when you see no other way, and even the end seems so pointless. Stepping off. 

And for what? Haunting our waking dreams. And depression leads to boredom, and if we are not careful apathy, and in

We have lived many lives. Even in this one, we have lived plenty. We are not the people today that we will be tomorrow, and we sure aren’t the same people as we were yesterday. And we probably wouldn’t want to be.

I don’t know about you, but I don’t

I have to live with the voices.

I suppose we all do, but mine grind me down, in good times I am left out cold.

I live with things better unsaid.

I suppose we all do.

But it grinds me down when I should be present.

It takes me out of the conversation

The ghosts they come.
The good the bad and the truly hideous.
Haunting our present from the past and the future.
Spoiling the moment. If we let it.
They come often this time of year. When we look in the mirror, and when we don’t.
When we least expect it.
A

Noise box won’t listen. So, then neither will I. two can play that game. Why be designed to tare itself down? And if not designed, then programmed? If so by who? What? How? Distraction? From what? By whom? Why? Money obviously, is the easy one. But n

Nothing works the way it should, how we imagined. It wasn’t this. Whatever this is, is not what they sold us. 

I could write a list. I won’t. I don’t want to bore you. There’s no point adding to your woes. And they are tedious in the desire to try an