Untitled
Listen!
Listen to your heart.
Do you hear it murmer?
Do you hear it hum,
Echoing the melody of your soul?
And if you dance to it,
You will ne'er ere on the side of wrong
Nor wander astray from the footpath of joy
I was born after the fall but before the winter.
I was born after the harvest and before it was needed.
I was born after the leaves, before the snow.
In a time when nothing fell from the sky.
In a time when the shadows were always long
I was born in the twilight of the year
After the sun, before the night
In a cold world
In a world of cheer
A world of failing light.
The crystal tear drops
From heaven's soft cloud-cheeks
Spattering on the ground
Fallen from grace
Shattered on the hard cement
Beneath my feet
An unending rythm
Of pattering, on the
Unprotective cloth,
Hung spherical above
My clining wet hair
By the metal stick
Held firmly in your hand
That thick, calloused hand
How many strands of hair
Loosely hanging in the
Glimmering eyes of young girls
Has that hand brushed
Away from innocent blushing cheeks
Before finding my dripping
Locks, drooping in this day
Of graying mists
And the pattering of rain
Above our heads
How do you quiet your soul,
When your inner core is screaming,
With a turbulence rocking inside,
When your mind is whirling,
Out of control?
What brings peace,
To a body about to burst,
When essence can no longer be contained,
When only the uproar of thought is audible,
And world outside is behind a pane of glass?
How do you stop the clamor, tumult, upheaval,
The agitation, confusion, and vexation,
The strain, the tension?
How do you snap?
How do you let go of everything,
And fall?
Downward, plunging into madness,
The only release from a solid, sane world,
The only reality, the only answer,
The only question.
HOW DO YOU STOP!!!!!!!!!!
Stop running, stop yelling,
Stop trying to do, to be,
Stop fitting into places that only I can see!
How? Tell me how!
This life is fast, loud, dizzying,
This life is fleeting!
How do you tell them that?
How do you make them see?
Look! Look and see, there is life around you!
Can’t you see? There is a world outside your mind!
Wait, there is a world outside of my mind as well.
All I need to do is find the door.
And then.
Then…...
Then I will be free.
Where will you be?
Childhood is the filter of our society. A long time ago, then-children didn’t know pain, or fear, or want. Nothing existed beyond their happy, healthy, little lives. Unfortunately, time passed, as it always does, until it arrived on a fateful day; a morning more precisely, a morning of clear skies, and a light mist on the horizon near the rising sun; the perfect day, of a perfect life. A child stood on the corner; waiting for a cheerful yellow bus, waiting for the flashing lights, the friends, the laughter; the perfect day. And it was. It was the perfect day. The sun shone bright on the lush green grass, the birds chirped in delight, and here came the bus, like always. Here were the friends, the laughter; here was the perfect day. The young girl sat down smiling; her heart was so full she had to let it spill out on the paper. The notebook was filled with more ink than any of the notes she had taken in class. The lead spilled out, running across the pages. Her mind floated out the window, through the pages, through worlds unseen, to friends unknown to the physical present. And it was here, here that she found the tear; a small rip in the fabric of her world; nothing but a tiny voice from far off. And out of nowhere, the fabric of this dream, this perfect day, split in two. The weight of her notebook lifted from her hands, the precious weight; the beloved burden, that she only wanted bear; torn form her hands, her heart; her soul.
“What’s this?”
The girl turned, blinded in panic, grasping for the little book, whose sheets were covered in her life’s blood. “It’s mine. It’s my writing.”
But the pounding of her heart in her ears did not drown out the words. “Wow, this is creepy.”
Her world swirled into darkness, ebbed into an abyss as a little boy snatched it next. The girl reached for it, as if for some invisible hand to save her from certain death. “Can I have it back?”
But the words kept coming, rushing to her brain like flood waters. “Freaky.”
“Please!” She pleaded from the core of her being, sounding words that couldn’t portray her agony.
He tossed the notebook back, the precious gem, the mind’s eye of a child, as if it were a dead fish. The girl looked at the cover, once so cheerful and bright, once so perfect. The chattering of the kids filled her ears. Their laughter rang loud, mocking the degradation of something pure. Head wilting, the little girl slipped the notebook, now worthless, now rubbish, into her backpack, hidden in the shadows, under the seat. Sitting back up, turning to the window, she placed her forehead on the cool glass window, now fogged in the morning’s dew. She did not see the light, as the sun shown on her face. Her eyes watched the road passing by, time moving on. And the sun glowed, as it always does, on a perfect day.
Dance! Seek! Search and destroy! Live! Love! Be lovable! Show the poor you care! Show the rich you hate! Buy nothing from evil corporations! Work for the good, not for the money! Run, laugh, play! Know your world! Know your world is not what you think it is! Know that there will be and are times that you are wrong! Pretend to be normal if you must, but let everyone know that you are insane! Insanity is only what other people judge you to be…Judge only those who are willing to judge! Have a picnic by yourself and bring extra food for the ants! Spend time in the rain! Spend time in the sun! Make your own cloths! Make your own food! Make your own personality! Free sweatshop children, don’t try to legitimize the system that suppresses them…There is only one world, love it! There is only one corporation, hate it. There are seven people in the world who hold all the power, Bill Gates is not one of them. Thoreau was smart in his living. Support mass transit, ride the bus! Ride a bike! Critical mass! Jam your culture! Read adbusters.org at least once. Read the Homeland Security Cultural Bureau at least twice. Know your friends and your enemies. “Nolite te bastardes carborundorum!” Never let the world settle for less than its best! Talk to the far left, the far right and the far gone at least once a week! Know that if anyone else is crazy, they’re probably the only sane ones. Know that normal is what weird people do to hide their secrets. What’s your secret? The future is something that unavoidably happens; the present is the beauty of life. The future may get better or worse, that’s why it’s almost completely pointless to worry about. Never worry; there are always ways to survive! Steal from the rich only if you give to the poor. If you use Kazaa, give your CD money to the children starving in the streets. Wealth is not necessary, kindness is! Public property was meant to be defaced if it is ugly enough. Never say you’re sorry unless you are. Don’t question the acts you committed in the past, but question everything in the present. Never forget to question the government, the media and especially everyone who gives you money. Money is pointless. I hate it. Don’t be afraid to hate inanimate objects, be afraid to hate people. Communism and socialism are two different things, I am neither and yet both. Know that you know very little about me, most of you always will. This can be who I am, it probably will not be though. All that you need know is that I am not you, and I never can be, because it is not my reality, it is yours and you are bound by it for the rest of your waking life. Do with it what you will.
