blank blank fullness

What is the statute of limitations on life, life events, things you said, things you meant, things you did and wish were dead. What could ever die as long as you're alive? Indeed, what has lived will live far past its self, the shelf on which it was dealt. Nothing ever dies. It just changes shape. Like a golden, spinning, flexible, reflexive, lord of a ring, figure it looping, figure it's 8.
I was on chatroulette, for the first time, one night.  For two hours this Floridian kid and I talked, or didn't, just sat there, oh gosh what was his name?. It was nice. Might sound creepy, but it was real. Why? Because I was real. And so was he. Ugh let me not toot my own horn. But I remember this other night, last summer. I'll get back to chatroulette in a moment. After these not-so-brief messages. I went out to this Bar in New York, the music there that night created a precious element... met a fellow, we talked, chilled, it got mellow, and high, and as I do, when I reach the sky, I riffed and riffed and spoke in tongues and connected with another person's lungs because each breath I took shook this person's world, and mine, truth be told, I say the darndest things, you've got to believe it, no need to see it. But, really, who doesn't? No, I mean, I really say the darndest things! Must have been the Bacchic influence. And now that I've stated it, probably took the edge off of the ability, revealed too much, set a standard, nothing to prove but expressing a groove. Keep moving...About what you may ask does my mouth, not much its the fingers that do the talking on this couch. If I told you, I mean really told you, I'd have to kill it. And I'm on a live trip continuing with the direction I was going in... homie's (he wasn't a homie, really) sitting there, in the same state as me, only I've taken the lead in the matter, get your minds (maybe it's not your minds, maybe it's just my mind, but I'll cover everyone's bases and therein reveal my own, oh jeez does it sound like I'm blown? [not]) out the gutter I'm a lady, not a pitch-and-hit batter. Flash back there we are and he's like, I've never met anyone like you, had this kind of connection, spoken like this with anyone. And I smiled and I thought, this happens more and more, all the time.Ah, les genes! So I said that, probably came off conceited as hell but it was earnest. And in that moment I couldn't have told that he thought me to be so, full of myself, but shoot, what do I know?. Because I talked of THE self, kept it as transparent as glass, reflecting my other half, wholly out of myself. Ugh God, I can be overly earnest. Oscar, you get me, I'll use your cajones. So maybe it is you, "it's not you, it's me", you..You don't need to remember it for it to be a part of your puzzle. And if it made it past your skin, others breathed it in, then there's little chance it won't prevail. As part of the matrix, as woven and contained within. Well, who cares? Ah, but you care. Everyone cares. Caring's the issue, and it's not, tu vois?. How truthful is something that happened in the past when your present is thousands of exits away, tethered nevertheless to that series of non-linear days, mem-o-rays, right up to the now here we go...... What are you building on, little life Jenga (a cat I once had may he rest in peace), let's raze this section right here, the foundation has been compromised, plant a seed in its stead, when stacking gets shaky, back to the Earth.with it, quaking, shivering, shaking.  Can I stick another brick on? Replace the ancestry of an all-too-human race? My life's a brick, a part of the delicate game of pick-up-sticks, it's too late, I'm here, I fit.
Oh yea, and that time on chatroulette -- I won't go in depth, but I heard myself saying, that life is like a wave. positivity cresting, you waiting to catch it, like Clay Marzo magic, oh don't get me started on tsunami dreams.

Is it coming from the inside? All these problem's Earth's been having. Are we weighing all-too heavy, Mass of man increasing steady. And all the potions we've been whipping, Transferring energy from almost nothing underneath us, Into piles of steel, trash, and make-up, magazines and mate-ups, wars and celebrations. Pounding on the door, knocking for the core, lava there, crumbling here. The pressure points stay safer, effecting change instead in once-obscure locations. Cause-and-effect, could anything ever be something else? Far-off the cracks may start, but home is one for all, so we'll all feel the shock.  Like a pulsing, pounding body, an axis running swiftly, A wing is broken here, flight gets downed there, And the perfect patterns will continue shifting

Sparks are falling from magnetic metal rooftops
that JMZ track shakin the-
City snakes its way
into lively dwellers' skin
Skim the surface of the beautiful mess
they're living in
Further the numbers they climb,
Harder for some to find that piece of mind
Alienated did he call it?
Bars across their windows
So they slip downstairs
Into the after-hours darkness
For a drink to keep 'em company
In this town built on steel
Time to trim these tips,
Split out ends and make our way
past those man-made debts
subtle incongruousness
Building blocks, the sunlight
Now seeps from underneath
This garden of adapted souls
Making the most of their shadow goals

If the hands of a clock, the shifting of digital dots
Would pull us all together
As well as it has with us
The world would be
One giant
Thundering heart
In the purest mind
Seeing with the clarity of
Timelessness

photography, shots slide across the screen for a crowd to see
sitting smiling peacefully with a monument, its magnitude of beauty- focused centrally
in the corner, reclining with the scene
a face, my face
then 4 pairs of legs walk across a stage
scrutinizing two mojoin pins, removed from my possession
with a pair of eyes, and a single lens
and hundreds of others viewing past-present tense 
vacation shots of a life
lived spontaneously
this photographer, where did he come from
we ran into him on the street
at an intersection of time gone by in the windshield,
spinnin round a traffic circle eye
from where he began to follow me
questioning the playbacks
does he see what I see?
and from the crowd a man, seemingly a professor
professed this love to me:
the id doesn't like it when a mirror's not around
try to sleep without one 
see if you can stand your ground
so of course upon my waking,
I realize the space, blank
thereupon my childhood bedroom wall where one had hung, now displaced
then spoke a need to see this id encased
according to a Freudian kind of studied taste
but right before I rose up and out
from the cacophony of the raw
a boy in this dream I know asked me, please
make me anxious tonight
I have some work proposals that I need to write
my dreaming id understood it perfectly
over-seeing this unknown churning underbelly
catharsis dream-work delivered intentionally

"For your consideration:

“Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness. Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation), there is one elementary truth the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then providence moves too. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one's favor all manner of unforeseen incidents, meetings and material assistance, which no man could have dreamt would have come his way."

Which is why we should never allow our limitations or fears to deflect us from a noble goal. You just never know what might happen if you get out of your own way...."

And you know what? I'm glad nobody told me. 'Cause now I can deal with it like myself. Not someone else. Who had told me so.
Ohhhh no!

Names
Big names in lights
My neck hurts from looking up at them
How had society convinced me that's the place they should be, my eyes, those flashbulb lights
There's really only one thing I want to look up to
A sky filled with light, clouds, birds, I don't care,
Whatever nature seeks to serve.
As for the humans,
Accomplished as they may be
Their pedastals are breaking necks, resting on backs
And those necks will tear them down
For their own chance at wearing a crown.
No.
No no no no no.
Look around you, there's angels amongst us
And the glorified sirs and madames,
Step down gracefully
Admit this isn't what you wanted, entirely
The other end of the equation will cede mercifully


Maybe He was created by those ancient wisemen,
Observing well the follies of Kings and Pharoahs
So that in our futures, we wouldn't do this to each other
To ourselves.
Easier to revere
A man whose course you simply cannot steer
Without
Steering yourself
Right?
We do it anyway
Still in vain, in the Name of _ _ _ ... _ _ _ _ _
Pressure to choose yourself to be chosen
So heavy.
Even when it happens naturally,
Hands of fate guiding steadily
Lead us to the truths
Hearts breaking in cardiac arrest

Can't pretend to know the answer
In what these eyes have only seen
Being's another elixir
Experience 'living the dream',
Your dream
Don't leave a detail out
Imagine as much as you can
What's your limit? The limit? His, her, their limit?
Half of the discovery is, testing that question
Evolutionarily unknown progress
Moving forward nonethelesss
Rationally sensible
Consciously
Chaotically
Soon to change its meaning,
Chaos more than
Order moving in reverse
Uniting this blessing and the curse

Not in the same place we started here, are we?

What I'd really like to know is what drives someone to enlist in the Army, Navy, Air Force, Marines, etc.?
Pride? Duty? The corrupted sense of these?
The rigid structure of these establishments can be a life saver for some, I'd guess. Marshall's clear directives comforting during an age of total uncertainty-- late teens, early twenties.
Then there's the hype, media and otherwise, the powerful myth spurred, spun through a materially comfortable Nation's eyes, that our 'democracy' is on their side.
Are we teaching these men and women how to fish, how to help other cultures eat? Or using them as bait? For what? For whose true gain?
Fueled by the pretense of eliminating world, desert-state hate... with... kill kill kill?
Does 'eliminate' take care of providing it's opposite? No, I don't think so... But is that the point, really? To fill the gaps new power blasts in the mountains of old, desert real estate a kind of gold, modern warfare a new form of laundering, perhaps. Oh, whoa I digress..........
What even goes on over there?
I bet they're much like 'us' somedays, waiting around for the other shoe to drop, checkin their MySpace on the reserve base, happy to see a friend's face.
Anyway, that was brought on by this, another forward, no less.

But I'll ask, What Does This Mean:

1/2 boy 1/2 man

The average age of the military man is 19 years.
He is a short haired, tight-muscled kid who,
under normal  circumstances is considered by
society as half man, half boy.  Not yet dry behind the ears, not old enough to buy a beer, but  old enough to die for his country. He never really cared  much for work and he would rather wax his own car than wash his  father's, but he has never collected unemployment either.



He's a recent High  School graduate; he was probably an average student, pursued some form of sport activities, drives a ten year old jalopy, and has a steady girlfriend that either broke up with him when he left, or swears to be waiting when he returns from half a world away. He listens to rock and roll or hip-hop or rap or jazz or swing  and a 155mm howitzer.

He is 10 or 15 pounds lighter now than when he
was at home because he is working or fighting
from  before dawn to well after dusk. He has
trouble spelling, thus letter writing is a pain for him, but he can field strip a rifle in 30 seconds and reassemble it in less time in the dark. He can recite to you the nomenclature of a machine gun or grenade launcher and use either one effectively if he must.

He digs  foxholes and latrines and can apply first aid like a professional.

He can march until he is told to stop, or stop until he  is told to march.

He obeys orders instantly and without hesitation, but he is not without spirit or individual dignity. He is self-sufficient.

He has two  sets of fatigues: he washes one and wears the other. He keeps his canteens full and his feet dry.

He sometimes forgets to brush his teeth, but never to clean his rifle. He can cook his own meals, mend his own clothes, and fix his own hurts.

If you're thirsty, he'll share his water with you; if you are hungry, his food. He'll even split his ammunition with you in the midst of battle when you run low.

He has learned to use his hands like weapons
and weapons like they were his hands.

He can save your life - or take it, because that is his job.


He will often do twice the work of a civilian, draw half the pay, and still find ironic humor in it all.

He has seen more suffering and death than he should have in his short lifetime.

He has wept in public and in private, for friends who have fallen in combat and is unashamed..


He feels every note of the National Anthem vibrate through his body while at rigid attention, while tempering the burning desire to  'square-away ' those around him who haven't bothered to stand, remove their hat, or even stop talking.
In an odd twist, day in and day out, far from home, he defends their right to be disrespectful. 

Just as did his Father, Grandfather, and Great-grandfather,  he is paying the price for our freedom. Beardless or not, he is not a boy. He is the American Fighting Man that has kept this country free for over 200 years.


He has asked nothing in return, except
our friendship and understanding.
Remember him, always, for he has earned our respect and admiration with his blood.

And now we even have women over there in danger,  doing their part in this tradition of going to War when our nation calls us to do so.


As you go to bed tonight,  remember this shot...

A short lull, a little shade and a picture of
loved ones in their helmets.

There's this inkling where many a person thinks, never that
Not me
I'm special, I'm not like them
But then we'd all watch, in the comfort of home, the place where the guard drops down
The place where we blind our eyes to life, get vulnerable for the sake of sanity, sleep, all our own
We'd all watch those others
Cookie-cutters
And just let them be, like that, exposed on T.V.
Act out on the stage of taped 'reality'
Reality?
Actuality, may be more the case
But they're human,
Either way
And so are the watchers,
Mouth open, brows furrowed
"No way"
Laughter peels, at least they get that much
Those working long, repeating days
But then I'll wonder
With the quest to be so individual
We're still not entirely indivisible
From those things that set us apart
From our common brothers
Stay different cause it's your destiny
But aching for the simplicity of belonging, easily
Comfortably, for periods extending beyond just me
These places we spend our time
Bringing us closer to keeping us apart
Cause most of it goes on in our minds, plugged up fire wires
Watching you, watching me
Watch myself