Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Not This One, Having Stubbed My Toe

Here comes another odd case. I don't know. I see these pictures. My imagination starts sliding sideways, and then out of this world to some other where things go differently from here. It's a little embarrassing to do this in the middle of an engineering office, but I seem to get away with it here in poetry land. Sort of.

Not This One

I hate it. You get
All weird like an octopus
With haywire hot eyes.
You come right at me
Like that. I don't deserve this!

But maybe I do.
I know I'm confused,
Don't see real straight, not like you.
I thought I would win.

Not this one.


I am impatient and impulsive. Back in the last century, closer to its middle than it's end, I knew everything. Well I knew I didn't know everything, but I sure wasn't going to listen to just anyone, especially the guys in authority, because I certainly knew the fix was in.

The fix actually was in. It still is. I am not happy with politicians, but at least as a corporation parasite I see a great deal more that slows me back on the harshness of my criticism. Most everyone is pretty much along for the ride, not in a position to do squat about the important stuff.

Very few of us actually have sufficient degrees of both freedom and power at the critical moments that they actually can act rather than react. And do not be deceived by pomp and circumstance. The obvious "movers and shakers" aren't the real movers and shakers, very much like the apparent rules of professional wrestling are not the real rules. I understand the posturing much better. So many people have such a need to feel in control they are willing to do most anything to keep the illusion alive. It is very sad that this is part of the fuel that feeds our engines and twists our results into disappointing shapes.

We could die of this, and the only solutions are actually spiritual, very much like the spiritual solution required in AA. That is because our situation as a whole is similar. We have multiple addictions to self defeating cultural behaviors, attitudes and postures, and this worldwide. We may not succeed and if we don't our failure will be spiritual. We need help. We lack sufficient power to get to a low risk stability from our too high risk instability. This predicament cannot be solved in a sectarian fashion because it requires a world wide change of heart. Conversion is not the answer, not to capitalism, not to Islam or Christianity, not to the New World Order, not to any other "system" or philosophy or religion. Something more like waking up, contrition, and forgiveness is what is required.

Having Stubbed My Toe

I come back contrite,
Having stubbed my toe on you
And your predictions.
How did you get so wise?

I shall walk your path, go to
The dancing waters,
Sit within their song
So long my beard will grow down
To my empty heart.


  1. Been feasting at Christopher's.

    I love all you say here, and there, and there...

  2. {{{Lucy}}} and {{{Molly}}} and {{{Tom}}} I hope you are all well. Thank you, Lucy, for stopping by and leaving traces all over the place. I had to go to my edit posts page to easily locate you :) A treasure hunt.

    You are right, what you said about the troll's nosegay and me. I get surprised by this poetry, have not yet figuered out what changed, how it tore loose from the knots inside I didn't know how to untangle. Back in the Nineties that happened with my music the same way, and I have never solved that conundrum either.

    I just play keyboard in Eb amazed at what happens, and when I write another poem I have a child's glee going on when I think it's good. Both of these are more like discoveries, like "Look what I found!" than they are "Look what I did!" I don't feel any of it is really mine.

  3. Ha! We have both stubbed our toes in our poems today. :)

  4. "....Conversion is not the answer...."

    well i for one am converting to Rastafarian red gold and green.....

    i am so glad you have decided to make sense again....

  5. Okay, then. Ghost, my blogging bff, you have my permission to see god in the thick cloud of the fattest spliff in the world and to march in the holy army of Judah, using the special syncopated step that is the holy step.

    You have made my point in eloquent marijuana dreams, dreams which perhaps surpass my own. See next post.

  6. Tick and fill in the box to have comments sent by e-mail, somewhere in settings. Ages until I discovered it, but sometimes I get an interesting comment out of the blue on a really old post, which I'd miss otherwise. Trying to remember how many comments you had on 'edit posts' is a big ask!


The chicken crossed the road. That's poultry in motion.

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