A Journal of Sorts
"tra la la la bomba dear this is the pilot speaking and I've got some news for you it seems my ship is still stands no matter what you drop and there ain't a whole lot that you can do oh sure the banner may be torn and the wind's gotten colder perhaps, I've grown a little cynical but I know no matter what the waitress brings my cup shall be full my cup shall always be full" ~ John Popper ~ (Blues Traveller) |
this writing life is literary madness, literally... maybe figuratively too, for that matter (or non-matter, for that matter... who knows what it means?)... no rest, no sleep too many promises to keep... nothing sown, nothing reaped, too much time alone in the deep... as if something truly profound might come out of the ramblings, the process continues... as if something truly worthwhile might come out of the babblings, the fingers continue to press keys and send the words out here for anyone to read... what minds can find when not too blind might be cruel to some and to others kind... but judgments made are not divine, friends made are the bottom line... and that's why I am here... what's your reason? what's your season? what's your judgment on it all? what's your story? what's your glory? what's your promise, after all? what makes you who you are? out of all the people in this world how should I know you? what do you wish on a star? when the whole damn thing seems meaningless then what do you do? what's your answer? what's your line? what's the difference between yours and mine? what's your cancer? what's your cure? what opens and closes your door? if I want to know you what should I know? what defines you better than anything else? if I want to blow you what should I blow? what's the most important thing on your shelf? what's most sensitive? what would you never give? what's the secret that you will never share? what's the point of this? what do you most miss? how am I supposed to believe you care? how am I suppose to know you're even there? well blow me down (or blow my mind) you can be so hard to find but that's alright, I know what's mine... I wonder what's your bottom line?... sneeze if you must... are you a humble servant (if so, to whom or what and when and where and most importantly how and why?)... are you a laundry detergent? (it's just a rhyme, no soap, radio, alibi)... cough if you must... duyeh... ultimately the scars still hurt reluctantly the wounds still bleed I know exactly what I want but I don't know what I need truthfully I mean no harm honestly I am quite sad I know exactly what drives me crazy but I don't know if I'm mad what was the best I ever had? I think I'm ready for another try though the last trial still brings me down when someone you trust just won't let go there's a chance you both might drown what can be said for trust betrayed the question may always remain and if there is no remedy you both might go insane maybe that was my worst pain? so how to reclaim sanity who will trust me now looking at my history I really don't know how innocent fool laid open wide too easily abused we don't learn what we don't want to learn it hurts to be refused maybe I'm just confused? so use me once and use me twice and then throw me away it's a disposable society what else is there to say no matter what we think or do the scars will never go away I'm still looking for the one who is gonna stay maybe that's you today every now and then I revisit the scenes of the crimes and clear away whatever debris (did you know most of common household dust is dead skin?) has accumulated over time... cleaning wounds still open and assessing scars (not that it matters after the fact) and trying to believe I might still be whole and secure and trustworthy and beautiful enough to attract the one... I remain alone because I don't want to dump the baggage on anyone, I don't want to bleed on anyone... and yet, the one is the one who will want to help clean the wounds and fascilitate the optimal healing... in fact, the process can not be complete without the one... time may heal all wounds, but time also allows for many more wounds... that's why youth is so attractive... do the scars show on my face? am I still crying yesterday's tears? am I still angry about betrayals that have not happened for years? the most unattractive thing of all are idle age old fears malignant doubts about one's self keeps beauty in arrears maybe that's why you don't see my face yet... maybe that's why I haven't splurged on the up-to-date computer or digital camera... maybe I don't like the way I look so I don't want to visually present myself to the world today... maybe I'm afraid I lost too much... or have been hurt too much... or look like too much the fool I've been... too undefined?... too many pieces missing?... no one judges today, not even me... except in default, in abstentia, in silent non-action... and I wonder how she's doing today... |
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