Wednesday, July 23, 2014

Visiting the Personality Cafe

wordsmith, beat out the keys upon your digitizer of thoughts
find some way to make the amorphous feelings get some root
that cur dog that barked at you when you offered it water
it drank it but only after you put it down and got back
getting closer only made it angry and afraid

all the old despair of ever understanding what cannot be understood
of gunshots to the head in a polar vortex moment when time ceases to be linear
rattling back at me as if it were a chained hammer come back around to swing at me again
the dust of a decade has settled on that relationship
the divorce has hardened me and the absurdity of human behavior
is in sharper focus and I don't like it any more then than I do now
even if I am sometimes entertained by it

wave on wave of emotions that I had rather not have
shocking moments of events unplanned and surprises unforeseen
there is no measuring the strangeness of this life

what if we do have an emotional intelligence?
what if machiavelli had it too?
the carnival barker surely does
and so the other temptations of this life
hoyt axton wrote the song and steppenwolf played it
and my sentiments are the same
though I won't name it in polite company
playing them like a fiddle, toying with their feelings
is a hard harvest 

I will stop thinking about it pretty soon
some other thing will come to interest me
but at the moment I would really like to know
and that means much more reading and testing

somewhere in my gut I am not sure I ever will
but it might prove useful along the way

Wednesday, July 09, 2014

hand of doom

Run rabbit run.
And take the sparrow with you.
Tell the snake to crawl away lest they also fall under my scythe of raining death.
Oppenheimer sat down beside the glass sand
of atomic apocalypse
and he cried
at the work of cunning minds and skillful hand. 
Fear of the yawning chasm 
overtook his heart staring at the chaos.
 All they told me to do was make grass green. 
They didn't tell me about tater beetles and sarin gas.