The Biggest Disease

The biggest disease,
the one most in need of a cure,
the most harmful
and dangerous to children,
the one we must vaccinate against…

is

Righteousness.

Oh what a horror and what contagion
the ignorance of righteousness
and even here,
in this writing,
how could I know

and yet,

We know.
And worse…much worse
we tell ourselves we should know
we expect others to know
we think when we get what we want
we were right

But our righteousness masks
the reasons we want
the reasons we live
the reasons we love

What if we’re right,
and everyone dies
or love dies.

Many would feel,
as the world withered,
and children slept
in their final rest,

that they were right.

Catching Up

I painted the sky that was out of my reach
I wrote the words that could not support the heart
I loved so painfully and could not fill love
I am hungry and cannot be sated

So, perhaps, that is not hunger at all

But something else dressed in hunger
an old trick, well worn
like ruts on the backroads in Spring
you yank the wheel and the ruts yank back

So, perhaps, it’s not hunger at all

I can’t catch up to the painted sky
and the heart and love
I can’t get there
but it’s the joy of my life to try

It’s the joy of my life to try.

Eternity and Me

I got back to the silence of the mountains

It was like breath

Like soul

I felt the vibrations

The call back to peace

Even though I’ve been removed

And have been coming back

The absence

And refreshment

Was like a blood transfusion

It is there

On that Mountain

Deep into the woods

There’s nothing there

But eternity and me.

If There Is No Reason…

What is the bottom of judgement?
Do we descend the depths
only to find the sea floor
and sit, finally on hard ground?

Or is there more…

Can we descend though the bottom
where judgement ceases
to press all around us
and squeeze our veins?

When we pop through
what was assumed and made solid
is that when it will happen
is that when the pressure will
drop away
and we will be inflated
expanded into love
and acceptance?

Is there a difference between
accepting murder
and accepting that violence exists?
What is this pressure
of finding a reason
to make it all ok.

If I could just find a reason
it would be ok.
If I could just find a reason
it would be ok.

If there is no reason
can it be ok?

Your History, Your Future, Your Friend

Floating, the pain becomes detached
And floats with me
It’s not the same
Because I can see it
It’s a kind of wonder
As old as consciousness,
Maybe older.
I think it is always there
Mostly attached
Tied to my experience
By the necessity
Of culture
And by it’s mystery
To begin with
I think it might be
The vestigial arm
Of the priority
And pride
Of intellect,
Creating attachment to everything
Naming everything
The brain cannot experience
It’s a calculator and
Right now
That’s how we choose
To experience our life
And because you can’t forget
About the numbers when you’re
Doing math
You can’t see your pain for what it is,
Your history
Your future
Your friend

The Sins of the Parents are in Full Bloom

The Sins of the parents are in full bloom,

And the parents are desperately trying to get out of the room
The parents are children
They can’t be trusted
To see the truth of the things
That they’ve busted
And like children
They’re prone to a tantrum
When they don’t get what they want
A tantrum’s their anthem.

The parents are children
But their sins are mature
They’ve created and supported
And shouted for war
But the worst ones have,
Like children
Pretend,
That their choices were Noble
And could not have led to this end.

But, still worse, and gravest of all of the Sins
Is their willful deception
Of how it begins
And their indignant opinions
That they take for truth
And feed to their children
As if sick from the flu
They decide that their children
Are just like them
And they don’t give a thought
To what it means is they’re not
Or, even more, how good it might be
If their children, from them,
Were eternally free
Instead they build bunkers of hate
To surround their kids
And to keep them safe
But by safe what they mean,
These child parents,
Is same, same as them
Like little pet plants

The Sins of the parents
Are in full bloom
Their refusal to look
Beyond their own gloom
Only entrenches their children
To a similar Doom
And as they all scramble
To exit the room
All pointing their fingers
And teaching the rule
That it’s not you that that’s
The problem
It’s some other fool.

The Sins of the parents are in full bloom.

The Steamroller Of Life-Pt. 1

Vermont
an idea with green mountains
a philosophy with pure water
and my philosophy isn’t the same
and my idea isn’t the same
as yours.

So possessive
am I, of my ideas
So possessive
am I, of my “I”
without knowing it
I need it
without knowing it
I don’t breathe without it

My “I”
not freedom,
chains and heavy
my “I”

I never want my son to feel this heaviness
this reliance on being recognized

And I continue to follow
in my desire and fear
and achieve the things I am most afraid of

My “I”
my map
my knowledge
my way
to what can only be,
and I know this now,
misery and want.

But what about the feeling
The one about getting rolled over
by the steamroller of life
and people
if you don’t stand and proclaim
if you don’t stand and proclaim
and fight
what about that steamroller of life

It’s coming for me.

What Will Happen If I Let Go

I don’t know what this urge is
or where it comes from,
this distant pull
this distant hang on
I can’t get away
it’s like I’m always hanging on
to something.

And so I don’t know what it’s like to fall
to be free in space
muscles no longer tensed
fingers no longer white knuckled
tight and pained
no longer gripping
falling back,
maybe I won’t hit the ground
maybe there’s no ground to hit.

Hanging on though,
that’s what I do,
I hang on
to what I think is the truth
and everything comes from there
and, like clothes, my beliefs I wear
and I get frantic when something
starts tugging on my leg
because it makes it harder to hang on.

Why am I hanging on

And what does my world look like
if I let go.

It seems impossible
because…

What does it look like if I let go

Will I warm
will I thaw
will my sharp edges
dull
will metal become cotton
and glass become water
will I be flattened by the world
and is flat, bad?

What will happen if I let go.

Do Stop Believin'

What’s better than believing?
Maybe…everything!

Why do you believe
Do you like the cage
or is it more of a featherbed
is it a reprieve
do you like the rage
that comes from your head

What is this about belief
what is the relief
we are the thief
of our own peace
stealing it away
forbiden play
we’ve lost our way
on easy street

But it’s not easy
no, not at all
it’s much harder
because we never fall
and we never learn
because we never burn
we’re never cut
into ribbons and threads
destroyed by truth
outside our head
we never allow cracks
of doubt
to take root
and reverse the drought

The funny thing
is that doubt is there
drought is too
we’re dry as bones
we think we do
we think we doubt
we think we’re dry
we think we’re in trouble
But it’s a lie
Our belief is strong
and never questionned
not on the level
that would allow
digestion

If we allowed digestion
we’d be blown away
doubt gives way
and there’s no protection
finally we see the day

So don’t believe
if you want to live
you only decieve
yourself and kids
there’s something bigger
it’s not God
it’s life that’s bigger
it’s life that’s god.

Partners

I can do anything if you walk beside me.

I can face anything if you’re on my team

I can do anything if I have a partner

And I’ll stand for you if it’s not a dream.

And you say it’s all bullshit

Because who needs a team

And who needs a partner

To realize their dreams

And you say you can just do it alone

And that we’re all on our own

And you don’t need anyone

To make a home

And that’s where we differ

Because what is a home

But a space in your head where

You’re free to roam

And roam you will and roam alone

But as night follows day

And light shows the way

There are two consciousnesses

That only together make one

And I’ve that is greater than anything else

Greater than anything you can do in your own

So if you want to explore and go far from home

While carrying with you your own sense of home

You can’t do it alone

It’s not big enough son,

You need a partner, a teammate to help you grow.

Elan Mudrow

Smidgens

Bitter Gertrude

Blogging about Theatre and Culture since 2013

Engage!

Critical Dharma for Thinking Minds

Dirty Sci-Fi Buddha

Musings and books from a grunty overthinker

Josep Goded

Seeking Truth

LYNCH

:to put to death (as by hanging) by mob action without legal approval or permission

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