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Trouble Time

I think it’s time to get into some trouble.

I’ve been writing since I was, what…12 or so…maybe 11.
I’m sometimes good at it
Mostly indulgent
With brief sparks of clarityand beauty (I think).

I started and written many blogs in my life
Hundreds of posts
poetry
prose
and diarrhea (sorry about that)

I started a blog called “Lynch”
the day after Trump was elected
The first poem was called”Rooting for Trump”.

It was my outlet for processing the world.
I love social media for what it makes possible
I hate social media for what it makes possible
I work to stay on the “love” side

The more I face the violence
and apathy in myself
the more I find the necessity for art
because art transcends externalities
and has the potential to touch souls
and now, more than ever,
touching souls is what I think we need,
It’s what I need.

There is so much that has been unsaid
There is so much that has been left unsaid
As a male as a man as a boy
I am conditioned to heroic stoicism
but worse
I benefit from my silence
Not a real benefit
But the perception of safety
The perception of acceptance
My benefit is only a perception
and is not real
In fact, if I am a good person,which I realize I am,
the reality is my silence
has created the world
And I think the world needs to change
so I think trying a different approach might be good.

As the GREAT Peter Tosh sings
“I don’t want no peace, I want
equal rights and justice”.

Before anything and anyone
My son and all those I love
I want justice for myself
my internal self
and without speaking
with curiosity
convictionand experience
I can never know my internal self
and if I can not know my Internal self
I cannot have justice for myself
and if I cannot have justice for myself
I can never attempt to offer justice to the world.
There is so much to say
So much to express
so much pain
so much love
and much fear
and much hate

So with the intent to pierce hate
with Love
and to temper fear with Character
I will be releasing “LYNCH”
to the world
I hope you’re affected
In a way that touches
your soul.

Run To Yourself

It’s the grace of age,
of years spent
living
no matter
how hard you try
you can not fully
prevent wisdom.

I sit with walls of wood
sunlight and silent
but churning
inside
always churning
always chewing
on what the world
gives me
so busy
on the inside
so busy
on the inside
adapting
crafting
making order
assuming
preparing.

So busy, on the inside.

But the walls
remain silent
the sky waits
and the trees
enjoy the waiting
the wind touches
and does not judge
the animals
scury and feed
but are not busy
and the sunlight beams
paint eternity.

I churn.
I chew.
Constantly I shelter
and create the storm
constantly I create the strom
constantly I shelter.

I churn.

And I can barely discern,
barely
as if the mists of my habits
and the fog of my socialization
have a more sinister purpose,
I barely discern
I barely discern
I barely discern
my goodness
but then,
I become sure of it,
because it discerns me

and comes running to me.

Parenting Tips in Three Parts

This is so funny
because it’s not funny at all
and that’s the root of all great humor!

We (and by “We” I mean humans)
are going to get what want.

Think.

You no longer
have to
survive.

At least no one
reading this
has to
survive.

Think.

How amazing…
we have come so far
as humans
as to not have to worry
about survival.

Every second
every minute
every hour
of human existence
until what…?
100 years ago?
200 years ago?

200 years ago
if you weren’t sowing fields
right now
you wouldn’t eat
and no one would care
beyond using your
situation to motivate
their family to survive
better than yours.

And now
we have created
the space to
think
feel
imagine
grow
explore.

We don’t have to survive
any more.

For now.

Part 2

There are no secrets
great men and woman
have come before
and pioneered
and laid pathways
to the heart and soul
they are clearly marked.

Furthermore, we have not even to risk the adventure alone; for the heroes of all time have gone before us; the labyrinth is thoroughly known; we have only to follow the thread of the hero-path. And where we had thought to find an abomination, we shall find a god; where we had thought to slay another, we shall slay ourselves; where we had thought to travel outward, we shall come to the center of our own existence; where we had thought to be alone, we shall be with all the world.

Joeseph Campbell

And yet
we turn back
we turn away
we refuse
we point out fingers
we explain
we implore
we demand
we kill
we force
we reject
we proclaim
we know
we shame

In this new world
in this new imagination
in this new potential
we turn
and run
like scared children
screaming
at the dark
when all that’s happened
is that the sun has gone down
and nature has
continued to turn her work.

Like children
we demand it
to be worse
than it is
we demand
that all is lost
we demand
that the pain
is eternal
and separate
from our nature
and from
our magnificence.

We demand
that our stunned
parents believe us
we demand
that all is lost.

We are behaving like
entitled children.

Part 3

What kind of parent
do you want to be?

Because it’s your choice.
You’re making it now.
You can change it.
But the longer you wait
the more pain there will be
and it is possible,
if you want to be the most loving parent
that you will be killed
by your children
and perhaps
then
they
will
see
themselves.

The pain of good parenting
is the hardest pain
the deepest pain
you must sacrifice
everything
and become yourself.

What have you sacrificed?

What Should I Do

I’m not strong enough to be silent.
I’m not strong enough to just do it.

Are you?

Are you strong enough to work hard at life
while life offers you the comfort of the righteous?

Are you strong enough to jump into the ring
when there are so many reasons not to?

I would like to ask you,

What is the answer?

Are you the one who knows?
Or do you know someone…
it should be easy enough to find,
the answer,
I just can’t find anyone right now.

I looked around a while back
and there were answers everywhere
everyone seemed to know
and I thought,

There must be something wrong with me.

A person who doesn’t have an answer

And so I’m asking you,
because I’m concerned for my son
and my family and life
and don’t want there to be more
dead children.

And you seem to know.

So…what do you think?

What should I do?

Believe? Humans #1

It doesn’t work
because i’ve seen it before.
i’ve seen in
where have I seen it
where have I seen it…

It’s in me.
It’s all in me.

I’ve seen this violence before
i’ve seen the lying
i’ve seen the fraud
i’ve seen the despair
i’ve seen the slavery
i’ve seen the hatred
i’ve even seen murder

i’ve seen it all
in me.

I’ve explained it
I’ve explained it
I’ve justified
I’ve spoken words
upon words upon words
I’ve said

“I will never do this again”
and made myself a liar the day after
with the injuries to self
and others still fresh
with blood still running.

How can you believe the words of humans

How can you believe the word of any human?

When what is being shouted
is not human
but imagination
desire
want
when what is being shouted
is mist

are you going to build the new world
on mist
again.

I have seen all of this before
and I will see it again.

Are you going to build the new world
on the mist of desperate children
that don’t know what to do?

Or do you have a better idea?

This Fire Better Let Me In

There’s a fire burning
and I am burned by it.

I turn and run
zig
zag
twist, duck turn.

I run.

As I run
my fear subsides
I check my wounds
I try to hide
my wounds are less
than I thought
they’d be
but that fire was raging
and it burned me.

Now I’m escaped
I move on through
The fires gone
from my purview
and I begin to forget
slowly at first
but forgetting gains speed
once your through
the worst.

And oh, I’m through it
am I ever
I find other things
to keep me clever
and I keep moving
but in my soul
I know that fire’s
still burning
with red hot coals.

But I’m not close
or so I say
and I’ve forgotten it
for another day.

And days go by
and months and
years
And my forgetting is
forged is sweat
and tears
and then like a full assault
one day I turn
and see my fault
and all of a sudden
I’m pitched back in
right back to where
the fire and I begin

And it’s still raging
and there’s no way to win
this fire
this fire

This fire better let me in!

The Purpose of the Heart

Maybe a gift…

To be shown
how you do not fit
and to see
you do not fit
and to feel
you do not fit
and to see,
finally,
how underneath
all of your
persuasion
and dancing
and performance
you, so badly,
want to fit.

The pain of it
is of a different quality
of a secret quality
a quality not spoken off,
kept in the dark places
kept at bay
by the performance
of trying to fit
and resenting the trying.

The ebb and flow of the ego
resenting that
which is not of itself
resenting that which
threatens
it’s facaded walls

The ebb and flow of the self
resenting the performance
resenting the denial
of the self
in disbelief.

How can you forgo your natural self
in the face of such primacy
of feeling.

In the face of such knowledge.

How is it,
in the face of such knowledge
and feeling of yourself
and your deepest secrets
you can still
perform
and so desperately
try to fit it
at the cost of everything.

I am so heartbroken of myself
so heartbroken.

But I am not lost.
No.

After all, as the wise woman says,
what else is a heart for?

The First A.I. Is Culture

So many questions
like a waterfall
there, here, gone
pouring over
spreading out
sinking in
flowing to the sea.

We humans,
we realized we were mortal
and we simply couldn’t manage
the duality
of sure life
and sure death
what was the point
if we could recognize
it would all end.

And so
we created culture
and morality
to keep our minds off
the more serious things
and then,
fucking culture…
it took hold.

What started out as
a reaction to avoid
the expanse of eternity
became the opposite
became solid
and visible
and logical
and heavy
and hard
and it began to turn over
on itself,
this
Culture
and it began to create.

The first real AI is Culture.

There is an Answer

What do you do with your pain?

Some make laws
others dance in the rain
some cry and tuck away
allowing the day
to go by
some sing with such pain
the music drips
and soaks your soul
some yell
and some hit
some murder
some plan
some fight
some forget
some work harder
some stand

You know you have pain…don’t you?
you know it’s there, right
underneath and down deep
underneath your habits
underneath your hate
underneath your rules
underneath your god
underneath your temper
underneath the sod
of your life
that’s grown green grass
and killed the wild flowers
that’s kept you at it
for hours and hours
and hours and hours
that’s kept you at the
grind and work
that’s kept you locked
face first in the dirt

My god.

The answers are not outside us.
The answers are not outside us.
The answers are not outside us.
The answers are not outside us.
The answers are not outside us.
The answers are not outside us.

My god.

The answers are not outside us.

The Ignorance of Knowledge

It’s mostly dark
but for the lantern’s
fragile flicker

and the screaming
echoing off the walls
I can’t tell where
it’s coming from
but I know what it says

You’re wrong.
I’m right.
You’re wrong.
I’m right.
You’re less.
I’m more.
You’re less.
I’m more.

It’s clear
And I wish it would stop
so we could explore
but it’s deafening
and it has color
and thickness in it
that obscures
the flickering.

There’s something
in front of me
but I can’t make it out
and I can’t focus
on that now
because I’ve been
tricked, too.

I’m listening
and the wetness
coming from my ears
is blood
and even as I hit the
ground
smashing my lantern
I can hear the screams.

I am right.
You are wrong.
You are less.
I am more.

They don’t notice me.
I’m hurt, now
and dying.

They don’t notice me.

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