Existing Outside the Lines

Messy Memories.

Troubles not foreseen.

It will surface as though,

a lifetime were spent conducting our own scenic symphony.

But then again,

who is to say,

that what seems…

are artless creatures of our dreams.

I am the sort to find no difference between a

snowstorm and…

a mystery.

The sisterhood of blocks made in mortar and misery.

The elusive nature of things…

A hallucinogenic with never-ending complications…

Of who I am?

What I see?

And, what it means to just be.

To create, and to confront, one has to be an outcast. MASHA GEESEN

What it means to stare

Would have been better to keep an existential eye…

while looking between green gray hues

and, peering at anemic disarray.

Languid disorders, sight unseen,

grappling with a colorful mind…

Well, in earnest, it is an ordeal best suited for the unrefined.

Dragnets flung over the road maps,.

collecting ‘speaking in third person’…

like passing the hat.

Well noted, a window’s pardoning glare,

and,

with a quick glimpse forward,

fleetingly witness…

to be or not to be…be aware.

Forthwith, we will beg,

pardon my stare.

Pardon my stare.

“There is something infantile in the presumption that somebody else has a responsibility to give your life meaning and point… The truly adult view, by contrast, is that our life is as meaningful, as full and as wonderful as we choose to make it.”
Richard Dawkins, The God Delusion

Bike Weak

Collecting all harmony in a tank of gas

I do not intend to toss my peace of mind…far or fast

And, when stage struck by the crackled pavement,

there can be moments of…

imageedit_7_5922669719being off task.

Bound by no determination, I am the wind.

I am the specks of soiled earth…bouncing about shaded glass.

I am

I am

A feeling that is unplanned and never lasts.

imageedit_6_4471581354
The cutting edge of this instant right here and now is always nothing less than the totality of everything there is…robert pirsig

the Art of Being

francis bacon self portrait

Words are but symbols for the relations of things to one another and to us; nowhere do they touch upon absolute truth…. Through words and concepts we shall never reach beyond the wall off relations, to some sort of fabulous primal ground of things.

Friedrich Nietzsche