...something, just something

no need to be tripping
as I sink inside:
bullets of awareness
as vagrant as cosmic rays
pierce my armored veil of ignorance
and I begin to die of enlightenment.

i never thought it would be this way:
one by one like noah’s ark sliced in half
each thought slipping in,
ticking, then slipping out again.
like the drip of a faucet on a sleepless night:
each moment resetting only to déjà vu again.

the sinister side of the lurid life
could never hold a candle, would never cast a shadow, they said,
on this limbering lucidity hard-won in embracing ‘the truth’.
so why do i, with my life now flashing before,
see only the dark hues of those most forbidden moments
when life truly invented itself?

i just don't know what is coming over me

...i'm feeling like i want to sleep, sleep, sleep a thousand years.  Just rest and forget and do nothing.  call it lazy, i call it something i haven't felt for many, many years.  it feels like my mind, my acuity, my sharpness is fuzzing away.  and it is of no concern to me.  or almost no concern. i know what i'm saying probably sounds commonplace and typical for most people; but the enjoyment of rest, the yearning for sleep, the dissing of the active mind is just so strange to me...and now all so compelling.  i feel like the dreamworld is calling me, my dreamside recalling me.  i've been away too long and missed too much...now sweet rest must balance the mania.  i kinda had this inkling when we were working together the other day--i really fantasized just collapsing in a heap, letting you do the work, and having you nudge me out of the office after completing the job.  that fantasy, that thought seemed at the time so outrageous, so demented and i fought it internally, with the fight itself exhausting me, and i struggled on bravely but with energy diminished.  now i think i understand that i was coming down to this: relearning how to surrender to that rich pleasurable laziness called rest. remembering how to open myself to the amazing pleasure dome called dreams.  discovering again how to dream other dreams and better ones.

  Official Game Piece

*Hey, everybody can't be a winner...*

*Isn't it spooky how it always turns out to be you?*

Sorry, this is not a winner.   But with 1,000,000 prizes available, you've got to try again!

It would seem...

...that anything written in the public view can be read by the public and interpreted by the public accordingly.  Sometimes I've written for the public, sometimes just for myself, and sometimes for another, for you.  If the response of a public plays with your mind, is that my game? What are the rules?  Who wins?  Does everybody lose?

If you think that I designed a game to fluster you, then I must be evil.  Not naughty, not  playful, evil.  Or maybe blogging turns, transforms, tortures everything into a game or something seeming so.  Maybe blogging is evil.  Maybe it is time to go.