Read this at an open mic and was thinking of submitting it to a local anthology. thoughts?
p.s. some parts have changed but I wanted to show you it as it is to get some really great feedback.
MP3 of the Poem
I'm not sure how many other ways i can try to explain it,
but everything happens for a reason.
Raindrops forming oases on asphalt landscapes created to increase simplicity for bi-pedal herders, shuffling between moment to moment, by unseen coincidences, and familiar repetitions of activities, carried out the day or week prior.
Everyone has their expiration date,
even though it is constantly changing -- flipping back and forth, forward and back, all due to magnetic disturbances emanating from each and every living being.
Roulette wheels, causing muscles to tense, squeezing magma through veins gripped by death. Grim. Grim and yet, back at the beginning of life, playing cardiac arrest on the breathes that decide if life was a gift i would receive on March 11th, almost 24 years ago.
each and every one of us,
with control only seeming to exist as if to encourage us all to keep moving forward, towards the inevitable, our lives, and where life will be taking us.
it may all seem a bit crazy, but maybe it is the insanity that makes life worth living.
Perhaps it is the assumption that we all have control over ourselves, the people we interact with, and the intricate lands we walk through.
When in reality,
we are all just meandering along a path, semi-determined by the billions of people's actions near and far throughout the world.
he gripped me on a night of sure growth, as if to show me, that now was the time to translate my odyssey of trolls, fairies, and untouchable holy grails of lost immortality, powerful truths, and remnants of jokes long deemed incredibly stupid.
So if each person's life isn't planned out, but is affected by each and every other living creature existing on the planet, seemingly changing the way each and every one of our days work out,
wouldn't it be best if we all worked together?
Everything has its place,
every feeling and emotion sculpts the world.
So what do you say to the little boy or girl, who doesn't understand why their mother or father isn't coming back from a land so far away, that it is like a dream for each and every one of us to conceive.
Why did they have to sacrifice their lives for a country and people that didn't want us there anyway?
Psychedelic acid trips derived from ancient 70s fantasies of Utopian fascism, candy coded bitter capitalism, packaged with black shades, blinders for protestors of a non racist based test to decide whether breathing, was a privilege or a right.
Starving children, living in patriotic ignorance, while the insanely wealthy decide to help bring rulers of policy into positions of puppetry in a circus de ole.
Grim releases his grasp on reality to know the horrible truth of all the Martin Luther, Leonardo da Vinci, and countless enlightened individuals who endeared to reach further than most common men or women would ever desire to try to aspire.
Echoes of madness, remnants of sanity, times now past speak to me, like ravens do the damned or chosen.
With your back to the shower head, lean your head back,
let the water flow over you.
to the hum,
that is the hum of human creation.
for that hum,
during your day.
You will hear it everywhere,
for it is your heartbeat,
it is my heartbeat,
it is the heartbeat of all things, that no matter where you are, if you stop --
you can hear creation,
and even your place in the universe,
a beating cog in a machine,
you never see all the pieces to.
Yet if you look in the eyes of the one's you love,
you will see the most important pieces,
the one's that love you and accept you for who and what you are.
you have to realize,
that not all those you love,
are meant to always be in your life.
Sometimes they are taken away,
when you least expect it.
Other times you push them away,
when you least want to.
But in between all those moments,
you have to remember,