Wednesday

They Die In Threes

Reflections on “Personal Greatness”

Sometimes
When I am reflecting
Upon all that is me
And that twinge of
“Personal Greatness”
Begins to seep in
I laugh and I am humble

What is unknown to most
Friends and lovers of
The twenty-first century
Is the version of [me]
Brimming with confidence acidic
With assurance absolute
And a veritable sexuality raw and overwhelming

The beasts have never been tamed – yet
Although the pacing has become more
Deliberate and full of spiritual neediness
The fears of emptiness compete (fairly)
With anticipations of new satisfactions
And all roads ahead
While just as curvaceous are – at least – paved now

Notions of downfall
Questions regarding motivation
And allegations of madness
Are hereby and categorically rejected
At this point in the story
Character development and twists of plot
Are long past and a bit cliché

Sometimes
When I am reflecting
Upon all that is me
And that twinge of
“Personal Greatness”
Begins to seep in
I sit back and enjoy the ride


The Omens at Christmas

Inherent in the collective fragmentation
Of mainstream society during the “Christmas Season”
Is a slight/sleight weakening of the
Communal defenses in our societal fabric

Just enough for the perceptive
And the intuitive to sneak a peek
Into the middlespaces of the future
The omens at Christmas are the signals of change

Patterns and schema of past and present
Mesh into multi-dimensional imagings of clarity
Reality and fantasy and dream and premonition
Sum as atlas of personal betterment

As others scurry to purchase or scramble to mail
I observe and analyze the intelligence from the very front row
And since few are watching back or acting accordingly
My duck blind disappears into the noise

Looking out I can see in
I already know what happens next
Like déjà vu in a recurring dream
Filmstrips spliced into infinite loops

All blessings are curses
There is no heaven only living hells
So Merry Christmas to all
And to all a good life


The First Day of Winter

Today is the first day of winter
And the slow downward ride is complete

Shortest day and longest night
Both cold and lonely for the restless and the deprived

Shortest day and longest night
Both productive and penetrating for the inspired and those affected

The excitement for the uphill climb
Fills me with energies of endless possibility

If we again survive these battles
Butter- dragon- and fireflies will fascinate again