ST100 ... nobody's dead yet but they're getting there
A few are very close to meeting their maker.
Nobody is dead yet but they're getting there. I came here for a visit. I turned 76 while i was here. Many of my friends are in the same age area. Some have not payed attention to the one basic lesson that the creator has given us. To the contrary, they seemed to neglect, 'you are what you eat, ingest, breathe, think, act'. Getting sloppy with it all slipped in and before you knew it it had taken predominance over most habits. They are sorry for themselves, want some pity, beg for a little mercy, but little comes. A few are very close to meeting their maker. They are scared to different degrees. I am not above any of this. It was in the cards, we all had a deck to play. I played things a little different. Thank you psychedelics of the sixties, thank you peyote of the late eighties, thank you sweat lodge, vision quests, rain dancing, of the nineties, and so on. That changed my life. I took it serious, very serious, I had been gifted, but i did the work.
It appears the lessons keep on rollin, just when you think you got it figured, a storm shatters the day. I know nothing but i act like i don't. It is a constant reminder that i am not in control, to listen, there are messages blowing in the winds, hanging off balconies in mid day, screams from trees when you least expect it, even the cell phone talks for no reason. It's a tricky world, a vast universe, a billion conclusions for a single question, and we think we got it under control, haaa… I can hear the gods laughing from the billboards in the clouds.
I try to ease the pains of my friends as best i can. I have friends, mostly out west, that have no doubt that the big vacs is working its magic almost undetected by the main conclusions, delusions whipping their data across screens walking by in the hands of the many…. the killing fields of medical warfare, agendas piercing the very throats of humanity with variations on the theme of control.
It's a strange world, we're all gonna go, that's what i tell my friends, they all know, we all know, that’s what we say until the end starts digging its claws into our brains, flesh disintegrating right beneath our eyes. I keep writing though, what else am i to do; it is a type of waking.
I met a woman the other day. She saved my life in a few ways. I hadn't known that kind of loving for a while. It makes one want to have more, everyday, forever…but nothing lasts, you don't have to persuade me of that. If i didn't write, i'd be taking more photos, one needs to keep busy, lest one goes insane.
I have mentioned a million times, here, sitting in some cafe, watching people, cars, streets, crows, hearing the noice of the tar, where the rubber hits, ‘is there any sense to any of this’. This relaxes me. Here on a corner by the universities, so many simply beautiful young woman stroll by, innocent, pure, troubled, sincere.. young men eager for life, the world keeps turning, they're on they're way up and I'm on my way out. I'm not happy, i'm not sad, there is a curious joy that flavours my innards, a wondrous pleasant air surrounding me, the essence of solitude i suppose, a gift for being alone, one with one self; most of the time.
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A poet is a ghost sailing
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