ST114 ... wayback behind the times, out of step

monologue memories of a beat poet from a desolate cove off the shores of a west america

I'm way behind the times. I'm still caught up in the waves crashing up against the shore lines. I'm still living in the past where truth was found on the roads to freedom. When dreams were filled with all of us, from the poor man in the ditch, to the rich man with no home. I remember when integrity blew in across the mountains like a mist of pure strength, love was more than an ideal. Back in the days when honour was a virtue and hope wasn't necessary. I remember those days that never came, never could, never would.. but here we are again scrambling thru the universe grasping for another world of steel, where nothing is real and everything to get hung about.

in the heat of the times and almost a poet ___ of many monologue memories

I'm behind the times, Hal is the dope for the last heart attack machine, the steering wheel for a naked ape. I'm lost along the edges of no return. I'm just like you whether you like it or not. I've got one hand on the rope and the other hanging free, one foot in the ditch and the other on the trail. There ain't nothin i haven't thought about. I don't know where i come from or where I'm going, who i was or what i am. I'm just like you when it all rolls down the lane, you got your separate breath from the air of the atmosphere and it sings the same tune inside our lungs. There is so little difference, even a god could hardly tell.

I'm on automatic, you're inside the deal, high speed pushing forward, the west is on our heel. It's a big universe, i found nothing for certain, true love for moments that appeared out of nowhere, suffering half the time, beauty and deceit, soft thoughts across hard terrains. I know nothing and i'm ok with that. I eat when i'm hungry, walk when i can. What we call death is up ahead somewhere and i breathe deep as often as i can, attempt to be kind whenever, and do the best possible where ever i go. That's good enough for me; up here in the highlands where we're all the same whereas down there in the lowlands the differences are astounding, obvious, dangerous, with reason, logic nothing more than a crest on a wave skimming across the surface of a sea of love.

looking back along the beaten trails of words

The seamless reset is upon us, some are aware, most aren't…. infinite awareness, the terrain where reason has no home, out of reach, beyond the edge, the unknowable, the mystery devours everything.

Sometimes my thoughts believe there is no other way than this, then the waves dissolve into the waters of knowing and i am seeing, i am a mask, going, gone.

Out here along the boulevards where football is the game and golfing is a natural habitat for the conditioned…. it's all just a game in the end, ‘the team’ is just a symptom for the illusion of reward.
I'm back along the coast alone, watching the waves roar in.

on the coast watching words drown, dissolve, die.

Get Lost and Stay Lost - UG Krishnamurti

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