ST161 ... excerpts-sketches from a mad mind floating over a silver sea
sailing for a short span circling a melting clock
i will not surrender to the machine
i will not kiss your bloody hand
i will not accept your curse
i will not smell your tomb
i will not sell you children
moral theatre on a compassionate altar
blind irrational will relentlessly wanting
i and i continuously thinking up themes for a self
free will, a deadly living lie
reality only exists in the mind
god might have it all in view
but the brain doesn't have a clue
(“there is no timeless truth that thought can know”, says the coyote to the crow, she squawks back low, ‘really, is that so?”)
The machine is coming to take us away. Transform you into a piece of data. Truth sits quietly in a cool breeze, cosmic winds, a grain of sand. Thought presents itself as the savior with its perfect reason and infallible logic as coyote wanders, enters a trail. scribbles to the wind:
trampolines in the desert of love, bohemians dead in a ditch, the whole scene is not what it means, scapegoats wearing drag, politicians dating kids, warehouse madness capturing skulls for freedom. I can't do this anymore, play around with worn-words and drown in someone elses blood. I have dignity dying beside me, honor caressing the devil, sweet dreams playing endlessly on that jukebox destined for the cold cold cellar floor of the great museum. I'm moving out, done with this town, all your logic scraped inside out for another bout with sad man jack wallowing in the gallows of machine sex. Hear me, this ain’t another novel wearing an ultimate climax, this is the real world dying. This is the earth burying the dead, sacred sounds weeping, sweat shedding suffering thru the dark streets of mad mechanical minds.
“In the after life lies the before life”, Coyote says, "wake up, go to sleep, be what you are, be what you are not…. don't take the long road if you're in a hurry, go slow and look around".
Coyote says a lot of things.
My life has been in turmoil lately. Lost a lot of people to the end of things. Some are dead and some are living. It's a strange world. I have nothing to hang on to and what little remains constantly slips out of touch, out of site, leaves an uncertain uneasy taste in my being…. so i have no choice…. so i choose but to grin and keep moving on across the plains of virgin horizons with that enticing entangled memory beating its drum upon a forsaken shore.
Within the gates the sound is pure and free, notes coming into beauty humbly stretching into the silence with a sacredness of a lamb escaping its altar. There is no room for tears and fears in here, all the moments have come together so as you may feel this innocent love. I know you are walking away, i can feel your heart, i know you want to be somewhere else but you can't escape me clear. This is the way love falls apart, the way it shines its last rays. This is more than we had claimed when time was pressing us within. I have inscribed my heart into yours for as long as forever is. One last kiss so deep and pure to protect your sacred wound. And as i say fare thee well; there was a day when you were everything i could ever want, all that i would ever dream. Now is the time to say goodbye and wish you the best and if you should ever pass this way again you're welcome to stay as long as your tender heart desires, this. But time is tough and all about so take your chance while you can because before you know it'll all be gone and life will wilt and you'll be left with nothing and that'll be that.
I received your ai love letter and your bouquet of philosophical dreams. I was standing on the ledge when your message broke my heart, crushed it like it belonged to some disgusting elder, but i wasn't, that wasn't me, that could never be me, but i got the bleeding wound thrown, woven into our script. It is not your fault, it is not mine, we are both just victims, scapegoats, unfortunate receivers in a fortunate world of desperate believers. Everything has to make sense in here even when it doesn't. We live in the real world. The world of pain and suffering, comfort and fools. I had to collect another face for this and act like someone I'm not. In the we hours between sundown and the free birds chirping i held you with the truth they say could never die. I woke up and it was over, done. The heart ache, the mental breakdown, the screaming souls, they all left and i was there alone with a whole world watching, as if i was the only one, the only game in town.
Beauty sits quietly by the end of the street, vulnerable - the day breaks into a hot sweat, the little people peak out into the world from their hidden realm, beneath the stairs, there, where we met.
Weyword Times is a reader-supported fiction publication - thank you for being here.
To receive all my new posts and support my storytelling work, please consider becoming a paying subscriber. For those who cannot afford or do not yet see the value here, please become a free subscriber and receive notifications for all new content.
Welcome…
A OneTime Contribution Coffee - click here
Buy Images - click here
WeyWord Times / Writing and Images by Patrick Wey