ST99 ... It's time to move on
The stay has punctuated its boundaries against the far edge of my mind.
It's time to move on, i'll be setting sail today. The stay has pushed its boundaries. There is little left to dig into. The slow road of freedom is clasping my mind, turning my thoughts inwards, clenching its teeth into my heart.
I've been here before, many times, 'when times get weird the weird get going'. I carried that phrase, that insight, that kick in the butt through years of scattered dreams, half placed formulas for nothing but broken realms desperately hanging on to sinking ships. I'm on my way today. I won't be back. If i haven't seen you to say goodbye, it wasn't meant to be, or if it was and hadn’t happened, then, well, what can i say?
I'm travelling through the fields and city streets of Ontario, my home land, old friends, relatives, magnetic spaces, the old school yard, alley ways of love, empty graveyards, forsaken hearts left across the plains of life. I'm on the edge, again, wth my freedom, my few sacred memories entangled towards the other side. I'm a fugitive, still walking past the neighbourhoods of humanity, not looking for anything, finding love in a few moments, a coffee, a cafe, a dessert hut, a mountain refuge. I have nothing left to hold on to. I own nothing but a few travelling aids, a few bucks, a retirement fund, a road ahead, all the dreams have disappeared, the winds of freedom are blowing in a future undreamt, i'm unprepared; death is almost certain but i care not.
I see the minds of the world with their digital dreams in their hands, bent necks, silicon realms encompassing form everywhere, from 4th St. to the San Francisco Bay, Egypt, Minsk, Cape Horn, they got them all by the balls of the heart world wide.
More and more i care not to change anything. Of course the world is doomed, is bloomed, is…. I have no clue. I know nothing. I see, i watch, i am, that is enough.
At my age one sees death all around. I have friends still smoking their lungs apart, waiting for more tests, taking their meds, demanding answers for their pains, waiting for the next shot, anything to soothe their agitated mind, relax their obese cells, their sweet teeth, tattooed, botoxed, vacs-ed, solutions embedded deep into their skin. They're a mess, nature is disgusted with them, with us, love is all there is, somehow, we're all crazy, stranded, desperately hanging on to the last few remnants dangling across the architecture of manufactured fantasies. The laughter is deafening, the cafe is filling, pink and rainbows and high squeaky pain in the air.
Time to move on. Strange, when you got little you got little to loose, freedom is moving thru the air like a phantom. It's there for the taking, flow into it, there is nothing to crush you, freedom owns no conclusions, concepts moving in and out of existence like mist across an invisible sea. This alone keeps the mystery alive.
If i stayed, you might crown me with hope, honour me with noxious praise. You might kill me with sweet smiles and love me with tangled dreams. If i stayed you'd torture me to belong, threaten me with failure, glorify the last words crawling across the edge of fame. I'd be on the walls of illusions along with the best, the infamous, i'd belong, i'd be understood, i'd be classified, stratified, crucified, reborn.Â
I'm an unknown soldier of nothing, peace amongst the trees, waves caressing the winds, freedom beyond the mind, i'm of the crippled broken rundown down-trodden forsaken ones of love. We have been defeated. We have killed all that grew inside of us. We are free. No one owns us, nothing can contain us, we are the few that move as lightwaves within a dark wind.
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I appreciate your readership! I do. This is my way of entrapping thought as it sails thru the pages of my mind. If you are amused/inspired reading these words and would like to support my work, pass it on.
A poet is a ghost sailing
breathing a sea of words.
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