chaos in harmony
o! to cast this duality asideand ride astride the one
that we profess must be
the ultimate end...
just around the bend
we just might collide
into the fabled inner side
unveiling the illusive answer
that we've tried (and lied)
to understand, but yet
the bets are off... we scoff
between each cough
feed at the trough the same
grains of truth that have
been fed to our hungry mouths
babbling in languages to describe
as that which we over-imbibe
the diatribe of intellectual pursuit
but we fail
(give this an F, sir!)
we wail until pale
in the face that embraces
our race to uncover that place -
that unknown (yet) and
we bemoan with groans
from our bones that this...
this cant be happening
all this trampling across mind...
the fields of gold glitter
to behold our fancy tales
shattered and baled
for fodder to be inhaled
at one gulp of the greed
that we so desperately need
to bleed, to seed, to be freed
of SOMETHING
but we go on... we go on
that determination
that incessant light
within us all
only illumines mind
we find piled up with
rhyme to mean an end
that is ceaseless as wind
blowing precariously thru
our deserted hearts
longing to connect
(fuck! an inner course)
with what we inherently
must know to be THERE
but find that there is
no where to be had
how sad... we dont have
the ability to hold forever
between these hands
that drop words, drop forks...
these lips that drop words,
drop ideas, drop hints...
these two ears that hear
only what we want to hear...
these eyes that see only
what we feel we must
know? understand? have?
we ride the phantom horse
saddled to exhume the ghost
that haunts our reckoning
to feed our beckoning
wrecking our ideals with squeals
of some disguised HALLELUJAH
as if the discovery of all that we
must know is realized...
we fool ourselves into being
that which partakes sensory delight
as truths we assure ourselves
of being just right - for me,
for you, for them and us
aboard this bus to destinations
quoted in quotations, bordered by
nations gripped by salutations
greeting jokers, smokers,
and, yes... midnight tokers
eager to parlay their intellects
into treasures of matter
that only splatter more mud,
more blood that floods the lands
in dark reds whose beds we sleep
upon in dreams of more to come
of the same... the same insane
river of doubt, of confusion, fear...
the transfusions we will eventually
partake of to set free our convictions
based upon derelictions of suppositions
suggestions, emanations from gravestone
embarkations to destinations unfulfilled
to ride the wheel of life in spinning
constellations dizzying our magnifications
into mere ruminations of mind conclusions
beware! who you may think you are
is limited by what you think...
transcend thought and journey
far beyond mind to savor mysteries
that entice, that expose, that free
ego from the boundaries of simple
words that are but twigs of suggestions
built upon shifting sands of mind -
unstable as chaos in perfect harmony.
cecil
25 feb '007
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