Don’t quit your day job

And they feed, from apple
cores and hangnails.

Don’t quit your day job
They reek, oozing around opaque corners
Carbon monoxide insidious,
Saturates all,

And maybe the holy don ‘t
Laugh much.
The joy left unharmed by repetition
is in the cackle, savoring
the regret in their noxious piety.

Don’t quit your day job
or stride beyond your warbling Suicide
Praying on the epiphany
– Death

Damn, quit my day job

The World in “Why?”

An open letter to critical thinking.

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 The same sights, the same sacred, lonely people. The same puddles, trees, cars.  I’m stuck in another cage. Is this all there is? Transcending through one cage after another, imagining some framework to progress, but we don’t move progress or regress. We move horizontally, shifting to a different cage, but still just as trapped as when we started.

There are varying grades of containment. In the heart of the woods, on the ocean front, at the mountain slopes, forgotten wetlands, I feel most free. The natural is fleeting landmarks to human spirituality. Simultaneously cruel and nurturing. A multitude of spiritual paradoxes deep within despite whether or not we know or acknowledge it.

I reach out to expand, to grow, but they’ve clipped my wings, they push my curious head back into my cage. They obstruct the view of potential in the outside world and I can’t have it. I’m ready to pull my hair out, to mutilate, disfigure, until someone listens.

There’s something to this. The self-expression, a window to Aristotle’s divine manifestation, (http://classics.mit.edu/Plato/republic.3.ii.html) and though I’m stuck in a cage in nature, I’m closer to transcending than ever.

Reality consists of perspective.

Death is not a thing to be feared, death is not something to be cherished.

It is simply the unknown. We only have one life, but we’re contained by the limitations of our body,

we can’t imagine what it would be like to be free of our aging bodies, but we’ve been given an opportunity.

A break from the eternal after. A chance to suffer, to show who we are, and what we’re willing to do with the chords that chime so intimately.

Proving what our love can do in another realm from the norm. We have all of eternity to be in the bliss of after, this is our chance to suffer, and have something to show for it.

This is the time to discover Humanity.  If you can, please, try something new today. Open a book about a subject you haven’t explored, a genre of music or literature.

Please anything to stimulate the mind. There’s so much to learn in the folds of history, so many skills mastered through the practice. It is a constant struggle to keep the mind elastic, but learning to be flexible in every facet of one’s life is an important, fulfilling skill. Curiosity trumps all.

Looking to Failure

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Don’t live life looking for the path of least resistance. Don’t avoid challenges because if you do, you’ll never have any idea where your potential lies and if you can’t understand your potential, then you’ll never meet it.

It’s important to ask yourself: What have you failed at today? The real root of growth; the struggle.

To Choose Life

Times without number, taken in fluted reed Could be the dancer who Swore she would no, could not, hang up her shoes Neglect that spirit within who urged to move Still now, decades pass She has lost her edges, she is a filament of someone who Once danced in fury in all her youth and […]

via So quickly we forget the steps — thefeatheredsleep

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And he can’t tell if those are callouses at the end of her toes

Or bloated cherries, boils oozing puss

At the end of each of the fifths of her tapering feet.

He shames her from progress

As she grows strong

Towering over the people

The industries, infrastructures,

Sizing up sky scrapers,

 

He’s shrunk

Feels as a stain on the sidewalk

For the ego kept him strong

Termite infested crutches

Fire licking away at

The wood’s soft center

And he doesn’t have

A leg to stand on.

 

The footprints

Left across her malleable frame

We send Mother to the camps

Get her working in the lines,

Heaven knows if ma

Gets out of hand

Gaia will swallow us whole

 

They carve away

Beneath the surface

Rotting jack o lantern

Toss the slop in the trash

Her vital organs.

We’ve progressed

From butcher house cutting board

To scabbing through

demonstration

flanking Planned Parenthood

for the surrender

The only thing worse

To make the choice

“Life,”

Not death

Condemned

For loving the little she had

Scorned Earth and my Feet in the Mud

When things are rough, [creativity/ingenuity/resourcefulness] will keep you afloat. In times of calm, it will allow you to fly.

via Musings — Dirty Sci-Fi Buddha

 

Love the image, love the message, and love the way it’s composed. We need more of this on the internet my friend.

 

And I’m reminded of the words of our forefathers

The great Emerson, Thoreau, London

The sermon of resourcefulness

And we could all be Robinson Crusoes

Drifting away on tropical clouds

High above the scorned earth

The hurricanes

I usually describe my process as working on new material, hitting a wall, then working through a self-critical phase, and then the break through. The moment when I remember why writing was the choice I made.

It makes considering the process of change. One identifies a problem, as one thinks through the process to change that problem, as one receives more feedback (more practice in their craft) they begin to understand how to work the feedback into their work, and they change.

On paper it’s simple, but I surprise myself each day over how easy it is to lose perspective.

 

Perspectives of the Beast

 

I love the closing lines on this one, “Strong beating heart found to give chase Incisors laid, jugular vein, razor sharp.”

I loved the idea. The iconic image of London’s dogs of the wild. Maybe the real wolves run wall street.

Response Poetry:

And the rolling topography

With its subtle curves

Has become oppressive

Under the gaze of big brother.

The cold metallic wolves

Eating bit after bite

Of the earthen crust

Species of predators

Filed under Carhart, corporate affairs

To crucify the totems

We once worshiped

 

Watchful eyes roam landscapes dark Attentive ears tune into its mark A serious game played, hunting prey As hunger pains echo from the day The warning growl silences singing lark Strong beating heart found to give chase Incisors laid, jugular vein, razor sharp

via The Hunt — Exclusive Inflictions

Drawing the Sweat from his Brow

It always amazes me the way a person can pick up a passion and never set it down. I too try to keep aplicado under my breath at all times. At the end of the day, if you go to work but don’t pursue your passion, it’s like you’re living for someone else.

From a man who works for himself.

 

Urban sketcher Hugo Costa posts a fresh drawing each day — a habit he’s kept up since October 2010. Here, he sketches Calle de la Paz in Valencia, Spain.

via A Fresh Drawing Every Day — Discover

It always amazes me the way a person can pick up a passion and never set it down. I too try to keep aplicado under my breath at all times. At the end of the day, if you go to work but don’t pursue your passion, it’s like you’re living for someone else.

From a man who works for himself.