Tuesday, June 19, 2012

Words to Thrive By.

"I listened to your screaming on that song, cleaned the shed.
What do you owe this world, really? I'm reading "Coming
Home to the Pleistocene." History is a chronicle of people
who were obsessed with power/range, agriculture and the horse
allow the historical mindset. All I want is for us to not be in pain.
With surplus, there will always be war, Bataille's accursed share.
I heard you singing, and the band, and I know you've been where
I've been. Very different circumstances took us there, mine was
an accident, yours was, at least, far more difficult to call an accident,
although for the sake of love we always have to see the world as
both totally accidental and free. I realized how few know this space,
the resolution of this space, which is the stutter, the good plagued with need.
Do you ever relax? So often you're running around, taking care of
other people. Where does the standard you hold yourself to come from?
Talk to me more, let's talk like we did before I got off track, became so
obsessed with leaving the farm. I do need to go, I can feel now
what was me and what was desired from me. You need that too.
Can't we wake up in the morning, I cook breakfast, we take a gallon
of water, bacon, veggies, a few beers and spend the day wandering.
I want to talk with you like we did in LA, where you saw through me,
thought I would be angry, and I wasn't, and for you to tell me stories,
so that I can feel where you've been, know your love and pain, and
maybe help you let go. I'm obsessed now with having no pain on my body!
Always relaxing, whenever a negative thought happens I fix my posture,
not even thinking my way through things. Only the dead speak, I think
the parts of me that are dead find life with you, and the same for you.
I heard that music and you screaming, and I realize, only people who've
been twisted up can like this, can sympathize with this, the pain load of
the average American is at a critical level of never requiring change,
this last revolution is one of the sustainability of comfortable stasis
set against the most diffuse violence ever. And there are those of us
who are empaths, or who've been opened through violence to all
the energies, even the most subtle around us, I don't think we exist,
your sensitivity, what you feel is beautiful or true, what you read,
write, listen to, all that composes you and I and that comes from us
is the dead we require because most of the living are dead in a way
quite different from us."


Millineries said...

When I sing, "I've got a saint" I've been singing about you. But you're far away. Don't know. Maybe you do.

Anonymous said...

I didn't know

Anonymous said...

I come here at night when I can't sleep to see that you sang about me. I love you so much. No matter what, I'll be with you.