Does the Lightning worry how it looks?

By tdf, August 30, 2022

 

This period of confinement, I had thought to be fertile ground for writing pure and brutal, for my woe has never been so dark and grim.

Even now, I find my eyes watering as the flesh winces, the mind recoils aghast, the spirit howls forlorn.

I have become so accustomed to this, that I don’t know or question whether I am crying due to pain or despair.

And yet…even when they were drilling into my head,

for my own good, apparently,

I was talking through the procedure,

of painting a birth chart for a lovely lady soul…

whose voice I then heard when back in the ward,

and I cried,

as what was happening to me became hideous and unavoidable.

And yet…

most humans are so fucking closed,

prone to conniving and smiles which move only the lips…

their boundaries of honesty and duplicity are so far removed from my own, that I have long considered myself a different species,

not to say I am better.

at best I am more proven a beast too long masquerading as Human,

no matter how well I learn their speaking.

its simply some lack of capacity to play the human game.

hence why I howl and falter,

find more parallel and solidarity in the wild waves and thunder and lightning…

Does the chaotic electricty of the clouds stop to worry what anyone will think of it?

Some new routine for now or soon…I must stop wasting energy on those who have no passion or meaning or feeling…

The human I have long tried to become is woe plentiful,

for whilst I have been in this condition,

I have heard from others I care for,

such misery I can offer no response towards beyond vapid support.

And am well aware of the immense agony and suffering of millions we are not shown on our screens,

in our daily predictable exchanges of luke warm scripts.

the refuge of the too many,

taking their prescriptions of how to behave from social media,

lemming to become embossed within the coming metaverse,

blinkered to the horror our taxes are paying to slaughter, maim, destroy,

crush any echo message of the NATURE of existence which binds us all together as one.

I cannot learn of the agony,

pretend I never knew,

I am too aware of echoes of their torment our lives of vapid convienice pay for.

go for coffee and speak bullshit when I am too aware of the magic flooding my senses of the wild singsong of sparrows and wagtails,

my animal instincts lean towards humans have gone so wrong, when the winged beasts have found a happier existence.

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This inspires me as much as saddens,

to Seek more those who have meaning and passion or/and believe in magic, blow these fairy dandelion feathers and make silent wishes.

To dream,

to believe in magic,

to NOT SETTLE for convenience,

for anyone who does not move me in head and heart.

I’d rather have my dreams,

continue a life of seeking rainbows in caves,

than live a lie of convenience.

Enough of the cynical,

for amongst our muddled, lost tribe,

can be found such gorgeous geyser LOVE focused poets>>>