Fog and confusion abounds.

My need to marry my feral essence which has learned so many words,

understood enough of humanity and the hideous ways of the horror we impose on the world and each other, has leaned for too long into futility…

the vague sensation of etching away at receptive minds,

when ranting, rambling of the most obvious cruel of our overseers and lower down the pecking order,

to ponder my stance is pipsqueak of a mouse on a prairie of Silicon Valley guided howling lemmings who have my outline, but nothing of my nature.

Never give up! On humanity? Which hasnt changed for aeons. More brutality, more herding through religion or corporate overseers masquerading their brutes in suits as our ‘leaders’…

There are no answers and solution to a species prone to vapidness, spite and convenience. I leave the planet or retrain my focus upon what is written and felt when absconding the Society. When even those I respect and revere are suffering more hideously than those they seek to inspire with a sense of LETS TRY CHANGE THE WORLD…

the game is fixed, evidently. Better to delve into the fantasy I make of everything, for good and horrid. This fighting the perceived good fight routine is revealing to me over and over again, that I am moving in circles, seeking rainbows in caves, butterflies at midnight in the moonless darkness. An engine spluttering in neutral, seeking any gear, to pound forth into the wilderness, away from the horrors of humanity that have been quite steady for aeons…

Saul is a little more still focused on his one leg, and one heart, and one mind, still focused on solely the human condition. Which has power, yet I move sideways,  not beyond or within, I move towards the Wilderness…. escape my humanity, wade into the shallows, shed my human threads, wade deeper… dive with wild glee into the deep, feel the movements guided by the moon, feel the echoes of neptune and and sense their goddessess.

take a deep breath,  delve deeper, float and glide over the seabed, marvel without words of the silent symphony of broken shells, become the only hint of humanity in shape, as I soar over saturnian rings, sensual communion with the galactic flow constantly bounding through me and all that is Earth, All that is human, and cockroach, and wombat…

 

ENigma offers all I can easily grasp towards for a move from Human to Nature…yet too soft, too human loving…Mars War affords no love. Neither does  the cruel searing to femurs singed of meeting Mercury. Yet to become close to as one one with the wind and tides flowing towards and through me from where the ocean meets the sky,..becomes of me, a sense of calm devotion and true mad love for the wild innocence of Nature.

The ocean still in me, sky has become the imprint of waves frozen in time for our human eyes…..fragments as rain falls all around me, a forest of lived in dream passages…it all leaves me, this magic, the more I am drawn into Society, moving from every slight turn of Venus reflecting her planetary succulence, the most beautiful painting my eyes and beyond could ever witness found by simply floating in the tides and looking up…

is the essence I become when emerging from the ocean and finding no reminder of I AM HUMAN. And I am eager to move beyond trying to allow that cacophony startle and affect me, yet I cannot. For there is both a sensitivity to that babel chorus with loved ones scattered across the globe and a sensation, a perception, that I need to be doing something…I dont know what, but something…and it would be weak for me to head into the forest to play friendly with the birds and trees. I am demonstrably no Leader, no Revolutionary, yet neither am I am a druid…or a man so eager to connect with humans that I can mean what I say to them with any sincere hope for any response confirming I have found some of my lost or well hidden for good reason tribe\//

Absent of the sound of my own species,

I melt into the rain,

flow with the tides,

marvel to awake to find leaves in the garden blossoming into petals and flowers.

CYne draws me back to fighting the good fight….

The leaves of the zucchini,

sails of a ship seeking the same sun, tides, wind, earth,

which we need to survive and blossom.

All they need are water and the world.

Still…I am reminded I am human, and as much as I can poet ramble of dancing on Saturnian rings,

blinded to bliss by Uranian nymphs,

I am HUman, and cannot escape so easily.

I want to climb thighs writing love with my lips,

to be held close and felt,

as an other worldly well-meaning menace mangled poet by neptunian bitch goddesses….

As a weasel of a man,

prone to seeking to emulate, flow to continue.

the obscure writers I revere,

I am yet to find beyond WOman and the Wilderness,

anything I can touch, taste, feel…as nourishing and meeting my essence.

so at my grand age,

must detach myself from all else,

focus on what brings me meaning.

In Woman and Tidal wave and Blizzard form,

all of the same Wild I adore and naturally am drawn towards….

 

 

 

Share with the world...