Stand up and be counted

Take a look at the world around you
and start to add up the absurdities.
Before long you might find yourself
like the Indian King, the victim of 
an inescapable exponential progression.

Absurdities are not all.  There are 
people and places and individual 
circumstances that combine to form a
hefty dinner dressing.  The feast of
large numbers of which every person
is a part in some manner or other. 

Dissect and diagram your life according
to the irrevocable power of these
numbers and see them as the harbinger 
of the only permanence you will ever
know.  You are a part of them now,
the glowing figs of the existence tree,
and part of them you shall remain.

Beyond birth and life and the countless
tears and breaths, mistakes, 
misunderstandings and triumphs, hearts
captured and minds repelled.  None that
mean nothing, save for the permanence
that comes with being among the 
counted; that results from being among
the being.

Somehow this being is the being of "why,"
so often puzzling and scorned.  The being
of how, where, when, who and what. 

As to why? Because counted you were.  
And how? In the manner of the moment.  
Where? With those counted alike.
When? In your time.
Who? You -- among the rest.

What?  Counted is all.

And so it goes with our love

A reflection of the many relationships I see around me and a constant reminder of what to  avoid.

Happiness is the distance
that forms
between partners
who are parents
who were lovers
once before.

Peace is the division
of lives
once bound by oath
and a promise
of the will to thrive.

Faces of friends
who had love
and loss 
and lose now
only that love.

The sadness of 
acceptance
and the fate of a
bond broken
forevermore.

A view to private interest

I worry now about rule with a "view to private interest,"
and I do so while I hear the call of greatness and declarations
regarding primacy of place.

I am not a country, but a man.  
Am a working man, a human of this present
with a desire to exist peacefully and fluidly.
My primacy of place is fixed by my love of self, 
not the screeching of banshees propping themselves
upon the backs of others.

But the great spirit that protects me is vulnerable.
Hijackers, proponents of a collective disintegration, 
work their voodoo on the frazzled, hoping to string
us along together.

They feed on the sores of the body ideologic, 
drawing strength from the bubbling excretion
of the wilted body
as if imbibing a sacred elixir.

Like man, like state

Of the simple knave ask: education?
     They respond - but slight.

In such inadequacy, a force both restless and intemperate.
So we must probe the enduring dilemma --
     Wisdom as reflection
     or,
     an endless aspiration?

To know and name human effort and watch it crumble,
stifled beneath the myth and mirror of self-aggrandizement. 

In the fields,
each one a voice!
And beyond?
Nothing.

Behold reality as reflection: like man, like state.