An Extended Thought On Existence And The Human Experience
“The Universe is under no obligation to make sense to you.”
“…and quite frankly, neither am I.”
The Geographic Categorization Of Society
As with many of my more existential trains of thought, this one began while I was watching an episode of the animated television series Rick And Morty. The series is about a mad-scientist-type grandpa named Rick who goes on wacky sci-fi adventures with his idiotic grandson Morty. In the show, Rick has a gun that shoots portals which lead to what he calls alternate dimensions ; what I saw, though, was Rick traveling to alternate universes, not necessarily dimensions. Ah, to be lost in the world of words…
Anyway, ‘Other universes aren’t different dimensions,’ I thought to myself, correcting an animated character’s speech.’ A dimension is… what is a dimension, technically?’ This prompted me to look up the definition of a dimension, which is as follows: An aspect of a thing. That is literally the vaguest and most open-ended definition to a word I have ever read, it could apply and be applied to anything.
Before we continue, this text is literally me scribing a lengthy train of thought filled with various ideas which may or may not have scientific backing. In essence, this is a ramble, and if it doesn’t quite make sense to you, rise above and make sense of it. Or don’t. I won’t to force you. If you’re reading this in pursuit of the one ultimate and undeniable truth about the Universe, well, I’m flattered, but please look elsewhere. And if you find it, kindly let me know where it is.
With that said, I will now “apply dimensionality” to “the geographic categorization of society” – one must board the train somewhere.
You are reading this thought, a product of a human society which exists between the second and third societal dimensions. Let’s back up; a zero-dimensional society, the one given for all others societies to exist, is a nomadic society. This is a group of intelligent lifeforms who stay together but do not stay in one place, instead living their lives following food and water to suit their needs for survival. If/when these lifeforms eventually decide to settle down and become more agricultural, their society enters into the first dimension. A one-dimensional society is a tribal society, a group of lifeforms who exist together inside a contained geographic area that exists within a bigger landmass, aka continent.
This continent, eventually, will sprout many of these tribal societies, each with its own culture. Some of these tribes will be friendly and open towards one another, and some… won’t, but at the end of the day, they all learn to co-exist until they begin merging together under peaceful terms. If a tribe doesn’t learn to coexist with its neighbors, there is a good chance it will go rogue and begin exterminating the other tribes to eventually claim the entire landmass to itself. Either outcome marks the tribe’s rise into the second dimension.
A two-dimensional society is a nationalistic society, a society which exists on one (or eventually multiple) landmass(es) contained on a planet. Depending on the planet, there could be few or many landmasses, each potentially boasting its own society (or societies) running on its (or their) own cultures. Like the one-dimensional societies, these more nationalistic societies coexist with each other until they eventually merge ( peacefully or violently) to form into a three-dimensional society, which exists on a global scale. In a true three-dimensional society, every resident of every settlement on every landmass is united and working together towards a common goal, likely in an attempt to spread to other planets where they may or may not find new societies of potentially higher dimensions. Each of the settlements of the true three-dimensional society would have its own unique, if not slightly borrowed, form of culture as well.
Following the train to its next stop, once a three-dimensional society merges with (or is taken over by) the societies inhabiting the other planets in its given solar system, it becomes a four-dimensional society. This level of society, if it were to/does exist, would/needs to have technology far more advanced than our current human society can comprehend, along with a bottomless supply of resources and/or limitless free energy. It gets bigger, though; a five-dimensional society would then encompass all star systems in an interstellar neighborhood, which is one of many parts of a larger galaxy. A galactic society, in our case a society encompassing the entire Milky Way, would then be considered a six-dimensional society.
Going up in dimensions from there, we have a society encompassing our local group (fifty-four galaxies), then all of the galaxies in the Virgo Supercluster (roughly one hundred local groups), then all of the galaxies in the Laniakea Supercluster (one hundred thousand galaxies), until it finally encompasses the entire observable Universe, which is thought to contain somewhere around two trillion galaxies. These societies would be seven-, eight-, nine-, and finally ten-dimensional societies, respectively. We can actually take one more theoretical step from there and enter into the eleventh dimension of society, a society which exists throughout the entire Universe, so long as more of the Universe exists outside of what we humans can currently observe.
Grape Flavored Candies
All that said, let us pause for a moment in order for me to tell a quick story. Close your eyes if you can do so and continue reading and imagine you’re a human-like creature called a… called a Wah. After wandering through the forests for an unknown amount of time, you’re adopted into a nomadic group of other Wahs who call themselves… Wahs Always Huntin’. With your tribe you eventually settle down and claim a clearing in a forest for yourselves. Stay with me here.
Your tribe operates in North America in a time approaching another time which will be quite similar to our own; being Wahs, you have the uncanny ability to infiltrate civilizations – especially human ones – and assimilate all the lifeforms into Wahs. You essentially spread like a virus and take over everywhere you can, that’s just what you do. Veni vidi vici, am I right?
After a few years of colonizing tribal villages in the forests, your tribe comes upon a town nestled in a little clearing. This is a town of humans, as no other higher form of life would be desperate enough to colonize Earth, and in this specific town, all the humans gather in a white building every Sunday so a guy dressed up in a costume can shout at them and read them stories from an ancient book with no writer; this is but one example of the strangeness of humanity. One could call the human species a conundrum were they so motivated, but I digress.
You, an alien outsider observing as the humans participate in their strange and pointless and foreign culture (compared to your own, that is), become extremely confused and afraid for their wellbeing. What’s more, you decide they are a lost cause, that they’re hopelessly beyond helping themselves. You convince your leader to launch an assimilation, which is successful. From there, us Wahs move on to the eventual assimilation of all the towns in the state, then all the states in the country, then all the countries on the continent of North America. Can’t stop there, though – there are more humans out there doing stupid human things. So, the now Wah-Assimilated Humans launch a global assimilation operation and we come out on top, we take over the planet as the dominant lifeform; we moved from the bottom dimension to the third dimension just like that. Who’s fuckin’ wit’ da Wahs?
Following suit, our society then moves on to our solar system and up and up and up until it controls the entire physical Universe. Then, we stop our assimilating for two fucking seconds and start celebrating – we made it! Eleventh dimension, baby! Our society’s taken over the entire physical Universe! We are The Domain, we have a civilization on every habitable planet in Existence and resource generation on all of the uninhabitable ones. It wasn’t easy, but we took life by the balls and squeezed and spread the seeds of our civilization everywhere, assimilating everything in our way, and we fucking won.
All our society’s greatest generals and philosophers gather together for discussion and they come up with two options: either we can look back at the journey and try to figure out what the point of it all was, or we can explore this thing called the Multiverse that our clever sciencey bois just figured out, thus allowing us to further expand our society, our knowledge base, and of course, our control. Being how we are Wahs and how the idea of a universe we don’t control is sickening to us (now that we control an entire Universe, that is), we decide to delve into the Multiverse. Set your phasers to fun, because this is about to get stupid.
Once we break through that four-dimensional wall and enter into an alternate universe, we need a way to understand it. Since we’ve been using dimensions thus far, why don’t we call the universe(s) parallel to our Universe the twelfth dimension? Then the collection of universes parallel to that (or those) would be the thirteenth dimension, and so it goes on and on and on until we’re locked in the bathroom lying in the tub in the fetal position trying to figure out what the color purple smells like! Thus the conquerors continue on, taking over every conceivable universe parallel to our own until the entire Multiverse (our Universe’s entire Inner Rim) is under Wah control. Can’t stop there, though, there are more multiverses contained within the Omniverse, our Outer Rim of sorts – there’s more work to do.
“But,” one of the generals exclaims before jumping into the blue and red swirling portal that’s slowly melding into a solid purple, “we’s been goin’ for a whiles now, so if y’alls philslisofickal types wants to, yous can hang back in our original Universe whiles the ress of us continue on, cool? Get to thinkin’ !”
As you watch your old assimilation team jump through its portal leading to a place on a rock floating in a parallel space floating in… more space, I suppose, that question comes back to you: what was the point of it all?
Unable to come up with an answer by yourself, you begin wandering across the land you stand on until you experience everything it has to offer. Once the first culture is exhausted you move onto the next and so on until you experience everything there is to experience on Earth. Then you move on again, exhausting all the cultures from all the other dimensions of your society until you have experienced the Universe Herself. Great!
You check in with the purple portal and the boys aren’t back from taking over the Omniverse yet, so you reflect on all your experiences and begin to philslisoficize. You realize that you, an original member of the Wah Assimilation Horde back when it was called Wahs Always Huntin’, were only able to experience your Universe the way you did because you had unbridled access to your society through your past contributions to it. No other lifeform will be able to do what you’ve done, to experience what you’ve experienced; neither will they necessarily want to either, they’re busy building cultures and living their lives, pushing themselves to new heights, and for what? So you can pay them a visit and experience them to try to figure out the point of life? Maybe… probably not, but mayb-
You are broken from your train of thought by Wahsident Liguey, the head Wah in charge of your home society. At first he scolds you, but when he realizes who you are he embraces you in a hug and gives you a fabulous tour of everything your land has to offer. You try explaining to him that not only have you seen this land, but that you know more about it than the Wahsident himself, but he will hear none of it and so the tour continues, wasting everyone’s time, money, and energy. The Wahsident is a proud Wah, you see; therefore, it must be done.
So, Wahsident Liguey calls up his Wahsident buddies and they take you on special insider-access tours through all their respective lands, but again and again you’ve seen it all. After touring your Universe a second time over, you bring your Wahsidential party to the purple portal and the collective Wahsidents all gather around you. One of them steps up and asks what they can do to please you, and all you can come up with is: “Tell me, what is the meaning of all of this? What is the meaning of life?”
The Wahsidents look nervously back and forth at each other, unsure what to say. Just then, your old assimilation team comes back through the portal with astounding news: they conquered the Omniverse! Also, they discovered the once-theoretical Gigaverse is actually real, and now they have to conquer that too! Again, the Wahs Against Hlifeforms offer you a choice: stay here and think, or come and join the party. You look at all the Wahsidents in front of you, the masters and architects of their own cultures all trying their hardest but still failing to give the answer to your question. Then, you jump into the portal and a certain scent hits your nose, a scent reminiscent of grape flavored candies, the ones that do not taste remotely like grapes but are called grape flavored regardless.
The way I see it, the philosopher Wah spent his entire life fulfilling the purpose of his life and he didn’t even realize it until after he got everyone else in his Universe involved. For a Wah, a hypothetical creature who has the ability to take over (especially human) societies, the purpose of life would clearly be to take over all the societies and, by extension, expand said societies to take over even more societies. Why else would they exist naturally equipped with such abilities? The same goes for predators with their sharp claws and teeth made for tearing flesh, and for monkeys with their thumbs for climbing trees to escape predators; creatures are born with body parts that give them abilities which allow them to survive and prosper, so wouldn’t the point of their lives be to use what they’ve got?
That’s not to say, because it has thumbs, the sole point of a monkey’s life is to climb trees, but maybe climbing trees is part of the purpose of a monkey’s life.
A fish is born with gills so it can live surrounded by water just like a human is born with lungs to live surrounded by air; these mechanisms are required for the body to function, yes, but they are still part of life for these lifeforms. A fish, generally speaking, has its purpose in the food chain of its environment. That is the purpose of a fish’s life: to swim, eat smaller fish, circulate water, breed, be eaten, et cetera; these are the things a fish’s brain is capable of understanding. A fish is quite the complex organism, too; biology in and of itself is indescribably intricate and complex, and don’t even get me started on consciousness. Nobody knows how fuckin’ consciousness works. If reincarnation is a thing like everybody said it was until a certain group of humans started dressing in costumes and telling stories on Sundays and I’m reborn into a fish, I will do nothing but swim, eat, breed, and die, and I suggest you do the same if you find yourself in a similar situation.
Then again, if you are born as a fish with the ability of abstract thought, well… my next point.
Human beings, aside from being able to traverse, manipulate, and to a certain extent understand our local pocket of Existence on levels unlike the lifeforms we share our planet with, have brains capable of complex and high metaphysical thoughts which facilitate our manipulation of our Universe. Other lifeforms have brains which are clearly capable of some sort of thought too, and some of Earth’s lifeforms are capable of impressive feats when not compared to our own. Beavers build functioning dams out of logs and sticks while humans build concrete towers tall enough to crash airplanes, another human invention which allows entire tribes of humans to travel by air, into. Elephants, given the facilities, can paint pictures of fruit; humans, given the facilities, can make a three-dimensional printer which, given the facilities, can literally create the fruit the elephants are painting, edibility and all. Apes in the jungle live together in colonies and build nests and beds for themselves; humans create societies that are (sort of) governed by different sets of rules across the globe, each following its own complex and unique ideology. Some species of wildlife are capable of comparatively more impressive feats than humans as well, although I have less examples to give. Humans can create wearable objects to help them blend into their given environment; octopi can change the color and texture of their bodies at will for camouflage. Humans can communicate through intricate mouth noises and marking squiggly symbols on paper; dolphins can communicate through clicking noises and echolocation, an naturally occurring version of sonar, a human technology; theoretically, there are advanced lifeforms capable of communicating telepathically who live either under the planet’s surface or outside of its atmosphere. Do you see my point?
We need to face something, especially those of us who believe there is one sole truth out there, one sole purpose of life, or whatever collection of words you want to use to describe the idea of there being a the truth. The purpose. The answer. I ask you – what part of this ridiculous Universe we inhabit is so simple that it can be explained with a single statement, with a single answer? Take a beachball, for example. Just a plain old red, white, and blue inflatable beachball you would bring to the beach as a kid. It’s just a toy, some air with plastic around it, right?
Yes, but not really. That plastic is composed of different components which can be broken down into atoms, the building blocks of things, and categorized into elements. Atoms, from the Greek word atomos (meaning indivisible), can be divided down into the three components that make them up: protons, neutrons, and electrons. I’m not going to sit here and pretend I know anything about these three particles besides that two of them have an electrical charge of some sort, but I do know they can be broken down further into these things called quarks, of which there are six kinds: up, down, strange, charmed, top, and bottom. Quarks cannot be broken down any further, as far as we know, although my mind is open to the possibility that one day, some crazy bastard will discover that which composes a quark.
Anyway, that beachball was also assembled in a factory (probably by underpaid workers with families and lives as intricate and complex as your own) from materials which were probably created in another factory operated by even further underpaid workers with unique and complex lives. You also need to take into account the money, time, and energy that went into making that beachball, AND the money, time, and energy it will take to make that beachball disappear after your attention for it has run out – whether it disappears into a landfill, an incinerator, or into the water/soil of the planet you live on. Also, there’s the coloration of red, white, and blue, the colors of the American (and many other countries’ but I’m from America so the American) flag, which could have any number of implications depending on which size hat you wear and whether or not that hat has tin foil in it.
The point of all that bullshit about the beachball, of all this rambling really, is that nothing in Existence, at least as far as I can tell, is simple, especially not life. If you’re reading this, it means you at least got through that bit about the dimensions of society, which even I can admit is fairly fucking convoluted. And the Wah shit? Just go home, get the fuck outta here with that.
If something as mundane as the tiers of civilizations of one species of life on this planet can be organized in such a way by a lone member of that species who felt compelled to stratify societies based on geographic size and location, one can only imagine how complex that species as a whole must be. So, if there is a purpose to life, to the human experience, then it simply can’t be simple, but at the same time, it has to be, or otherwise the humans would never be able to figure it out. And, like I was talking about before, the purpose of any given thing’s life probably has something to do with what that thing was born with. So let’s roll with that.
Humans are born unto this world with many things, but I see three major biotools, if you will. First is the brain (and head); this experiences thoughts, perceives the Universe, ingests substances, and controls the rest of the body. Next is the torso; this processes substances in order to sustain the body and keep things ticking. Finally we have the limbs, or as I like to call them, the appendages ; these allow the human to carry its thoughts out by maneuvering through and manipulating the Universe.
Tackling them one at a time, let’s start with the torso: the human torso can process a myriad of sources of energy, some only semi-edible, and use them to keep the body alive. The body requires food and water or else it will die and the consciousness will leave it, which will happen eventually over time anyway, regardless of how much one eats and drinks. So far, the purpose of human existence is to live until death, which will come sooner or later… stellar.
Next, limbs: the human’s legs allow it to travel the land and the arms allow it to climb, and when these powers are combined, they can swim as well; since our purpose so far is to live until death and we need food and water in order to do so, these must be used for getting food and water. So, our purpose is now to find food and water, consume it, process it, expel the waste, and repeat… well, that’s a little better. But I would be lying if I said it was good enough. For me, at least.
The brain is where things get interesting – metaphorically speaking, we have an infinity motionlessly spinning around inside of our skulls. We can think about anything – how dimensions work, what matter is made of, aliens from alternate universes that take Psychedelic drugs and travel through the various dimensions of Existence, a purple elephant named Susie Q, whatever – literally whatever we want!
Get ready for the real magic – when we use all our biotools together, we can bring our thoughts into reality, no matter how ridiculous they are. Want a purple elephant? Learn how to modify the DNA of an elephant so its skin turns purple and name it Susie, then clone it and call that one Suzie Q. Want to meet extraterrestrials and visit alternate dimensions? Work with the humans who build spaceships and fly into space, you’re bound to discover something eventually. Want to figure out how matter works? Get a microscope and start from there; reading a few books may help with this one. Do you want to, I don’t know, organize your thoughts about how dimensions work into a written thought process that refuses to stay on topic? Get stoned to the bone and start writing on your laptop, see where you go from there. It’s currently three’forty-nine in the morning (approximately one month after I originally started this essay) as I write this, and I’m happy with how it’s concluding. Again, do you see my point?
I hope you do, because if I have to explain it any further, you have no business reading this thought, which probably sounds a little harsh. That being said, if you feel offended after reading this thought, well, you likely had no business delving into this poetry anthology in general, for this is an anthology which no human being aside from myself could even hope to put together. Someone else just wouldn’t know HOW to do it.
To end this train of thought, I would like to pose a paraphrased quote. I always rather leave an interaction with someone on a good note and with some substance so we can both leave thinking, and possibly even growing as humans a little bit. Since this is a written piece, I think another quote will do just the trick. Yeah, I’m one of those types. One of those too, if you couldn’t already tell. Anyway, here’s an Alan Watts quote resaid in my own words and printed in Comic Sans because if you can’t take a body of text seriously solely based on the font, well, you probably don’t have any business reading written work anyway:
“I like to ask graduates the following question: what would you do if money didn’t matter? If you could choose how to spend your life, what would you choose to do? Well, after they’ve washed their hands of the education system, most ex-students will tell you they would like to be writers or painters or sculptors or musicians, artists, but everybody knows you can’t make money being an artist. Or another human will say, I want to live off the grid and tame horses. So I ask them, would you teach others how to tame horses too? Let’s do it. What do you really want to do? When we finally get down to what that ex-student really wants to do with their life, I’ll tell them to fucking do it and forget about the money because if you think money is the most important thing, you will waste your entire life, and worse, you’ll have entirely missed the point of it by the time you croak. You’ll spend your finite time on Earth perpetuating a life you don’t enjoy living, which is asinine. It’s better to live a poor, fulfilling life than an empty life spent counting minutes on a clock, or worse yet, dollars in a billfold. Life is for the living; if you’re too afraid to follow your passion for the fear of not being able to horde away enough green paper slips with the faces of dead men printed on them, ask yourself: do you really deserve to live your life?”
Toss A Stone
I like to tell the others,
“Not all those who wander are lost.”
A stone tossed across the still surface of a pond,
skipping along the pristine mirror image of the sky,
until the tension breaks
and takes the stone for a dive.
Pay attention, wanderer,
journeying through the great beyond,
that you don’t encounter something bigger,
eager to take you on.
You don’t know what’s out there,
and there’s no need to be alarmed,
but every rock skipped
chances a chase with a swan.
Yes, I tell them,
“Not all those who wander are lost;”
and many lose their way
long before they’ve left at all.
So take a rock and toss it,
there’s plenty to go around;
and if you dome that swan just right,
dinner may be abound.
Beech Tree Buds
One rainfall later,
last week’s gray neighborhood is flooded with life.
Shining like a gemstone,
carved into the shape of a knife,
the sun melts away a brainstorm of dark clouds
with a melancholic lining.
Like an alcoholic choosing life over strifeful boozing,
springtime ignites the fuse on the brightest firework
the Earth will never see.
The sky, a sea of blue
until you punch through to the other side.
She hides a lightshow of cosmic brilliance
as billions of burning comets and other fireflies
join to birth planets.
Babes of mirth,
future Earths burning in wait for their Mother’s rain
to satiate their thirst.
Run Your Race
Lace up your shoes,
time for feet to hit the pavement.
If you know the ground is solid,
you shan’t expect a cave in.
The clock is ticking my son,
the race has just begun.
If the starter gun frightens you,
you’re missing all the fun.
sweat dripping and teary-eyed from the wind.
Run fast and don’t look back,
I’ll see you at the end.
Cross that finish line in a sprint or in a crawl.
By the balls of your feet,
to yourself you’ve proved it all.
You may not net a trophy,
no medal around your neck,
but you won’t be that loser at the end
Flood in a drought, levee is broke,
beavers’ dam’s washed out.
Knock on wood my good vibes don’t up and run out.
Though I feel by fearing it, I’m really drawing it near;
my rear-view says objects are closer than they appear
so I can either speed up or wait around for the crash.
Yeah, as if that’s what I’m about.
Why not slam on the gas pedal
‘til the tank doesn’t run out?
Icing From A Cup
Some paradoxical times we’re all stuck living in.
I look around myself and everywhere it seems evident:
a reality TV star is America’s current president;
burning Marijuana’s as illegal as shooting heroin.
So who’s gonna win?
This fucked up game we’re in.
Stuffed up with stuck-ups and full of shit bluff-nuts
who want nothing more than to win
whatever conversation they’re in;
this conversion of creation from elation to pure hatred,
to inflated egos of the men who love to eat burritos,
or maybe of the women who dislike the brand Fritos,
or maybe of the men banning together to bang the Migos,
or maybe of the transvestites,
in their too-stretched-out tights,
trying to decide whether to start a fight or verbally ignite
the pipe-dreaming cis-demon who made the fatal mistake
of verbally labeling them all as queens in a poem
they don’t know how to read.
Want to raise the stakes? Simply divide and conquer.
Conjure up some nonsense and brainwash the populous,
make ‘em think their neighbor’s on the brink
of a hate crime like, “Yo, homey just said the word chink !”
They’ll take the bait and debate how long it’ll be
‘til their friendly enemy crosses that line,
and when that line is crossed,
they’ll pull out their sauce,
dip their breadsticks so fast you won’t even pass gas,
forget tryna pass ‘em your homemade Kool Aid in a glass.
Became a sleuth to deduce that the truth no longer matters,
it’s all about those rungs you climb on the social ladder.
Who’s ladder? Their ladder, and definitely not yours.
Otherwise, who’d they get to do all the remedial chores?
My advice: cut it down with a medieval sword.
The old use the young like teeth use the gums:
to hold them in place as they turn good food to waste.
They’re all playing a game while we’re trying to live
in an infinite Universe full of wonder and spirit.
They’ve wasted their time and now they’re waking up
to ensure we repeat the cycle,
eat their icing from a cup.
I want to write a poem about the rain after a drought,
but I can’t find the words to express what I’m about.
Writer’s block is a bitch,
it’s a sandwich made of doubt with two slices of fuck you and the urge to scream and shout.
I guess it’s kind of like a cat who wants a piece of dinner.
She already ate her own and she’s not getting thinner
and she’s clearly never seen food before in her life,
so just cut your meal to pieces and give her a little slice!
That’s a metaphor, the cat’s a crazed man in the sand,
his throat is even drier than the desert where he stands,
and he isn’t even sweating ‘cause he literally can’t
and hallucinations of oases
are makin’ him shit his pants.
Do you see where I’m going with this? ‘Cause I sure don’t.
I guess I’ll dick around and word this piece into a close.
I don’t know why I tried so hard to write this little poem.
Four blocks of more lines,
water pine to make a cone.
I sat in the Dee-eM-Vee reading 1984 this morning.
The look the policeman shot me felt an awful lot like a warning.
But the government’s not an overlord,
just a corporation in sheep’s clothing in the business of its patrons,
always ordering and controlling.
When I say I walk on water I refer to when it freezes;
I bear resemblance to the man,
but I do not claim to be Jesus.
I am but a simple shaman,
a native American man
living on the same piece of land
once dominated by my clan.
Many eons ago,
thousands of years in the past,
before the white man came
and littered it with trash.
Living in a fever dream,
my ancestors speak to me.
They say, “Live your life. Nothing’s really as it seems.”
The scarlet glow ridicules the darkness.
A burned bridge is swallowed by the gorge,
yet it follows him across.
It knows no bounds,
clutching his heart like the winter’s frost does the moss,
guiding his feet along the path.
Memories of past lives echo through the night,
bringing him back to sunny days
spent barricaded in a cave as its hooves
draw ever closer.
The future a figment,
presently past the need for closure.
Through hallowed halls lined with shattered windows
it leaks in.
The moonlight grows dim as he finds himself at a dead end.
He waits, petrified and bleak,
for the end that always never persists.
The greatest trick the devil played
was convincing him it exists.
She reeks vehemently of soot and ash.
Smoke leaks from her ears as a fire blazes inside her.
Not quite feared nor respected by her peers,
known of but not known,
raised by wolves into an enigma
to the faint of heart and shallow of mind.
Behind her blank face a war wages,
the calm nothing more than a facade for the storm.
Thunder cackles as lightning crashes into a sea
of untold treasures and terrors alike;
sadness, ecstasy, spite, bravery,
her own brand of insanity wrapped up in a bent little package,
and the cost?
But a cent,
merely a penny for your thoughts.
Facing demons of a manlike demeanor
whilst drowning out the voices in her head of the screamers
leaves little room in the closet for skeletons.
Perhaps, could we stuff them in the shed?
Don a new skin,
softer than a pelt yet tough enough to feel the things
most others have not felt?
I know you hear us darling, we’re only here to help.
The sky is that certain shade of gray today;
closer to white and mostly blank,
like a piece of my open notebook’s page.
Pale blue spots reflect off the icy surface of the pond
upon which I stand,
which I ran onto with haste and now I stand
with the grace of a swan,
white as a poltergeist and frozen like a statue,
like a sculpture of ice.
I don’t remember how long it takes the lake to freeze,
since November it’s been solid for a couple of weeks.
I thought I would make it back before I sneezed and,
like a dry leaf,
the ice cracked beneath my feet,
leaving me up a creek without a life raft, a paddle,
or even a bag of weed.
Now I’m uncertain,
this very well may be curtains,
how the hell will I survive when it seems
like death is lurkin’?
I hold my breath and step light before igniting a sprint
in hopes the ice won’t crack
just to race me to the finish.
This has been part IV of the book A Lyme-Brained Rhyme Game. Here is everything you need to know about it:
A Lyme-Brained Rhyme Game
- A satirical poetry anthology about an author returning to his roots and evolving
- Book stats:
– 150 pages
– 26,692 words
– Spiral: The Highest One Writing | Arc: III
– Series: W-63 | Entry: 3
– Revision Date: June 11, 2021
- Click here to read the book for free
- Buy from Amazon:
– eBook: $2.00
– Paperback: $4.42
- Buy from The Hillside Commons:
– Signed Paperback: $13.00
I’ve written a few other books, too. Click here to see the list.
The Hillside Commons has a Facebook page, too. Here’s that.
If you’re there, hypothetical reader, thank you for being there. From this day on, we move forever forward~