flat spun overnight overbite taken haling a cement mixer like a cab and laying a blanket of gravelly crust on one's most cherished nightmares foreseen only in pepcid AC for breakfast DC voltage flatlined memories forestallen by a picture taken long ago but close in synapses hidden shallowly yet with impenetrable blackness given no extra effort they stalk silently shifting from tastebud to fingertips longings given no heed impossible it seems stretched like bubblegum across the tongue I step barefoot onto wet cement but it long since cured so the print evaporates with the sun
They say time is like a wheel, a ride we take from birth
Like the riddle about what has 4, 2, then 3 limbs to get around on..
Then there's posture, and dependence.
But thats all about an individual human life
the solar system, the earth year, seasons, and phases of the moon
the universe, the big bang theory expand contract collapse start again
religions believe in it- reincarnation, birth life death modern man has less
connection to it these days, away from farming, even artificial distance
from birth and death seasons and the stars. What is the effect of that
distance from the wheel? Brings to mind those STUPID hubcaps that are
mounted so they spin independent of the wheel I think there is danger there
we are far from that perfect circle the circle game has gotten flat
trying to concentrate, lost in words, I am, sometimes as much sense as the
phrases, but not making paragraph-level sense- afloat in verbiage in nouns
pronouns and adjectives perhaps a random thought assembled, not a full
concept carrying on into a theory or even a full image, or purposeful
action... words indicating observation, understanding, action - they only
indicate seeing, hearing, small movements, not any accomplishment or even
direction..afloat
Out of context, but thought I'd post it here anyway..: who knows the impact that might have been made had another path been taken by the young man if he had owned up to things good and bad and held on to himself its hard to understand the despair the downward spiral the grip of the darkness that a simple metaphorical nightlight might have fixed but it wasnt there maybe just around the corner out of sight had he groped a bit more, found the door if the headstone engraving had impact imagine what might have been given more time -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- tomcoleman - Jan 12, 2005 9:15 am (#23 of 65) an' dis: in and around glen cove or nyc or some other place in connect-a-cult or Luunga-land or mayyybeee Upstate (it tickles me UPSTATE is mosta da state except luunga-land and the apple the city ny ny nyc new yawk new yawk) and I know I grew up in a neighborhood where the turnover has probably been 90% since then, but on a visit back I did run into people I knew and it freaked me out when they remembered me by SIGHT I was only 11 years old when I left, for gads sek that was cool (no, i was talking about suburban DC for myself..) -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- tomcoleman - Jan 12, 2005 9:21 am (#24 of 65) the waters of the stream of consciousness the waters recede leaving debris maybe treasure, maybe just trash but we ride the tide none the less and feel freedom in escaping the banks, flowing over the fields like in a dream where you can fly on your belly just above the ground pulling yourself easily along with your arms, pulling from one object to another, aglide on a cushion of air, legs trailing on behind, sometimes achieving height a view but mostly not, things are mostly blurred or unseen, and sometimes naked to the world, but not noticing the exposure really, until afterwards, oh-my-god what did they see while I was like that? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- tomcoleman - Jan 20, 2005 8:58 pm (#25 of 65) hearts go where minds flow as words grow on the screen bidden and allowed to creep unbidden crowed like a victory over silence crowded like a tree at dusk blackened as if with leaves as they come from miles around dotting the skies talking to each other about all the days events perhaps as if I know a crow what it will think or if it will blink at a another over more than airspace or carrion collapse stink trinkets of flesh left dangling and I dont like to go this direction so I wil go another its still outside something is coming you can sense it without a forecaster like the third trimester blink and you can't miss it sleep and it will awaken you drink and you will wish you drank more think and you will want to stop© 2005 trcoleman.geo@yahoo.com
