Throne

Found a throne for the uncommon man. A little rough. Greener surroundings are healthier than the hours unlived in hospitals full of throne rooms for the chemically altered, wired up to one level of existence. Parks do not service the bottom when the benches are occupied. Since I now operate on my own state of mind and manage a life of some worth between centres of healing or the placebo factories of private alternative health care, I spend what time I have accessible to myself to run errands for loved ones and I cook more than I ever did in my past life. Not too shabby. Not too clever. I like this throne. It digs into the bottom and thats as true to life as it gets.

Black

….Bodies on loan, the numb heart is a tomb not a home. And where is temperance? How about the thriving mass culture of nihilism, and consumerism that sucks the light of the eyes that watch the world? Out of hollow bodies of mostly water. The blood is thinner than the skin.Thicker than the blade. Shallow minds drown in deep waters. How about the indifference that festers in the wounded, heard in communal banter? How about socially engineered depravity? When they say the world is yours but the choice is an option of poisons. The opiate of the unheard and unseen is in the proverbial air we breathe. What about the trigger finger of apathy that doesn’t consider the epigentic possiblities awakened and passed on? How about the spiritual? Cause everything is seemingly permissable. Who dares infer the questions yet forsake the answers? Holy rollers attract the wrath of Moths but that’s an aside. Like an Elephant in a room of mirrors, it remembers everything it sees but it only sees itself. Or a version of itself. Reality distorted. Humanity filtered, but at least the filth is honest “and ugly as ever.” Its yellow. Its black. Its of it. Or on it. Its a riddle. Its a word. It speaks violence. It calls to silence. It’s the journey of tears that travel inwards. Some might say its terminal. An incoming extinction level event. What law can tame such pain? Such life? Legislation doesn’t govern the heart. Mothers will cry tomorrow as they did yester and today. How do we stir up vision? How do we nurture hope? The seduction of evil has a catchier beat. Still. Still….love can afford that well worn idea, unvarnished, without eloquence, or enviable style. A reason to believe in the sanctity of life. Perhaps if they learn to love, themselves, not the image in the black mirror, and steel. Still. If love could find it’s way through the numbness, and seep into their pain. If love could meet them in the grime, unadorned, and address that pain. And wrestle with them. And hold them. Pinned down by love. The brutality of the embrace they couldn’t afford. Just a thought that crossed my mind. The loose change of pennies, are loveless. And we can not afford not to love them.