One Thing About Dreams

And those whom defend their foolishness by it:

There are souls whose preferred exit was/is to be thrusting the hottest fuck of their lives, sway-for-sway, bump-for-bump, through a civilization-wrecking earthquake...even if their petit mort is el grande burrito, I have known this dream, so I know it is true.

An American Koan, by Greg Connell, circa 2008

Everybody Dies

"Duh." "I know, uh-huh" "Heard it a million times" "Why do you DWELL on it?"

And..yes, why do I dwell on it?

Are you fricking kidding me?? I believe, when each person dies...they go back through every heart-beat of their lives, back to Mother, back to conception and Father, and finally Poof! "That's all she wrote."

Furthermore, I believe the Christian "Hell" is simply this footstep-walking process through one's life. Can you imagine how it will be to see yourself doing most of the things you did?! Ha-ha! What a laugh that's gonna be!

Ahh, it's just a growing-up process. It is all right. And that's when I believe you begin walking through each of your interactions with every person you ever met -- you begin seeing how everybody was at some point in their own growing-up-process, and how you treated them.

This belief is just a belief, I can't prove it to you; but if you think about it thoroughly enough, I'm quite sure it will make sense.

Like a Cat

Always right, doesn't hurt,
Won't see me cry.
My threads are always purrfect
and that's no lie.

I don't tangle with bigger beasts;
I go exactly where I please.
If you look soft enough
you might melt my heart,
But your expectations freeze

ME.

I am a cat.

I'm a little jealous
and hungry for the sun
I'm a night owl
packing a three fifty seven.

I'm a cat,

Always right, doesn't hurt,
Won't see me cry.
My threads are always purrfect
and that is not a lie.

Notes #3,775

The yapping dog next door, los vencinos, a reminder? Of what was to be? Or of more fear, misplaced, and mis-manifested? Of action untaken and opportunities missed?

Of friendly neighborhood smiles? Of youth? Of parenthood, or of assets burdened for the sake of the Father?

Yap, yap -- yowuuuuuueeeerrr, yooow uuuuuuu eeeeeerrr! A long tireless timber.

The Smiles What They're Worth

The possibilities,
explored meticulously, mentacularily,
were all illusions.

The children born,
unconsciously, serendipitously,
were not.

Blossums and faerie tales,
Wet things of moonshine,
mystery, and madamouselles...
Vibration, some say, a wave.

A rise and fall, a cadence,
A high and low, a drama,
A smile and frown, encumbant,
and sweet love, eternal.

The possibilities,
remembered, rendered, decembered,
bore themselves a chain.

The children
found no metaphor to suit them
and so smiled again.