The Allegory of the Cave ~~ Plato


 

The Allegory of the Cave ~~ Plato

 

The Allegory of the Cave came to mind this morning as I was thinking about people’s responses to my calls to our elected officials. The compliments made it seem as though I was doing something out of the ordinary. Something exceptional. Something Amazing. Yet what I do for my brother is not.  Not only what I do for him but for my friends and co-workers in the fight against abuse and bullying. I am not brave nor do I possess courage or any outstanding qualities. I am Not extraordinary.  I am Not remarkable.

Then again most Americans are caught up in apathy. They feed off the Kardashians and other Reality shows. Or they are a prison of Shondaland. If you live in the U.S. you know which TV  programs of which I speak.

You know something?  In the final analysis it won’t be #45 aka Agent Orange, the Republicans or the Conservatives who bring about the destruction of America or its imminent collapse. It will be the apathy of people who refused to get involved. Also the stupidity of people who refuse to face or believe the truth even though it’s right in front of their faces. Those who watched others suffer and said to themselves, My little world is okay. It’s not my problem.  Yes they will say that until the day tragedy strikes them or their loved ones. But then it will be too late.

It won’t be Nero who fiddled while Rome burned it will be Americans mesmerized by the Idiot Box aka TV, Reality Stars, Sports figures, Entertainers, etc…..  The media, false morals, and society are doing a good job of keeping many transfixed on mirages. Worshiping  people whom none of us will ever be like and you certainly won’t have their money or fame.

The way I figure things are going I’m gonna go down fighting. Owning nothing. I am nothing. Therefore I have nothing to lose.  Those who leave and step out of the Matrix risk death. As for me I made my peace with God months ago.

 

I am Not a hero. A hero is just a sandwich. Now chew on that.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Disfigured Soul


 

 

A Disfigured Soul

Something inside me broke. Perhaps because I have so much internal conflict and when I’m with Stephen I can take off the mask. But then again I’m broken. I’m a Nightmare the gods

For several weeks something within me has been breaking, collapsing, pieces falling apart. Rolling across the earth. Some swallowed up. Whatever Control I thought I had is long gone. Tiredness and exhaustion have stolen my immortal soul. When you’re lost you no longer know who you are.

As I try to erase and blot out the voices of those telling me who I should be and how to get there. But I know to ask why. Don’t Put Your Chains on me for I’ve Made My Bed in the Land of Other.

Because I don’t want to join your journey………… For I’m Only a Few Steps Away from Grace….

 

For Mable Palmer who did not survivor cancer but lives on in our collective memories.

20170630_135243

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bertie Died……………2014


 

I must have ran 40 blocks after I got the news. And that damned parrot would not shut up! Aunt Beatrice came and got him while me flying down the streets with no coat, hat, gloves or even a scarf on a cold freezing pre-Christmas day.  Down Fulton Street. Decomposition. A Rotted Christmas Gift. Which Morgue? I’m assigned to find you.

To this day I still hate Christmas and always will.

Fulton’s Folly redux.

Oblivious to cars, speeding past rickety boarded up storefront churches, racing around and through stagnant pedestrians.  Cars honking. Screeching to an unexpected halt as fleet form weaves speed through traffic Loom gossamer spider webs.  If I run fast enough to the morgue maybe I’ll still have a chance to remind his body to arise for the Tree Lightening Ceremony.

The Forest. I’ll run into the woods. There I found the magnificent corpse of a Unicorn. Majestic but I didn’t know what to do with it. Wasps had made a home inside the stomach cavity. Carrying life from death. I could smell syrup and honey mixed with Holiday Candy Canes. My dreams, goals and plans for the future. Disemboweled.

The Way of Wings is to fly. Where Sweet Harbor lies.

She Triumphant Playing Parlor Games exuded Vibrato from wild god’s Olde Apothecary Shoppe.  When a Heroine falls. She dies alone. Forgotten and lost to the ages.  She had only a passing acquaintance with sanity.

Each Day Jesus Cries for those condemned to the altars of bloody sacrifice.

Simon says. You learn quickly to do what Simon says or you’re out of the game. For Simon is Jigsaw.

This world done. Ready to implode.

 

This Old Soldier will fade away……

Disconnect………..Disengage………Disappear……..Retreat…….Off Grid……..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Creatures of (Dizzy) Comforts


 

I am Liquid Stranger. Pour me down your gullet and drink. Sonic blooms decorate never desecrate. Welcome to the Hotel California where guests check in but they never check out.

What are you? A human Jukebox? Why must every crime scene trigger a song for you?

Creatures of DizComfort. Radio Check.

She left off the beauty of decomposing remains.

The Rising Sun
Psycho Barn House

Jules left her back door open all the time. Rain storms, Torrential rain. Cyclonic winds. All in the name of our local Rev. Pastor Rod Golden    who gave daily as well as nightly highly personalized counseling sessions. More like Golden Rod as his ratings and popularity with the recent widows and divorcees bordered on scandalous.

There was a gash in her head. Stab wounds all over her torso. She was a bloody bashed in mess. Salted molten lava gush from her……….. Looks like she was bayoneted 1000 times.

She was the niche that somebody carved out like a holy day gourd.

There is much beauty in empty overgrown abandoned lots as in the well kept garden with front and backyards.  Mother Nature reclaims her own. Including the hidden bodies.  More gifts to be discovered on Christmas day.

 

This one’s D.O.A.  I’m hungry. Let’s go get a sandwich or a burger. Make mine rare.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aftermath


 

Yves Tanguy

 

Are we getting rid of family items as well.  So the family is not involved. She had no immediate family and the few cousins disowned and abandoned her years ago. Did what was expected of her only to be shunned. Minus the body at least the apartment is neat and clean. Like she knew she was gonna die. Heart burst. Plus a cerebral hemorrhage. Literally died of a broken heart. Her soul died years ago just waiting for her body to follow.

After being married several years the husband suggested she should go on holiday to her birth country. About two months into her vacation her in-laws called saying maybe she should not return. Alarmed she took the next flight out homeward bound only to arrive at the house and find that her adoring husband had rented it out to a swingers club. She no longer had a home.

Never got to go to the Ashram, the Retreat, Spa or Warm Springs……….Forgotten.  Fear. Frustration. Failure. Flaws. 

asylum, cover, covert, harbor, haven, protection, refuge, sanctuary, shelter ~~ None.

For her no celebrations. No honors. No medals. No rewards. No accolades. Only a pine box. nameless. In Potters Field.

God. She must have been laying there at least two weeks. Found dead on Christmas day. Nobody ever bother to call or knock on the door. Smell alerted her neighbors. Decomposed blob. Nice Holiday gift for the Coroners office. Off to the city morgue with what’s left of this one.

Forty years ago families looked after each other. They cared about each other. Now you throw your family member into a hospital, hospice or nursing home and forget about them. Not your responsibility. After all you have your life to live. Why bother with the elderly, disabled or poor.  Nobody wants the broken and damaged. Broken toys belong in the dumpster. They mean nothing.  Crime clean will wash away the trauma.

Vanish into the mists of time.

Just remember that the cheapest coffins are hidden behind the ficus.

He left a book behind for his family. A how to book. You know Death hacks. Then he blew his brains out. Brain matter on the floor, walls and ceiling. Part of his face was found on the drapes. Kid found him. Beside him a child actor photograph of himself that a fan wanted autographed. Show ends. Reason for being ends. Purpose ends.

Six months later the wife hanged herself. Poor kid. In six months lost both parents. Only left a suicide manual. Suicide hacks.

Welcome to the Land of the Fucked.

That’s a wrap. Time to bounce. Yandy, I’m hungry. Whatta ya say we stop for a burger and fries move onto the next poor slob.

 https://youtu.be/x7BeGDZewHshttps://youtu.be/RFSWW4O6QNM

 

 

 

 

 

Elegy for Wait Town


 

 

Standing on the platform waiting for the subway train to arrive.

Sitting at work waiting for an end to be homeward bound.

Waiting for the M2 bus. Again waiting for the train.

Hibernation. Sabbatical. We have No Extradition Treaty from this Land. 

Waiting for my weekend.

Waiting only to begin the cycle once again.

Which Season is this silent wondering??

Waiting for payday.

Metropolis reformed for the 21st Century. 

Waiting for vacation.

Waiting for retirement.

Doctors Office = Wait.

Dentist Office = Wait

Waiting for physical and emotional pain to be evicted while they both claim permanent residence.

Grocery Shopping check out line = Wait

DMV = Extended Wait.  Stuck in the passing lane.

Spending most of the time waiting instead of doing.  Yet not knowing what I should do to make the wait shorter. On the other hand perhaps the wait just is and it too is waiting for destiny to manifest itself among the galaxy cosmos. Searching for Excalibur alongside Her Holy Grail.

Romance = Unknown wait. The Lover waits somewhat patiently for the signal to begin. Does true Love even exist? Or have all the Soul Mates/Twin Flames gone on strike?

In the midst of doing midway through action only to find oneself on the every present hamster wheel spinning fast deep inside a rabbit hole.

Sometimes forgetting what I’m waiting for?  Dialing. Hearing the phone ringing. Robotic voice, “I’m sorry but the number you dialed is no longer in service.

Waiting are armies of creeping vines taking back what was rightfully theirs. Trees with gnarly rooted feet tenderizing the earth in preparation for Monsoon season.

Mindless waiting versus fruitful waiting?  Patience is not my foremost virtue yet she shadows every portion of my life.  Patience is the Sugar Plum Fairy holding a dental drill spike through my jaw. Patience is a shallow grave awaiting surrender. The awkwardness of waiting beats out the waywardness of doing.

The Goddess of Harlem shall Live again and repent her people.

Waiting is a desolate abandoned isle populated with numerous shades and shadows ignorant of each other yet crowded together at the beleaguered rocky shore desperately trying to signal passing ships their screams blown away by a fierce sirocco. No deliverance for them. Harmattan blow strong my hopes and dreams carried away to rise no more.  Dust bowl funeral dirge mourners wailing marches past not even mindful of my existence.  Did the Rapture take place without St. Gabrielle scooping me up with Her multi-colored wings?

Lather. Rinse. Repeat.  Keep to the funky beat. 

There are no rewards, Trophies or medals here only the next phase standing on it’s Laurels.

Stillness. Silence. Breath.

Waiting? Why? I don’t know because Godot never showed up for the Death Angel is always on time.

Our Wait is over so Let’s go to that place called home.

https://youtu.be/x7BeGDZewHs 

 

 

I’m not your Super Woman


Everybody has a plan until they get punched in the face. —Mike Tyson

 

Vanished from Nowhere

Sometimes when things Fall Apart people need to separate or be by themselves for a time. Sadly too many judge why a person stopped writing or whatever they were doing before. Since we never really know what’s going on in another persons life we need to support them in their decision.  Burnout. Re-calibrate. Who knows how long the sabbatical need be?

Broken or Breaking Free??!!

Time to eliminate the unwanted commentary on Lives. People are too negative and just assume that they know what is right for somebody else without considering their situation. They settle into the Ass part of ASSume very well.

Steer into the Skid!!!

Isn’t the Truth so Extraordinarily Beautiful?? And I wear it so well!!

Don’t you see me bejeweled and beGemed. With Tiara, necklaces, rings, earrings and bracelets all jangling announcing my Royal Entrance??

Snapped but No Chat

Struggle is real. 

Electric Shock Please??! Spin like a Rotisserie Chicken!!??

Mental and emotional pain is like being inflicted with mold or virus with every extending tentacles. It gets all tangled up within your DNA, your mind, your soul, your thoughts and it cannot be dispelled no matter what you do. It may go away for a while but like a reoccurring nightmare it returns usually with a vengeance. It becomes your destiny. Like that stalker that the police cannot apprehend.

Write Pain. Write Agony. Write Loss. As extensions of Oneself.  My Consorts always waiting on me hand and foot. Swear like a Sail-lore in a Discount Junk store searching for merchandise buried under eons of Mummy dust.

Let’s stop trying to make everyone into Super Heroes. God is well able to speak to me or anyone else regarding the next steps in their lives.

So much judgement in the world and little or No understanding.  Why are people such hypocrites? Let’s just shoot out the street lamps with bb guns and pour libation on dancing corpses loitering in the avenues.

Beware the Ides of March for it’s next victim may be you!!  Your Brutus is just around the corner waiting. Waiting for your next steps. Don’t think that you can escape because you won’t. Life can take you in directions that you had no plans for.

One may fall asleep under the shade tree outbursts of vipers and snakes slithering through bushes and under the vegetation. Ribald. Psychological bullshit.

Let the talking donkey bring the professors salvation. Asses on two legs arrayed in bright robes. Dazzled by brilliance. Suckled on lies.

Fluidity of UnGuarded Moments

Keep in mind the Mole People. The homeless who live within the NYC subway system. They once were babies. They once had what we choose to call normal lives but now they must live underground hidden from the denizens of the day. Emerging only when necessity beckons. Not so much difference between you or the sewer people. The Rat Tribe is here to stay. Like a piece of unclaimed luggage going around in circles on the carousel.

Live your truth but don’t be critical of others truths for their are many truths within this multi-dimensional existence.

Alice Faye Tribute- “You’ll Never Know”

 

 

In the End Augusta, Frida and Georgia Won.

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