It was the silence that let the shots really paint the airwaves red. Around midnight, and I was sitting in my apartment, fat, coy, happily bitching. 4 or 5 callous cracks that really rang out quickly and efficiently. You could tell someone was really trying with these shots. There was little to no breath between them. Noting the happiness in air, I sniffed around comfortably for a line to brush off the sounds with. Then we look out at the streets and 7 Philly cops book it to the scene, which is about 2 or 3 blocks down the road we overlook (to the right).
From my cage of paradise, I watch the lower masses die,
coldy and quietly. So that they don’t interfere with my life. My daily routines.
My bitching about the difficulty of life.
A perfect bubble have we, in which my center is my universe, my ego is my death, and my bubble is perfection. I love to consider my life hard. It’s exhilarating to pretend you have some sort of struggle, or noble goal. That your life, while hellish and numbing, is strangely beautiful.
I can think of nothing more numbing than to know you heard the shots that ended an innocent man’s life ring out in the middle of the night and still consider yours or any life…difficult. How we are all so blessed.
The man was 54, and died because he got robbed trying to use an ATM. Simple, yeah??
If pushed beyond all reasoning
(as he certainly had been for some time),
His cries could never pierce the speckled veil’s hues.
The pine is thick, accommodating. Oak tantrums, being thrown outright,
Foster green, ballroom red. A certain allotment. Certain.
The turbulent tremble of screeched bloody vocal cords never seemed so pathetic.
Above all or others,
It was the enduring indifference that brought the canopy down,
And let nature caress
Drowning ever so slightly, Him.
The dumpy grays of the city; stricken, stolid, merciless. I, blessed by thine who spin the clock, still alive. With wisps of silence undulating before the day, Forlorn under cigarettes and yet altogether awake, Alive. How easy it is to be.
This savvy tech is jagged jargon too in line with megalomaniacs, coupling devices with
business fillosophy on mixed sanguine barrels.
I know never where I is the come from.
But I sure seen silicon valley saplings of lapis lazuli
shimmer over 50 percent more than your analog tree buddy.
See, God knows only tradition.
And no one in this workd world has time for
Yer old time
1)Squirrels running on power lines like there’s a prize in it for them.
2) The angry old man who works at the front of the desk at my apartment building. He likes to throw his hands up in frustration when somebody comes in and wants to check into the building. He has a difficult job, and it revolves around snot-nosed college kids.
3) Minimalist music and Terry Riley’s facial hair. It’s glorious.
5) The way streetlights look after it has rained a good deal.
What if reality forced itself upon your being so aggressively you were forced to consider the following:
The bug you just stepped on callously (it was just a roach) could have been someone’s pet, or best friend. Or sole reason for living. This applies to anyone and everything from roaches, to the dumb jock you hate who lives across the hall. Every person, animal, or thing you have harmed or helped means something to somebody. And maybe to somebody, it means absolutely everything. And you ruined it for them. Everyone and everything is loved.
What if the rest of the idiot world was forced to consider the fact that the young 15 yr old who just attempted to rob a Temple University student off-campus in North Philly is a complex human being. One who feels the same emotions and pain that you or I feel. One who may have acted foolishly (that’s for certain) but is still a human child. Saying such a thing, and actually fully realizing this fact are two completely different things altogether. Suddenly, the whole world becomes a notoriously complex place. Where every damn person from the village idiot, to the over-achieving asshole CEO are worthy of praise and damnation. Write-offs are for lazy people. Becoming a mature individual involves realizing this.
Going to see Braids Tonight along w/ Pepper Rabbit and Painted Palms. Should be an event worthy of an update and photo or two. For now here is their single “Peach Wedding”. Expect cliches such as “slow-burning” to describe these picturesque Canadian indie kids and their delicately ebbing electro-haze. More to come… much more……….
"I’ve fed you the sky
and her wanderings!!!!!”
He bellowed out in haste,
Seeing no point.. No escape from
The endlessness of utter rage
And fastidious contempt.
I have shown you the face of
Dearest Joe, innocent, sweet Joe….
A series of unsubstantiated rumors spread by the people
Citing a “meaning” for life are
Afloat, asunder in this water.
They will be sunk shortly and our
story shall surely continue unimpeded and unheeded.
No need for them when I am here.
Signal fires awake, listen, glisten and gloss. We marvel and move,
Spin and dance.
Pay little to no attention to them, their meanings fill voids only they can create.
And then Joe is quiet, and remembers his father:
“You’re your own worst enemy.”