precious human life

 

 

 

What if the purpose of our rare and 

precious human lives

is to make others happy

No, not that wimpy terror of upsetting, 

not fitting in, hiding ourselves inside, 

denying true connection

But using our time to develop and expand 

our gifts, to become ever more aware of our 

power to uplift, to delight -- 

what a wonderful world we would share.

 

 

 

 

Let's admit childhood

is no idyllic state

Bullied, abused, so much

more than loved and safe.

Give up your fantasies

of irresponsibilities,

that time to be young, free, alive.

"Wouldn't that be nice?"

spake each traumatized child.

 

 

 

As long as you vilify people

you are inviting violence.

 

 

 

Teenchild begging coins

for a slice from the corner

pizza stand.  People watching

to use that sparkle magic of

imagination -- better than cinema

or pricey stage.  Serious days,

nights captured in enchanted

awareness.  I know you couldn't

care less.  That's why I don't deign

to say, to try to share,

what would thrill me to ecstasy,

to immerse in freedom, being,

reliving, having meaning beyond my

mere memory.

 

 

 

Isn't the essential point of democracy

-- rule by the people --

to create and maintain a social structure

that provides for all citizens' needs?

 

 

 

I may not be clever,

but I am intelligent and persistent.

Over time I figure out what to do --

if I get the pertinent information.

 

 

 

Randomly firing scenes

my past -- stories like cinema

5D -- every sense re-assembled.

Quick and gone to another or

modern time for a brief return,

interim, clarity, distraction,

stochastic dance, ecstatic ride.

 

 

 

That's people for you -- caught up

in their little games

where nothing real matters.

 

 

 

If only it could be enough that it is

clearly the right thing to do without

needing fiscal approbation.

 

 

 

We keep hearing that rage makes us

engaged -- thus invigorated by algorithms

trying to maintain addicted participants

for profit.  I considered this common trope

and noticed -- rage does not engage me.

It exhausts me.  Yeah, a dopamine charge

for a bit, but then I NEED to disengage,

to rest.

What actually engages me is new ideas

or ways of understanding, and, of course,

being liked, feeling good with friends.

This can't be just me, having these natural

reactions.  Rather, rage only seems to engage

us when we've been so conditioned.

 

 

 

I know these things because I was there --

direct experience, along with the kind of

intellectual nature that studies and has

awareness of what I am experiencing.

 

 

 

3/17-24/23