A Conversation Covered In Darkness (stream of consciousness write) Who knows where I'll go (read at your own risk, or own waste of time.)

It approaches, the end.
Bright light engulfs,
Tunnel vision into
black.

'Do you see
anything really?'

Just darkness rising
in the East. The night
before the stars fell,
and vanished behind
the lunar eclipse, and
I rose inflamed.  Where
is the light?

"Fluorescent street lamps provide light!"

The moon never returned, and the Sun,
the poor sun never rose again.  It burned
in the Horizon - and all that was left
of it was ash.   How can one mourn
for such devastation?

"The Government will provide."

The troops move in, and we lay
huddle in groups, arm in arm...
Tear gas rains down...

"The Government will protect..."

The troops move in, and we lay
covered in darkness, though we
 are all brightly lit for the television,
broadcast as rabble-rousers...
Mass hysteria ensues, and we lay
upon each other in mass graves...

"The Government will provide."

When did we begin to trust the Government?
The peoples interest never is
at heart of any issue... just distraction,
distrust, and keep us apart, so the
mysterious powers that be, known as
"They," can continue to rule...

Darkness descended, and artificial light
took over.  Divide and conquer,
Distract, and play on fears and irrational rationale.
"They" own us.

"You're a conspiracy theorist."

No, I just see the truth.
Minimalist, spiritualist, blahist...
It doesn't matter... we're all
Inside the "Matrix."

"I see the light.  It's a Thursday, 11:01PM...
It's coming from a screen, and it's telling
me the truth.  It's name is Dell, and it provides
me truth through electronic signals...
I read the words, I read the news... I know
the truth.  I believe the Gossip, the fear mongering..
I believe..."

I hear a hint of sarcasm.  Does Mom know
you're speaking to me?

"Mom is an alcoholic, who cares what she knows."

That's just plain disrespect.  

"You're ignorant, and slightly off your rockers."

I'm just tired, and my mind is going to fast to keep up.

"Get some sleep."

Insomnia is my best friend right now.  We have conversations,
much like the one you and I are having.  Usually
I'm a little more passionate though.  I may end
up writing a poem, though I've been working
on a sci-fi/horror/mystery/something story.

"Really?  How much have you written?"

A paragraph.

"You call that working on it?"

Well, I have an idea, and I got that written down.  That's what counts!

"You're a casual writer, I forgot."

Writer?  I'm a revolutionist!

"You're a conformist, and you know it."

I'm as programmed as the next person. I don't know
what thought is mine, or what that is "Theirs."  Education,
it tends to seep in and take over your unique thought.

"Lame."

I ran a mile the other day, did push ups, and then took the bus to work.  I think i died on the way to work... I hadn't ran a mile in 10 years.  What was I thinking?  I feel young, I look young... but my bodies telling me I'm not young.

"This conversation is supposed to be covered in darkness, you can't see anything."

You're right!  Stream of consciousness writing is a b....  tough.  I don't like cursing, or using swear words... but you're right.  I completely got off topic.

"Then get back on topic."

I've written too much to get back on topic... though I'll share it anyway.

"This is good, it lets out thoughts and potentially feelings.. and helps free up creativity to be inspired."

Time will tell... though i'm dwelling in this stupid darkness.  Hopefully the sun rises tomorrow.

"It will, it always days."

The Bell Jar

A cloud swooped down and landed on my head. The cloud grew thick and dark. Visibility became non existent once the downpour began.  All was cold and wet, every step I was alone.

I knew there were others out there... somewhere.  I often cried out, "Hello?"  I never heard a voice respond over the torrent rain.  My vision was darkness, my thoughts were drowned, and misery was dumped upon on my shoulders.

Eating, sleeping, dreaming... all were impossible!  Living was instinctual because survival was coded in the genes.  Hope, is all we have to hold on to.  Dreams, do not let them go.   Tomorrow is another day, and we can be whole.

_______


Life - why is it so fickle?  Someone always needs to lose.  There is no utopia, only an ostrich society that keeps their heads in the sand.  Time brings bitterness, and bitterness brings coldness and indifference.  I say rebel against time, rebel again fickleness... don't become bitter.    The wind changes, and so does life...  from an idiom a friend of mine love to say, you got to "roll with the punches."  "Don't let no one hold you down."   I wish he was able to listen to his own words.
 

Update - :)

FYI - I'll be contributing to PRL Serials, probably mostly poetry, and I'll continue writing my usual random improvised poetry here as well.  Check out it out if you enjoy science fiction, creativity, and yes, there is poetry! Thanks to Roy Cureton.

On another note, the previous pictures posted below was not from my driving, but my ride.  I decided to start taking public transportation... err, Commuter Bus.  I figured it would eliminate one car from the road, give me some more exercise, and help me be a leader at being Sustainable... Green.. or um, save money and the environment?  Either way, there isn't many passengers besides myself.

It gives me more time to think of things to write, or to see more things to write.  :)

Ride home

Grey days are here

Need the rain

Without the tears

Emotion, pain 

Drought for years 

Now alive

With the fears

Homeward bound

California roads

Blue has faded into

Dull grey light 

I'm home

The ride to work

Silence through the vineyards

A thin fog blanket covers the road

and the sky patchy grey white.

Quick Write

Everyone I know is dying,

Or at least have been for years. 

They tell me, "Don't get old."

Yet I feel it in my bones.

My back aches, my knees are sore...

and I see the white hairs sneaking in,

I still feel young in my heart.

"Don't get old, it takes me four hours

just to get out of bed."  They need

me, and are lonely.  Desperate

for me to connect to them.

I was young when I needed them,

they didn't need me then.  Now,

I'm older, and it feels nice to be needed.

They're all dying, slowly - painfully...

It's sad to hear their tells, their pain,

though they don't want to hear mine.

They can only handle so much.

Weekly calls on the weekends.  

They always say, "I wish you lived closer."

I had thought the same thing, when I was younger...

I wish I knew you then. 

They walked away, lived their lives,

and left a young boy alone

with a raging monster.  Do I really

owe them anything? Why do I feel guilty?

I close my eyes and am thankful,

I don't live closer.  I feel death

approaching me... the irony...

They're dying, they have been for years -

but I'll be the one dead.. .like they were

when I was young. Lost and gone,

unknown...  abandoned.  

Why wait until your dying,

to connect?  No legacy left,

nothing but contempt.  I placed

my heart in ice, and let my rage

freeze... just so they can die -

In peace...

Alone

We stood hand in hand,

against waves of destruction,

and our family laughed.

They shrugged and left us to 

fend for ourselves, the onslaught

that life threw at us.

Abandoned, we became one,

bound together tightly. Interwoven 

laces of love, pain, distrust...

we share everything, and everything

is us.  

We are alone - together.

Blue

Childhood's roots run deep,
As adults we're still suffering.
There is a way we were,
that make us the way we are.

I see the waterfall,
running down her throat,
and drowning out sound -
I was not heard, nor seen.

You see the blinding light,
that shined upon her.
Leaving you in the shadows,
Darkness, loneliness... we share.

There is a way we were,
that make us the way we are.

Together we form roots,
in a midnight blue ocean.
We float away easily,
With no solid ground.

Luckily our roots intertwined,
and remain together... drifting
Lost in a confusing sea,
Together... just hold on.
____________________________________________________________________

A Link to Janis Joplin Documentary

Impromptu - Burning

Bare feet on shattered glass
Reality never grasped.
Hidden head beneath the sand
Always needing helping hand.
Independence never known,
Denial wanes on a dial tone.

"Pick up the phone, pick up."

Desperation rises,
Flickering images flash
"I'm in a crises,"
Family abandoned-  trash.

City streets cold and dark,
Habitat of fear - hark!
Danger lurks in shadow
Heart races for battle.

"Pick up the phone, pick up!"

Help's never there,
Your family never cared.
They started this pyre,
You are the fire.

~

Reflections upon the past,
recollections never last.
The call was never answered
Remove them all like cancer.
Alone, without any support
You burned with no thwart.

Risen from the ashes, lure
New blood to the pure
Unadulterated truth -
We're all burning
I'm proof.

Improvised Write on a Saturday evening.

My Ancestry

I stray from the herd, and walk
against the flow of a generation.
The raging force knocks me to,
fro.. legs weak from resisting.

They came before me, a long line
marching alone,  abandoned,
we all were abandoned.  Fathers
unwilling to care, unwilling to love.

America's greatest past-time,
is passing time independently,
alone.  A fatherless generation,
lost in the fog - disillusionment.

One of the founding fathers - found me,
lightning struck a kite held key,
and the rest is history, rewritten,
retold, resold... it changes every day.

Where do I come from?
 A long line of success,
and of failures.. the only
common thread is survival.
Ancestors who survived to breed
and pass on their genes to me.

I've heard stories:
A son's murder by the mob,
a mother suicide... a police
officers affair with the neighbor,
the signing of the Declaration of Independence.
There is a bad, and there is good,
and I'm made up of both...
Humanity is imperfection perfected.

  - I had a vision. -
A white light drowning
in a sea of blue. My forefathers
sat on clouds, bleeding into
the sea.The water and blood mingled into black,
and the white light imploded into nothingness.
My ancestors' bodies piled onto that nothingness,
forming a house. A skeletal door opened, and
I walked into death, having no fear.

Moonlight shadows dance on walls,
whispering secrets, singing ancient songs.
I see grandpa laughing with his blue eyes,
mischievous smirk, and grandma cries.
It's all lost, gone for a long time.

I sit wondering why this all comes now?
Ancestral calls of the wild,
Rebel against societal conformities,
Break free - Revolutionary War.

'Give me Liberty, or give me Death' -

It's easy to conform.  It's easy to accept.
Difficult is to stand up for what you believe.
It's hard to be free...

Original Shared on Poets of G+ - Prompt of the Week

The Stranger

He lies there helpless with failing kidneys
Dialysis three times a week, four hours per day
Should I call to ease his guilt?

He cries out for forgiveness
A shadow vanished my very first night
Darkness, confusion – what is manhood?

I sit with a phone in hand
It will mean the world to hear my voice
My past, my pain – sacrifice and flames. 

Prompt of the week