Manual for the Dissolution of Solids

There must be no solids, no pillars of strength,
no towers of virtue.
And no noble, high monuments, other than
HUMANITY.
PROGRESS.
The insignificant must be raised up, the significant razed.
Equality above fulfilment of purpose.
But what we must never know,
is that we achieve inequality by exalting
the ever-insignificant Recent Achievement.
Nothing must weather time.

There is no black or white. There is nothing solid.

The only lie is Truth with a capital T.
There is only truth for this one and that one.
There is only each man's perspective, all
equally valuable and helpful.

The ancient never said anything valuable
for all time--only for his time.
But we are right for all time,
for future,
for progress.
Such is the arrogance of "living in these modern times,"
a condition most unavoidable.

But where does progress lead? Do we progress
into blazing, searing light of holy Truth?
Or into muddled, murky musings,
demure thinking?
There is no black. There is no white.
Only shadows of confusion.

Logic is too rigid, save in the realm of science.
It does not leave room for freedom of thought,
freedom of lunacy.

Absolutes are absolutely forbidden, as signs of absolute arrogance.

One must be open-minded. It is good (yet not to assert that goodness exists)
to be tossed about between prevailing opinions and new insights.
If Truth is popular, ride for a while, until it is in danger
of going out of fashion.
Never, under any circumstances, no matter how dire,
must you find Truth and cling with all
strength, endurance, faith and hope.

And on a side note, faith
may be placed only in failing, flawed Humanity.

We must be tolerant.
We must not forgive,
for to forgive would be to admit
that someone has done wrong,
and thus that there is evil.
That is a lie. There is no evil.
Only inconveniences
or "not the best choice in this circumstance."

The only wrong thing is to believe you are right
and the contradiction of your belief
is wrong.
For there are no contradictions,
(not to repeat myself)
only different perspectives, all
equally valuable and helpful.

There are no solids, no pillars of strength,
no towers of virtue.
They have been banned.

So, I, having found a rock of Truth in the river of chaos,
grip its harsh edges to fight, fight,
fight against the rushing current of scorn.
But now I let go, floating easily for a time,
scorning other ignorant clingers of rocks,
freeing my mind from fear of accountability.
We who ride the river determine its course.
But there is a cliff, a waterfall, and
I fall, lightly, blissfully,
until the sudden rush of air clears my head,
just before I see the rocks of Truth below
and break upon them.

Wiser Eyes

Wise eyes
contain laughter,
bubbling springs of laughter
that hold the world's joy as well as their own.

Wise eyes
contain sorrow,
deep wells of sorrow
that hold the world's sorrow as well as their own.

Wise eyes
contain joy,
quiet rivers of joy
that hold the world's joy as well as their own.

My eyes
linger long,
gazing into wiser eyes
and in their dark, wet, mysterious depths I find

My laughter.
My sorrow.
My joy.

And I understand.

And my eyes
become wiser eyes.

The Shadow

There is a presence in the room
Besides my own.
It is invisible
Yet oppressive.
It hovers and circles,
Taunts and mocks,
Steals the sunlight from the windows.
This presence
That will not leave me
Is loneliness.

Awe

In the center of the flat field
I sit and gaze
at the dark dark dark blue sky.
The moon travels fast tonight.
He has a destination.
Crickets crickets crickets
sing sing sing sing
creating musical silence
in the cool, still air.
The calm of a storm.
Through grotesquely twisted oaks
reaching their bare arms
toward that endless sky
I see lightning.
Silent lightning
behind a majestic cloud.
Raindrops gently fall:
one, two, five, many.
Still I gaze,
drowning in the heavens.
Laughter far off,
distant sirens.
Stillness.
Silence.
Oh God, I am so small.
And you are infinite.
Fear.
Love.

Life from a Swing

It begins with stillness,
then labor.
Kicking hard, pumping legs, pumping
exerting to produce only a small, rocking motion.
The air is hot, until a breeze from Heaven
begins to slowly sweep across my face and
lift my hair.
Now I rise and fall in steady rhythm.
UP one, DOWN one, UP, DOWN!
The rays of the sun filter down and reach,
reach toward me.
I float into one and rise higher, higher.
High... Bliss... Sky... Blue... Sun... Ecstasy...
Then my stomach plummets and I...
FALLLLLL.
Fear and thrill take me and I grip,
grip the cold chains with white knuckles.
Then WHOOOSSSHHH BLURRR
I rise again into the blue.
Joy.
Freedom.
Only breathing.
Living.
Being.
The peak, the summit, joy of life in a moment,
then the denouement.
Slower, lower,
return to gentle rocking.
My feet touch the hard, unrelenting ground
and I walk away, dizzy...
Remembering only the infinite moment
of soaring into the sun.

DREAD

DREAD is a straight-jacket,
paralyzing all but your neck and eyes.
You can turn your face away
with the ever-present knowledge of
what you do not see.
Or you can stare it in the face
and revel in it.

DREAD is a soft, fanged black cat,
stalking you in the shadows,
hiding when you turn your head;
the soft, padding footsteps haunt your brain.
It sharpens its claws daily.

DREAD is a smell, thick, heavy, hanging
about the room. Musty, smoky, choking,
no safe air to breathe. Unseen, unheard,
unfelt, it only creeps into the nostrils
and does its sadistic, curling dance.

DREAD is a murky glass
with appearing and disappearing faces
that mock, taunt. This window shows vague horrors,
this mirror cruel forgotten truths.
Seen through the glass, the reality that you fear
is gigantic, misshapen, made hideous by old stains.

Burst the bonds that hold you.
Knife the feline that haunts you.
Exorcise the demon vapors that stifle you.
Shatter the glass that lies to you.
Grab FEAR by the throat and
shake it till it dies.
And you live
free.

I Have Thoughts

I have thoughts.
And I like to write them down in various forms.
And some people like to read them.
So here goes.