The Absurdity is in the hand wringing… The worry, strife and sorrow.
The furrowed brows, the panicked fears, the big plans for tomorrow.
I wish I knew this earlier, a regret of wasted time.
Not learning to laugh sooner in the gutters and the rhyme.
Better late than never is as close to no as yes.
No one’s getting out alive, unless I’m wrong a guess.
It is still now in the sunshine. With the cold we take a rest.
Never one for patience or that gift to know what’s best.
We wait it out or blunder and that might look the same.
Somehow we made it this far. Still in this wonder game.
My friend Victor died a few years ago and last night I saw him and talked to him in a dream and I have never had this type of experience before. I just want to record this and acknowledge that this happened. In my dream, not knowing it was a dream I embraced him and told him that I missed him and began to cry.
Then I woke up and remembered this clear as a bell!
It’s double masks in the morning, get a break at mealtime.
We take them off to feed and breathe and recall the past sublime.
A past in which we still complained however never once of this.
No more public washrooms… it’s those little things I miss.
We plan a little better, or we feel our way by touch.
Staying silent and hold it in… the masks they hide so much.
From the safety of the Tele, we watch it all go down.
Not all… is truth or fiction, not all is swim or drown.
It’s kinda funny how it hits you, when we are all alone.
Beauty is just skin deep, but ugly goes to the bone.
You feel that the darkness, that roams in your own heart.
It is looking for a cuddle, but you come to rip apart.
Just try to face your demons and see the color of those eyes?
Just once try to calm your fears and listen to your lies?
You may never get there, maybe like the land of Nod.
Where Cain is still searching, in the shadows seeking God.
The feelings were confusions.
The expression was surprised.
The product of delusions.
The truth had somehow lied.
The children were selected.
In the group who would be spared.
No deception will be detected.
If you smiled like you cared.
It works for just a time or two.
Because bullshit baffles brains?
Even babies raised by wolves.
Know about deception pains.
Only once in my life have I gone to a fortune teller… It was in Vancouver in 1985 which means I was 26.
The Fortune Teller was an Asian man not more than a decade older than me and didn’t offer one piece of fortune telling prophecy.
Instead, what I remember was he told me to take care of myself, take care of my teeth, go to a dentist, eat fruits and vegetables, meditate, get proper rest and things of this nature.
All of it good advice however at the time I felt ripped off because I was expecting something different.
In hindsight what he was telling me was, “Don’t be afraid to invest in yourself… Which is about the best advice I’ve ever received.
The bad luck raised suspicions, on a path that was beat down.
No one dared to look within or see the wise men in the town.
It was happening for eons, as long as Grandad could recall.
Like a dark foreboding plank walk or a dream in which you fall.
Until the child spoke her words that, “Maybe somethings wrong with me?”
So we made a meeting with the Doc, down at the Family Psychiatry.
The doctor raised awareness and we all took a look.
Things are looking so good now, might take Grandma off the hook.
Now life is far from perfect however the family’s not so sad.
Looking in the mirror, not blaming blind luck, good or bad.
As a child you are a victim, an adult, a volunteer.
So many wrongs, and self abuse, in time to disappear.
The unforgiven have a prison that is dark and wicked deep.
If the unforgiving don’t let go then neither one can sleep.
A great unknown, that time has shown and sometimes looks like change.
If letting go has left some marks, then no words can rearrange.
Tears of laughter and tears of joy, they look the same I guess.
You killed my dog, I’ll kill your cat has no virtues; I confess.
So try and find forgiveness, or maybe just understand.
That if I hurt you I must confess it wasn’t really planned.
The divided have confided that their views are not the same.
Their voices speak of choices and trend towards disdain.
Their passions are their fashion’s that they wear so well.
Being right and black is white and no arguments can quell.
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