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Friday, December 31, 2010

As The Year Comes To An End...2010...

As The Year Comes To An End (2010)

1. this year I have written

the odes to past lovers buried in fields of plain soil that they might grow into new lovers for some other lost soul that needs new love to live so that they might give back what has been given in hearts and minds for years to come

2. this year I have written

the haiku of moments sabotaged by natural actions of the world and the unnatural actions of the human condition that put the pieces into place before the pattern was begun that led to this current situation of measured rhythm into polyrhythmic dance movements that are so quick and precise in their exacting execution as to define beauty through moments like single breath prayers

3. this year I have written

stories of internal struggles with fear and external journeys into conquest, or contrasting defeat with lessons about living woven into the fabric of the eternal goal to acquire that which was lost or that which has been unknown as if to discover life as new and original once more

4. this year I have written

epoch poems in celebration of the history of words from the time of charcoal rubbed on cave walls, sticks scratched into drying clay, blood ink on animal hides, the oily essence of natural ink scrawled across papyrus that led to pressed letters on pulped pages and finally electric impulses onto binary agreements of light typed into contrast blazing out from liquid crystal displays of the gathering of all words of all times ever searched for

5. this year I have written

celebrations for all of the lives that have set my flimsy craft through space and time from the past to the future and back to the here and now as the stars all beam down from the heavens and my eyes look up to see if there is the glimmer of more hope on the horizon that my fragile vessel might make it further into the year to come as it moves off of the momentum of those that passed away into an unreachable darkness abandoning their shell upon life's waters with my words bidding farewell

6. this year I have written

about the dissection of the troubled times around me as more and more seems taken from us all and the vanishing of everything seems to happen all at once in succession after succession of no discernible victories but many notable losses in the face of heated rhetoric as all life seems to be getting pushed around a great gambling table by unseen hands of greedy prosperity and world order

7. this year I have written

all about the day to day struggles with the damage done way after the needle passed through and the dish ran away with the spoons until every little thing seemed massively trivial and overwhelming so that every mundane aspect of getting up and getting the day started was like a psychic porcupine that emanated from the smug smiles of those who had it on the ball and on the go the way I didn't and I poured it out about how I felt my way into darkness with broken hands and wounded spirit held together by duct tape and bailing wire but the arrows and slings kept coming and the shortcomings even happen when there are lights to see the world go by so quickly as to leave me behind in an overwhelmed amazement all alone

8. this year I have written

about the love that never dies and the lust that is in my eyes and the collision of beauty between the two with its sticky residue of aftermath and afterbirth to the quenched desires of lasciviousness and depravity for the sake of escape from internal demons that are always best defined by the images of those I have objectified and exploited for their raw appearances as human bags of fluid dripping lubricants of ideas and thoughts become primordial action for the sake of grand release into the moment just before collapse upon the human heap of yearning that has driven prose since symbols made flesh a record of interest

9. this year I have written

annals of war, moments of peace, outbreaks of violence, natural disasters, human borne illness, unnatural catastrophes, punitive decisions, privileged allowances, superior advantages, manipulated outcomes, ironic comeuppances, karmic disintegrations, economic reality, political surrealism, democratic depravity, socialistic frenzy, fascistic tendencies, mass hysteria, massive corruptions, biographical fictions, anarchistic revelations, superseding hopes that truth might become the faith that the world is finally guided by

10. this year I have written

creative works with the motive of profit so that I might know a new life

I began eight novels, five screenplays, a television series, a short film

I failed in these attempts, but I have followed them with my truth about what life

looks like to me as I dangle on this lonely precipice above the hungry void

wishing on stars that might only be airplanes in the distance

or satellites in high orbits up above


that I might have one more chance to stand up on my own

one last time

so I can wave good bye

to everyone

kiss my children

my grandchildren

hug them tight

and finally

let it all go

for good

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