Space flies

Space flies

If time can no longer be spent
What is left to do right now
Whilst contemplating the future?

Accordingly it stops approaching
Until I’ve sorted out my life
And spent all my hard-earned money.

Turning around at this juncture
Opens more questions than it closes
The past can fend for itself.

Instead I cleanse myself of resentment
And pay hommage to its acts
Having kept me burning bridges.

From here then, I’m frozen in time
Until I’ve sorted out my life
And spent all my hard-earned space.

Dominant structures

Dominant structures

Soft tissue
Interconnecting nodes
Activation levels
Electrical chemistry
Amalgamating matter
Based on repetition
Based on imprinting
Frequency conditioning
Intensity defining

Can I learn my way
Out of this box?
Inside it’s complicated
Less capable than capacity
Insufficient to grasp itself
More responsible than I have to be
Less deserving of redemption
Yet hot in its pursuit

More to show for it maybe
But why make responsible
An organ so open to influence
A shot of drugs
A hit of alcohol
I meditate deeply
Falling inescapably

Domestication

Domestication

You’re too cold sometimes
Blinding me to the chances
You’ll ever give my soul
The gentle, warm-handed massage
It tends to want to need

But that may not be it
Or at least not all
What if there’s suffering
Involved in finding out
Is it worth our while

You need a person
And I need a horse
You’re wild and untamed
And I seem capable
Of fulfilling that role

Speaking of such
I admit I have a whip
But not that I use it
Except perhaps on me
When I find myself asking

Those same questions again
Should I stop it here
Although more often why
Would I not resolve this
Like I do other problems

Thing is this
I lose interest
And gain lethargy
In a cycle
Time is but a mediator.

The squeeze

The squeeze

We’re in a Mexican standoff
With no one to talk us down
Glock gold fatal stranglehold
Malignant but for some

Power’s too diffuse
Words echo through space-time
Black oily reins no use
Because we despise it

Knowing nothing of them
Not a moment’s inspection
Even holding our attention
Ends in vinegary revulsion

Pro tem they form empires
Built on pyramids of data
Networks of metastatic knowledge
On an already divided world

Our monarchies moan
Our oligopolies creak
Our democrarchies putrefy
Until we fill the void

Hyperbole

Hyperbole

Travel ages the soul
Like clocks on trains
Run fast

Reaching the line’s end
Still deep in thought
Slow the mind

Wasting a journey
Is like wasting a body
Prepare for approach

Arriving unready
Is disrespectful to life
Be grateful

For the change in setting
Or the time-effort saved
By staying still.