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Selfless soul

You promised things would be so much better once we left the baggage of our flesh behind. You blamed your faults on cell tissue and hair follicles. But now that we've arrived to this perceived utopia, I see your arrogance and self pity has survived.

How shallow of you to believe it was the demands of cartilage and marrow that fed your ego. And what now, as we float upon this cloud number nine, with nothing to stir and no mechanism for your devices? How shall I stroke this impossible ego, with no bon bons or trophies?

Do you miss your mirror and the reflection of your golden locks? What do you have now that the vanity of your image has vanished? How shall we feed your narcissistic tendacies? How then will you greet this maker of things, with nothing to primp... naked...and no language of the body to disguise your true self?

I see now that this eternal life shall be a very long time...JM

Silent fight

I don't like when you call me names, but please do... afterall what else are you going to do with that trifle vocabulary, you so love to haunt. I forgave you long before you gleamed, I seen it in the way you plotted your eyes and crossed your knees. Who knew alphabet soup could be so revealing?

Why would I care, I've taught lots of enemies, remind them to stay high on your trek through broken pedestals. You see, anger comes and danger grows, and this too shall last. I'll cherish the times we never had, and count the minutes til any memory of you returns. I forgot who you were long before we met, because I feared this moment.

You were my hero, in your flowing escape, reaping small guildings and piastre when slitting gullets. Where shall you hide in that mask you found, with your lone stranger? I know that somewhere over this strange glow, two-thirds cry; but why should I? So, I'll save this last glance for clues, as these glowing ambers sting my retreat.

...and say goodbye to bellowed shrieked odes...JM

U ask Y...
Current mood: blasfermackered

I'm tired, tired of things. Tired of trying mostly. Seems I'm always trying to do something. Trying to make more money, trying to help my kids, trying to fix something, or trying to get someone to understand something. Always trying. I suppose if I weren't trying to do something, I'd be doing nothing.

I try hard, I try a little and sometimes I barely try. But at least I try. It is no coincidence that try ends in "Y". The word tri is the homonym for try, and coincidently means the same in the subjective experience. Tri means three or threefold. The word "try" is threefold, not unlike the holy trinity. When we "try" something there is the attempt, and there is the outcome, however the outcome is two fold in that we succeed or we do not succeed. Because we are only "making an attempt" the outcome is never predetermined.

Ironically or not so, the word try ends in "Y" which also has a homonym which is "why" Now the letter "Y" is also threefold in that it has three points. One could look at the letter "Y" as a road with a fork and understand that when you try, you have left room for an alternative result.

So the more I try, the more I ask why and the more I ask of Y. Because it is inevitable that everytime I try, it ends in "Y". Confused? Me too, but I at least I know "Y".

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