The Tree That Would be a Bridge

A tale of self-sacrifice.

Once upon a time, there lived a tree.

This tree grew up like any other tree.

Her roots planted firmly into the ground,

She grew up tall and she grew up right,

And took in each day and absorbed all its light,

Casting shadows, where her fruit fell,

To feed the creatures at night.

But this tree was special,

She saw things a bit differently,

Like you and me, this tree could see,

And she knew an important thing.

She wasn’t the only tree in the world,

There were others, so many others.

She was happy for the few that surrounded her,

Even though they were very different from her.

But so many were on the other side of the creek,

And many, she saw, looked just like her.

“Other trees like me,” she thought,

Stretching her branches wide.

When she noticed across the river,

On the other side, those other trees who looked..

Like her, did the same.

It took some time, trees are very slow,

And very patient, but she raised her branches,

Stretching them tall, and to her amazement,

So did they all.

This repeated for days until finally,

She thought, “I must meet them.”

And began an arduous plot,

She would stretch her branches every day,

Reaching, slowly but surely, to meet them.

Season after season passed, as bit by bit,

She made her way across the creek.

Until suddenly, she felt a sharp pain in her trunk,

And everything went dark.

Other, strange looking trees came,

With their axes and saws,

Uprooting the tree, cut without flaw.

She was aware of it all, aware the whole time.

And there really isn’t an appropriate rhyme,

To convey the horror of this crime.

But, the tree thought,

As she was reshaped into a bridge,

And stretched across the creek,

To help others live,

“There are worse fates for a tree,

than being a bridge.”

And in the fall, when the fruits and leaves,

Of the other trees like her covered her completely,

Like a warm blanket, she felt her wish came true.

And the bridge lived happily ever after.

As for those other strange trees that moved over her, they lived less happily, but the bridge was happy to help them move across the creek, as she had so desperately wanted.

Fawning

“Someone who smiles too much with you can sometimes frown too much with you at your back.” – Michael Bassey Johnson

I want to please you,

To appease your pain,

Drain out the anxiety

Plaguing your brain,

Fawning, I’m dawning

Desperately trying

To be– everything

To everyone, hope

A prayer, for you

Solemn wishes, for you

Lingering thoughts

For you, shared concern

For you, that need..

To never be like me.

To never endure it all,

To never have to see

That truth buried

Deep, deep inside..

Where I can’t save you,

Where you have to want it,

Where you have to let go,

Of everything you are

And think that you know,

Be shattered, be broken

Be mended but destroyed,

Be obsequious, be a fawn

Flatter me with your will

For us to survive, be mine

Be mine, be everything I need,

Keep me always in mind

Keep on trying to save me–

And when the mask slips,

Cover it in kindness, bury it

Under the unkempt rug

We both know is there

Underneath the facade,

Where unhealing pain lies

Provoking lies from you,

Lies like you can save me

Lies like healing prayers

Lies like traumatic memories

Reminding you, in echoes

The past is always there–

I say, let it lie there

Let it lie and ferment

And rather than draw lies

From it, create truth instead

Create it in words, create it

In art, create it in music,

Create it in farce, create it

In drama, roleplay and LARP

Create joy with the sorrow

Let it all resonate out

Don’t pour it into others

Let it flow out of yourself

In babbling brooks linked,

Awaiting the day, when finally

Thirsty fawns come to drink.

Cognizance

A portrait of humanity inspired by Gertrude Stein.

Something happened, someone wrote something,

Some who wrote something happened to see something,

Some lied about some seen thing, some lied about knowing,

Some saw something, something some wrote about,

Some lied about something some didn’t see,

Some lied about something some did see,

Some lied at that instant, some lied later

Some lied later and at that instant,

Some lied to some close to them, 

Some close to some certainly lied to some close to some,

Some close to some lied later to keep some close to them,

Some never asked questions, some punished questions,

Some questions never asked left some uncertain,

Some were uncertain but certainly trusted someone,

Some certainly trusted someone enough to never ask questions,

Some did not know some lied about something,

Some certainly knew some lied about something,

Some killed because some saw something some didn’t see,

Some saw something, some certainly saw something,

Some were afraid of being wrong about something,

Some were afraid of some who certainly saw something,

Some were certainly afraid of some who certainly saw something,

Some were certainly wrong some were certain,

Some certainly killed for certainly being wrong,

Some certainly died for being certainly wrong,

Some certainly killed for being certainly right,

Some opened seals, some certainly opened seals,

Some certainly opened seals opened certain gates,

Some gates were certainly closed for a reason

Some gates were closed for a certain reason,

Some opened seals opened closed gates,

Some opened seals opened the lake of fire,

Some could be forgiven, some did not know,

Some knew some already were forgiven,

Some certainly knew some already were forgiven,

Some knew some forgiven could do anything,

Some knew some forgiven could certainly do anything,

Some certainly knew some could do anything,

Some certainly took advantage of some knowing,

Some certainly took advantage of some need,

Some needed to take advantage of some need,

Some needed certainty to take advantage of some need,

Some did not know what some knew,

Some did not know what some did not know,

Some did know what some did not know,

Some claimed to know what some did not know,

Some knew what some claimed to know,

Some were cast in, some were cast off,

Some certainly knew what they did not know

Some were certainly left behind with not knowing

Some were blissfully left behind with not knowing

Some blissfully left behind what some certainly knew,

Some certainly knew some were left behind closed gates,

Some blissfully certain knew no one ever knew,

Some certainly knew something blissful happened,

Some certainly blissful knew something unknowable,

Some certainly knew something blissful,

Some blissfully knew certainty unknowable,

Something happened, someone read something.

The Underminer

Can you dig it?

Did anyone ever pretend to dig you,

Just to get under your skin?

Personal benefits to miserly benefactors

Withdrawn from your bank account with interest,

Collected & deposited in gold-lined pockets

Where human nature wipes its sweat,

Masked by predatory pleasantries and passing facades

Always taking you by surprise, hooking you,

Undermining mind, flesh, and soul for gold:

Adapted alphas who sense weaknesses

Studying you to exploit the resources,

Pick-up artists who drew you up

With subversive strings attached to those hooks,

Puppeteers of personal, political, and financial gain

With tentacles plunged into every trauma,

Powerful pricks with vulnerable victimhoods

Triggered by guilt, doubt, and flaws,

Daddies without children, impotent without abuse

With raised fruits fermented rotten,

Priests without bells molested with faith,

So sick with sin they want to end the world to end,

Leaders who led us into their personal hell

Trumped by adversity grabbed by the pussy,

Fallacious failures collapsed into themselves

Who always think they know you better than themselves;

Their passion is poetry burning in me,

Their power is mineable gold to see,

Their privilege is tangled up in weeds,

Their dirt is sifted between the lines;

I dig them.

Daffodil Fields

“As the perfume of jonquils, you come forth in the morning.” – Amy Lowell, “In Excelsis”

Too many nights, I’ve wished myself out of existence

Knowing as insomnia plucks sleep: There are no dreams here–

The dreams come in other’s thoughts, like knives

Hitting nerves that swerve us off the highway,

Over the railing and into the Ohio River,

Where we wake up and find ourselves, alone again

Awoken to new realities where nobody floats but passing fish

Feeding on polluted proteins populated with parasitic plastic,

Mixed with oil that goes down well with our fatty acids,

But then no one would know what you did, and still do;

Walking in your fields of flowers you believe worship you,

Unworthy loves lingering in eluded celibacy, a tripped trap

Collapsing a narcissist exposed as she projects me into her field

Where I become her flower, then his flower, and their flower too

Plucked again and again and again in spite of the changing climate,

Plagued by regrowth in memories that never stop coming–

All I can do is count the petals, fallen from the dead daffodils

Who never knew if they were loved or not, like Narcissus

Torn to despair by the person he wanted, but could never be,

One by one they were all plucked, all the little lost pieces

Growing along with them, always trying to please, a naive soul

Plucked by dogma, truth plucked by lying minds, an identity

Plucked in gas-lit apartments filled with illusory children lost

In plucked dreams penned to poetic pots placed on pedestals,

Desperate for water plucked by thirst and wilting, clipped leaves

Plucked one, by one, by, one, a slow-stirred shaman brews,

Pouring himself down the world’s throat, that vacuous vomit purged

Always, always, always will say more about you than me.

Us

Imperfections we all have, but we also have compensations.

Orbiting asteroids, adrift in Kuiper’s belt,

Around, around, a lone teapot is compelled

Both existing and not existing, Schrodinger’s teapot

Lies on the edge, never knowing or known before now–

Why would it be there if its truth were not to be poured?

How did it survive in the cold dark abyss? Not a crack or stain

On, it goes on with it! God, they would call it, “Oh, Teapot!

Great Porcelain One, steep us in your waters and tell us

Who

We

Are

Save us, witness us, deliver us from sin, pour us. share us

Bare us, reveal us within; tell us how to Be like You,

Show us the path to Glory, Glory, Hallelujah, Amen!”

Us, Us, Us, Us, Us, Us, Us, Us, Us, it’s always about Us!

If it were to reveal itself, we’d shove Us into it–

Within a week it would be broken, failing fractures fighting

In a crisis of pride as faith pours into pried pieces of porcelain,

Purloined peaces filling empty mugs become dust and ashes

Swept into black holes under cosmic rugs, thrust into the beyond

Where they too seek truth in hollow spaces filled with imagination.

Bell Towers

All we heard was the sound of the world coming down.

It’s your face

I was never facing

Without grace lost in racing,

Always pacing, pacing, pacing,

Keeping step but always wasting

With you, you, you, always, always chasing

But today, I’m done with the debasement

So come on ghost, let’s face this–

No matter how much time we waste here

Before we leave we’ll meet there

Like old friends we’ve never been

Too distanced, disinterested, and disassociated

Dishonestly drowned bridges always crumbling between us..

I

distance

myself

From you, I’m sorry

We were friends back then but that was all

Before the war, before the bee was stepped on

And your mother lied, “All bees go to Heaven,”

That Christmas, Santa left footprints

We followed them and found grandma

Asleep in the kitchen, asleep in the casket

Asleep in the ground where we followed each other

Walking away ever since–

Ring,

Ring,

Ring

Those Bells, we can always hear them–

There’s really no way out, so let’s come together

Ring, ring, I’ll ring with you, from now to the end of existence

No more running, no more weight, no more shouting to drown it in hate

It’s you & me here resonating doubt, in broken rhymes & toxic mists,

Building vesper towers that should never exist–

If we resist we’ll have lied to cissation

Madwomen’s chimes lost in procession

Roots: Strings

A philosophical exploration of Truth and the truths that obscure it.

Truth is like strings.

Knit it together with the fabric of your experience and you can make a fine coat to wrap yourself and your grotesque imaginings in.

Tear it away, you’ll reveal a naked and mad animal lost in a void beneath.

We live in an absurd universe that our limited senses and all of the tools we have created are incapable of truly perceiving.

Our lives are so small and short and painful in their own ways. Death is always on the horizon.

We are only capable of falsehood as we are ultimately incapable of knowing any objective truths. Deep down, we all wonder if we were to just— let go of all the lies we tell to cover up the truth, that the Truth would then actually be revealed and the fabric of reality would completely unravel itself.

So, we keep hold on our strings, and make certain we stay grounded, scooping up bits of fabric from reality and knitting lovely coats we tell ourselves are real. We move through reality saying things like, “This is who I really am,” believing whatever it is we might believe about the experience. We are all wrong.

The only “Truth” I’ve been able to infer is that there is none, there are only subjective experiences that vary from being to being, who may or may not exist.

I have no way to even know I even exist apart from the experiences I have affirming themselves. But it’s impossible to draw any real truth from that other than what’s subjectively garnered through my limited senses and tools. We can claim little pieces of fabric of reality we pick up and tell fabulous lies about them, but no matter how much we bury ourselves in falsehoods, we’re completely incapable of knowing anything for certain.

Overwhelming, isn’t it? I’ve been using “we” a lot just to try to be inclusive of you on this journey with me, but the truth is that these are all just things that run through my mind constantly. I’m always denying these wild ideas I think are true and making a A LOT of assumptions to move through this experience, acting as if I’m entirely wrong about everything I believe deep down in the void.

I’ve got a lovely, but torn coat made from my experiences. A long time ago, I went through hell and my coat was torn off, I saw the void on the other side then. I know I’m not the only one who’s been there. A man there offered me his coat, and I wore it for too long. It took a long time to shed his and get mine back. His wasn’t the first I’d worn either.

We’re constantly trading around coats like this, changing always, becoming different and different and different. Often, our coats aren’t just made of one material, but are an amalgamation of different materials hastily stitched together by our truths.

Even if we have perfectly functioning bodies and minds, the flaws we cover with our coats are ever-present even in the best of us. Layer your physical and emotional flaws on top of these, along with trauma, the weight of the burdens you carry, etc. and this existence can quickly become quite unbearable.

We are constantly seeking out ways to cope with our flaws, especially the ones preventing our understanding of our own ineffable nature and the nature of reality. We’ll buy into anything sold to us. Anything that we can take with us to keep the void beneath well and truly hidden.

This is a great problem for humanity. We must presuppose so much in order to function. Whether we’re religious or not, simply existing takes something of a leap of faith, be it faith in ourselves, faith in others, faith in the laws of logic, faith in our subjective truths, etc.

You may be thinking, “Oh no, she’s going to preach to us about God now isn’t she?” And yes, I am, but not like you might think.

Religion provides some powerful strings to guide us through life, showing us where and how to pick up the best fabrics and design the perfect coat, but just like in all things, the moment people proclaim a truth as Truth, it becomes a falsehood. There is no more Truth to be found in religion than anywhere else, no matter what some apologists might say. Most religions are designed to show people the void. They are taken to the edge of the unknown, shown the nothing beyond the veil, stripped, and emptied out; fresh vessels ready to be filled with happily bought falsehoods.

This isn’t to say religion is inherently bad, no, just inherently human and constructed like everything else we’ve built. No one has the answers we seek. No one can, and anyone claiming they do is a liar who probably just wants to control you for personal, political, or financial gain.

I’m no better, I want to control you too, but I want to control you in such ways as to enable you to control yourself. As I peel back the layers hiding the void in others, I’m careful to whisper, “It’s okay to be empty. It’s okay to be no one. It’s okay to be small. It’s okay to be meaningless,” It’s okay that all of this is true. It is absurd, we’ll likely never make any sense out of it as our senses are so limited, but that’s no reason not to try.

Trying, against all odds, to exist is really what life is about at its core. We can’t know, we can’t understand, but we can always try. Now and then if we try, almost will be good enough; almost existing, almost speaking Truth or almost living our lives by it, almost prolonging life, almost sharing burdens, etc etc. Anything that stops us from trying cannot be a good thing. Truth, therefore is not a good thing. When we think we have found Truth, we stop seeking it and raise our falsehoods in praise above our heads, shouting them to the heavens for all to see and hear our grotesque imaginings. That is the one thing we should never do.

The Bible says money is the root of all evil. That’s a lie, the root of all evil is Truth itself. Money can be the root of all evil if, perchance, money were your Truth and you live your life acting to maximize potential for it. But then again, maybe good and evil don’t exist at all.

Maybe, somehow, in some great cosmic contradiction, none of this is true at all and I’m just as wrong as everyone else upholding falsehoods, but it seems likely to me given none of us is capable of answering the most fundamental questions, that it has to be true, but I’ve been surprised plenty of times before, particularly by existing in the first place!

Whatever this experience of existing actually is; whatever my nature and the nature of reality are, I’m glad I’m here and I’m compelled from the void on out to try to understand it and my place in it. Whether or not I actually have a place is irrelevant, it’s the trying itself that matters; we should never stop trying.

I think that if we maintain critical awareness of our limitations and flaws, seeing ourselves at all times as the Emperor and knowing we have no clothes, we would all be able to navigate our experiences more effectively. We might always be aware of our limitations and flaws, constantly coping with them and never living in denial of them, and we might become less susceptible to people offering truths in order to control us for personal, political, or financial gains. We might become less likely to lie to ourselves and to others. Rather than taking on coats and burying ourselves under falsehoods, we might live comfortably naked and mad, but always trying to prove ourselves wrong.

For me, that’s a hopeful thought and I hope it’s good food for yours. I’m great at being wrong! It’s one of few things I can actually do right, and I’m sure you can too if you try.

I wish I had more to offer, but beyond that, all we have is subjectivity. We tell truth at our best when we embrace our limitations and flaws, and pour our subjective experience into one another like wine, from one ineffable void to another. I’ll leave you with a song that does exactly that and a hope you might create truths to share with us one day too. Enjoy!

If you hate the taste of wine
Why do you drink it ’til you’re blind?
And if you swear that there’s no truth and who cares
How come you say it like you’re right?
Why are you scared to dream of God
When it’s salvation that you want?
You see stars that clear have been dead for years
But the idea just lives on
In our wheels that roll around
As we move over the ground
And all day it seems we’ve been in between
The past and future town

We are nowhere, and it’s now
We are nowhere, and it’s now

And like a ten minute dream in the passenger seat
While the world was flying by
I haven’t been gone very long
But it feels like a lifetime

I’ve been sleeping so strange at night
Side effects they don’t advertise
I’ve been sleeping so strange
With a head full of pesticide

I’ve got no plans and too much time
I feel too restless to unwind
I’m always lost in thought as I walk a block
To my favorite neon sign
Where the waitress looks concerned
But she never says a word
Just turns the jukebox on and we hum along
And I smile back at her
And my friend comes after work
When the features start to blur
She says these bars are filled with things that kill
By now you probably should have learned
Did you forget that yellow bird?
How could you forget your yellow bird?
She took a small silver wreath and pinned it on to me
She said, “This one will bring you love”
And I don’t know if it’s true
But I keep it for good luck..