Dude, Dudie, Duds

I thought of your cat whose name I didn't get
 But it's not important so I really won't fret
 Worried he's not either, I'm willing to bet
 Especially where previously we'd already met
Did he call me by name or show me disdain?
 Not at all, he spoke to me seeming perfectly sane
 And trusting that I was too
 we became friends without further ado
 No naming at all, what for, we both think?
 I know you without this common, predominantly human link
And if I let them, whoever they are
 they'll probably devise a number and a code like a bar
 and then scan me and file me and categorise me
 never to know me, only to show me and see me from far
I don't need your name and fit no one's frame
 To you I'm a cat and I don't play your game
 So don't belittle me with your silly names
 Ineffable I am and unapproachable in fame
Rise to my level and speak without words
 we can think to each other just like the birds
 Cause when I sit there and dream or look like I sleep
 I'm in a world you'd be breathless to peep
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mornings – or the gift of time

Which other period of the day has the gift of time like the morning?

If I rise at four and go about my business I am never running late. Even when I get entirely absorbed in some activity and forget time, – when I look at the clock again, thinking, “gosh it must be late,” it is not half-past-six, no, it is ten-to-five. Quite unbelieving I can settle back relaxed and continue once more with my activity without any stress. And even if I feel the need to check again after a while, true to its promise to give me time, it will still not be half-past-six.

Early mornings miraculously give me the gift of time.
Don’t many of us just snooze through this period totally oblivious to its potential? When eventually we leave sleep behind we most likely are already running late. That means we are behind in time. We are trailing not leading. Having given the day no opportunity to present us with its gift we will conceivably never catch up during this day and because everything is late, and by some universal law just gets later as time goes by, the next morning sees little chance of presenting us with its gift either as we need to catch up on some sleep.

The morning presents me with a credit in time. Fortunately I have realised this early in my life already so I’ve made use of that ‘free’ present quite extensively.

I ask myself why would I not want to receive that present gracefully?
Somewhat greedily, hungry for more time, I look around if I can find more than one morning in a day. Maybe there are, I am still looking, based on the idea where there is one there must be more.

I do know about the relativity of time however. Some times are longer than other times, but, according to the clock they are the same time. I didn’t invent the clock, but if I would have, I know I would have not come up with something so pedantically accurate, monotonously torturous, boringly consistent, ridiculously invasive, stubbornly un-negotiable and unbearably, frustratingly unstoppable.

Maybe time exists? It’s supposedly one of the building blocks of the universe. Time and space. That’s according to man in his infinite wisdom. Hah.
But the clock can hardly be called an ingenious invention as far as inventions go. Inventions usually give me something. What does the clock give me? Time? You must be joking!

That is all besides the point now because contrary to popular belief, as I have found out, you can actually get some time back.
The earlier the mornings I can manage, the more credit I have in my time account.
And there is no currency that comes close to time. I am a ‘timelonaire,’ yeah, yeah!

Four o’clock going on half-past-three.

post human catism

Leopard
Nothing escapes cats. Not even while they are sleeping, because they actually never sleep. That is far too human a thing to do. They are quite un-human, especially when gracefully floating along showing off that they had already reached the next stage of evolution where defying gravity was normal.

To them these humans stalking precariously on two thin, long stick-things called legs,

– sometimes even extended to the verge of toppling by silly, long attachments to the soles of the feet, – balancing a body that to them always looked like it was ill-proportioned and on the verge of tilting or falling, – kept in balance and upright only by the odd angulation of various body parts hinged on joints like knees, hips, back and neck, – strangely without wings, which most other two legged creatures had for the very reason of poise and grace and of course for other much more important evolved activities like flying and soaring, and that would have made the world of difference in maintaining some dignity in presentation and movement,

– was probably an experiment of nature gone haywire, especially when comparing their cat-babies’ innate ability to move on all fours from the earliest age onwards to that of human babies’ lack of any perceivable abilities, which, well, as they (the cats) saw all around, took forever to get off their bum and then, oh dear, with an array of predictable and unavoidable accidents, miraculous escapes and painful crashes culminating in screams and cries and other bigger stick like variants rushing around continuously in a fluffing-flap without wings, – endangering themselves and everything else as they attempted rescue operations they were never, respectfully, designed to attempt, causing the rapid withdrawal of all but the most relaxed Garfields.

Humans, huh, somehow they survived and the sleek super-cats had to fight for survival.

Odd, very odd indeed.

(Picture credit Hannes Lochner)

cloudy days and then the moon

Was life difficult?
It was a sheer unscalable cliff-face at times.

Was it sad?
It changed my bone marrow into tears and my blood into salty rivers of pain.

Was it lighthearted?
It was like the tumbleweed in the air and swallows playing in the sky.

Was it happy?
It was like falling in love, gaining eternal youth and winning the lotto all at once.

Was it consistent?
It was as mutable as the weather, as restless as the ocean, as jonesing as the flames.

Was it logical?
It was always way more or too little.

Why did I live it?
Because it had everything I ever dreamt of and all I never wanted, – till the realization that what I didn’t want I didn’t have to think of, and then it was gone and I was left in my dream world.

Could I control life?
I could never control it. Often I was a slave to my thoughts till I became their master, and I was the inventor of my nightmares till I became the creator of my dreams, and now life is forever in love and flirting with freedom. The less I demand from it the more it gives me.

Can I change my horizon?
Of course I can! I just fly higher; gain altitude; dream more prodigiously.

Then why do I cry?
Because I leave behind what I know, thinking that what lies ahead is less then what I had before.

As I am I will be and so I will be in every moment what I am.

What am I?
What I want to be!

I am!

When light shines from within and light is all around there is no shadow, that then is my life and dream.

clue-clue-clueless

DSC_6355
I have no clue who makes the dragonfly fly
 I have no clue why you're reading this
 or who God's father is
 and why you cry
I have no clue even when I search desperately
 I have no clue why you're loving me
 or what makes me breathe
 it's all a melody
I have no clue why you're so beautiful
 I have no clue what put me here
 or why you're killing me
 was I unsuitable
I have no clue if life's even real
 I have no clue why I live in an igloo of pain
 and why I've lost the fire to relight the flame
 but for the moments we steal
I have no clue why scars embody infernal suffering
 I have no clue why i struggle in vain
 and why I don't even feel any shame
 puppeteered motions on a string
I have no clue why I flick through screen after screen 
 I have no clue why yesterday's laughs are now dead 
 or why the man with the gun is so bad
 religion's not mean
I have no clue where ageless finds the fountain of youth
 I have no clue what it takes for sad memories to flee
 and my mind is screaming to just let it be
 running from the truth
I have no clue why my picture froze a moment in time
 I have no clue why my heart still beats out a rhyme
 or why not happiness is mine
 the mirror repeats the same video line
I have no clue why I've run from you and from me
 I have no clue if there's a raison d'être
 or why such sweet fruits we share 
 a random event i also could be
I have no clue why my path tears into confusion
 I have no clue how you forgive and pour love over me
 I'm missing completely that 'happy to be'
 a mind full of frantic profusion
Does the waterfall know about a symphony of tears
 does the music know it's dying in me
 composing a final tragedy
 in my crystal of fears

what is it with Nothing

Nothing was there, abundantly so
Wherever I looked I was seeing it grow
Nothing was filling my thoughts with hot air
Nothing was here and Nothing was there

Nothing was pushing and shoving my life
Still nothing kept happening ’cause Nothing’s alive
I couldn’t do nothing, should ‘I’ve been moping around?
So Nothing was tasked and Something was found

Still something was nothing but now had a name
It hung on the wall in a pictureless frame
Day after day Nothing looked down
All my visitors just gave it a frown

My head drones like a court of bouncing balls
But they’ve found nothing to jump back and fall
Forever they travel and question their fate
Still out there, they bounce louder of late

Nothing found Nothing and made it his wife
Now there were children of Nothing a rife
Nothing took over my mind, soul and space
Blimey no wonder that nothing was safe

Nothing had taken whatever I had
It used it and made more nothing with that
Turned into nothing I beg you and ask
Was nothing the point of my colourful past

Could it be Nothing that carried the seed
Of everything and everyone I was going to meet
Was it then nothing that was something at all
Misunderstood like a hole in the wall

Nothing oh Nothing what is it with you
Would it be wise to be working in two
You give me nothing so I fill it up
Now we can pour from my over-flowing cup

As I get drunk and happy and laugh
Nothing is dancing to show me the path
Leading away from nothing I see
Much more of nothing, much more to be

Now that I know what Nothing’s about
I can create my own voluminous cloud
Never again will I need to despair
Because Nothing’s my friend that’s why nothing is there

this is what Freedom says

Yeah,

do what lifts your spirit into the sky
do it with all your might and a warrior cry
look back only to connect all the dots
never mind ’bout some of the occasional flops

live in the fulfilment of your dearest of dreams
even if you have only the meagerest of means
dance every moment, as if you’ve just won more time
keep the momentum you’re reaching the top of the climb

Humble up, drop all pretence, find your own way
don’t beat round the bush, voice what you wanted to say
then write what your soul always needed to speak
and look at what makes your heart skip a beat

give where you can and smile all the time
laugh when it rains, laugh when the sun shines
touch and hold hands as oft as you can
look at the eyes and be a true (wo)man

bounce and swing and tell the world you’re a king
enjoy every move don’t miss out on a thing
give all your loving and softness like a fairytale queen
cry tears of joy ’cause your life’s so ama-zeeng

bow your head and burst out with appreciation
sit quiet and sink into meditation
take a deep breath and calm down the beat
trust that what happens will be beautiful and complete