Day of Dismay

A day…

like watered down milk…

– indifferently choreographed between white and grey

– tasting like soup with too much thickener and too little salt scooped from a burned pot

– conducted by a metronome seesaw clock stuck on one hour for half the day,

and then suddenly nothing happens, again, and it’s evening

 

A day…

of night aeons and darkness’s conquests and shadowy ghosts infesting my mind

– preserving its light in a heart-locket necklace in memoriam

– where Nothing sticks like clueless glitter lost on my forehead

– when angels were sought and found only in thought but never caught

– of skulls and crossbones destabilising sanity with orchestral irrationality

 

A day…

of X-rays beaming through my skeleton ignoring my transient flesh in their own celebration of reflection…

– where demons dismember my heart and grill the tendrils of my feelings

– of ego-tripping maniacs grinding me to dust with their mortar and pestle rhetoric

– when my ashes become the spice of the devil’s lust,

–  when ‘burn his soul’ is chanted by the karmic choir at the tortured gates of reincarnation,

and the cosmic eraser is bigger than any of my dreams

 

A day where…

Angst is the fire and defiance the air…

– blood is the drug knocked back with a double shot of death

– the soil that I stand on cries louder than hell pronged on a pitchfork

– I am misplaced like a bee on the sea

– I am like a butterfly squashed in the cooler grill of an abandoned racing car

 

A day…

that none of us asked to be part of…

because it perforates and slices with its shrapnel,

it blinds and dumbs the mind with chaos,

it breaks every ethic and moral and belief,

fatally demanding life and remuneration through recurring vengeance,

this day of the feasting vultures of dismay

uncentered

Cloudman why are you waving at me?

Is there something I don’t see?

cloudman

I am nothing

I am clueless

I am lost

 

No cheque in the post

Fruitless attempts to summit my life, oh yes

Contempt with insanity’s grin

 

Decades have rolled on

Overgrown now the paths I once ventured

Blinded and stuck on some, —  far too long

Sometimes it really feels that I’m done

 

Now, time is called the ‘aftermath’

That little left should be made to last

Create the antecedent of tomorrow

Leave out today’s horror,

relegate that to the past

 

Nothing: is all that matters

Clueless: the more the better

Lost: is the prize not the cost

 

Echoing passage to the future

I lay out there drifting weightlessly
 somewhere in empty space
 surrounded by the darkness of the universe
Floating on nothing
Lost in nothing
I and my thoughts

Unimaginably alone, — solely
Unsad, content, clueless

Too distant even to the nearest star
Immersed in timelessness
About 1:53 am in the feel

The past an ashen memory
No smoldering feelings

I see my future
 winding through an echoing passage
 tiled with absorbing pictures turned into movies
They distract consistently
I am confronted with a view at the end 
A lookout point into future space,
 unlike anything I could ever conceive
Visible is an indeterminately gigantic, 
 colorful, spoked wheel of dimensions

At the hub,
 where all dimensions meet:
 the bright center of fertility
The source of anything,
 known also as nothing
Close together here
 unfathomably far apart further out

It is all so clear now:
 In order to keep on floating, I must stay lost
 and I must stay in a state of not-knowingness
That is pure freedom,
 unbound from existence
My only way back to source

From this virgin source of nothing
 I can follow any spoke leading to any dimension
Each dimension is another universe
Probably entirely unimaginable from our reality
As I engage thus
 I become un-lost in my new knowingness
Now I am bound again

I don't drift towards a new future
I am the new future 
 ...soon to become the newest past
 and be lost and clueless once more

Drifting,
 floating,
 clueless,
 lost in nothing

Towards a new future