(dis) comfort

Eos arises to wake Helios to ride his chariot across the Heavens,
As I arise to the invariable dawn of the dilapidated day to come.

Bringing with it an insipid populace to digress,
In muddled masses within their own bemused existences.
Through the mind's eye impeded by an expedited culture,
Intolerable of uninhibited thought;

Or could it be that I am intolerant?
Intolerant of the conventional social life that is the American dream,
Of a house,
Two-car garage,
Wrapped in a white picket fence,
being a wife,
with 2.5 children,
A cat,
Dog,
And a gerbil.
I shudder in fear at this fate of a 'civilized' life,
Wilting away within a growing darkness of the monotonous,
Mind-numbing parasites that are the upper middle-class...
Day after day, their meaningless lives drone on incessantly,
Reminiscent of a pair of twin propeller engines of a DC-9,
Throbbing in thunderous succession.
The very thought of this sort of habitual routine becoming my own,
Aggravates my mind into madness,
Frantically clawing away at the roof of my skull,
desperate to flee from the cubicle working class drudgery,
Until death do us part...

Eos arises to wake Helios to ride his chariot across the Heavens,
As I arise to the invariable dawn of the dilapidated day to come.

I sigh with a heavy heart,
Mulling over endless inquiries of what is,
Can,
May,
Could or could not be,
A pure and true awareness of self.
Is there, no longer, a place on this shallow Earth for a free mind?
Have we as Humanity hit a brick wall?
Who, then, is left to ponder and question
This progression of knowledge and lack of understanding as to why we are here?
What has happened to the ever increasing, theories of what comes next?
Where have all the philosophers gone?
When will selfishness, greed, hate and bloodshed become taboo?
...If ever...
Peace is not a hope in this day and age;
Instead becoming more and more like a deplorable cruel joke,
A might more mythical than a man liviing in the moon...
...Made of cheese.
What has happened to us since the Renaissance?
Is this what has become of the Age of Enlightenment?
Why is every novel idea to come along, now challenged as false,
Before contemplated upon as a possible truth?
How has Mankind become the stagnant, socio-cultural idiot savant it is today?
Will we ever stop with this obsessive compulsive,
Self-gratification to 'upgrade' our lives?
HDTVs, iPods, Blue Ray Discs, Digital Cameras
Or anything else we may come across in the new mega-stores of gadgets galore.

Forget Global Warming.
Forget Starvation.
Forget Disease.
Forget the War.
Forget the Threats of WWIII.
Forget Poverty.
Forget the Hate.
Forget Genocide.
Forget the Exchange of Blood for Oil.
Forget the Dying and Dead.
Forget it All.

Shut yourselves away from the rest of the world,
Hiding within your comfortable suburbanite track homes,
And complain about the REAL problems of your own little worlds:
Rising gas prices,
Raised taxes,
Recession,
The switch to High Definition
And the size of your fucking television set.
Utter nonsense to prattle on and on about,
Sheltering the populace from the callous realities of this newborn century,
Frighteningly evocative of 1984.

Eos arises to wake Helios to ride his chariot across the Heavens,
Illuminating an ever expanding, chasm unto social redundancy.

Michael Stipe sings it best:
"It's the end of the World as we know it... And I feel fine."

Treasure

Guard your comfort, dear, guard your heart,
The wealthy have overbought and undersold their memories.
Even if they duplicate your treasures, they still will never love them for the reasons you have learned to.

It's a painful mistake on her part,
to try and become someone just because that someone may be happier, prettier, truly more free.
But she will not learn that.
And out of everything you can give her, you cannot teach her to love herself.
She is Midas in a world of unpolished gold.
And you are a god with no care for shiny things.
Be flattered my dear.
Because your beautiful soul is sparkling never the less.

And she sees it.
And she can't stand that with all her riches she can't buy your happiness.
Even though she thinks you are the kindest soul she could ever meet.
And if guarding your simple joys is the only wrong you are doing,
does this really mean you are more noble than she?

She sees it.
You deserve your treasures, and a true gypsy would never let them out of sight.
But she will give you a chest with lock and key.
And she will help you fill it with goodness.
If you don't want her to know where you have buried that,
She will respect that, too.
Just remember that no money can buy a shovel long enough to dig down into your heart.
Hell or high water, love.
You are so big in her world.