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...and they lived happily ever after. Smith & Lady: poets, artists, photographers & adventurers.
Our relationship was forged to the soundtrack of Yoko Ono's magic,
frenetic, love-laden song, "Walking On Thin Ice." ( play song )
 
   
 
 

PASSENGER-SIDE THOUGHTS

PASSENGER-SIDE THOUGHTS

Worry is the crux of a lever that I use to destroy myself, an internal machine of twisted mirrors, no way out signs.

There’s always a way out. There’s a metaphysical spaceship, a perspective with self loft, a bootstrap antigravity easy machine. It works moment by moment pebbles. No thought, or thought with grease. Thought without pain.

But don’t I have to think the cliff again? Take the cliff on the day of the cliff. Do not take the cliff when it is not the day of the cliff.

There’s a brain without pain trapdoor into total sensory stimulation/annihilation of thought. Complete self forgiveness. Free to be a fool, an uncredentialed you, a gentle you. Sheriffs’ badges hurt.

Hurdles hurt. May hurdles be blissful and easy, free to pick up and try again.

Let’s all become happy human failures. Thoroughly fail, then set yourself on fire. Be reborn, a baby from a monk. Purify yourself with dirt.

Let’s abandon the *burden* of progress. Instead, we’ll physically *step* there. I believe our salvation is physical, rock by rock.

The body sweats. Honest aging, not a baby in a braincase, not a coddled precocious immature adult. Eat your sense of specialness. Eat and be easy, walk and be free!

Be real! Dissolve yourself on TV. Rage like a monk on fire or do it back room, hari kari. Integrity–suicide. Self-immolation cigarette burn acid test. Integrity in self loathing, rage. Cannibalize yourself to *show* society…

Roaming heart on the radio range. Highway fantasies–caravans–that it all means something, pavement is new *and* old, the physical commute is an interior one. The reliability of my engine is security. Its drone is a mantra. Ownership is freedom and slavery. Here and there, anywhere.

Money spreads thin over distance. An option is to fling yourself out in a bucket without your social network support, a flying tree squirrel in the desert.

Signs and symbols of the road facilitate transplantation. They are spells: go here, careful, stop there.

The anonymity of the head, the brain capsule, a jail. Your partner in a bucket seat beside you.

Lady


One Response to “PASSENGER-SIDE THOUGHTS”

  1. ke says:

    Great poem!
    Great photos!
    You have a wonderful eye (& ear).
    You see the ghosts in the rust…

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