Lonesome hike, that dragging, sagging will
And on and on into that ubiquitous Form
That stabs at warm, soft, stories alive
That quiets the Pulse somewhere hidden
That makes small the world
Consider: what is the greatest error?
Is it going on without Passion?
Being swayed to pose and pattern Form?
Lacking suspicion when forlorn?
Perpetuating mind and body to perpetuate mind and body?
Where we can we ought to be honest:
Man is no integral “I”
But focused horses migrating focused directions
Asleep and shackled in prison
Blood a dismal yellow
Isn't it strange?
That Great Evolutionary Pull
That drive toward ease
That brought single-cells toward surplus and city
Should now leave us neurotic and dis-eased
Observe the endless Pull
To tame the river, beast, seed
To eclipse the dirt, and branch
To harness the sun and wind
And still those veins pull to lead
I doubt that there is a single germ, which doesn’t feel it
The pulse to overcome and ascend
And yet how peculiar
Man situates his home and his hobbies
Situates to eat and groom and Sleep
He drives on, eyelids drooping
Steers from Formal hoop to hoop
Certified in poses, etiquette, and casual meek
This expansive menagerie doesn’t come cheep
Panic and enslave, perpetuate them bodies and minds
Grand Boredom, Confusion, and Waste
Acquaintances tired and stressed
Unconnected to a clear aim
We float from Form to Form
Suspicious that the effort is vain
Come, lets burn them tracks away
Pull up and befriend our poor inner arguments
We could migrate or stay
Dispense with the Formal Faults
Only Do what we mean, Be what we deem
Come, Divest with the political
Supercede the material
And from a leisurely gate
Stroll down the road
All quiet and sacred
Have you not glimmered whilst migrating north, south, east, west?
I remember the timeless
Into that ‘whatever is the case’
Outside of the City, State, World
Fresh with Vitality, Strength, Self-evidence
And from this I know that I ought to leave
Start from scratch.
From hand to mouth
Directly from the Source
Back to that vital Pulse somewhere hidden
To Depart, get off down that track to the reservoir
Voluntariness is my religion
If there are Formal Faults
A squashing of Pulsing will
To examine slowly, honestly, deliberate
To justify self-evidently
To trim and discipline
Quiet and peel away
From the ever distracting
Beyond that super secret-entropy
And on and on down that insightful exhaustion
I’ll envelop with the warmth and mutual disclosure
Bear the Cold Suffocating Frustrated Hard
Listen for the Pulse ringing in my ears
An alarm from deep sleep
