OneidaDreamer

I'd like to think of myself as freed not separated
perhaps liberated;
A $hit-ton of weight off my soul, but at the same
time it was a comfortable albeit tolerable burden;

Why can't I write about something else?
Hmmmmm? Damnit!!!

Where do I go? Follow the fleeting dollar?
Addiction to a concept, A better way, a more
skilled professional whore?
I think Bette Midler really nailed it " Did you ever know you were my hero? You're everything I'd would like to be. I can fly higher than an eagle. You are the wind beneath my wings"

Smoke; a tattoo awaits the flesh of it's
symbiosis
If you carved into your bone then filled it in
with colour, would your skeleton tell the story
of its own scrimshaw? Would the dagger of your thigh, be inscribed with mystic runes glow, with a supernatural light of its own???

Imagine sinking your teeth into something that's still
drawing breath
The being would instantly sense it's own impending doom
Why even care, in this cruel red tie wearing World?

Attachment, enthralling visions and pungent aromas
tantalize-mesmerize-analyze-fractal-synthesis
Bare bones and carapaces, notched blades, well
worn battle scars, diminish the thought of turning
back;
Attempting to realize something, anything that hasn't been
thought of yet

Thoughts are memories that haven't been born yet
till we write them down, they cease to exist
Are we just thoughts that were given life? We only
stuck around because someone decided to write us down
If we only exist as a memory, and someone doesn't write us
down, or capture us on film, we cease to have even existed
at all
Not so bad, ceasing to exist; some of us achieve a sort
of fecund immortality if our story's told again and again
Our songs are sung through the ages

What is belief, but the desire for a thought to stay?
If thought enough, the obsession may gain physical form
We'll subconciously manifest these avatars
What are good and evil but points of view?
Depending on what you choose to believe, one becomes friend or foe
Neutrality becomes ambivalence, not so much selfish;
but a way of dancing around giving a $hit one way
or another;

My tears are perfect oceans
each a world unto themselves, what does the tears
crystal look like?
What manner of creature calls them home?
Where eyes become the twin suns of these worlds
Giving birth to new souls dreaming of the
day, when its their turn...

OneidaDreamer

I wrote this the day before I was discharged out of the Navy. June 5 2006. It was a heavy duty fork in my short life...

__________________