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…minds of my generation destroyed by apathy, starving, hysterical and full of nothingness.
And now we think we hold the key to world peace, to pacification innumerable
And man, be he the first or the last now can only hope that he is at best nothing, nothing becoming no one
Who desires is ever truly satiated in this thirst. All that is hoped for is the one single drop of pure unadulterated goodness. What is this thought that in men we see the cowards crawling in the street hoping for something to come
And save them from themselves, the rain never stopping as it pours through their eyes and expels itself in the urine that will see, someday the great coast of the Gulf of Mexico, mingling with thousands of millions of other molecules, all and each
Who have been expelled into the same fate. We are like the water, drifting aimlessly mingling with others but never being changed in our constitution, washing out to sea through a long and arduous journey. But
Our journey is an inner one, through our own mind, and we each seek our own way to ease the path, we walk on nails, broken glass. But
Who wants to walk on nails and broken glass when we can, or at least hold out hope for, the rose petals, or down feathers to walk on?
Who knows how to find these though? We all search for something; there is medication to be found somewhere. At the bottom of a bottle many have looked, but that is just one of many linings. Have you heard of an Amazonian tribe, they take flowers that grow high up in the canopy of the forest, and grind the petals to snort for its hallucinogenic effect?
Who knows what they see up there high in the trees, living for subsistence and fighting back the consumerist will of capitalistic culture?
Who knows what it is like to be one of them, but it is known, by heresy mostly, that it is not an easy life. We live in the era of ease and ergonomics, the new deal and the end of the cold war, terrorism and tax cuts,
Imperialistic rule, the return of the aristocracy, the gentry, minimum wage jobs, not a living wage, poverty, discretion is key, equivocation everywhere, the ideals of a nation once free being questioned, the enemy is everywhere, even in your own
Who knows the path? Men have been thinking since they arose from their forelegs, and there has been nothing consummate in their thought.
Happiness is just a release, not an answer. Why look for god, the bottom of the bottle, the sex, the men and the women to make you feel good, the temporal pleasures that we deny ourselves in the name of salvation, of the diving good that will hopefully come after the inevitable death that will befall everything with a pulse, everything that
Relies on something else for its survival is doomed to death. The tiny protozoan to the blue whale, to man, to the dog at my feet, to the great nations and empires that have soared, now and in the past and in the future, to this world, and
Man, primitive and modern, will despair, at the death of all these things, or none of these things, yet remain reflective, knowing that life is not easy, the end will come, and no one can be really sure about the after, the uncertain future…