This Room

This Room

There isn’t much of an echo
In this lonely room.
I don’t hear any voices
In this lonely room.

Are there other people
In this dark and lonely room?
Are there ears to hear me
In this lonely room?

I cannot tell, so cannot say
If I am all alone.
I would act the same and do not care
If I am all alone.

Is there a window? I cannot tell
In this dark and empty room.
A bit of light and noise comes
Into this empty room.

That is why it is hard to tell
If I am alone.
Faint light, shadows and voices come
Though I may be alone.

I think a lot and listen some
In this empty room.
I talk and try to work things out
Though I may be alone.

I am mostly content to be here
In this empty and lonely room.
But it might be time to close the window
Even if I am alone.

Dwelling

Dwelling

Poetically man dwells

Though he may be starving

Or resort to casting spells

To put off pain or dying.

Dwelling means, poetically,

That in a city or on a hillside

Man is rooted deep and meaningfully,

Is more than facade or an isolated inside.

Scientifically man excels

In satisfying his desires,

In avoiding funeral bells

And preventing and extinguishing fires.

When he thinks scientifically,

It seems all of nature abides.

But it is only superficially

And pragmatically that it provides.

Indeed, science may fix,

But dwelling makes a whole.

While science plays its tricks,

And get us to some goal.

But dwelling sees what’s lost,

As well as what is gained…

Sees values beyond the cost,

Beyond what the calculations have explained.

Drowning in Entertainment

Drowning in Entertainment

These days entertainment...

Well, it is entertainment.

And there is so much of it,

That any real art drowns in it. 

Into entertainment we escape,

Instead of getting bent outof shape

By what might provoke thinking

Or inspire us into believing.

Art is not soothing and beautiful.

That is mere escapism, a refusal.

Art should question and create.

It should both defy and determine our fate. 

It is a Janus Head, or it is not art.

It needs complexity and potency to play its part. 

In the end, it needs to be dynamic, creative.

Entertainment can be merely distracting or destructive:

Of time or belief or tradition.

Art can not destroy without also giving a new vision. 

Survival: The Chaotic and Beautiful Art

Survival: The Chaotic and Beautiful Art

Authority is only right
Because it is oppressive.
The tool of the strong and rich,
Whose need for power is obsessive.

So say those
Who insist that all is mere construction.
They gaze past their navels to their toes,
As they call for social deconstruction.

For it is constructions that impede,
That hold all of humanity back—
Withhold the power to succeed—
And are responsible for every lack.

But don’t they also hold back hate?
Don’t they restrain greed and selfishness?
Constructions help us navigate,
And let the storm control us less.

We are perpetually town apart,
By the storm in every one of us.
Thrown from peace back to the start,
By our passions and our biases…

Constructions narrow our vision,
So we can better, together, make our way.
They bridge divisions;
Setting the rules by which we play.

Constructions mediate it all;
Curtailing the war of all against all.

Authorities and radicals both play their part,
Because after all…
Survival is a chaotic, but beautiful art.

Suffering and Meaning

Suffering and Meaning

Suffering is insufferable,
And why should we bother to suffer?
Isn't it always preventable?
The fault of some ignorant other?

Nature is not, cannot, be the cause.
It is a game played by our rules.
A reality ruled by our laws.
Our suffering must be caused by fools.

As if suffering is the worst thing,
We drown ourselves in meaninglessness.
We forgo the goals struggle may bring,
To sustain some empty happiness.

It's a way of amusing ourselves,
But not one that will cause our death.
It allows us to distract ourselves,
With each hollow and thoughtless breath.