Sanity
Sanity is a funny thing.
It often seems that the more you emphasize your own sanity, rely upon it as a sure thing, compare yours to others, the more likely it is that you are in fact not sane.
On the flip side, it seems to me that questioning one’s own sanity is one of the surest signs that you are NOT insane.
It’s like the Sufi story, wherein everyone drank of the water that came from their wells. One person kept some of this water in storage. One day, the water coming from the wells changed, and everyone who drank it behaved and believed completely different from how they had before. Further, they had no memory of the water that was before, or that the water was ever different. The person who had stored up the old water, however, continued drinking from his stockpile. As a result, he saw that everyone was acting in a manner that they previously would have considered insane; and any attempt he made to convince others that they had changed was met with ridicule. He even offered them some of his stockpiled water, and they considered him mad. As you can imagine, he became very lonely — yet managed to drink only stockpiled water…until one day, he decided he would rather be insane like everyone else, rather than sane and alone. So he drank a cup of water from the wells, and promptly forgot all about his stockpile, and behaved like everyone else. Everyone else, by the way, was relieved that the poor addled and insane fool had finally come to his senses.
01.22.05
A School of Truth
The world is full of empty headed fools —
their courses set by half truths and whole lies —
who trust their leaders, and obey the rules,
and bow to every bright new flag that flies.
To cry “Alas!” that there are such as these
is pointless waste of energy and time.
One might as well imagine every breeze
a hurricane, each pole a desert clime.
Each seeks a level suited to their stage,
and to expect the masses to react
against their nature’s book (line, verse and page)
is to deny both illusion and fact.
In such a world, it’s difficult to keep
from thinking that some doom is close at hand.
A wise observer oft can only weep,
while knowing their tears, few will understand.
And yet, despite the cruel and senseless scenes
that seem to dominate the nightly news
(where gloried ends achieved by any means
are often praised as righteous, sacred views)
some things still retain power, and unscarred,
escape vain rhetoric’s ensnaring noose.
Despite how it may read on the cue card,
truth cannot be perverted for misuse.
Some may abuse it, twist it, change white black,
by their perversion cast it into doubt,
but some part of it, pure and strong, fights back;
and in the darkest hour, it will out.
The trick is finding what truth is in you,
that inner core that no one can corrupt.
Against that strength, no matter what they do,
all lies must end, and lying tongues, shut up.
With that accomplished, even mindless fools
may start to overcome their empty state.
A shame they don’t teach that technique in schools;
perhaps we should, before it is too late.
22 JAN 2005
| Posted in Poems | No Comments »
A Dirge for the Left Wing
So we’ve inaugurated him
the Jingo Kid, ol’ Cocaine Slim
to serve again as our great chief.
Despite the obvious belief
of many folks that he’s the spawn
of Satan. Soon he will be gone,
and who will fill his king-sized shoes?
That we’re in sad shape is no news,
and four years hence things will be worse
fed evil pap from this wet nurse.
I wonder, though, if just for spite
the constant scheming God-filled right
won’t train a Democrat or two
to follow on the Shrub, Part Deux;
and hoist some harmless seeming Left
upon a nation, now bereft,
its sense of truth and honor gone,
its holy cause, freedom, a pawn
used as a ploy to sell your way
on next inauguration day.
I’ll end with this, and make it brief:
next time you pick our chosen chief
be sure to check at your hairline
for three tattooed inverted nines.
22 JAN 2005
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On Adding New Friends
Sometimes I feel there’s not enough ink,
and spare electrons can’t be found
to pull out from the ether what I think,
so I pull in all the excess wood around
and burn away the wheatless chaff
in giant billowed clouds of smoke.
Sometimes I’m trying hard to laugh
so the whole world doesn’t seem a joke.
And other times I feel the need
to just devour the world outside;
so I look for endless things to read
that tease me, soothe me, or provide
a viewpoint quite unlike my own.
If I add you to my friends list,
which today has greatly grown,
it’s because I can’t resist
the urge to share part of your view,
without intruding, just because
I find pleasure in reading you
and knowing of your joys, the flaws
you find in worldly things,
the ups and downs that each day brings,
the songs you sing that I too know
(and strange new ones, that even though
are not my cup of tea (or gin)
may find me humming right along).
Each day’s new entries help begin
the chords that make up my own song.
And if you find what I may say
from time to time worth reading, too,
though where the path leads, none can say,
I’m glad to share a mile or two.
22 JAN 2005
| Posted in Conversations | No Comments »