Archive for the Philosophy Category

plans askew, more to come…

Posted in afternoon requiem, JL Stories, Opinion, Philosophy, Poetry, thoughtful trips, TWTC, Unanswered Questions with tags , , , , , on October 2, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

greed of the suck-fish

gettin’ bombed watching sunday
untangle the last of her hours,
smoking cigarettes that go down
like water. rainfall outside fights
a rear-guard action keeping the
cloudy sky in place. the only
forward movement is in time.

whomever wanted it badly enough
could feel the electricity; inherent
in swallowed ovoid capsules.
transformational acrobats are all
the rage in this delicate town.
almost nobody watches the slow moving
grass waving in the foot-breeze.
short attention spans virtually
guarantee this misdemeanor attraction
generates moderate success.

by varying account, autonomics rule
the day as it constricts the loose
hours spilled out over the afternoon.
tomorrow is already given over
to a celebration of the old days;
today is the pocket the key must
pass through before being inserted
into the lock. pandoras box will
spring open on its own.

sam cooke sings while i write…

Posted in bumper sticker stories, Cigarette, Ha Ha Funny, Laughter, Loveable Losers, Philosophy, Poetry, Psychonauts, thoughtful trips, TWTC with tags , , , , on September 29, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

my own world

there was talk of black
curtains to fence me in but
we didn’t need anything that
serious getting in the way.
natural light to one side
of the neural window; add,
subtract, see how it plays out
& never worry.

playing pretend with glass pistols;
billowed smoke playing the bullets
sprayed around the room hoping
for gawdsake that nobody
gets hurt. the psychonauts ride
again for points distant.

————————————-

It’s been a while since the psychonauts rode. The time is coming soon & if you’re not ready, opt for sanity and hope. All others 5 cents a head. That’s meat for the roaster; we are the fire under the spit.

late in the day considerations…

Posted in Cigarette, Descartes, Opinion, Philosophy, Poetry, thoughtful trips, travel, TWTC, Unanswered Questions with tags , , , , , , , , on September 23, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

& what are you, anyway?

if i laugh too openly whenever
the razor closes in on one of
those mainline highway tours
it’s only because i’m holding
out hope that someday i’ll
grow up & be a cigar-store indian.
i test myself for sanity every
time i wake-up having watching
myself catch river-water in a net
under semi-dark skies.
everything is plural here.

next to the impossibly blooming
cigarette flower were palm trees
lining a riverbank illustrating a
pretense toward chalice duty
had the the sky not been so cloudy.
forgetting such experiences is
one of my chief preoccupations
& the way i spend most of my
starting into space time.

it fades to a regress of half
captured images memorable only
for the gaping holes in each frame;
the rest is mist, something about
the sun god apollo, maybe a
pattern in the camel smoke drifting
past my eyes. everything dissipates
into the same extirpated landscapes
& actions as actual rainfall
weighs on everything trying to stand
straighter tomorrow than was
possible today. cigar-store indian
training continues apace.

————————————–

Dedicated to normality. It’s more unique (at times) than one might think or expect.

warped fields & gravitational theory…

Posted in Opinion, Philosophy, Poetry, thoughtful trips, TWTC with tags , , , , , on September 17, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

& why & why

twisted out straightened lines
tying the asphalt to the dirt,
holding it all back from strangulation.
all kinds of extractions stick
to evening hours already stretched
past endurance final strand. at an
unknown time it’ll break free from
formulaics presupposed by theory
when honest-to-life experience
disembowels already parsed possibilities
spit into discussions held at all the
finest institutions & asylum.

success in the aftermath of birth or
death played as desire for the non-
possessed. it won’t make sense
in time or space. we’ll do it
anyway mostly because of declining
potentialities.

enticement to momentary adulation…

Posted in bumper sticker stories, Cigarette, Funny Morning Stories, History, Laughter, Philosophy, Poetry, TWTC with tags , , , , on September 9, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

omphaloskepsis

it got easier when i realized
not every problem requires a
solution; substitute ephemera
watchin’ a cherry smoldering
in a soon to be stolen ashtray
straightens out my evening hours
faster than pacing back forth.

holding my breath in a pocket
without a reason while my faithful
incendiary waits on my hand
to descend & bring the smoke
right up to the pearly gates.

neither of us has the countersign
& the wrong one knows our
schedule. sitting one-to-a-booth
with enough time to notice a
high-watermark stain reaching
for the top of a leased coffee cup,
i wonder if any of us are
washed frequently enough to
get any kind of close to clean.

no solution to the moment.
trying to share some sense
of a saving grace during
consultations with all
involved; it’s easier to
pawn off neverending nights
knowing there’s always
another hiding behind
tomorrow.

too much going on to worry
about the coffee tasting
like cigarettes. waiting
on an explanation is out of the
question; even a complaint
would take too long. looking
around the booth, around a
mostly empty restaurant, at
a mostly empty pack of
cigarettes wondering what to
do when the last one burns out.

———————

Got a cigarette?

the other end of the rope…

Posted in Late Night Silence, Laughter, Learning About Life, Marisol, Opinion, Philosophy, Poetry with tags , , , , , on August 29, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

zany antics

it was easy as listening,
developmentally capable of
debating pascals wager until
ease of passage overwhelmed
the refractions of short-timer
echoes as strings & reeds
vibrated their way from M-
theory into popular conscience.

passing out cookies to a large
crowd of heretics displaying
his generosity; stunning yet
too easy to imply real sacrifice.
verdict passed on via the
jealously wrathful, late to the scene
carrying its own semi-translucent
luck.

miracle kilter sounds like
hooves rhythmically tapping
cobblestone streets in some
forgotten era. even
without horses the sounds
come to life born again
on the backs of draft animals
pulling their weight &
a few pounds that rightfully
belong to a rider.

all of the signs & most of the
veterans agree on some
obvious equivalence. past that
i wake up hoping for luck
& the kindness of marisol. poly-
synthetic luck responding to
desperation if not prayer. aesthetics
aside, she’s holding air signs
in the water while i stand
on solid earth. copernican logic
in Linnaeus’ world.

we speak different languages
with equal precision & talk for
hours about anything but
everything.

—————————————–

During tough times it is necessary to find even the small synchronizations of hope for better days to come. Johnny Cash sings again from the iron house, & in this fucked up world, even the hurricanes end up unimpressive. Not so for the eyes of the girl looking to the past for a map of the future. Dedicated to my own sleeping beauty. Where words fail trust is the coin of the realm.

war as necessity…

Posted in History, Learning About Life, Philosophy, Poetry, thoughtful trips, Unanswered Questions with tags , , , , on August 21, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

war as needed

somebody is always asking
what kind of man Napoleon
might have been had he captured
his Corsican homeland instead
of burning the armies of monarchs
for fun & profit. maybe the
arsenic coulda been saved;
of course Bernadotte clan might
have something to say about that.

the rabble never tire of this passion-
play regardless of what Pitt might
have tried. historical role call
continues same as ever. Iraqi pr soothes
whatever an empty suit can’t
convince by blowing smoke. there’s
no shortage of bodies or donated limbs;
more that never changes in usefulness
to men with stars over shoulder
& dreams of fortunate valor
covering whatever limited
intelligence was there to begin with.

dead bodies can’t comment;
living ones can’t wait to replace
the fallen. as is, as was.
where else would a jobless fellow
find a paycheck & a chance
for future advancement?

—————————————

History as the past. Fun time to be 4F, especially considering what’s coming next.

sleeping through storms…

Posted in Philosophy, Poetry, Politics, thoughtful trips, TWTC, Unanswered Questions with tags , , , , , on August 18, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

waiting for a reason to move

perched above an afternoon
self-motivated as a coma patient
with much the same attitude.
everything waits on the arrival
of short term lightning-in-a-bottle;
what we need is the cosmic guarantor
to make good the promises so
freely given. even storm-laden
august afternoons know that.

instead just more silent acceptance
& serenity prayers both ack-
knowledge easy borne truth of
timely dis-intervention. when i
was asked to take it all on faith,
i smiled my best smile but
my answer didn’t change.

—————————————–

In honor of deities & starvation. Starting with an easy one does not bode well for those of us waiting for answers to even bigger, more complicated questions. I wish I was hungry enough to eat a burrito. Those kind of things.

1220

Posted in Ha Ha Funny, JL Stories, Laughter, Learning About Life, Philosophy, Poetry, TWTC, Unanswered Questions with tags , , , , , on August 11, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

1220

i didn’t wanna see straight
anyway.

another ant wandering over
butcher paper,
lost on the maze, or maybe
my imagination or something
in that vein of logic,
rationalized inebriation after
session’s end; all roads go
in the same few directions &
every last one of ’em
ends in the same place.

i didn’t wanna try too hard
or think too long about
unproven theory of an admixture,
this wasn’t time or money
or questions regarding either.
facets of the equation complicate
all the variables until the
known knowns are known, if
not longer. i’m dizzy
enough as it is.

we shared a few words between myself
until nothing was resolved. hysteric
education in the after-effects of
dynastic change; there used to be
medicine for this kind of thing
but nobody sells it anymore. now-
adays most doctors recommend
continued breathing as a cure.

i couldnt shoot straight.
i didn’t wanna see straight;
lucky for me i never had
to walk a line, least not a
straight one. what does
easy street look like
anyway?

the interstellar tennis match…

Posted in afternoon requiem, Philosophy, Poetry, Sports with tags , , , , , , on June 27, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

the interstellar tennis match

i wasted another afternoon
speaking to the dead, again.
words & words & words,
& more of the same. time
as mind under the unconquerable
sky.

i stopped caring for specifics;
there is a more exculpatory
evidence all the time.
i can live with that, despite
some evidence to the contrary
turning heads as if following an
interstellar tennis match with
extreme equanimity.

whatever is wasted in the strain
of the temporal seeks homeostasis,
same as everything else. peaceful
avenues once held mobs; ask the
de Witt brothers. piss-pot logic
& dime store psychology aside
(if only for a moment) it still
rests easier when it rests.
sacrificial qualities or lust for
blood or slip of the tongue all
seem the same from here.

the interstellar tennis match is
tied.

————————————–

Dedicated to Bento & Russell, with thankfulness as always. “Caute” indeed.