Lavender Libations

As we sit here becoming

sardonic and mute,

While the world becomes

a video-short deception

of the worst satire nightmare

we could have conjured

Inside a baren fantasy

of our grandfather’s childlike paternity.

It would seem as if

the greater sweetness of life,

becoming who we ought to be

by freeing our minds

from what we were taught

and what tradition protects us from

in living in experimentation

and rediscovering the toughest

aspects of our unique desires

which we find in each other -

That becomes a distant chance

when the lawful expression

is dictated to be polka -

and only pola -

And God loves bad dancing…

He always has///

Because he must be a man -

Only men know what’s best/

And they hate dicks-

Because they own them

and know how much of a burden it is

to want to fuck all the time

yet not have any lotion.

Maybe next year we’ll figure out how to find some essssssential oils…

And relax a little.

Then 10 years later find out

we could have just settled in a little more

and become a greater community

living within Nature’s bounty.

There would have still been some room

for sex, flowers, good food, and quantum phyics.

Maybe the universe IS actually trying to tell us something.

Maybe our sophistication and intelligence and hive guidance, otherwise known as consciousness, was a test…

Whether or not we could use our ability of choice and graduated institutional knowledge since the Enlightenment to be in unison while humbling ourselves to avoid destructiveness and greed…to discover greater things…or become something greater…

and become galactic stewards.

In another timeline, or in another universe…

I’d like to think this was possible.

And our presence may have permeated a slighty essence of light lavender into all of nature…

And created something altogether new just from being here.

Now I think it may be better if, after we’re gone,

it would be better to erase the record of us having been here

to preserve the salience of betting on chance

and admitting to failure

by keeping our better foments of art and communion and love

while presenting a few key facts of why we failed.

But nothing more.

What can be learned from constant self-mutilation other than to instill what not to emulate, and how to repair the damage once it is always visible? Once you can’t take it back in sight, in expression, in being scarred to the soul.

Life isn’t a bastard’s virtual playground, after all.

We do have sacred beginnings.

We defile ourselves at our own peril,

of our own making,

and at the dereliction of

our seraphic core,

at one time available and insipient

to us all.

We have become unrecognizeable,

insipient

in our collective mishandling

of modernity,

the systems we created

controlling us

and falling into control of the

most simple-minded and scrupulous among us

While we flail in oppressed fervor

or denial…

It is uncertain what distant particles

or embers

will do with our ashes.

We are just a moment

in the grande schema

of what has always been

and what becomes

tomorrow.

But only the past and the future are fixed.

We still decide what this moment brings, ultimately.

Even if we fail.

There are examples,

and they will be found…

no matter how deeply buried.

There’s something in the air

that somehow finds a way to tease out the finest particles.

And bring them through into the open skies.

Not everyone will see the seeds blown asunder

but the next generations will know and feel

who tried to provide something better for them,

and who resisted those forces

which aimed to take everything for themselves

even when it forsook everyone now

and everything that could be

in the future.

How heinous an existence would that be,

to know that you killed humanity’s chances

to exist?

There must be no psychological precedent

to grapple with what that does to the man

that is willing to do that

for his own personal greed.

I’d rather smell more like lavender,

even if the lavendar far outlasts me in particular.

:)