Saturday, May 9, 2009

Journal 7 - Rancid Sleep and Ennui

The fall afternoon glow is forgetful in the twilight
of another day where penguins chatter like cocktail
parties pretending nothing is coming but the wakening
tides of tired eyes and scampering feet. The days are
long and tiresome with eyes glued together with
sleep that eludes the father and the daughter.
Why have mornings become torn with rancid smells
and stumbling feet; walking through hot milk and
dry coffee? Yawning never seems to accomplish
much, but stretching the skin over my jaws and
squinting my horrific eyes. Salad is nice on days
like this. Dawn lays down an orange kiss that
follows tempestuous little sisters to their sleep,
hollow and watches the teams of reindeer slip
drugs to each other waiting for their time in
the limelight. Nothing sacred when the world
is secular and no longer in need of the sacred –
crucified on the cross of selfish anonymity where
each religion is treated the same – with condescension
and faux tolerance. Religion was the opiate of the
masses. Now it's entertainment and psychology.
Ennui is the new god – praised for making it through
another day in a lonely disembowelled cold universe
where all that is is matter – not even understood by
the experts themselves. My back hurts but so what.
Teamsters carry the day, and shallow thoughts
of each Neanderthal descended person drop like
stones in the ocean, leaving ripples that betray
influence but lead nowhere. Lead me to these
shallow oceans and let us begin again with
first principles and unfold the layers of the
world until we find again the hand drawn work
of the divine smiling like a happy mother playing
peek-a-boo with her children. Always there even when
not seen, God is like a hangover hanging around each
torpid day reminding us of our previous misgivings
that is cured with living water only obtained from faith
and tribulation. When the night comes from passing
through to the other world what will I do? Will I smile,
yell, jump or piss my pants?


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