Sunday, November 16, 2014

Learning to walk but not to see

 

how am I supposed to be something to you

I don’t even know what I am supposed to be to me

 

first I figure:

 

I forget

everything I possibly can they said

everything they said about my culture

everything they said about my people

everything they said about my family

everything they said about my parents

everything they said about me

 

second I figure:

 

I learn

everything I possibly can

everything possible about my culture

everything possible about my people

everything possible about my family

everything possible about my parents

everything possible about me

 

Now is when it started

Now is when I see

 

I see

my self clearly

know my self clearly

understand enough clearly

 

I was never supposed to be something to you

I was always supposed to be something to me

 

clearly I see how it was all divided:

cultures

peoples

families

parents

me

 

The verity in and of creation is art

The verity in and of the universe is art

 

Art is not separation and division

it is the creative expression of the whole

Art dose not dictate that you hate the flower and love the moon

Art does not dictate that you reason the ocean superior and sky inferior

 

If you let it

 

Art teaches individual and mutual appreciation of the two as two

and as one

 

I don’t need to be something to you

You don’t need to be something to me

 

Some say it is their plan

Some say it is how they stay in control

 

we already were something

we already are something

we always will be something

 

we just needed to see

the beauty of the art that is eachother

the beauty of the art that is you

the beauty of the art that is me.

 

©Christopher F. Brown 2014

Thursday, November 13, 2014

Too many reasons for things not real



There,
underneath the streetlight as day fades,
supported by the concrete walls.
time and space slow around you.

I remind myself;

“This isn’t really happening,
its just me,
its just part of the crush that has crept upon me.”

I speak
to hear the sound of your voice
to see you redirect your hair
to watch your lips move
to delight in your every intellectual postulation

I remind myself;

“Dial it back
keep it in check
don’t make it weird”

I sprint through all the reasons why it would.

This is a one sided crush:
of the party of the first party
which would be me

“I'm going to get coffee before this thing starts. I’ll talk to you latter.”

There,
underneath the streetlight as night has come
I stand alone on my feet
time and space resume

I remind myself;

“This is just me
this never really happened
if he was interested at all
he would have said,”

“You wanna come too?”
© Christopher F. Brown 2014

Saturday, November 1, 2014

Stars And The Youniverse

 

Coded meanings

with ancient names and tongues

 

Symbolism of elements

and self

 

Symbolism of senses

and self

 

we

and all things

come from one

and many

 

we

not all

want to be one

not realizing

 

we

and all things

already are one

 

©Christopher F. Brown 2014

Friday, October 31, 2014

Liturgy


Words written about words, dressed up and out
put into form, given and told their one purpose
convoluted and confused, some surplus
misunderstandings gives way to much clout

What do we know of words and their meanings
What do we know of words and vibrations
Sound, waves, dancing about constellations
ears feeding brain, brain feeding the knowings

Pomp and circumstance costume and confuse
form betrays function, style betrays intent
gather clarity from hidden content
Does complication of form block the muse?

Complicated style masks simplicity
Simplicity reveals intensity?

©Christopher F. Brown 2014

Thursday, September 4, 2014

Transfiguration

 

There is blood in the wind

unknown why, unknown where it will lead

the moldy metallic smell gives cause to object

for some reason withheld from my thoughts my eyes wont close

for some reason withheld from my thoughts my eyes wont shed a tear

how is it that my soul remains content

 

What is this new content

somehow depravity and my heart wind

righteousness and good rent and tear

letting this unknown lead

close, too close,

I don’t know but I must refuse, I must object

 

what is inside this soul that has become nothing but an object

this new thing that is forcing me to call it a soul, what is its content

this new soul’s hands will not close

this new soul’s speech rides on the back of the wind

this new soul’s heart has the heft and poison of lead

my old eyes still will not shed a tear

 

Take it from me even if it means you have to rip and tear

beat it out of me with a dull and blunt object

this new soul is poison, I will reclaim my lead

with this new soul I will not be content

There is blood in the wind

it comes to close

 

to close

this new soul will not have my tear

riding in the wind

I will object

I will not be content

I will not let this new soul lead

 

I  lead

I will make all open paths close

I will craft the content

out of the tear

that object

that refuses to ride in the wind

 

Blood is the content of the wind

As it draws close, my tear becomes its desired object

As it draws close, it leaves me because I refuse to abdicate my lead.

 

©Christopher F. Brown 2014

Tuesday, July 15, 2014

A Review of Barry Glassner's, "The Culture of Fear"

IMG_20140715_190528It was an over all ok read; i would love to see an updated edition, "Fear revisited" or something of that nature with updated statistics and new information. In the book they reference soldiers as having GWS (Gulf War Syndrome) which is now umbrellaed along with the term "post traumatic stress syndrome." Little things like that would make a, "2nd edition" an even more enthralling read for today's somewhat aware generation. Its a very good read for those who have some suspicions that the things that are being told are not true, its confirmation for the rest of us that know the things that are being said to us, or about us in my case and chapter, are not true. An excellent book for anyone interested in Journalism, Sociology, Psychology, Skepticism, Politics, Critical thinking or theory. If you study any one of those subjects, read this book because you very well may reference, "Fear" in the future. 

The down side is also the good side. This book has a copious amount of data, names of institutions, names of studies, articles in journals and research papers, as well as official titles politicians and scientist so much so that you can practice your speed reading and skip every third word. It is akin to that huge amounts of various greens surrounding a solitary salad shrimp you are given when you by a prepackaged shrimp salad. Over all a very good read, very good book. You can skip some stuff, even a chapter maybe.

 

 

Saturday, June 7, 2014

Someone Is At The Door

Egypt & China were ancient long before Rome

Greece taught them how to translate.

The Inca, Maya, and Aztec already were very old

When A new world appeared at their shores

 

For two hundred years India attempted to retrain her invaders in her long ancient ways of civility

 

North America, Australia, and Africa tried to show their captors a spiritual connection could be attain working with the land

Not forcing it

They all spoke of

and still do

speak of great calamity otherwise.

 

When the men on the boats came to the islands by the night stars

The men on the islands showed them that

If they watched and listed to the waves

It was just as easy

 

I read that its now possible

To go live on mars

even the moon

 

I wonder what we will do

when we get to a far and away place and find

Someone

Something

Is already there.

 

© Christopher F. Brown 2014

Southern Men

What is it about southern men

they have this charm

much like smelling incense from afar

 

You can not see it

but once you smell it

you can almost feel it

 

moving about in the air

taking and making its own way

not intruding upon or begging for space

simply existing in their own

 

when you do see them

these southern men

their words seem to match their body

their moves seems as a mystical dance born into them from a time long ancient

a time whose name was lost long ago

 

Their speech is akin to song

not in so much as what they speak

but how they speak

twangs

drawls

lazy vowels

slightly forced and gently pushed air in the middle and end of sentences.

 

These southern men

they have a sense of knowing

a sense of collective individuality

mixed with comfort and ease

unique and similar to them one and all

 

even in the way they are shaped

curves seemed rounder

skin tones richer

hair fuller and baldheads smoother

 

I'll only use the word

gentlemen

to say that they are not

to say it is not the thing,

its more a quality of character that they seem to share

These southern men

 

it may be in they way they say hello with their smiles and every so slightly

show you a mystery in the corner curve of their profile

their gait and posture entice interest more than lust

try as i might to put my finger on it

I fail

 

they do not have the same defensive and raw edge of east coast men

but when they do reach a place of anger it is well known

 

they do not have the same cavalier sun worshiper disguise that might mask a master hustler or genius urban intellectual as west coast men

 

but do not mistake their quiet of words for absence of thought.

I've known southern men to contemplate the entirety of the universe the expanse of existence

while speaking in between sips of iced tea

or rambling while working on an old beat up truck.

 

Their eyes bewitch but not beguile

You are always a willing participant and always

if only slightly

aware of what is happening

 

Its not that other men do not have their own

it just has been for me that

Southern men

have always been like an interesting story that seems new everytime you read it

that first edition of a rare book that most have never heard of

that most fascinating work of art you see at the fleamarket most would pass by

 

If you have ever known a southern man

you understand

they seem to somehow speak to a place in your soul asking,

 

"Might it be alright if I enchanted you?"

 

©Christopher F. Brown 2014

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