It’s been over a month since I’ve been here at “Mark’s Cliché Corner.” Life has gotten in the way. Mostly I have been busy working on many good projects. Important work that pays little to nothing, but when your “career” involves a dedication to “poetry” no one expects money is involved. If it weren’t for the fact that this culture measures “success and responsibility” in dollars and cents, I would be quite satisfied with my production. And because I have done what I needed to do to pull my weight most of my life, worked along with my wife for the coin necessary to function and provide the basics for our family, I have conditioned myself to feel unworthy when my efforts and time yield no monetary compensation. Art for art’s sake? What other sake is art for (for Christ’s sake)? Back when art was for Christ’s sake or the church’s, compensation was involved.
And here I am writing about shit that really doesn’t matter to me. The problem is I’m not sure what really matters to me or you or how anything makes any sense, really, which reminds me of Yeats’ Second Coming, a poem written after the First World War.
Second Coming Turning and turning in the widening gyre The falcon cannot hear the falconer; Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere The ceremony of innocence is drowned; The best lack all conviction, while the worst Are full of passionate intensity. Surely some revelation is at hand; Surely the Second Coming is at hand. The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert A shape with lion body and the head of a man, A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun, Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds. The darkness drops again; but now I know That twenty centuries of stony sleep Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle, And what rough beast, its hour come round at last, Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
“Surely some revelation is at hand?” Well, that’s the problem: anarchy is loosed upon the world. “The centre cannot hold” is the revelation, I’m afraid. It is an ancient story of fear told again and again. I’m not sure we will ever evolve into a species that regards kindness as the ultimate behavior. The Christ model. The religions gave up on that thousands of years ago, actually making it a punishable “sin” to think you should BE Christ. Mankind cannot act or BE like Christ. We are sinners. The only escape is death and acceptance of Christ as our lord and savior. Then in death, we will be like Christ. Maybe. Or maybe there’s a list of rules and regulations there we won’t know until we get there, but the only way to find out is to toe the line here, play the game. They must have known it was pointless to hope men could learn to trust and love one another, so the only way to control these crazed-survivalist bastards was to let them do as they would and provide them forgiveness for a pledge and a little atonement to receive the ultimate promise of an eternal existence in Paradise with the Big Guy. Candy, beer, cell phones, puppy treats . . . immediate gratification satisfies. We are a long fucking way from understanding much of anything. Yet it feels so much better to some of us to choose love over fear, kindness over cruelty. And to those of us that feel that way, it is difficult to understand why everyone doesn’t feel that way, or isn’t capable of feeling that feeling.
As the population grows and our carbon footprint gets bigger, we will be faced with some hard realities and some big decisions. I doubt I’ll be around to see that day of reckoning, but I envision a science fiction future for humankind involving a new and improved intelligence, an evolved (so to speak) species less driven by basic animal urges, a world where science leads. How long that takes and the amount of pain and suffering incurred along the way is impossible to say, but things are happening faster and faster every day. There may be a little Road Warrior shit along the way, too, but isn’t that happening right now? Hasn’t it always been around? Isn’t that why we’ve developed these organizations (the great religions, empires, govenments) across the centuries, to control and mitigate the damage the worst of us commit, to stop the bleeding, plug the holes, and keep the trains running on time? Where we are going we don’t know, but that is the basic drive for being alive: to go, to do, to make, to act. To entertain, to feed our curiosity, to fill the time. We are moving like everything is moving constantly. We are energy. For me, the real miracle and mystery is this consciousness in language and our attraction toward love, gravity, implosion, as opposed to our drive toward fear, separation, explosion—fusion or fission. Sounds like the foundation of a country and western song. The simple fact that we recognize we are along for a ride we have little control of, and that we are able to see metaphors, the parallels to our situation all around us, that is fascinating to me. That’s how I entertain myself as I roll along on my way to the next big adventure (I just flashed on Bill & Ted there, and of course my own personal hero, George Carlin, who certainly had as much fun as anyone contemplating the linguistic reality of our limitations).
Drifters Those who prefer the pastimes of playing and thinking are poets whether or not they write. They know the moment is meant to be lived to the fullest, that every plan or analysis is bland noise to be pleasantly interrupted by wind in the leaves. They see nothing is within their control. All they do is ride the flow, the changing day to day unfoldings, note the patterns, desires, try to stay afloat, maintain their boat, enjoy the beauty, the oars in their hands, eddy out as often as they can. There will be rapids, rocks, debris, and eventually they will succumb to the inevitable falls awaiting all, that turbulent moment of change when they are rearranged into another molecular identity.
your truth belongs to you own it it's yours don't deny it or lie to hide it trust that it's your truth nobody else's let others have their shit you don't need to agree with it and if you can't find peace or respect their truths walk away you won't die or live your life well if you keep shitting yourself you can't love fully if you don't follow your heart honor your gut- feeling honestly and don't be afraid to change your mind embrace the new truths you find just be true to who you are today