Grey Man

I didn’t get a good look at the fish tank next to me. Hell, I didn’t even notice it. This means I am going to hell. Reality, as exposed by scientists as they bite into it, does not reveal an actual hell realm, other than the seemingly limitless varieties of suffering humans and animals create. Hunt down the answer by peace keeping means. The animals, they don’t mean it. Twittering is for busy folk without enough time to be writers; they simply get little jabs in and are happy with it. This is how I started my JOT all along. Notes and open thought. What do you have to say? The servers are getting huger, and if you make friends, you can put it all up there for free. Born into a sweatshop environment is different from me being taken captive while on vacation and put in such conditions. I will jump out knowing there’s a different answer. I am a grey man. I am a new man by way of being grey.

In less than a week I shall return to my hometown of Washington, D.C. and all the surrounding areas to visit friends and family. I’ve butterflies in my stomach over it, many which are not negative. A city is constantly changing. Some things crawl along or fold, or I should say implode, and you shake your head mumbling, “I told ya so.” Last I visited the capitol, it had more of a NYC congestive busyness: more restaurants, lush sidewalks, smack, smack, everything popping… No wonder we don’t address this enough, our attention deficits. We cannot pay enough attention. The years have put on me added craziness and fragmented my verse, so how I say it out at my best, others trip out to it, going like, “he says it the way I’m thinkin’ it…”

my plain fear of
heights is my fear of
falling from one of them
falling to my death
fear of heart attack
fear of smashing to bits
fear of death itself—
climbing a ladder
is launching up
to the moon
we just
don’t say so
fear of flying is
the fear of take off
fear of mid-flight
fear of the land
fear of death itself
fear of death of ego
my children will
carry memory of me
on their backs
professing a
righteous love
like Russia carried Dostoevsky…
but if I have no children
where will
my ego go?
ego must be doomed
to flights of fancy
delusions of grandeur
certainly there
must be grander fates
in store for
the flowers that open up
for those who’ve
waited so patiently
the wettest fall indiscriminately
does not stop a
man from gritting his teeth
in his sleep and if he cannot sleep
then clenching clenching clenching
what we do is what we do
and letting go will always be
something new something new
to each and every one letting go
relaxing relaxing and really breathing
is always the freshest
and most in vogue

a gray mare, a grey hair
a grey man
from the grey area
while we experience techie difficulties
trekky properties
oh so forlorn we wash up like seaweed
so gross grody to the max
Max Headroom
tuned out
tuned in, twenty-four hour marathon
burnt kernels
I want to become…
a therapist, a social worker, a tree squatter,
a caretaker, an engineer, a baller, a manager, and more!
sign the line, mail it through the mail room
all lines are busy
all thoughts are consumed

Published by bgkarma


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