Wednesday, October 31, 2012

sun breaking through the clouds

sun shining on the ruins left from the storm

on the wreck of homes and lives

on the shelters full to bursting

on the jails where looters raided

businesses and homes

for a grab at the mere things they coveted

this is the other side of cataclysm

eyes of the sheep trained on the heavens

for some imagined relief

while hooves slog through the mud and debris

and the wolves believe in nothing but their chance

tearing each other while the sun returns to the skies

to shine on their carcasses...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

Tuesday, October 30, 2012

his heavy thinking cap

must've fallen on his head again

when he bumped against

the hatrack that lines his cell of a room

again he postulates the ethics of being

in a ravening universe of flux

and from what source this life issues

(cohesive enough to bind all limitation)

what then this paper hat

raised up by his mere hair?

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
we've been warned about all the evil

good intent can unleash in the world

oh but what prayer isn't further deceit?

oh what act is right action amid our ignorance?

we own up with every move we make

each choice fatal by unintended consequence

since every move is a step closer to release

and a further step lugging all we failed to fix...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
the weak are powerful

beware their manipulation

beware their tyranny

their spite and envy

will trap you

by your charity

they will leech you

of every fair intent

and blackmail you

by your kindness

beware this gyp

with its cloying mendacity

the weak hide in rags

among the truly unfortunate

the diseased the broken

the lost and despair

feeding on them

like vampires

beware the weak

beware their cunning

beware their hatred

the weak are powerful

sidestep them

and don't fall into weakness


with petty notions

of righteousness

don't get entangled

beware the weak

and let them feed on each other...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
who can outwit

the processes of

the universe?

try thinking

you've enough

faith to move mountains

and when they don't move

swear vengeance

against what?

granite? gravity?

your soul?

your God?

you'll try to stand

rock hard

and not be moved

by every jolt

and as you tumble

you'll think

"I'm not tumbling"

and only you

will feel the fool

as the processes

of the universe


and only you

have been done down

only you outwitted...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

from where I stand

the world's all atilt

and a song of the birds

pecks through with a lilt

that straightens my hand

and steadies the nerves

upon which is built

my resolve to stand

as the world goes awry

and slants to one side

then another then again then more

I'll stand firm with all I've got

even if the world does not

take hold...this we all endure...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

will I know the dawn

when it arrives?

heavy mists hang

like curtains of steam

barely moving

in the growing cotton light

gray outlines of land

as far as my eye can contain

is this the dawn

for which I sweat the night?

is this the day that took

all of my life to arrive?

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

clouds and breaches of cloud

racing under the dome of the sky...

gray light slowly turning

to gray dark

I stand on the edge of the tide

and watch the world

wash into the sea

the gray sea beyond my blur

in the smudged night...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
to rage against the Source of All Life

is to rage against Reality as it is

what use to rebel?

what use to beseech?

what use to bemoan

the fates we slog through?


says the enormous He

and that means THINGS ARE

AS THEY ARE for unfortunate we

so is Life and Death a gamble

a toss of dice a turn of the card a bluff

and even if the decks is permanently stacked

I'm obliged to play this hand...and will...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

Sunday, October 28, 2012

our cataclysms have arrived

light your candles

store your water

canned good canned goods

candles and a prayer

and hold on hold on hold on

to the one you love

especially if that one's not God...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
...and I'm writing this...for who?

some who hide in their bubbles?

some scanning the Net out of boredom?

some who take the universe as a personal insult?

some who could care less about anyone but themselves?

some entitled jerkoff who doesn't think the rules apply to him?

some angry poverty doll finally ready to light the fuse?

some of the enlightened whose last struggle is with spiritual pride?

some asshole who thinks his cynicism gives an edge of superiority?

some who beseech the deaf God?

some who hate themselves into nonexistence?

I'm writing this...and have forgotten why...

I'm writing my own act of outrage...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

Friday, October 26, 2012

a Prufrockian

soft october night


as if walking

an endless crypt

lit with torchlight

and autumn leaves

falling one by one like seepage

through curling wisps of smoke

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
love has been

such joy and misery

my whole life

is it

any wonder

it's what would

take me down

at the end?

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
I am a mummy

in some dusty corner

of some crypt in eternity

waiting to rise

and walk again

searching for

my reincarnated love

who thinks

at best

that this is truly bizarre

and isn't waiting around

for the ceremony

or the knife

what was that about love

and Isis waiting for her brother

to knock her up

to deliver us a Horus king?

I must have read

the wrong scroll

I'm waiting in a dusty corner

in eternity

for one who will not come

my wrappings a sight...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
so this is how I'm going to die

this is how my life on earth will end

a broken heart and crippled spirit

trapped in a carcass

tossed in a common grave...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
I'm being tracked

hounds of heaven

are sniffing me out

fearful as

hounds of hell

paradise has fangs and talons too

I know

I feel them tear me

with every martyrdom...

I must run

here comes yet another one...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.


feel better?

you've cursed only yourself

by attacking

the faceless chaos of raging process

you put your own face on it

and assume that responsibility

while it ever grinds on

pulverizing you

and your pitiful imaginings

of eternity

your fading prayer

rising out of dust

to deaf angels...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
what scumbag

what unmitigated filth

denies your atonement

while demanding it?

what vicious liar

says come unto me

then thrusts you aside

because nothing you do

will ever be

perfect enough?

how many lifetimes wasted

trying to appease

some tyrant who isn't satisfied

with being the only power there is?

oh fools fools fools

we are the image of chaos

of hate and power-madness

and even our deepest love

is of no avail

and we in our suffering

at the hand of some

vicious scumbag

some unmitigated

piece of filth?

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
hold me close

and hold me tight

there's only us

between dawn and the night

the dark falls quickly

some ending has arrived

wiping out all for which

we weep and strived

but in what fresh start

this closing unties

we lead from the heart

and go where love lies

as you hold me close

and we hold on tight...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

love grace and forgiveness

do not trump karma

you cling to your love

you hold on as tightly as you can

but the One will have

the very last word

no matter what you may set right

don't be taken in

don't play the fool any longer

what you believe matters not at all

except in some long haul

where your love may hold you in good stead

especially if it benefits

more than you and your love...and if it's really love

how can it not?

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

Wednesday, October 24, 2012

whatever love I am in now

is the same one

that upholds me

against the same travails

that would do its best

to break this love this peace

and claim my skull

for its place

on the belt of the Evil One's regalia 

fuck that

I sin I sorrow I amend I forgive

if that's not enough then too bad...

I didn't ask for a gift with strings attached

but I do claim the prize of my grace and forgiveness

and if God has a problem with our love

let Him do His worst

either God is Love or He isn't...

just that plain...just that definitive...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
I just stopped

in the middle

of some confrontation

with an asshole pledged

to upholding the mendacity

on which thrives the world's evil

because I remembered

it was your smile

the feel in my nerves of your breasts

and sweet bed of our loving

that awaited me

at the end of this onerous day

one of an endless series

which contained in it our love...our release...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
suffering is what truly unites us

here in the world

some handle it well

some never will

but from this common humanity

springs all you need

to transcend and be gone

or sink into perdition and be not...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
I will wait for you

no matter the actuality

of the Ultimate Reality

if it comes to that

that is the only way

this chaos of divine order

makes any sense to me

kindred soul

there is no going on

without you

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
oh how would devastated I would be

if I had to be without you

in this harrowing of the earth

this long-foreseen apocalypse

that has always been here

and is now in our awareness

now that our awakening

is finally here

on the other side of the veil

either of us

will be a beacon to the other left on this side

I don't think

I could continue

without that certainty...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
we're aiming our direction

forward into eternity

and the obstacles of the Evil One

are no worse

than what I've had to contend with...

let the received wisdom

of the lost and frightened

drag them from harrowing to harrowing

we stand aside

our own trials

are enough

with which to deal

as we head into that lengthening way

leading to what promised fulfillment...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

as the world revolves askew

around its reckoning

your touch your kiss

your body merging with mine

is the only anchor

holding our reeling ship steady

let us rock with the waves

let us rise with whatever tide

will wash the dross

into the measureless sea

let it be us

against the impersonal splitting

of the heavens

above our tiny but vast sea...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

Tuesday, October 23, 2012

I've lost my capacity

for pain and folly

I'm renewed by

a kiss on your lips

it is the world

that swoons


and hungry

it never runs out

of agony and remorse

let the world die

into our paradise

a kiss on your lips

an embrace that subsumes

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
love that is new

as old as the heart

without it

nothing can die

and nothing

be born

timeless as soul

mind that minds it

without it

nothing is born


nothing dies

new as the heart

is love that is old

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

the world conspires

to destroy our wills

enslave our minds

break our hearts

that is why the world

will pass away

destroying itself

against wills and minds and hearts...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
once I remembered who I truly am

I truly knew who you are

come let us be us

against so many others

they are their own

each others remembering

in these small recalls

we learn to say we...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

like life

never ends

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
I sip your honey

as it oozes down

like a summer morning sun

on the humid beach of wakenings...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
I've seen too much and gone too far...

might as well

keep my eyes open

and go even farther...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
never thought about how I'd end up

ashes to ashes

and so forth you know

we all get where we're going

and find our desired way

of getting there doesn't matter

we will find ourselves where and the way we are

without any thought at the end...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
as you ride my mouth

I taste the earth

and all that has sustained this body

though I look forward

to release from this world

I take with me

all of our loving in one ecstasy

we as one doubled thing...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
are you as hot as I am?

deep ambers glow brightly

before the long cold night

but I love the night

I wait for it patiently

because a hot young flame

dwells with and flares out its last sparks

in the wind of midnight...are you with me?

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
old man flaming young...

the deep red blotches

of autumn leaves

in November...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
I'm racing no clock but my own

whatever time is left

doesn't matter to one

whose never known anything but the moment...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

fool enough to try again

I'm willing

because all I've done before

was a farce

and all I'm going to do

now is the price

I'm willing to pay

to free myself of me

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
a new day blows my doors off

let sunshine in as long

as she's plump and kind

and willing to experiment...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

Monday, October 22, 2012

see you on the other side

with the strict intent of winding up

on  the other side

wherever and whatever it is

in this alleged eternal here and now

I've stopped listening to priests and astrologers

they only promote prayer as selfishness

and action as some setting apart

from process that makes your visualizations

a vain trap for those who think

they could stage-manage their destinies

each to their crumbling path as I to mine

and you to yours may we share a vista rather than I

see you from some other side...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

no direction to follow

as the world quakes in its reckoning

each of us shaken like rotten fruit

from a rotted branch

but I and mine choose to not

to succumb to this fearful pounding

quick feet moving wherever

as the ground is giving way...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
swinging from despair to elation

and all the hungers they feed

all energy stalls in frustration

the gnawing encourages need

to flee this takes all the focus

that mind can muster to thrive

let no minus get the best of us

lest our hungers bury us alive

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
all has been turned upside down

quiet neighbors now war with each other

their store of patience exhausted

snarls on the street

as wolves jostle among sheep

bleats and howls a cacophony of agony

the world is finally tearing loose

the appointed time of reckoning has arrived

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

Friday, October 19, 2012

oh at the very least

I needn't sweat excuses

I gave it my shot

I had my fun

when I see the current young

I understand the elders of my time

their wisdom and their pity mixed

in one sad smile...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
the resonant roar in the inner ear...

rush of blood or sigh of spirit...

is the white noise of all my days

the whispering cacophony framing

the reflections preparing me

for the last summer the last autumn

the last year the last moments

of this skin's unfortunate incarnation...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
not even the simplest fantasy of hope--

new love

a lottery win

a break that I won't blow

or that God will allow--

can sustain me now

amazing how the years have evaporated

to this residue of withering hours--minutes--seconds...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
adversary or savior?

which face of the Almighty

do I glance away from today?

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

Thursday, October 18, 2012

in the ordinary daily world

dreams often do come true

but so diminished from

their original form and intent

and the dreamer so beaten down

that it no longer matters

whether the dream came true or not

that someone could only wonder

what others are talking about

when they peddle notions

of faith and belief

(ignoring the contentious distinctions

between both) and waken each ordinary morning

from some heartbreak worse than any nightmare...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

Wednesday, October 17, 2012

Fortitude is having enough will to get out of bed in the morning.

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
swim like hell

around the rim of the cauldron

your only escape will be

the ladle that lifts you

from the boiling water

everyone else will go on boiling

until the ladle comes for them

food of the gods

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
try and tell anyone what fools they are

and you will also be playing the fool

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
grinning assassins

are a dime a dozen

it's the easiest profession

in which to find

gainful employment

while the mainstream sheep

graze in their tyrants's fields

these wolves circle through the bushes

easy pickings

guaranteed satisfaction

and the great fallback

"it's nature

it's the way things are"

yes...for sheep and wolves...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

Tuesday, October 16, 2012

none of us alive today

will live to see

the day

our race admits

we are utter

failures at being


or moral

or fair

or wise

without resorting

to some idea of God

that is to blame

as some devil

or to praise

as some savior

the One who does not

wish us to perish

must weep

more than we do

as our failure blocks


and will only admit

its puny defeat

in the void

of our own dissolution

and no soul

will live long enough

to hear this admission

even if it live

to bless

the improbable way

it survived to continue

its immortality...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

the louder the voice the emptier the mind...

a virtue these days


Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
I cannot run fast enough

from the world's troubles

but where in the world could I do?

where hide?

I cannot run fast enough...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
Jesus must be Lord--

if I were Him on the cross

and considered the whole human race

I'd tear the nails out of my hands

and feet with my teeth

come down off the cross

and run away away away like mad

and say "To hell with all of you!"

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

Monday, October 15, 2012


Of Tempest and its ghost companion, I've addressed adequately in the previous post. Chances are that these deliberately put aside songs will eventually surface--he may write more in that vein, or upon further consideration and rumination, re-arrange what he's already written--or even just let the idea go altogether! For all his restlessness, Dylan has been known to hold onto an idea for years until it reaches its fullness. But as already stated, Tempest already exemplifies much of his religious thought. Dylan has always been hailed as a mystic poet in some quarters, but if he is one, it's squarely in the Judeo-Christian tradition, specifically, the sects of Protestantism that hold that Man is utterly fallen, utterly incapable of do anything to save himself--utterly reliant upon the grace of God. It would easy to poke a few holes in these beliefs and remind our evangelicals that their Savior would repeatedly tell those he's saved to "Repent, and sin no more!" which of course, suggests effort on our part; but that's for some other forum. It's enough for the matter at hand to acknowledge that these are Dylan's stated beliefs.

And of this problematic beast named Tempest, what more can be said? It is one of his best, but a near-masterpiece, like Infidels before it--flawed, granted, but with all the fresh intensity of full-throttle creativity we've come to expect (demand?) of Dylan. The entire album, lyrically, amounts to a volume onto itself of Bartlett's Quotations; he's in full-wordsmith flight mode here. As songs, most of these stand with many of his absolute best; as an album, however, it is flawed enough to keep it from (to use the current cultural measures) five-star game-changer status. And many of the more insightful reviews (not the Old Guard who automatically accorded it its five-star status, nor the younger generation who grow fidgety over any song that goes over 4 minutes and dismissed out of hand as too boring to sit through) have put their finger on it. The problem lies with the title track and the album's closer "Roll on, John". "John", like "Lenny Bruce" before it, suffers from lyrical clumsiness, and the pastiche method of integrating Lennon lines into the verses falls flat, unlike the same method at work in the Travelin' Wilburys song, "Tweeter and the Monkey Man", where Dylan worked magic with lines and situations from Bruce Springsteen songs. It's still very pretty and haunted, musically, and it can be enjoyed if you let only random words float to the surface (I personally like it a lot, and get through it in this way.)

No, the problem is with the centerpiece and title track of the album, "Tempest". In theory, Dylan really hasn't put a wrong foot here; "Tempest' and "Tin Angel" are Dylan's work in traditional folk ballardy, as such. But "Tin Angel" is a tight, focused murder ballad--brilliantly written and disturbing, and featuring none other than ol' Henry Lee himself--(protagonist of his own ballad, a variant of which Dylan performed on his World Gone Wrong album as "Love Henry".)

"Tempest"on the other hand slogs along, many brilliant verses underscoring Dylan's intent to write about the disaster, about none can comprehend the judgment of God's Hand; but the song itself does not coalesce into anything utterly transcendent. Even "Highlands", on Time Out Of Mind, takes a simple repeating blues riff, and builds an engrossing tale, sustained not only by fresh, inventive phrasing on Dylan's part, but for good measure, he lobs into the middle of this piece a shaggy dog story wherein Dylan trades sexual wisecracks with a combative waitress.

As creative as this "post-late" Dylan is, he does have a tendency to sometimes to not stray too far from the template. When we think on traditional folk ballardy, we can easily imagine serfs of the 14th or 15th  century--farmers, tradesmen, begging peasants--coming at the end of day to the town square for entertainment--to listen to the troubadour come to town to sing of current news, bawdy lyrics, or yet another re-telling of some epic tale. The trouble is, we have a static picture of this--the singer droning on for a half-hour or more--as in "Tempest"-- one verse after another without any variation. I seriously doubt it was that way in reality. Troubadours were performers; they had to keep their audience engrossed (bloodshed in Shakespeare's plays, anyone? He wrote for a paying audience, you know.) Dylan did that in "Highlands"; he didn't in "Tempest". Nor did he on Modern Times re" "Rollin' and Tumblin'"(all the idiots talking about Muddy being "ripped off"--Muddy "ripped off" 1929's "Roll and Tumble Blues"; nobody screaming about "attribution" there)--or, for that matter "Someday Baby"where he chose, for the sake of his album's intention, no doubt, to include a straight reworking of the Muddy Waters version, rather than his own more inventive version, which eventually surfaced on Tell Tale Signs. But those in our entertainment and cultural media will grab at any straw to try and bring him down.

If I were in his shoes, and had enough distance on the work to realize parts weren't working, I'd have ditched "Tempest" and "Roll On John", made "Tin Angel" the closer and renamed the whole album "Scarlet Town"...and the same points would have been made, the same themes expressed, the same outcomes would've been achieved.

I was going to go on about this, but truly, why bother? The mainstream media's job is to contain and simplify and label people and things for the sake of some official place in the history of our fake cultures--witness Dylan's tour of China--50-year-old accusations of being a "sell-out" because he didn't sing "Blowin' in the Wind" or "The Times They Are A-changin"! Unbelivable--Dylan's been so many things since then--and this is all they can use on him.

And the alleged "plagiarism"? Please! I can't believe this idiotic argument is still going on and, worse, will probably continue to go on. For the 17, 894, 943, 125th time, plagiarism is the wholesale taking of someone else's words and ideas and lifting them fully in that context and passing them off as one's own!
This is not what Dylan, or any other artist who works in the framework of traditional materials does! Not Dylan, not T.S. Eliot (another one who was accused of never writing three consecutive lines of his own poetry!), not Shakespeare, not Ovid...God, how far back do I have to go? I presume it is the unfortunate rationalism of personal legalism that has made everybody a law unto themselves, and to be tricked into thinking their paltry, "original" thoughts are somehow equal to a tradition that has, by education and by living example, conveyed the wisdom of the ages--not received, false social wisdom, but personal, active wisdom--life as lived by the greater majority of human beings in their "quiet desperation" (that's Thoreau, y'all!)

Mainstream media seeks to manipulate and quantify that...teach people to march goosing-stepping in unison to the "socially accepted" opinion, and they'll spin any little detail to do so (remember the pronouncements about Tempest having a Latin influence because Dylan liked the sound of a tres--listen, I'll bet it's buried in the mix of "Scarlet Town"! And all out of a popular notion of bringing down the Mighty (I've stopped asked years ago how anyone who works in media can live with themselves!)

And this does extend to that new mutation of communication--the Talkbacker; the losers who were chased out of bars by their friends for endlessness pontification and told to go home! Well, they are home, seated with a bowl of Cheetos, a Coke and an endlessly moving mouse--and better, an anonymous handle to hide behind, so they can be as rude and pompous as they please--they finally are a somebody--and can deliver their ignorant screeds as if it were demonstrable objective fact! (One such annoying scribe wrote some items around Tempest's release--one such title was "Why Dylan's Songs Will Not Stand The Test Of Time"; you're serious, right? They have, and will continue to do so. It's not just that "Blowin' In The Wind" already sounded like it was a thousand years when it was new, but some version of it and other Dylan tunes will still be sung a thousand years from now, even if Dylan himself is forgotten! That's what it means to work in the traditional framework; these songs will endure.)

I was also going to note some half-wit writing this very day in the Ottawa Citizen, dismissing Tempest because she didn't like the sound of his voice, and because she found the words "puerile", without giving any really intelligent reason as to why she thought this; but I weary of this theme. Dylan doesn't need my or anyone else's exegesis. But I do believe the idea of a 4th Dylan period of creativity is a valid one. At least, it seems so to me, and everything from Modern Times and Tell Tale Signs to Tempest affirms it. Let who will receive this, do so.

And just to thumb my nose at accepted opinion one last time, I believe--I think--I know "Love And Theft" is the one Dylan album of this whole latter-day body of work--great as these works are--that is so utterly transcendent as to be almost Ineffable, and is the only one can stand with Blonde On Blonde, Highway 61, The Basement Tapes and Blood On The Tracks at the absolute top of his achievement! Even when he is drawing down and consolidating his life's achievement, he can't help but be head and shoulders above other artists! In "Love..." Dylan takes every lyrical voice he's ever used, from his first album up to Time Out Of Mind, added a touch of "Things Have Changed" as a binding agent, put the whole thing into his creative kiln and fired the thing up to 1965-66, white-hot levels of absolute creativity, and came out with a wholly new language! And this, at an age when others are winding down. It isn't, or shouldn't be,an apples and oranges comparison: there's far more to Dylan's poetic genius than one-eyed midgets shouting the word now, Einstein disguised as Robin Hood sniffing drainpipes, scorpions crawling across circus floors, dancing beneath diamond skies, or ghosts of electricity howling in the bones of faces. So, it's the total Dylan, totally within his musical milieu--the strains of American music--Americana, roots, folk-rock, whatever inadequate label you choose to give it--that has been the life-long substance of his work. Add to that a sequencing of songs unifying the theme suggested by the album's title, that is, the minstrelry of White Americans "stealing" folk and other traditional forms to utilize to their own ends, and you have a perfect representation of how we United States have come by our musical traditions, as Dylan's own methods attest, and as white singers in the mid to late 20th century attempted to redress by acknowledging those forefathers of song. Such are the bloody, crooked ways by which all nations come to their traditions; a notion that goes beyond addressing the forms Dylan and others have absorbed, but to also stand, in Dylan's take, for his theme of human hubris and power-madness (the overriding theme of all Dylan in the last half of his career.) American fundamentalist cracker, Japanese gangster, al-Quida terrorist, and all the kings of the world they serve--in this magnificent album, they are shown as they truly are--all One! Who but Dylan could give us a world this deep, resonant and comprehensive?

And if "Love..." is his last, indisputably, truly great album, his last, absolutely transcendent album, it may not have anything to do with his seemingly unstoppable creativity, as it will with Mortality finally stepping in and calling Dylan "home".  So be it, if that's the case. Dylan's done his job, and can go with no apologies. And for us to make of it what we will, we'll be nothing more than battling egos, drawing lines in the sand, and succeeding in nothing greater than hypnotizing chickens!

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

Friday, October 12, 2012


So then, what distinguishes a 3rd "late" period from a 4th "later" period for Dylan?

Mostly, the lack of any great artistic agenda...any edifice advancing a "Great Statement"...Even in consolidating his work, Dylan has had opportunity to do great things and has availed himself.

The controversies surrounding this "later Dylan" begin, essentially, with Modern Times; the Dylan supporters hailed it as a masterpiece, while the naysayers dismissed it as a lazy, unimaginative work-by-the-numbers. Both contentions are a little too extravagant for my taste; without trying to sound equivocal, but undoubtedly I'll be called down for it, I straddle. Yes, Modern Times is a masterpiece, but yes, it is the runt of the litter. By Dylan's own admission, he had ideas left over from "Love and Theft" that he wanted to squeeze the last bit of juice out of. That sounds to me like playing out the thread, and when you're doing that, you're already getting into diminishing returns. Thus, between MT and Tell Tale Signs, you have the summation of all that's come before, while (and especially with Tell Tale...) a way forward is being pointed out. The "new" songs on "Signs", that is, the finished soundtrack songs form the bulk of this discrete work, with one dip into the vaults for a discarded masterpiece ("Red River Shore") , while the rest are alternate takes of "Mississippi" and "Someday Baby" so radically different from their released versions as to constitute new music. Add two complete-in-themselves songs--"Marching To The City" and "Dreaming Of You"--dismantled to be reworked into other songs, and you have a creative gloss on a body of work that sustains and confirms the greatness of that period.

So, if all endings are beginnings, where has MT and Tell Tale Signs taken us in this posited 4th period? Into works in which Dylan, more than ever, is free to do as he pleases, as it suits the project at hand, rather that some overarching thesis. Together Through Life was occasioned by soundtrack work for My Own Love Song; the creative process took hold strongly and Dylan developed his own work from it. It's a minor album, granted, and so what? Does Dylan always have to satisfy someone else's idea of his work by grinding out one transcendent, game-changing masterpiece after another? Horseshit! Dylan sounds like he was having fun on this album, enjoying nothing but the actual making of music. And it certainly gives us a strong taste of what Dylan's band does on stage. This is his "cowboy band"; this is his Saturday Night roadhouse band doing basic blues, as much 50s Chess R&B as Tex-Mex, Sir Douglas Quintet (and if it comes to that, Los Lobos--Hello David!) His themes are still there, but again, no great need to "Make A Statement!" That may be the distinguishing characteristic of all these "Post-Late Dylan" records; they are free, more so than at almost any other time in his artistic life.

Having said this, it occurs to me as I type this out that, free as these latter day albums may be, there may be one last great theme Dylan may be attempting to fulfill--maybe not as an edifice in itself, but as a guiding principle through this fresh creative freedom--and that is the return to religion. What could be more natural for someone literally on borrowed time, as is Dylan now, having scored his three score and ten plus one? The world overview of love and earthly struggle examined in Together Through Life gave way very quickly to Christmas in The Heart.

As I said in yesterday's post, this album was, I feel, unjustly maligned. True, hearing Dylan's old man growl grind through "Winter Wonderland" and "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" may be surreal enough in itself (and in the latter, he at least reinstated to original lyric about "stumbling our way through", opposed to Sinatra's more cheery, thus falsified, official revision.) But the sheer fun of "Must Be Santa", the gravity of "O Little Star of Bethelem", the late-night beer joint feel of Dean Martin's "The Christmas Blues" (which could have fit perfectly into any of Dylan's own albums) give this work its substance and worthiness. For me, at least, the capper is "Little Drummer Boy"; this song is so overplayed that even when it's played every season on radio stations programmed for non-stop Christmas music and department store muzak, you don't even hear it at all, it's that much a part of the white noise of daily activity. With this performance, Dylan sheds the gravel in his voice and gives so moving a rendition that, for once in my life, I got the full brunt of this song. I saw the drummer approach the baby king; I understood his trembling awe before this nascent deity; I felt his relief and gratitude when the only gift he could offer--his drumming--was acceptable. As great a vocal performance as Dylan has ever managed.

Let the snarky smart-asses mock; I will treat of them in the next and last post on this matter, when I'll look at this closing of the circle by looking at Tempest and its unissued companion piece--the alleged album's worth of religious songs that Dylan wrote along with the Tempest material, and which he deemed "too similar-sounding" to be issued together; religious songs not like the "tablet-smashing", fire-and-brimstone screeds of the so-called "Born-Again" trilogy, but more inspirational like, as Dylan put it, "Just a Closer Walk With Thee", although the "Born Again" period did have its share of those kind of songs--"I Believe In You", "In The Garden", "Saving Grace" and most celebrated of all, "Every Grain of Sand." Tempest may not be his swan song (it almost sounds as if critical and popular opinion were trying to wish it on him--he being so not into being raised up as an idol, only to be cast down as same.) I doubt his endurance will give out at this point, always frustrating the proprietors of social agendas. They've failed before to shunt him out, and probably will until the end; Dylan will go out as he went on, on his own terms only.

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

Thursday, October 11, 2012


I'm positing a not unprecedented but extremely rare 4th period of creativity for Bob Dylan.

We all know by now the take on 3rd period Dylan...beginning with Oh, Mercy, Dylan
choose, as he put it, not too look for the next mountain to climb, but rather, to consolidate his life's achievement into an edifice which would lead to the latter day trilogy of Time Out Of Mind, "Love and Theft" and Modern Times, mirroring the culturally unimpeachable mid-sixties trio of Bringing.... Highway 61...Blonde.

The latter-day trilogy, and the distinct, discrete album-in-its-own-right embedded in Bootleg Series #8 (i.e. Tell-Tales Signs) marked off this 3rd, "late" period as a completed part of Dylan's life achievement.
The lonesome wanderer of Dylan's earliest songs returns, a wizened hardened veteran of the roads to convey the great gathering of his creativity. He's ever walking "through streets that are dead" with his eyes on the "Highlands", in his mind for sure, and content with that for now; by the end of "Love and Theft" he joins the rest of humanity under judgment, looking up "before Gabriel blows his horn"; under this dispensation, the old wanderer surveys the world with an old master's detachment, seeing the horrors and sufferings, as well as the fleeting joys, of life on the unchangeable earth, and passes on, walking on "to the world's end." What happens ultimately to this wandering poet is shown at the end of "Cross the Green Mountain"--as a mortally wounded Civil War soldier, he is "lifted away/in an ancient light/that is not of day." His earthly sojourn is ended, and his songs remain for who can receive them.

Granted, this culmination began when Dylan regained his creative impetus with Oh Mercy--a magnificant, though minor summation of his "middle', 2nd period. The to-do about Under the Red Sky is overblown--he wrote an album of nursery rhymes for his child (I'll touch on this--Dylan, in the early 90s, mentioned some projects he'd like to do--a children's album, a Christmas album--even an album in which he re-did songs he wasn't satisfied with in the first place; if ...Red Sky isn't entirely that children's album, he/we may have to be content with his "This Old Man" contribution to that long-ago Olympics album...we know we can check off that Christmas album [unjustly maligned as far as I'm concerned...oh lazy Mass thinking!]...a re-do album remains to be seen.) In any case, despite the creative recharge, he had yet to determine how to proceed; I believe it's not for nothing that he set all his re-set buttons and went back to the traditional songs that formed him and which, in Good As I Been To You and World Gone Wrong, he put back out as his own. This has already been noted by others, and very naturally leads straight into TOOM.

If the later trilogy and Tell-Take Signs truly affirms the successful completion of Dylan's artistic intentions of final consolidation, then it seems to me that a tirelessly creative Dylan will of inclination need to continue moving on, which brings us to the idea of a 4th creative it Post-Late Dylan, or Later Late Dylan or whatever signifier you wish to attach to it. This may seem like an arbitrary attempt to impose some critical edifice, but so was anointing the mid-sixties trilogy as such as the peak of his achievement; Sid Griffin, identified archivist of the Basement Tapes, believes the true mid-sixties trilogy to be Blonde On Blonde, The Basement Tapes and John Wesley Harding (interestingly, the whole arc of Dylan's career in miniature.) If he's acknowledged as being right, it makes a trilogy of Another Side, Bringing It all...and Highway 61 as a trilogy of its own, the first openings-up of his language in "My Back Pages" leading on to "Gates of Eden" and "It's Alright, Ma" scant weeks after Another Side...was released.

Any attempt to impose an order would be tentative as best; no matter how sharp and solid a line is drawn trying to divide a Before and an After, there will always be overlap, since the creative process is continuous.

Thus, while Tell-Tale Signs gathers the amazingly strong, consistent work that went into this 3rd period, while pointing a way forward, Modern Times sets the standard for this latter-day, proposed 4th period...a high standard, to be sure, but one that still shows a sense of completion and culminating but yet, is a bit more spirited, maybe a little too loose for its own good on occasion, probably because he is has really had his say now, over and over, even now in the act of closing his mouth re: the Great Dylan's Great Statements; it doesn't mean he won't make any more, just that he must feel totally free of any expectations, including his own.

More on this late 4th period anon, but before closing, let's say this by way of set-up: if Modern Times does set this "later" template, then we must accept this: no matter how many musical differences he manages in these later albums, we will, I think, never again get a radically different sounding album from Dylan again, and I believe the reason is very simple--he has a long time touring band of a more or less fixed, constant number of now long-time accompanists. Unless he gets a hugely grand notion and boots them all out, the days of a new Dylan album sounding utterly fresh and different from its predecessors, due to new and different musicians in the mix, is probably now over...(let's be age 71,  he only has only so many haircuts left...on all levels.) If he manages to keep strong as he has though, then there is still more than enough of great value here.

more anon....

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

Wednesday, October 10, 2012

hey pops

you're not the only one

'grinding out my life steady and sure'

but then

that's why like it or not you were raised and torn down

as a voice of a generation

I sympathize with your disgust

more about you anon....

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

when I die and go

into the Afterlife

my so-called 'guardian angels'

better watch out is all...

thanks so much for the 'help'...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

Tuesday, October 9, 2012

let whatever will happen happen

every doctrine is a lunatic's agenda

an ideological flutterbuster

contaminating the air with its evil

I don't need the power-crazed ignorance of

popes and ayatollahs and kings

to threaten me with damnations of their own invention

and I don't need the weak and frightened

who enchain themselves to these charlatans

and kowtow before the demons and angels

they themselves have created

I'm as naked in the Light as anyone

and there's no hiding any aspect

and I'll stand or fall on my own whatever will happen

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
I feel as renewed

as a hot bath on a cold morning

purged and cleansed

and sleepy in the subsuming heat

who cares for some asshole idea of eternity?

eternity is now right now

in water as hot as a summer afternoon

no fears or pains matter...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
I forlorn in this wilderness of earth

can't say I'm too bad off really

I'm used to this beautiful suffering

what better planet

of crystal blue skies

and crisp chilly wind

bracing to the point of sustaining

and fortifying the heart

to endure the hardness of God's (I still can't

wrap my mind around it) Love

when all else fails

(and all else does fail)

where ever my soul is bound

I'd rather die in this beauty this place of my yielding skin...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
beaten down to the very end

I smile that the long derangement has finished

God do what You will

You do in any case

You win You win You win You win

You win You win You win

beaten down to the very end I affirm

You win You win You win...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
I'd pray for mercy

but there is none

I'd pray for forgiveness

but even God won't do that

I'd pray for a swift end

now thirty years into the prayer

I'd pray God's Will be done

but Why? it is anyhow...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

where is the loving now

that the price has been reaped?

what forgiveness and grace

to speed the healing?

what will unturn God's stone heart

from vengeance to peaceful soothing?

where the loving now

that all earthly loving is ended?

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

everyone wants their balls licked

including God above

with no assurance the kick-back will yield

the help that is needed to prevail

well let God weep

for the souls He's created

and the strings He's attached

to this dubious Gift of Life

and let His creation run wild

with it's hubris its power-madness

it's desire to be Him thought lacking

His totality they'll fail inendingly

let this whole rotten creation reel as if we had any choice

when Justice truly serves Truth then I'll apologize...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

Monday, October 8, 2012

this is life my friends my foes


garbage flying out of windows

raining down on you...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
worn-out dawns

evoke sad laments

when young the rising sun

fulfilled promise

when old the morning

mocks your entire biography

at last disturbing the soul's repose

worn-out dawns tamp the dirt

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

Sunday, October 7, 2012

the long day is finally done

all creatures of day

seek their rest

while the night comes on

with and creatures of the night

come out to swarm in the joy

of release and revival

try telling this wonder

to who worship the sun

the moon also obeys the sun

in its phrases

try them them day and night are one

in the infinity that cradles us

in its dissolutions of all distinctions

rest becomes motion

motion spends itself into rest

and in all these single resolutions

the creatures of day wake to their day

the creatures of night rise with the first starlight

all beings are one with their Source

and there is the only Source...good morning or good you will...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

Saturday, October 6, 2012

you know how much I love the night

how happy I start to get around twilight

as the deep blue fading of day

gives a last blazing aura

around the gabled tops of the apartment houses

nothing in life (not even my dreams)

gives me such pleasure as the light fading

and the stars bleeding slowly

into view as the sky darkens and the night descends

with such all-embracing presence

that the soul titivates within the skin

and the love of people is shared by those like you

who in their disdain of day praise all being

for the open concourse of like spirits visible at last

as they truly are

hungry and vivid in their love of life

this is where I belong in this earth

this is how much I love the night...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

one way out

is one way in

for something else

you'd didn't think

you'd get out

that easily


did you?

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

they won’t give bread and they won’t give water

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

it's all I can do

to wait a bit

then surge

then wait a bit

then surge

and not know

which surge

will carry me or to where...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
howzit feel to be eyeball deep in shit?

like a member of the human race

and trying not to blink...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
this world is worn away

collapsing around itself

for those strong enough to take it

(whether they really can or not)

then let them pass away with it

if that's what they want

for me and my kind we hold on

hoping for another world beyond this...

and if there weren't what would we know?

the thing for sure we know

is when you leave here you're gone...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
the same horrors the same wastes

the same striving for nothing that lasts

such is the only world we know in our skins

and if one more jackass comes up to me

and says "join the club"

I'll beat him unconscious with it

being a snarky know-it-all

his only prestige where nothing lasts...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

I woke up from a dream

found myself old and spent

everyone was right it'd seem

to wonder where it went

but everyone wakens

in their own special bed

a pallet for the forsaken

a soft mattress for the protected

I'm somewhere between

I dozed on a cot

all the visions I've seen

all the experience I got

now I stir old and spent

without a damn clue as to what it all meant...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

Thursday, October 4, 2012

I face the night with unbounded happiness. How to convey this joy, this blending of vision and madness that satisfies all questing! I begin by not beginning, I end by not ending, the wing of the sky blocks the starlight and the shadow on the night field is a dark blur on a darker surface. And here I stand on some edge, with bats and owls swooping clear of a flapping wind, and fire-eyed panthers part high grasses with their passing. And my happiness embraces them all—my happiness, a thing predicated on the pulsing shifts of an “ever-now”. And I…And I…And I…am no longer me, but some other “I”. Here we are, and there you all are, on an edge of night, joyful beyond any dawn…

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

Alive in the instant—here in the now—subsumed in the Conditional—striving for the way—amid shifting paths of circumstance—with our various selves engaged—
who we are reveals what we will be—active through every idea of moments—to be other than this—subsumed in the Conditional—striving for the way—there already—still alive—in what is true—in what is ultimately real—that we cannot know—beyond all we know—beyond all we can imagine—all we’ll ever be incapable of conceiving—as long as our various selves—populate each of our singular skins—here in this now—alive in the instant

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
not every second of time on earth

is horror and hopelessness

think on those worse off

without a prayer

think on those better off

who blow it without trying

you may amuse and be amused

it's not all horror and hopelessness

Contenbt (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
I thought one way

but the whole universe goes another

so here I am

eyeball deep in my shit

finding hard that help

is denied to who needs it

praise God as a King all you wish

down here in the earth you're on your own...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
I'm tried of praising and cursing what Source

whatever my disposition at the time of my utterance

and while this horrible world rolls on

I'll reach an end to this meaningless yelping

incoming souls will find for themselves

the hell that is the densest level of energy

this beautiful earth of unbeautiful conditions

and the joyfulness of whatever exit...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

I'm sure you'll believe

anything you're told

it's way too difficult

for your simple scared existence

you'd rather others did the heavy lifting

of thought and decision

you'd rather let others rule your life

and when they fail you

and you're worse off than you were

you'll boil and fume

and stalk your rooms throwing cups

at mirrors and kicking over chairs

blaming your betrayals on those

for not looking out for you

when it's only you who've failed yourself

but that is the one thing you won't believe...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
I am my own corpse

I am my own soul rising free

I am all that I've mismanaged

I am all that I've managed in which to succeed

I'll gather my bounty

and I'll turn toward home

with many more stops on the way

on that perpetual road

God I'm tired...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

Wednesday, October 3, 2012

I make skeletons dance

on the Day of the Dead

I pull a few strings

and little children

hide behind their mother's skirts

one eye peering around

from behind a pleat

the air is thin as tissue on this day

when the departed return

or rather they are here all around us

but visible to sensitive vision

and what may be a breeze or an arm in passing

shakes the sceptic who jumps the way

I make toy skeletons dance...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito.
I've lost a lot

but I didn't mind the losing

I've found much

but not really worth the finding

I have nothing I fear nothing I am free

that'll be a better thing for a headstone

than "Glad To Be Done"

or "Wish You Were Here"

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
I may be blocked crushed

denied and done down

every remaining step of the way

in this vicious sojourn

this unfortunate life

but I will not allow

God's unrelenting unmerciful

unforgiving vengeance

to make me miserable over a lifetime

of lessons and punishments

that have corrected my error

and made me aware of my failures

God may not forgive

but those of us who've been humbled

forgive each other

let that count for the truth of our sufferings

let that be some cosmic price finally paid

and if there is mercy in all this pain

let's not look for it because we'd only deluded ourselves

I'd rather die and lie still in my ruin

then go on like this with not one saving grace availing

I'll be true to my wife my mistress my friend

even my enemy I'll take drink with

let God do His worse and let it fire me up

to do my best...little good as that may be...

and let it all turn out as it will

and let me wind up where I will need to be...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
in our daily engine

some stoke the fire

some are the cords of wood

and either one thinks

I can see but I cannot believe

believe but I cannot hope

hope but I cannot imagine

the whole issue exhausted...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
expendable as babies and virgins

are to some Moloch

we are sacrificed to daily process

and for what greater glory

only a huckster would lie about...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

Tuesday, October 2, 2012

I’m being transformed

but I don’t know into what

I still feel like me…

I hope my Higher Self gets it

it's certainly lost on me…

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

All is accounted for to this instant of my life; to move on and go forward from this, I
must dig deeper into myself and truly make what changes need to be made, whether I’m ready or not, if I’m to make any use of this fresh start—this new infusion of energy to go down the home stretch of this sojourn—this race that has been run with such scattered patience.

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
when I look at you

the years disappear

and we are as we were

young and stupid and brave

and tasting life the better for it

alive in our touch and our kisses

and embraces

oh when I look at you

we are together in our only time

obeying no clock

mindful of no passage of minutes or hours

or days or months or years

when I look at you

we are as we are...always...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

Monday, October 1, 2012

my ‘evil twin’ is held at bay for the moment

I’ve pondered him much

wondering “who is the real me

the one who blesses or the one who curses?”

even that's too simple a designation

for a concept too complex

for the daily mind to process

by pondering too much

how much harm has come?

how much healing will go?

I feel that ‘twin’ scratching inside my skull

best give him a wide berth for now

I have too many little things to do

things that will grow unruly if left unattended…

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

every time I make a plan

the universe will rise up

and unmake it

the surest way to fail

is to visualize success

don't listen to those positive thinkers

they don't know how safe they are

in their easy self-excusing retreat

while the heart of light

casts different shadows

down each of our different paths

and of that

I can be (as far as I see)

reasonably positive...(guffaws a-plenty!!!)

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
if you can count your true friends

on the fingers of one hand

and you only count one finger

(and the middle one at that)

then you've got a problem

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

truly unfortunate

the one is obvious as a cement truck

and the other is subtle as carbon monoxide

this is what I have

blessed myself with

being between worse and worst

each a friend...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

beset  I’m sure

I could find where I’m going

as long as it is not

from where I came

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

I should be ashamed of my sloth

calling out the human race

is the easiest thing to do

but I'm no elitist

I'm no priest or prophet

I'll laugh and cry whore and be sad

just like everyone else

I am everyone else and we all suffer from sloth...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
it's not going to be a New Golden Age

the spiritual vibrations may be higher for those

attuned to such things

but here on earth

here in the flesh

it'll just be just be another age

of ignorance and hatred and fear

ruining all good that enlightened people

are striving to attain

do I sound mandrian? am I an elitist?

very well then so I am

God calls us to something higher

then damns us for striving higher

God is no better than His whole damned creation

and if that's the case then why bust your ass?

all liability is on us

so let's attend to our own business

and if the holy wish to make their pompous pronouncements let them

and if the dull and ever earthbound wish to wreck every holy attempt

then let them

let everyone rot where they drop let them pop with their bubbles

nothing on earth will ever change nor was it ever supposed to...

stumble on with life on earth as we'll always know it

each New Golden Age is dug up centuries later

for the edification of ignoramuses

it's not going to be any different here in the world...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.