surrealism has won the day--

ain't the joyous marxbros movie

we thought it'd be

(er winged octopus...can't have a surrealist poem

without a winged octopus in there...)

otherwise turds buzz flies

bill knott commits suicide yet again by lying in the street

and jumping off the curb into the sky

and a large sun glows brown as an arclamp

under yet another chariot of the gods

that thinks we're a pit stop

on the way to some black hole

eating another universe 8 trillion light years away

I fear I will go down in the cataclysm

one of many

instead of being on top of Mt Kathadin

watching assholes float by

boy not ready for transcendence am I?

(why is that odd bearded face staring down at me

though a tear in the clouds?)

this is what happens when I've nothing in particular in mind

and various  transmissions float through my brain

think I'll put a sign on my forehead saying

"SHOUT---FOOL AT WORK"

and leave me at this keyboard while I go elsewhere

for real--

                                Content (c) 2008-2009 Philip Milito

for one moment

I thought

Time

did not

exist and so

was disqualified

                                        Content (c) 2008-2009 Philip Milito

as I wonder what supermassive black hole

I must build a cosmology around

my faintest flutter of heart

will sustain no further fantasy of expectation

and justification       I do not know what vortex

will consume all conditions or consciousness

but shortly a lifetime of waiting will reach

its apotheosis and in a mere time of three

more spins or so around the sun

this world will finally after the eons of prophecies

see exactly and finally how this long-awaited apocalypse

will really go down     and at last we will stand on  a precipice

entirely what we are and  our actual living reality

at last sustained by Awareness    our notions released

                                                                           *

oh here I go again

another listless depressed day

and I'm taking refuge in my imagining

of transcendence

hard to live with the false

assumptions

and a thousand times worse

to live without them

                                                                              *

              Content (c) 2008-2009 Philip Milito.  All rights reserved.

                                                         

How blessed to be alive

In the time of the turds!

                                                                             *

I lived through enough suffering

(Back there in my youth--during

The ending Piscean Age)

To last several lifetimes

Over the coming ages--

I'm not lovin' it...

But

If the old light bulb lights

And a transcendence beyond what

Can ever be imagined lifts away that detrius

I would finally be back to all

That I actually am and would never

Recognize myself...

                                                                            *

I swamp with awareness

Including the knowledge of our

Limited worldly estate--

The mocking of Materialists

I am used to--

Yet who but an idiot would try

To tell an idiot that he's an idiot?

Being in the earth one is broken down

By others and as my buggy rolls free and careening

Down an assumption disguised as a prompting

I renounce vanity at last convinced it's a sucker's game--

I turn inward but not away--the strength to maintain

Slipping away but for the float that bobs me on waves as

Awareness swamps me...

                   Content (c) 2008-2009 Philip Milito.  All rights reserved.

It all came together    at last...

A spark in the sky

And the night opened...

                                                                               *

Such it is for the entity in the earth--

That in order to live you must die--

Anxious and cruelly terse

In earthbound incomprehension of why--

                                                                              *

Watch out for 

The hot old foxes--

     Even more than

The young        they will

Blow you in front

For your money

Then laugh behind your back

While they spend it

                                                                              *

I can feel the finish line looming--

Not see it  mind you

But feel it--

Emanating invisibly as

Out a crooked tunnel

In overlay

Upon my sight--

Every step bringing me closer

To the mad last dash

And the ribbon snapped

By the hurling body--

The race with myself done

In which neither I nor myself won--

The Higher-Self-'I' taking a lesson

While lower-case 'me'

Lies paralyzed in the spent shell--

But as cheering fades and dissolves

And sight goes black

And soul peels out from completed skin--

Feeling comes to certainty--

As I go the line will trip me unawares and

I     at last   will see..

                                                                            *

We resume  (how appropriate for a Mercury

Retrograde)

                         and what will come will come--

Keep busy

Stay active

Do what you must and be done

It will turn out as it will--

Put your whole being in one laser focus

Of will and attention on whatever of yours is at hand

And fix the first breach that set you on your way

Continuing....

                      Content (c) 2008-2009 Philip Milito.