Distant Like In The Back Of The Brainbox

the distance which separates us
is like the difference between
white of egg
and egg yolk
one egg two parts
scramble them
somewhat scrambled
wholly scrambled
in part or whole
but consistently
distant
nonetheless

like white cells and red cells
make serum when
spun awhile
or scrambled in somesort
of machine makes
orderly mess
of once was but finds
a new form
but not workable anymore
in the previous model

back to when
i did not want
or wont
or won't
or can't
or Ken
or someother
notme
cant be
what I said
did I do that?

when my constituent part
returned to same
it did take time to
reconstitute like oj
never the smae as the original
how could it be
these and those set on spin
often dont bring the same thing
to the lazy susan

these and those
were scrambled and spun
always more over done
wanting to
never can do
when wishes came true
negative equity
how to put back
the broken vase
once whole
now left in a thousand pieces
of broken heart

nonetheless
achieving a homeostasis unit of wholeness
sameness
dolldrums sound the knell
we werent made to be static
not even for a moment
certainly not years
of never ever happening

that meant that who could never give
nor gave fully that part of which
that whom and whom when removed from the first part
became the second part of the first
and lasted far longer with all that
fragmentation
that figment of imagination
that piece of cut glass
which saved me
from giving too much
away
for free
when really
one needs to eat
don't we?

time to
get away from thoughts of being one
over spun
over spin
over scrambled mass of a mess
who wants to only
break the mold like a smashed piece of
pottery
earthenware
left in partial pieces on the back shelf
plated and acid-etched
where like Prince's old girlfriend
Purple rained on my parade that day
when i gave it away so freely
to the Prince of Pretend
Prince Friday by the Bay
Prince One Day

or any other lady in waiting
returns to the back of the line
waiting by Ancient Oaks
waiting for the tree feller
to cut me down to the wick
the wicked wick
but wicked good
i was licked wicked good
but I got back up again

so I could wait patiently again
until someone should show up
in the shop that looks like a matchstick
make me a match
made before eharmony
or matchmaker arts were all that
so we think beyond the label
beyond the sterotype
beyond the flesh of fools
beyond life's mess
we take in stride all things
as women have done for millenia
and wait for an endless date
with prince charming
charmed I'm sure
not
not really
rarely
So in all this maybe I got caught
in a school for scandal
which portaited silhouettes
for the chopping block
all needs scapegoats
some sacrificial lamb
some servant to freely
give away
something which is not free
to others
who often get paid for the same
service-oriented position
where would we be without
public service
volunteers
and lovers of free
without the sleaze component

maybe mr gig
says play the game song
how it has rung before
without knowing
it didnt work the first time
and it never changes
insanely idiotic to repeat this pattern
when off the record
all is bs

so you accept thing you cannot change
because you do not make exceptions
your prejudiced ways
flew in the face of freedom
flew off the handle
flew far flung away
never landling
but free-floating
miles above my head
whats this mean?

as an outsider
how do you feel
about the human race
is it going to fast to catch up
with the hampster wheel of fortune
funny I thought I belonged to something
somewhat
someone
somehow
like spun and scrambled
it all comes out in the end
when you getting off the train?
have you made yourself whole
when you found that place
where you belong
happy with knowing
i meant nothing
happy with knowing
i did not know
happy with knowing
questions still linger
who's rules were you following
when you closed the latch on the gate
left me sitting on the ground
rocking in fetal form
trying to find
that stem cell
from long ago
to begin all over again
this time
it will all make sense
and no funny mind games
only true no bs
no hidden agenda
no motivating factors
no screw-u campaign
am I really an optimist
a dreamer
and a lud?
wasnt there a time when you questioned why
do i follow others dreams machine paths for me
when I could have had stark reality
kicking me in the rear posterior
smooth operator
like decay makes energy
I stored all this for so long
that maybe take the beginning from the end
and smash them together in the Haldron
all that decay could make hay some day
I am hoping for this too
I dont think yin and yang balance
when one carries all the poop
for others
and like the sin-eater
becomes
the master of foibles
and fretful masters
concerns like a spin or spun or scramble
get of the train
get out of the blender
get free from continual
never-ending
emotional attachments to things
when things keep spinning and churning
and changing and becoming
out front
store front
front and centre
reality lives
while all else held by hands
let go
fly away
swirling round
like a blue budgierigar
when the cage lid is left open
and the contained items
cannot be contained any longer
when things are released
set free
set on stun
set mode of life
can be known?
who's in control?
when all is in spin
spun
and scrambled?
hoping they have more of a hold
a grip
a containment system
to hold in
or let go
all those things
we hold so dear
even the fake tears
as you walked away
the heart should know
when the focus is not contained
when the vessel is left
empty
unfufilled prophesy
destiny altered
light not flowing
in the way it was meant to go
if natural laws
were allowed to be
synthesizing reality
altering reality
playing God
does not do a body or soul good
as the spirity can not flow
through the holes
when the atom is manipulated
to this desperate degre?
you follow the synthesizers
the gods of alter
the gods of never after
because our paths now are lost
where we were to go
when reality was left alone

jj 03 02 2010