Friday, June 23, 2006

Serotonin Ghost Dance


You may walk in the crowds in the city rush-hour and not see a soul.
You may as well be a ghost among ghosts.
You may stand on the top of the hill; alone in the night with the stars and the moon and be connected with everybody in the small town below.
Your trance will let you hear the sighs and the laughter of the nights passing lost in the haze of distance echo, your head full of cosmic dust.
You may look at your children and see yourself in them; you may wonder why they are not like you.
You may stand on the ledge in your Frankenstein body and hear nothing but your own voice across the chasm.
Your vertical descent may be conducted in rage and anger or yelling elation at the anticipation of answers.
Conform if you will; if you must. I don’t care if you don’t and don’t blame me if you do.
All I know is that from everyone I meet there shines a little something.
Connections are established beyond the weather; beyond your common ground.
Beyond:
- Postures and evasions
- Class systems and ego-fed self importance
- self consciousness and low self-esteem
- education
- your place in the hierarchy
- gold teeth or new age dream
- skin colour and ethnic origins
- the colour of your eyes
- the colour of your money
- your cellulite thighs
- what you believe in
- what I profess not to believe in
- the way that you dress
- your beauty
- my ugliness.
It all just gets in the way.
Do the lines around your mouth run inward retaining or outward entertaining?
Is the star between your eyes from concentration or concern?
Is that glimmer in your eye starlight or the oncoming train?
Is your quiet reflection sunk in sadness or nostalgic imagining?
Do you know where you’re at; are you at where you want to be?
Are you in or are you out, shaken all about?
Do you sleep fitfully in fear of the impending disaster?
Do you sleep through it all in blissful denial?
Are the voices in your head saying something new, or just telling you what you want to hear?
Do they laugh at your ignorance or wallow in its marshmallow familiarity?
The womb you create for yourself should be warm enough not to be distracted by environmental concerns but not so hot as to belay the need for consideration; for excess warmth brings sleep.
And when you sleep you are but a ghost in the crowd.

4 comments:

vanessa said...

I've been reading through much of your posts... and your ideas just astound me. i look forward to reading more from you

littlebitofsonshine said...

this one so deep and touching im so moved mear words are not enuff

elasticwaistbandlady said...

I liked this one so much that I read it twice.

I desperately wanted to answer all the inquiries listed here, but this guy that I formed a connection with on the Internet taught me a valuable lesson about rhetorical questions.

Favorite phrase? "Wallowing in marshmallow familiarity". Food analogies touch me on a deeper level. :)

Anomie-Atlanta said...

Genuine poetry can communicate before it is understood. - T.S. Eliot

This is great.