Lot's Wife Second Guesses

Not one of them knew the color of her smile.
Their eyes stared level, fastening upon the inevitability of the day.
The rushing approach of darkness and the glorious mortal weakness of sleep. Who could ask children to know the fine porcelain of her cheek or the anticipated thrill of her lips?

Just as the sand shifts beneath the rolling tracks of an armored personnel carrier, the minutes drip through the hourglass and we all wake with revised expectation and heavily edited, lackluster laundry-lists of realizable daily tasks.

You could check out at anytime you wish.
You could throw your trousers in a sack, grab some greasepaint, & hit the open road.
This is what killed Kerouac, inevitability. It wasn't the road. All the intrigues, adventures, romances, late nights, early dawnings,... ad nauseam
weren't the culprit of his demise.
Same as Cobain & Elvis.
Our eyes are opened wide before they slam shut.
The hardest thing is to unsee.
It's harder to unknow.
The joy and the speed and the whirl of this life.
Tossed from coast to coast or halfway around the world.
We've woke up in so many beds, looked through all the windows, dove deep into the highest resolution,... How could we go back?
To being simple and naturally occurring
or remotely naive

Comments

Especially for the Children and Animals of the Future

#1 Lord, please send protection against the deceptive fingers gripping this world a stranglehold all surfaces are corrupted either by chemical castration or our mutating organic nature please lift the masking from the vision of the filters from the cosmic reality that is actual dirt has become a shield electrons scream Alien DNA comes in copyright plastic wrap murder hornets and exploding populations of ticks screaming across every nook and cranny of our buttery goodness quaint Polaroid memories Mad, mad, mad cow disease exactly because America is so very awesome how can a country built on your name be systematically racist? Answer: it can't! Man can! There is no good man There is only man Humankind We run The tables We pop pop pop we compete against one another to our very last breath Every once in a while one jumps up...

Play Your ElectroMuse Clip

Lingering Over the strings The tree streams Butterfly wing beats Glitched out pnmemonics Flood hydraulic streets "Hey, man! You should post a tutorial On how to be a human." Or something justfiably arcane Ah,... The vibes On the opening of 'Three Little Words' Do you remember? The experiment Where we installed non-standardized Object into a standardized slot? The monkies lost their minds The lab rats we're in disarray The code bugs couldn't find a pattern complete and utter chaos! And still the protesters protested The bureaucrats hid beneath mountainous Avalanches of bureaucracy Lawmakers over-played their hand All the oil barons went bankrupt The Magi approach With a perfectly constructed bassline Before Finally Exit-ing From an alternative port of departure

Wet Spring Morning Electric Piano

it was the morning of the spring. As unpredictable as the weather patterns of the Mid-Atlantic could be, during this season, they would be this morning. What kind of southern hound, who enjoys the growl of rubber and asphalt, could stop himself from jumping in his car and taking in the music of wet asphalt and breaking clouds? Not i, gentle sleeper, not i. To let all the joy and misery of reality wheel about you, while the eye speeds past the clumping Wisteria, this must be what Morning from Peer Gynt is all about. The lilt of the flutes while the k9 task force SUV is situated in a hiding spot down the stretch of Old Statesville Road between Oak Drive and Gibbon Road. Of course he would give you a ticket if you accelerate to pass the crusty eyed drivers with no love for the visual paradise being offered. The mornings of spring are quite different from any other season....

PMPope

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