POST 131

ah! this damn writing thing!

how a person get started down

this old damn road is writer's;

suppose tomorrow will bloom

red, pink, blue and any other

fricking color, suits a writer's fancy.

shoot the moon, shoot for the moon,

or just shoot off one's mouth,

but we can be damned sure some

crazed writer will spill out some words.

and where do all these

words ramble off to? right out

there on that wild maddening web;

stuck there for eternity, plus life,

never to be seen again.

peace be unto words. 

it was then, and then now.

we know this because elephants

made this all possible,

years before birth of questions.

then a foreboding, yet 

peaceful and quiet; lurking

through the dark night.

all those elephants, dead and gone.

and those questions go unanswered. 

what compels us to blog?

what compels us to write?

what compels us to do anything?

that compelling factor lays deep,

hidden from prying minds.

most often hidden from one's own mind.

but that factor lays there,

as powerful a force as any force could be.

and that factor will run its course,

regardless of what we do or say.

he just sat there,
watching a bird fly by.
then he said:
when elephants fly, so will I.
but elephants will never fly,
so neither will I.

what humans don't destroy, they kill.
we, humans, predators of the first order.
but our pure, wild aggression is beautiful;
so damned beautiful!

but we are an anomaly in all
things of great mystic wonders.
thunder speaks well of us.

becoming one with the many,
or many with the few,
is entirely up to perfecting you.

and just look at you now;
you, a rising star among many,
but standing out with the few,
as only one like you could do.