







				   Triumvirum

			      By Jared P. DuBois

		      (c) Copywrite 1990  Jared P. DuBois


				   Contents

	   THE SOCIAL SCENE

	       The Blessed.

		   -Paper Heroes -Great Expectations -
		   -After the Fall -Prodigial Son -
		   -Kings and Queens -Judicial Beneficials -

	       The Dispossessed

		   -Death of a Child -Silence of the Damned -
		   -From the Rainforest -Property of the Army -

	       The Rest.

		   -Blackened Lights -Grander Grandiose - 
		   -Broken Promises -Burbia -
		   -Generals and Majors -

	   THE HUMAN EXPERIENCE

	       Past.
		   -A Moment's Peace -Once a King -
		   -Mocha Moses -The Wayfarer -

	       Present.

		   -Automatons -In Boxes -Eye in the Sky -
		   -Social Repartee -Sweet Understanding -
		   -The Executioner -

	       Future.

		   -Tomorrow's Child -In Full Bloom -
		   -Flying through the night -
		   -Our Legacy of Lethargy -
		   -Part & Parcel -

	   INSIGNIFICA

	       The Arts.

		   -Shelfed - Sculpted Pure -
		   -The Motion Picture Show -Novella -
		   -The Weaver's Art -An Actor's Line -
		   -Can't you hear the music dance? -

	       Fantasy.

		   -Excelsior -The Dark Horse-
		   -Love is on the run -Terradactyl Wings -
		   -Imagine Me -Mandragon -Sweet Dreams -

	       Self-Concretion.

		   -Centricity -The Haunting -
		   -I cannot see me -Dippyserenity -
		   -Me thinks too much -
		   -The Roughest Road -True to You -








	     THE SOCIAL SCENE

	     

	     

	     

	     

	     
						     The Blessed.


			      Paper Heroes

	    Raindrops streak softly across the pages
	      of a discarded newspaper in disarray
	     blurring the faces of the paper heroes
	       and the words of what they did today

	    People of power,  people of fame,
	      people on pedestals far higher than the sky,
	     stars whom the real stars of space would envy
	       if it were not so easy for them to fall and die

	    Their descents too become headline news
	      like comets plummeting from high above
	     and all their pain and shame is public domain
	       as well as who and how and where they love

	    They are the ones who are warmed or burnt
	      by their fleeting moments in the limelight,
	     as soon their forced smiles and press releases
	       will become tiresome and vanish from our sight

	    Worn under foot,  the newspaper comes to rot
	      in a back alley where the wind has lead the way
	     for as yesterday's news becomes distorted and confused
	       we care only for what they are telling us today


			    Great Expectations
 
	   Floundering in the failure of my anticipated
	     good fortunes
	    I cast my teary eyes upward desperately 
	      attempting to comprehend
	     As I have equated my identity with my
	       ambitious aspirations
	         I now find I have lost myself by my
		   failure to succeed

	   Was it that I took upon myself a task demanding
	     more than I was capable of,
	    I wonder as I search for myself among my
	      shatter goals' debris
	     Because success was a necessity for all that I
	       planned to be or do
	         I had never anticipated need to learn ways to
		   accept my failure

	   Where now from here,  am I doomed to split
	     apart at the seams?
	    Questions upon questions incessantly clamor up 
	      from deep inside me
	     Lacking any mental foundation left standing from
	       which to build upon
	         I feverishly throw myself into the cataclysmic 
		   confusion within

	   Torturing frustrations of inadequacies and unmet
	     expectations
	    slowly rise away and liberate me as I stand
	      at death's door
	     Sweet dreams and satisfaction pass in a fleeting instant
	       as I plunge into the abyss


			       After the Fall

	     Pity the ones who never fell
	       who never felt the stinging
	         of cold hard reality smashing their faces
	       Their sense of life would be flawed
	         and their educations incomplete
		   for never achieving that success we call failure

	     All of life is always a struggle
	       though our endless capacities
	         can complete the most arduous tasks with ease
	       We want to climb the infinite mountain
	         but each setback only cautions us,
		   saving us from the greater falls ahead

	     Imperfect is the antique not tarnished,
	       fated is the glass not yet cracked,
	         and brittle is the spirit yet to be broken
	       Misfortune and growth are not companions
	         nor are they even similar,
		   they are but one and the same


			       Prodigal Son

	 All hail the prodigal son,
	   the one who can succeed with ease
	     at tasks others thought could not be done

	 In his wake nerves are calmed,
	   the lame gain strength and the aimless find dreams
	     as the air seems alive with his ever lingering song

	 Everyone is hoping that he is the one
	   who has the power to save us from ourselves
	     and raise our sights from the earth below up to the sun

	 The feelings he inspires take root within us
	   as seeds sown from an invisible yet common wind
	     which blows so often it ceases to cause us to wonder

	 His abilities and good wishes are second to none
	   yet there is nothing in his manner that could seem aloof
	     and he speaks as though each thing is everything in one

	 On him the sun shall rise and shall set
	   as it will upon us and everyone else in our time
	     but as he lives it shall seem brighter and sweeter ever yet


			     Kings and Queens

	      "God save the King,"  they cry
	        but let Him save some mercy for us
	       Let us hope He keeps our lives free
	         of the pain and the misery we make just

	      Kings and queens are ornamental,
	        like jewelry and clothes,  they show our vanity
	       They decorate our walls and mantels
	         displaying our hopes for a more regal humanity

	      It is we the commoners who are royal
	        for we are free of their pompous positions
	       We succeed or fail without help or hindrance
	         from the curious' endless inquisitions

	      We earn our praise and our livelihoods
	        for only life itself is our birthright
	       We prosper in accordance with our capacities
	         and often keep this ground in our sight

	      So let the royals survive in their vacuum
	        created by the aspirations of the common man
	       We shall live life in the real world
	         sharing hardship and death's painful brand


			   Judicial Beneficials

	     Prodigious and legitious lawyers like sawyers
	       put our lives on trial
	      For erstwhile ends they make us defend
	        the value of a smile

	     They'll put a price on your head if you drop dead
	       and exaggerate and exacerbate grief
	      For dramatic effect,  the pain they resurrect
	        while twisting the truth beyond belief

	     With miles of red tape,  no once can escape
	       the reaches of their reign
	      There's no give and take in the legal world they make
	        without more of them to do the same
	     
	     They help to define your state of mind
	       and they also judge who's sane
	      They judge how life looks through big foreign books
	        ignorance of which they disdain

	     In a world so large someone took charge
	       and their heirs lead the way
	      From their specialized schools just to make rules,
	        they bought the law and make us pay








	     THE SOCIAL SCENE

	     

	     

	     

	     

	     
					        The Dispossessed.


			     Death of a Child

		     A child died quietly 
		       in the hollow of the night
		      A child died naturally
		        though it cannot be right
		       The child's illness was one 
		         which could easily be cured
		        The child's silent aspirations
			  now shall never be heard

		     Accomplices were they
		       who did not know of his plight
		      Accomplices were they
		        who knew but averted their sight
		       Defiled are they who thought
		         helping strangers an impropriety
		        Defiled are they who honor
			  such an insane society

		     Over and over again 
		       this story shall be told
		      Over and over again
		        they shall die as we grow old
		       Each time this happens 
		         we lose more of our worth
		        Each time this happens 
			  we blacken the legacy of Earth


			   Silence of the damned

		  Caught in a violent stranglehold
		    between intolerable injustice and death,
		   the entire race of a nation
		     stands united rattling the chains
		    of their slavery
		      before the ears of a world
		     hungry for the drama inspired
		       by tragedy

		  As pleas for compassion ring out,
		    the viselike grip tightens even further
		   seeking to permanently silence
		     the muted cry of the human spirit
		    helplessly caught
		      in a web of prejudice and greed
		     as the powerful slowly devour
		       their paralyzed prey

		  With their tongues severed
		    their bodies are also stolen from them
		   and made to serve their oppressors
		     by forging them the very tools needed
		    to rule
		      while quietly contemplating
		     how to rise up and vanquish
		       the enslavers


			   From the Rainforest

	    Deep within the vibrant green forests
	      shadows of the past still breathe
	     The ancient ones of an innocent age
	       still define what it means to live free

	    The people of the forest celebrate life
	      as it was and perhaps as it should be
	     Their cultures are a testament to beauty
	       unadorned and content in simplicity

	    Without our sanctimonious garbs
	      of moral condemnation and commiseration,
	     they more than we should be able to judge
	       the value of life and its necessitations

	    Unspoiled and devoid of our social virulence,
	      one may forget whether the are behind or ahead
	     for as we endeavor to reach for the stars
	       it is unclear why we don't seek their peace instead

	    But our metal monsters will prevail
	      and flush them from their garden sanctuary
	     We shall suffer no more by comparison
	       as we take them and make them more like we

	    As more and more cultures wither and die
	      christian prayers will at last come true
	     All the Earth will share the faith of despair
	       and industrial blight will always be within view


			   Property of the Army

	      Property of the Army,  that is what we are
	        for their bullets mercilessly cut us down
		  whenever our protests go too far

	      Property of the Army,  they've bought our very lives
		by selling us their brand of perpetual fear
		  while profiting under a different guise
      
	      Property of the Army,  they've declared war on us
		the populace from within their own boarders
		  doing what they wish,  telling us they must

	      Property of the Army,  we struggle to stay alive
		and as they bleed our country dry,  they tell us
		  that without them we could not survive
      
	      Property of the Army,  that is all we will be
		for as they openly murder all opposition
		  they cripple our hopes to be free








	     THE SOCIAL SCENE

	     

	     

	     

	     

	     
						        The Rest.


			     Blackened Lights

	         For the lovers of life and truth
		   bound to live out lives of lies 
		  I give to you my sympathy
		    and I cry beneath my own disguise
		   for I know the pain and sufferance
		     and the burdens we must bear
		    when we are forced to lessen our light
		      before the face of others who cannot care

	         Our dignity and the hopes of ages
		   die violently mired in disgrace
		  when we are made to walk through life
		    showing only a cold and indifferent face,
		   not letting our outrage at injustices show
		     for fears of being branded a rebel
		    and having our passionate pleas for love
		      be scorned as misguided and criminal

	         Oh,  how the promise of life suffers
		   when the empathy of Man reaches an eclipse
		  and simple charity becomes optional at best
		    as the standard for judgment shifts
		   to the right of the hearts own light
		     plummeting our dreams toward the cruel ground
		    and plunging our world into another cold night


			    Grander Grandiose

	  The more I travel,  the more I become convinced
	    that the soul of humanity has long gone comatose
	   for as the billions of poor struggle to survive
	     each country's capital vies for grander grandiose

	  Bigger and more opulent buildings and monuments
	    still reflect the true meaning of the pyramids,
	   wondrous marvels build for the pride of nations
	     and paid for with the blood of men,  women,  and kids

	  Funding for these aberrational towers of vanity
	    comes at the expense of those who need it the most,
	   the ones whose voices cannot be heard by the officials
	     who seek to make their marks ones that eternally boast

	  Countries facing massive starvation and drought
	    always seem to find the resources to build new halls
	   for the efficiency experts to be able to debate
	     where the money will come from to pay for it all

	  It is the way of Man not to do all that he can
	    and that is mirrored by his larger sovereign states
	   which take taxes meant to serve the common good
	     and spend them on the excesses indulgence creates


			     Broken Promises

	   Another chance to help someone passes by
	     followed by a vague ambiguous vow
	    that one day soon things will change
	      and you'll have the time to make a difference
	     but that day never seems to come
	       as the sand through the hour glass runs
	      piling high broken promises upon our incompetence

	   We feel the momentum of our lives
	     does not permit back pedaling when wrong
	    so too often we continue on paths
	      which we know can only lead to misery
	     yet we stubbornly stay the course,
	       alter the appraisal of our daily discourse,
	      and lie to ourselves so often we can no longer see
 
	   Too often we replace actions with words,
	     so often we can even come to believe
	    that they are not mere pacifications
	      which allow us to continue unabated
	     by the circumstances pressing on us
	       to make ourselves a little more just,
	      ignoring them until eternity itself becomes inundated


			         Burbia
 
	      I live out in the outer suburbs
	        among astroturf lawns and marble curbs
	       All the streets and houses look the same
	         only distinguishable by their different names

	      My house is a cube,  to tell the truth,
	        a simple square with a V-shaped roof
	       There is six rooms and two baths in all,
	         and one room even has wood-grained walls

	      My car is a Japanese compact of course
	        but I'm saving up to one day afford a Porsche
	       The look so hot and they drive so good,
	         and there's only six in my neighborhood

	      I work in Manhattan and I've got my own desk
	        although it is indifferent than all of the rest
	       I do all the accounts receivable and more
	         for a major brand name department store

	      My wife Julia sometimes sells real estate
	        so we can buy a summer cottage on the Cape
	       She's pretty but plain though I don't care
	         'cause when I get bored I just have an affair

	      It's a dull but comfortable life I'll admit
	        though any life seems unexciting as you're living it
	       Excitement is a thing of movies and dreams
	         as reality gives it the ways and the means
		   to make it as special as it seems


			   Generals and Majors

	   Damn you,  you malicious and maniacal men
	     who send mere children off to fight your wars
	    to satisfy greed and your insatiable blood lust
	      as you sit behind the lines watching them die

	   To you the people are just breeding cattle
	     and their young are just lambs awaiting slaughter,
	    pawns to play dead in your sadistic little games
	      which you tell us are really for our own benefit
 
	   Your lives are spent planning others deaths,
	     others who have yet to reach such auspicious positions,
	    others who have just begun their luminous journeys
	      that will end in a hellfire catered by you
      
	   You think you rid your country of its threats
	     and keep it safe from the nightmares you envision
	    but your presence alone perpetuates your kind
	      and in turn seems to justify your existence








	   THE HUMAN EXPERIENCE

	     

	     

	     

	     

	     
							    Past.


			     A Moment's Peace

	     In the dim afterglow of a fiery sunset
	       a small child sits quietly on a sandy beach
	      staring at the last traces of warm colors
	        to reflect off the water's static surface

	     The light fades to a snug hazy blanket
	       settling comfortably down upon the horizon
	      and the patient watcher of celestial events
	        counts the stars as they suddenly appear

	     A slight onshore breeze begins to stir
	       bringing the youngster relief from the humid air,
	      thick with the sticky feel of salty moisture
	        that comes with the burning days of August

	     As the nights coolness envelops the shore,
	       the tired child slowly begins the trek home
	      trying hard to savor the last days of summer
	        and vowing to stay at peace in a frantic world


			       Once A King

	    "I am King!",  I bellow until the sound echoes
	      off the somber castle walls
	     Filled to the brim with wine and self-adoneration
	       I stumble away in search of a bed

	    The music of lutes plays somewhere off
	      beyond my blurred candle lit vision
	     Behind the merriment and muse lie the whispered treasons
	       of the endless plotting for my throne

	    Surrounded by guards,  I pause to relieve myself
	      of the evenings excessive liquids
	     Quickly the dampness, cold like death, encompasses
	       every pore of my regal being

	    In a cathedral-sized room covered with fine tapestries
	      I pass out upon a silken bed
	     Soon however,  I am abruptly awakened
	       by the feel of cold steel on my brow

	    Alone and in a drunken stupor I face my opponent
	      knowing full well the futility of a plea
	     Young and foolish,  and every bit as arrogant as me
	       he savors the taste of the kill

	    In an act of desperation I grab at his knife
	      but soon it is free,  then in my stomach
	     As I lay helplessly dying within my fortress
	       I know security is but a dream


			        Mocha Moses

		   Mocha Moses,  lay me down the law
		     and help the Lord set my soul free
		    Mocha Moses,  tell me what you saw
		      when you looked at that burnin' tree

		   Save the child running wild
		     down in the ghetto's streets
		    Raise him above with God's love
		      and those saintly words you preach

		   Mocha Moses,  show us the promised land
		     so we may never doubt it again
		    Mocha Moses,  teach us as much as you can,
		      teach us to give and to bend

		   You are the spark in the dark
		     giving us the fire we need
		    Skin like coal over a shining soul,
		      blessed be the heart that bleeds


			       The Wayfarer

	   Torn and tattered were his clothes
	     and his face,  like a well worn overgrown trail,
	    inspired polite respect with a twinge of fear
	      in the people whom he passed as his soul set sail
	     to find some wondrous place to finally rest
	       and upon that day he felt it drawing ever near

	   It was the fourteenth day of December
	     when his feet first carried him into the town
	    where he would meet the strangest of fates
	      and revel in the wake of the unseen forces that abound
	     between the reality of day and the darkness of night
	       which draw one unknowingly into the eeriest of states

	   In an little old inn on the edge of town
	     the wayfarer stopped for warmth and a drink
	    but this was no ordinary inn as he soon found out
	      for the innkeeper had devious eyes which would wink
	     whenever the wayfarer thought something was strange
	       and the walls themselves seemed to scream or shout

	   Intrigued by the strangeness of the place
	     the daring traveler decided to stay the night
	    but after making a quick check of his room
	      his eyes caught flash of a hideous sight
	     of a wolf standing bloodied over a mutilated body
	       and when the brief vision ended, he felt impending doom

	   Hurriedly,  he splashed his face wet 
	     in a water basin at the end of the hall,
	    his heart racing at the marvel he had seen
	      driving him to take some action or to call
	     for help from some sorcerer,  demon,  or god
	       to help him vanquish this terrible dream

	   Once again in the inn's tavern
	     he instead chose food to regain his composition
	    for he felt that he would need all his senses
	      to do battle with the demonic apparition
	     that lay waiting for him in his room
	       yet also in some other world behind unseen fences

	   He felt its presence even then
	     as he ate in an attempt to gain strength,
	    he felt it chiding to him to run while he could
	      but he did not listen to it at any length,
	     just long enough to know it was still there
	       and that if it could destroy him it surely would

	   The man at the bar let out a laugh
	     that sounded as deranged as its meaning was obscure
	     but before he left the room in a frenzied delight
	       he had pointed to the wayfarer sitting demure
	      and said nothing though the meaning was clear
	        in that he was a fool for not feeling proper fright

	   Alone in the room of the wolf
	     he sat expectantly upon a wooden chair
	    and with his gun at his side and knife in hand
	      he waited for something or someone to be there
	     but though the feeling grew ever more intense
	       nothing appeared that he could see or understand

	   Soon he began to grow tired
	     yet the more that he gave into this tide
	    the more invigorated he felt himself become
	      until he lay wide awake on the other side
	     where the wolf lay waiting in a field of green
	       and the light of the moon was now the sun

	   He stood up and gave chase to the wolf
	     although he was no longer certain why
	    for this world was certainly not like his own
	      as it had orange plants and a bright pink sky
	     and as he grew nearer to the fleeing wolf
	       he realized it was unlike any he had known

	   The ominous hatred and venomance
	     which he had sensed back at the inn
	    no longer was present in this strange new place
	      though still he felt driven to purge this sin,
	     this horrible abomination incarnate in the wolf
	       seeming so near that he could sense its foul taste

	   Then the wolf grew tired at last
	     and turned to face the wayfarer's approach
	    yet it did not show any sign of fear
	      nor did it turn hostile when he drew close,
	     instead it quietly awaited its impending fate
	       as the hunter flung himself at it like a spear

	   The wayfarer's confusion grew still
	     when the wolf seemed to vanish in the air
	    but the feelings still had hold of him
	      and as he fled across the plains in despair
	     he noticed that his body had disappeared
	       while he ran within the wolf's own skin

	   Over the next hill he came across a man
	     whom he vaguely noticed was himself
	    and as the man began to shudder back
	      the man-wolf felt the fear rise in itself
	     growing stronger until both were one
	       at the moment its teeth gnashed open his neck

	   Screaming,  the man was again in the room
	     far too shaken to think of anything's meaning
	    as he packed his things and hurried away
	      into the darkness of that fateful evening
	     when worlds collided for one man never known
	       except for the footprints in the snow never shown








	   THE HUMAN EXPERIENCE

	     

	     

	     

	     

	     
						         Present.


			        Automatons

	Man or machine,  that is the question
	  which remains to be seen
	 Shielded by uniforms,  we lash out beating and killing
	  those who are our own brethren
	   as we convince ourselves we have given up all rights
	    to question why

  	We poison and maim,  all the while believing
	  we are not to blame
	 Behind desks and thick glass,  we protect our jobs
	  by following mindless regulations
	   often hearing pleas from those that they destroy,
	    sympathizing yet never helping

	Part of the system,  we fail to rise above the limits
	  of its questionable wisdom
	 Filling the functions of some prepackaged lives
	  we lose sight of needed changes
	   and by identifying ourselves with socially programmed desires,
	    we become something less than human


			        In Boxes

	 Celled intellectuals,  come heed my call
	   to experience the myriad sensuousness
	     that lies outside your timid walls
	   Fools are we who try to rationalize
	     the most vibrant aspects of our lives

	 Boxes within boxes,  towering high in the sky
	   seemingly aspiring to reach the fruits of freedom
	     yet we enslave ourselves by wondering why
	   Knowledge we are told,  will set us free
	     and in its pursuit we are bound ever so blindly

	 Higher and higher,  soon in flight we will be
	   seeking after whimsy and better ways to provide
	     the resources needed to fuel our endless impetus to see
	   Carried by expectations of our own future's worth
	     we will soon lose all feel for ourselves and our earth

	 Locked in cubicles,  we live through our minds
	   never pausing to feel the depth and breath of each moment
	     never being where we are instead of far ahead or behind
	   Bored with what we know,  we are committed to dream
	     but thoughts void of feelings can never be what they mean


			       Eye in the Sky
 
	        Beware,  beware of the ultimate spy
		  It's just a simple black box
		    with an evil glass eye
	         It takes to the highway,  it takes to the sky
		   It sees and shows all
		     passing no one and nothing by
 
	        Once outside,  it can follow you around
		  and if you try to hide
		    it'll track you down
	         Any mistake that you might make
		   can be saved for posterity
		     on some secret videotape

	        Anything that you might say or do
		  could one day wind up
		    in the public's view
	         As it watches,  the exact time it will mark
		   keeping a constant vigil,
		     even seeing in the dark

	        It doesn't matter if you know or care
		  because from this moment on 
		    they will always be there
	         With nowhere to run and no place to hide
		   from the multitude of camera eyes
		     accept the fact that privacy has died


			     Social Repartee

		   The verbal give and takes
		     over the lives we make
		    set the stage and 
		      unflinchingly lead the way
		     to uncover the reasons
		       behind the change in seasons
		      of social values which vaunt
		        and then fade away

		   It is said to converse
		     is merely to rehearse
		    and rehash old ideas
		      long turning decrepit and gray
		     but in every innovative night
		       there is the occasional light
		      which flashes briefly yet dies
		        unnoticed before the light of day

		   To attempt to profoundly speak
		     even with words so old and meek
		    is to seek out and embellish
		      those shooting stars that never stay,
		     which brilliantly will blaze
		       before dying into the haze
		      of the oceans of previous notions
		        of hopes,  dreams,  and dismay
  
		   Yet at every new turn
		     there is the chance they or we can learn
		    to harness the elusive power
		      of insight which we cannot know of or say
		     so in every speech that bores
		       is a chance someone can open the door
		      and find that new insight
		        that might be possible only today


		         Sweet Understanding

	      A connection here makes a confection there
	        of succulent sweet understanding
	       A grand new scheme or a fool's dream
	         breathes new life from old ideas banding

	      From integration comes inspiration
	        as the whole surmounts its parts
	       A magical song known all along
	         sings the completion of a thousand false starts

	      Pieces of genius teaches us leanness
	        as we strive to keep the feeling's child pure
	       Yet innovation is age's creation
	         reflecting prisms of hopes that never were

	      A completion begets only a depletion
	        of the striving forces we unchain
	       Each new design of our states of mind
	         is tentative and cannot remain


			     The Executioner

	         The moment of truth appeared
		   within the blink of an eye
		  as I solemnly raised my gun
		    before my quavering victim

	         The Executioner of Justice
		   is the name I chose long ago
		  and that far off day gone by
		    is suddenly thrust before my eyes

	         Was it my passion for life
		   or some perverse taste for death
		  that made me love the work
		    which came to dominate my life

	         This kill will not come easy
		   and this face before me
		  shall not be quietly put to rest
		    in my tortured silent nights

	         This time I cannot believe
		   that this travesty is just
		  and the innocent eyes before me
		    reflect the truth of my task

	         Countless times before I could have questioned
		   but instead I chose to remain ignorant
		  of the manipulations of the halls of justice
		    that determine who shall live or die

	         This time it was too blatant,
		   an example to be made,
		  a statement of brutal blindness
		    to keep the rank and file in line

	         Right and wrong are dissolving
		   in my long inactive mind
		  and the fresh wind that blows
		    is filled with condemnation

	         My hand begins to violently shake
		   and the gun grows heavy within
		  as if the weight of my deeds
		    are now alive in my instrument of death

	         An explosive turmoil erupts within
		   as I am faced with countless questions
		  of life and truth and fate and lies
		    and of my own inevitable demise

	         The forces ripping me apart are great
		   but the solution is so near and easy
		  and in an instant later it is over
		    as the echoes of the shot die in the air

	         My eyes grow dim and my heart heavy
		   as I watch the body hit the floor
		  and I convince myself I will survive
		    the haunting truth my soul had seen








	   THE HUMAN EXPERIENCE

	     

	     

	     

	     

	   
							   Future.


			     Tomorrow's Child

		  Tomorrow's child is young,
		    not yet breathing the stagnant air
		   His heart has yet to beat
		     and his eyes have yet to stare

		  Though he has not yet begun
		    that long road to defining himself,
		   his future is being shaped
		     by those who would rob his wealth

		  They seek to tap his promise,
		    tear apart his world to mend their own
		   yet he is a force to be wary of
		     far beyond that which any have known

		  For them the bell will toll
		    upon the eve of his imminent birth
		   as he inherits all the universe
		     and casts out those without worth

		  But tomorrow's child too is mortal
		    and will err if he chooses to lay a claim
		   upon a world whose constant churning
		     destroys those whom it cannot tame


			     In Full Bloom

	   The boundaries between life and dreams
	     have long fallen before humanity's eyes
	    and their world has grown far beyond
	      anything which we can conceptualize

	   Limitless variations of time and space
	     are all within reach of our posterity's minds
	    and our entire history up to this date
	      is but a tiny segment of what they can find

	   Their consciousness' are free to roam
	     among that realm which we call eternity
	    growing immeasurably with each breath
	      their almost insignificant bodies breathe

	   Countless planets and civilizations
	     have lives and views their minds have sought
	    yet there is no need for recording them
	      for they are there with merely a thought

	   They can comprehend all the universe
	     yet they realize the limits of their view
	    because as wide as their horizons may seem
	      their experience is only what they choose to do


			   Flying through the night

		    A minute pocket of existence
		      hangs suspended in the infinite void
		     Moving at speeds unimaginable to us,
		       its motion is dwarfed
		      by the sheer majesticness
		        of limitless horizons

		    These beings which inhabit
		      this metal-coated gas bubble
		     cast adrift upon a sea of solitude,
		       they cannot help but feel
		      the stirrings of silenced voices
		        pleading for them to take notice
		       of themselves in the face of eternity

		    The emptiness surrounding them
		      rejoices at the chance to become real
		     No longer void of meaning
		       it now becomes a real place,
		      a great chasm to be crossed
		        by those few destined to try


		         Our Legacy of Lethargy

	    We live beyond our means
	      and ponder this facts significance
	     as we anesthetize ourselves upon
	       computer simulated dreams,
	      living a life of decadence
	        defiantly brandishing our death song

	    We are the highest form of civilization
	      outnumbered by the rest of a dying humanity
	     that languish in shanty towns feeding off trash
	       as we grow fat in a cultural stagnation
	      that cannot confront this abominable insanity
	        dealt to us by those in a long irrelevant past

	    Our toils are but few
	      yet our needs and lusts are many
	     as we feed off the carcass of morality
	       stripping bare whatever is in view,
	      killing those without even a penny
	        and reveling in our own banality

	    With a cannibalistic fervent
	      we exploit the desperation of the masses
	     fighting for resources long since dried
	       by generations whose resources recklessly spent
	      always gave priority to the upper classes
	        which gained ground while the rest slowly died

	    They were the ones who begot us
	      as we inherited their wealth and brutality
	     along with a wasted and worthless planet
	       that shall soon be ground into dust
	      so we earnestly accelerate this harsh reality
	        and rape the few resources left without regret


			      Part & Parcel

	      We dream of what tomorrow will be
	        when today is still an ambiguity
	       We pin our hopes on some distant place
	         while accepting life's harshness and waste

	      The dawn we'd all like to see come
	        needs to be worked for before it is won
	       The end of pain we may never see
	         but the prominence of its sources need not be

	      We need not leaders for leaders have been
	        and did not succeed either now or then
	       We hope for substitutes to carry the load
	         when only we ourselves can pave the road

	      The future remains to be a source of dreams
	        as we still don't know what time or life means
	       yet for life to be better,  we still must learn
	         that we need do far more than just yearn








	      INSIGNIFICA

	     

	     

	     

	     

	     
						        The arts.


				   Shelfed

	   A poem as sweet 
	    as the first taste of vitality
	      lies hidden like a buried pirate treasure
	     between the pages of a book
	    under dust on a shelf

	   On the shelf this book
	    constant competes with others
	      in the silence their titles cry out for the attentions
	     of an ever dwindling bastion
	    of potential listeners

	   By the door the feeble
	    and aged librarian seems like a symbol
	      of the dying enchantment with finely crafted words
	     standing like the guard of a palace
	    which no one remembers

	   Those seemingly timeless words
	    which have survived for centuries
	      now seem to have been mortal and vulnerable after all
	     for though they survive and get transcribed
	    they may no longer live


			     Sculpted Pure

		  Chip away all the imperfections- 
		   Chip away all the malevolence and greed-
		    Chip away all that is not holy-
		     Chip away all that we do not need-

		  Sculpt out the soul within
		   that is as lucid as our dreams-
		    Sculpt out the inner essence
		     that lingers in the inbetween-

		  Soothe all of the rough edges-
		   Placate the ones that must remain-
		    Soften the hardness of reality-
		     Fulfill the promise of the work's pain-

		  Break away that which confines
		   for all art must flow free-
		    Break away all that does not represent
		     some inner truth in you or me-


		        The Motion Picture Show

	       Scenes of tenderness and beauty
	         flicker across the silver screen
	        Moments of love's enveloping rapture
		  captured to caress souls unseen

	       Flashes of life's diabolical geniuses
	         and their horrific legacies of pain
	        shine but for a fleeting instant of our lives
		  though their impressions indelibly remain

	       Images of victory and glory
	         and of the triumph of the human spirit
	        glow fondly inside us as we watch
		  feelings so exuberant our hearts can hear it

	       Pictures of the extraordinary and mundane
	         tell the tales we all love to hear
	        as we relax and become at one
		  with experience controlled to make things clear

	       Glimpses of our own unseen faces
	         we get as we see portrayed the scenes
	        of life as we have come to know it
		  and of the shapes it takes in dreams


			        Novella

	   Hurrah!  Hurrah!  Strike up the band
	     for our hero has returned home
	    as he is victorious once again
	      and glorious 'til the very end

	   Whether back from a far off planet
	     or from some dreaded foreign war
	    matters not for the details pale
	      if we've bought the telling of the tale

	   He has overcome insurmountable obstacles
	     with great poise and devil-may-care flair
	    All the bad guys have met death's hereafter
	      or their demises saved for the next final chapter

	   Justice has triumphed once again
	     as it always seems to do in the end
	    but it is never over until the last battle is won
	      and the countless rotors spinning tales are never done


			    The Weaver's Art

	     Stitch by stitch,
	       so goes the weaver's art
	      As each moment builds upon the last
	        gaining strength until reaching a great crescendo
	       that is the ending of our lives,
	         so too goes the weaver's art

	     Piece by piece,
	       we complete the puzzle of life
	      Like the weaver,  we continually create
	        but the weaver's task ends in a completion,
	       a magnificent new creation,
	         not an eternal demise

	     Toil upon toil,
	       such is the weaver's life
	      As each seemingly endless arduous task
	        becomes relegated and fitted into the past,
	       an ever greater challenge appears,
	         and so too goes our lives


			     An Actor's Line

		   Put on a new face,
		     of other's lives have a taste
		    Take the time 
		      to learn some new lines
		     and experience
		       the melding of different minds

		   Write yourself a new part
		     and make yourself a star from the start
		    It's all in the way
		      the scenes and dialogue play
		     so wake up
		       and make yourself up today

		   Let all the world hear
		     that the new you is about to appear
		    Give out the hype
		      for the tabloids to type
		     'cause behind the flash
		       the glamour life is all tripe

		   Forget yourself,
		     put it away on some shelf
		    If you use you
		      they are bound to abuse you
		     and along the way
		       you will probably lose you


		      Can't you hear the music dance?

		    Can't you heart the music dance
		      like the swaying of the trees
		     in perfect harmony
		       with the flowing of the breeze

		    I watch the sounds paint
		      colors of beauty and grace
		     far to intricate for me
		       to sketch or to trace

		    Try to taste the quietude
		      or the booming of trumpets and drums
		     that shake the world so loudly
		       you can't tell where from

		    Swim within the sounds
		      that make the air come alive
		     which enables us
		       to breathe the melody inside

		    I feel the vibrant rhythms
		      striking chords within my soul
		     making the different parts
		       of my life seem whole








	      INSIGNIFICA

	     

	     

	     

	     

	    
						         Fantasy.


			       Excelsior

	 One by one I shall cut the ties
	   which will bind me to the ground
	  and I shall feel the pull of the heavens
	    begging me to rise forth and come hither

	 I shall sit in the comfort of my airship
	   and watch the world fall beneath my feet
	  while setting my gaze upon a far larger world
	    whereupon the distant and unrelated become one

	 As I look down from my celestial throne
	   and revel at the expansiveness of my new sight
	  I shall carry with me the hopes of the spoiled and the damned,
	    as they bow before me longing to be set free

	 Over boarders and barriers I shall drift away
	   in my craft crowned by heat and golden sunlight
	  and as countries and continents fade to a distant blur
	    I shall learn true freedom at the mercy of destiny's winds


			     The Dark Horse

		   Built like a mighty fortress,
		     the dark horse rides asunder
		    with its giant hooves
		      tearing up the ground,
		     making sounds like rolling thunder

		   Relentlessly it surges forth
		     like a vengeful demon of the night
		    making all bear witness
		      to its unbridled fury
		     and its overwhelming sense of might

		   Bound by the truth of existence
		     and binded to an earth dominated by Man,
		    it searches for escape
		      the only way that it knows,
		     by running as far and as fast as it can

		   Running to every corner of the land,
		     one and all will sometimes hear it
		    as it thunders past
		      seeking limitless pastures
		     and freedom for its restless spirit


			   Love is on the run

	       Love is on the run
	         from the embittered ones
		   whom it once had shunned

	       Its song they seek to silence
	         and defy its protective innocence
		   by drowning it in their obtrusive impudence

	       Joy is being tortured
	         for the arm of the law made capture
		   and legislated away its rapture

	       It sits in a cell in the dark
	         jailed only for playing a part
		   in bringing aid to a broken heart

	       Freedom flew away
	         when someone left open the cage
		   bringing an end to a fraudulent age

	       Bound,  gagged,  and shackled,
	         they put it high upon a pedestal
		   and convinced all that it flew still


			     Terradactyl Wings

	      The future sings the joyful things
	        carried to us on terradactyl wings
	       The past's loss is a heady cost
	         paying for each creation time brings

	      Newness will vaunt aiming to daunt
	        the rigidity of old orders that taunt
	       Unique young notions die in the oceans
	         of fears of causing renewed commotions

	      Ancient verses drive the hearses
	        of the victimized dreams society disperses
	       They drink to health,  they drink to wealth,
	         so smashed they can't see their stealth

	      Intellectuals & crazies tiptoe on daisies
	        held back by fewer can-do's than maybes
	       The bountiful bold soon grow old
	         accepting the lies they know have been told
 
	      The dreamers are labeled schemers
	        and jailed for misdemeanors
	       while the suck ups and the ---- ups 
	         are praised by the stuck ups

	      This means that and damn means drat
	        and they really expect us to buy this crap
	       This democracy of hypocrisy
	         lets us think and do two different things
		   but when truth is told,  the lies we hold
		     while reality flies off on terradactyl wings


			        Imagine Me 

		    Imagine me a dream
		      of a crystal clear blue sky
		     with playful billowing white clouds
		       that dance as they pass by

		    Imagine me a stream
		      of shimmering living fresh water
		     that tastes as sweet and as pure
		       as heaven's most lovely daughter

		    Imagine me a cream
		      of the richest mother's milk
		     atop a most wonderful pastry
		       taken deliciously into yourself


			        Mandragon

	     With invisible fire spewing forth upon his
	       every word,
	      his thoughts alone can poison even the
	        strongest of men

	     His presence bears down like a weight
	       upon those who come near
	      and soon they lose their capacity to resist
	        as he draws power from them

	     Every movement,  every action is coldly calculated
	       to perpetuate his evil
	      yet he lives with the same amount of fear
	        which he inspires

	     His speeches will try to seduce you
	       whenever you listen
	      prying at you with promises of limitless power
	        over anyone you choose

	     Beware of the shadows in the darkness
	       when you walk at night
	      Run,  run for he craves after the life within you
	        and he is gaining fast


			       Sweet Dreams 

	    The Trogans are over the next hill
	      with Caesar and Napoleon too
	     and this is only my first command
	       what the hell am I supposed to do

	    I've got to think like Colonel Klink
	      and pray there's a way to bumble through
	     If at first you don't succeed
	       give up and try something new

	    'Put your feet in a full retreat
	      and run like heck until you turn blue!'
	     My foremost task is to save my ass
	       and second is to save my crew

	    Well the barbarians and Mongols are closing
	      from ahead but my ship's now in view
	     'Swim for it!' I scream as I dive into a stream
	       with crockadiles numbering more than a few

	    I am overwhelmed to again be at the helm
	      but now I have the Russian Navy to look forward to
	     and wouldn't you know it,  something new would blow it
	       as a large dragon snaps my sail in two

	    'What a wonderful day',  I stop to say
	      as I search through the hold for some glue
	     but I come up to learn my whole ship will burn
	       because the dragon sneezed on the last pass it flew

	    So as I sink not even able to think
	      what else could go wrong,  guess who I run into?
	     Captain Nemo passes by and asks if I need a ride
	       and even offers to throw in a brew

	    Once deep in the hub of Nemo's giant sub
	      I begin to think this is too good to be true
	     While still searching for the catch,  my eyes spy a map
	       with a circled 'Isle of Death' that might be a clue








	      INSIGNIFICA

	     

	     

	     

	     

	     
					         Self-concretion.


			        Centricity

		I see myself in the center
		  of a ball that is spinning around,
		 never colliding with another
		   and never striking any ground

		The rotation continuously gains speed
		  until the mass of myself becomes lost
		 as my identity fuses with the incessant motion
		   while my trepidations lose hold and get tossed

		I now see the universe not as a thing
		  but as a set of intercontingent motions
		 which sense each other through vibrations
		   felt though empty spaces living ocean

		An order arises around my spinning
		  as I fulfill that pattern surrounding me
		 completing the formation of a new ball
		   with each part intrinsic to its destiny


			       The Haunting

		   As I gaze at the reflections
		     dancing across the surface
		    of one of nature's many shallow pools,
		      I feel as though I am looking
		     at the ghosts from another time

		   At the touch of my hand they scatter
		     only to once again reappear
		    as the waves slowly begin to quell
		      and they reveal to me their stories
		     for they know I need to hear them

		   But these faces that do haunt me
		     are not of strangers of long ago
		    nor are their tales unfamiliar
		      for they are the different ages of me
		     and their dreams that did not survive

		   They are in pools of rain and window panes
		     and they will follow wherever I go
		    until the day when I take them back
		      if ever I decide to again be whole
		     and no longer bar them from my soul


			     I cannot see me

	       I cannot see me
	         I can stare into a mirror
		   but only a stranger stares me back
		  sharing a face like mine
	         yet isn't me

	       I cannot hear me
	         when I speak of what I believe
		   trying my damnedest to make a sound or stir
		  to break the grip of fates upon me
	         or the silence of eternity
 
	       I cannot feel me
	         I cannot even feel what is me
		   body or spirit,  both always elude me
		  leaving me to wonder why only I
	         am not even given me

	       I cannot know me
	         I cannot know what I am or will be
		   for what I am will only be shown long hence
		  the last light these eyes shall see  
	         and I,  a mere memory


			       Dippyserenity

	       I don't know why someone as foolish as I
	         should care whether I live or die
	        If fates lie without me
		  what meaning can there be
	         in my wondering how or when or why

	       The many more wiser than me ignore
	         the pointlessness of wondering what life is for
	        To me it's all the same
		  whether a gauntlet or game
	         and pondering will lessen it all the more

	       Also,  I see no gain in seeking fame
	         or chasing after wealth or fondness of name
	        The needs that one acquires
		  by having such lofty desires
	         make poverty a far more prosperous aim

	       A happy fool is me and all I shall ever be
	         for being myself is the only goal for me
	        Whether it is better or worse
		  total indifference is my curse
	         and contentment my claim to insanity


			   Me thinks too much

	    Me thinks there's far too many lectures
	      based upon faith in conjectures
	     For real truths to be known
	       complex models need not be shown
	         for true wisdom has a logic all its own

	    Me thinks there's far too much of it,
	      these eloquent mixtures of wit and ----
	     One person postulates utter nonsense
	       then others rally to its opposition and defense
	         and the absurdity soon becomes of social relevance

	    Me thinks that we are diving off the deep end
	      into superfluous inquires that others will commend
	     If only we could once instead concentrate
	       on the pressing problems we aggravate
	         by putting off until it is nearly too late

	    Me thinks me also must share the blame
	      for my own curiosity cannot ever be tamed
	     I can only hope that it will be found
	       that I never side-stepped out of bounds
	         into the insignifica which today abounds


			   The Roughest Road

	         Deference and submissiveness
		   never delivered me my dreams
		  They never made a mountain
		    or won over a lover's heart

	         Woefully needing to be at one
		   with the cold damp reality of the earth,
		  I gaze longingly at those fortunate ones
		    who are able to take to the sky

	         It is never an easy task
		   to feast upon one's own pride
		  acting humble before ungraciousness
		    and being polite in humiliation

	         Painful it is not to shine
		   and glory in the life of your light
		  receiving high praise and adulation
		    merely for your own existence

	         Rough is the road of obedience
		   to the harsh rigors of the spirit
		  which craves after self-aggrandizement
		    despite the weepings of true humanness

	         Lonely is the face of the wind
		   that touches upon all of humanity
		  causing countless sensations to flow
		    yet itself,  it can feel nothing


			       True to you
 
			I am to me 
			  I have always been 
			    and shall always be
			      true to me

			You are,  I see
			  you may be whatever
			    you choose to be
			      or maybe just another
			        part of me

			You are to you 
			  or you are to me
			    but whatever I do
			      or wherever I go
			        I shall never know
				  if I'm true to you