BTRIPP (btripp) wrote,
BTRIPP
btripp

... and you wondered why the "mundane world" is my nemesis?

Man ... the poem below was about stuff from yesterday but it sure as hell looks predictive for today. Some times I wonder how the hell I keep going. The Wife is always on my ass about how my moods "aren't anything that everybody else deals with" ... well, if they ARE what everybody else deals with, why aren't there rivers of blood in the streets and violence and chaos on every corner? This is what I've never "gotten" ... when I was a kid my shrink would say "just assume that everybody else feels pretty much the same way you do" ... which was bullshit since 99.95% of the race is (in Gurdjieff's terms) "asleep" and the fact that for most of my life I had only two emotional settings, depression and rage ... it was hard adjusting to the fact that most folks were working with far duller palettes, if with a few more hues. Why do "normal people" assume that one's rage, anguish, obsession, fear, hatred, and grief are fleeting little surface ripples on top of the Big Mundane Sleep? Are my emotional controls "set to 11" or am I just awake to actually feel them? What a nightmare ... what an unholy fucking NIGHTMARE!

Enjoy the poem, though ...


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                    SILENCING THE HEART


                    one thing goes wrong
                    by miscalculation
                    and then the whole
                    begins to collapse
                    and everything becomes hostile
                    all systems fail
                    all promise of the day
                    becomes accursed

                    webs of disaster
                    catching all
                    we spin out of orbit
                    fail to align
                    nothing remains
                    of what had been
                    nothing preserves
                    the good through this fire

                    the darker nightmares
                    erupt within
                    all the evils
                    of the mundane world
                    lie in wait
                    biding their time
                    for when we might be happy
                    to crush us into shit

                    I am nauseated
                    by this world
                    I can not function
                    in its bounds
                    there is no safety
                    nor freedom for me
                    within this horrid zone
                    no way to leave but die

                    I would rather kill
                    the myriad beasts
                    than walk into the dark
                    but in suicide
                    I'd still one heart
                    and I doubt I've strength
                    untapped in me
                    to silence any more



                             - Brendan Tripp
                                06/14/2002

                    Copyright © 2002 by Brendan Tripp
 
 



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