We are experiencing life like never before.
This. Right here.
See it?
The upcoming hints of the warmer months
where the streets of New York and the Avenues,
or the cobblestone hideaways
will tend to reveal itself once more
and show a little skin.
We are on the verge of a great revelation
or a new birth, so-to-speak.
And the world?
Well . . .
She is changing anatomically and certainly politically,
which is not good or bad, just a case
of it is what it is . . .
but more importantly –
everything around us is changing, like us,
even at a cellular level.
We age. We transform.
We adapt and we grow.
If we’re not careful,
we can miss out on beautiful
and crazy things.
Nothing’s the same anymore.
Not even music – it’s just a series of different fads.
Even the classics are fading into the distance,
for me, at least
like old or forgotten memories,
which tend to resurface
when the senses come alive again.
I remember a sunset in the Bronx
I was in the crux of my own crucifixion
searching for something
such as a glimpse of salvation,
even if only for a moment
or if this were only synthetic –
at least, good God, give me something
This was in the summertime
134th Street and Willis Avenue
I remember when the music came out of nowhere
and took over,
which was not what I expected
nor was this song typical for the area
or the area’s culture – but still, the song was
Hotel California.
Remember that one?
I can remember the sound of bass
and the intro of the music,
I can remember the notes and the chords
just before the drums skipped
and led to the opening lyrics,
which in this case –
this is either a song that people love
or they love to hate but me . . .
at that moment – the song was apropos.
As in, fitting for the time.
Supposedly about hell or supposedly about rehab or perhaps,
who knows what the song is actually about – but either way,
I do remember a certain part of the lyrics which sings
“We are all just prisoners here . . .
of our own device”
There’s something about that word too . . .
Device –
as in that thing we use for a special purpose
in whichever form this may be.
Our device;
as in that contraption or random act or behavior,
that model, that vehicle of either peace or chaos,
or that particular construction of something we use
something to make sense of the nonsense
or the world – because ah, I get it . . .
If you ask me, we’re all just crazy.
We’re all running around,
like some sort of grand experiment
which, of course, we find ourselves
as the subjects of study
but in the grand scheme of things,
we are tiny and small, almost like mites
in a much bigger demonstration
that ranges beyond the human race.
If you ask me,
we’re all a bit too self-important;
but more importantly, we’re all just crazy
that’s it
Regular, run of the mill,
garden variety crazy.
We’re all nuts
but to each is their own perfect insanity,
each of us;
wild in our own regard,
free to be insane in our own weighty,
self-imposed seriousness
We are equally twisted in our own respects
yet we’re all ready to defend ourselves,
as if our sanity is more sane than yours . . .
By the way, if you’ve never been on “flight deck”
or in that “wing” in the hospital,
you’d know that crazy people
never think that they’re crazy . . .
No, they just blame everybody else
So?
Either way,
The world is moving into a new phase,
no different from the new phases of the moon
and just as we realize how soon things happen
we have come to the understanding
that, unfortunately,
we’ve underestimated our abilities to overlook
or disregard the simplest, most precious
or beautiful things.
There is a paradise
all around us
unseen, mistaken,
overlooked or perhaps ignored . . .
I have fallen again yet
maybe I have never learned to rebound as well as now;
as in right now
I say this in the sense that while my legs are moving
and the ground is moving beneath me
I have come full circle
I’ve wrapped around the sun, once more
on this big conveyor belt – like a piece of luggage
which has yet to be claimed,
circling the climate of a new airport
in a brand new wing.
I have moved and overlapped to where I began,
which is here
and in the sense that, yes, I know there is still love
and yes, I know there is strife
there’s chaos, there’s the walk through Chelsea
and the recollections of how immaterial yesterday was
yet I know how poignant this is
because – of course –
all of our lessons have led us up to where we are now –
still learning,
I hope.
Everything is changing,
which is law because all things do and must change but me,
I am reticent to yet open
or should I say I am cautious to be optimistic but hey,
maybe the song about Hotel California is true.
Maybe they have a point
We are just prisoners of our own device . . .
Still.
There’s nothing wrong with being crazy.
In fact, I think this is what makes the world
stand up and shout.
There’s nothing wrong
with the contrast between darkness and light,
hope or doubt,
chaos and peace.
All this does is allow for a little accent of color –
this way,
we can understand the different contours of beauty,
which is beautiful
because after the winter is gone
once more, my City is ready to reveal her skin –
to let us know
that it’s okay to be a little wild.
A little flesh . . .
A little moment where the sun tans the skin
A little heat between us:
to tickle the senses
to add an erotic sensation
to sin for sinful thinking,
to enjoy and endure desire
or
to rekindle the heat of youth
to come back into this old heart
and once more – to be alive again.
This is why we need to explore more
and enjoy the defiance in contrast
For example:
Ever see the yellow dandelions
in the green grass in the park?
The color differentiates the view
which outlines the celebration of difference
and allows us to have our own attractions
to light or dark,
yellow, green or to enjoy the variations of life
or thus, to celebrate our personal devices
that keep us crazy or otherwise
to keep us sane.
Just to let you know
It’s okay to be YOU!
It’s okay to go crazy sometimes.
Actually, it’s essential
Otherwise, what’s the point?
Where’s the contrast?
Where’s the realization of beauty
or the lack thereof?
I have to tell you . . .
It’s been a long time since my walks from 18th Street . . .
But that’s okay.
The experiment is far from over
I am still a prospect, same as the rest of us are.
I know there’s something to this for me.
I know that somehow,
something is about to open up
Good or bad, light or dark
Something’s coming
because, of course,
summer is on its way
The Written Addiction 