Posts Tagged ‘a soliloquy’

On Monday I was to the moon, astronautical, on another planet, seated in the heavenlies, exulting — done! 

“And how does it feel, my friend?” they ask when they see me. 

They ask as if they can’t help themselves — their peeping anxiety showing like a young girl’s slip — and yet the question is ancient, worried and frankly, morbidly voyeuristic. 

They ask as if asking someone how it feels to be dead.

I guess it’s really the perpetual human issue of, “How does it feel to be undead? 

“How does it feel to be finished off but not, over-ed but still, no longer required yet ‘Of course!’” 

I say, “It feels like being a kid again, but you have money — honey!”

“It feels free!”

What does that even mean?

I don’t tell them. 

I’ll tell you. 

Don’t tell.

It’s freedom from their expectations — and their judgements.

To be honest, for years, I was their trick dog, their performing cat, their circus elephant. I was ragman, waterman, checker, custodian, nurse, magician, shaman. I was their chief-beef and king-belief. 

I’m telling you in secret my friend, it is strange thing to be a slave yelling, “Let’s go there!” 

It was downright weird to be an untouchable crying, “You’re so near!” and “Over here!” and “Have no fear!” “Come with me dear.” 

Oh you and me! 

We were tossed together like trash into a dumpster, but I led us out of that bin of stinking rubbish, through the sea and straight into freakin’ Eden!

We became plane-crash friends; survivors, the chosen. We will be forever bonded by our shared neo-brio-narrative — the heroic, comedic fantastic strategic. 

We were raggedy foundlings along for someone else’s ride, mere hirelings, unknown mirelings and yet in the end we summited, waved, took pictures and were  — glorious us! 

We had it all Saul, Raul, Paul!

Now do this.

Let me go. 

I let you go.

My lovelies, my pretties, my uglies, you beasts!  

I free you; free me! 

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in the singing place I saw the most battered hearts of my generation

sprung free from madness

by starving half-naked angels

and a bloody fix

they knew then that they didn’t have to do anything else

to prove to anyone else in the universe that they should be loved

they stopped PTSDing

and allowed themselves to be covered over with the clean white e-paper of

tripple-affirmation

they rose up in the supernatural darkness

to copy the syntax

of the ultimate request

they bent down with fearful symmetry and railed against moloch

resisting much

obeying much

they tragicocated against all skin-oppression

class-injustice

and schemified-violence

overtaken with sudden loves

they dreamed of adorations and illuminations

containing multitudes of the oppressed

they fell down before the throne of the tyger and the lamb

oh, you, you you, you beautiful, gorgeous dredged-up-wrecks,

I am with you, you re-made hearts, your best-hammered minds

I am with you in your imperfectications and in your insecuritudes,

I am with you in your nightly brokenry and your daily hallucinations,

I am with you in San Francisco, in Rome, in Beijing, in Johannesburg, in Mumbai and in Managua

as you walk dripping with alien goodness

out of a bright river into a numinous redempticon