INVERSION

BeatLife 2024; VOICES 2025

Inversion. Maybe everything that’s real isn’t. Maybe everything that’s up is down. Maybe everything that’s so wrong is going to be okay. Maybe everything I need is what I have. The way announcers talk has become the way everyone imagines they’re supposed to talk, saying everything fast forgetting the only people who talk like that are salesmen, candidates and ringmasters, performers reading a script, crooks, thieves and magicians who want you to forget where you are, forget who you are and everything you know, who want you to surrender to their dream and get hooked by what they’re about to tell you, while you find yourself giving them exactly everything they came to steal from you. It’s all a deception, a deke, a head fake that breaks apart your heart and it feels that way when you find yourself holding your emptiness close for comfort. More goo for nothing, another you-gotta-know this new rising star, prolonging the old system, that hierarchy worship, a little longer. I lay down alone, looking up the trunk of a tree and wonder what good is all the chatter of this new world, the new song, the new poet, the new radio program, the new tv show, the new podcast, you stream it and dream it. Where does it fit in to what’s really happening?

There are aspects of consciousness that include obstacles to its evolution. I assume everything has a soul in it, even when I can’t see it. There’s a point of light within the mind that you are, the same light that is you, that doesn’t need, or want, to let its light fly off everywhere, because it’s not appreciated everywhere. Cry when you want to. No one is coming to save you; or me. Right side up or upside down, to get people to pull a rope in the same direction takes more than words.