Hurricane’s Eye


A short poem about Hurricane Eyes.

Hurricane’s Eye

The legends and literature agree
A God must sit amidst the eye
The peaceful one that few could see
To most only the rain was clear

Sweet honeyed rays, which dribbled down sides
The wind and gray, they canceled out
Above shined in golden shades, beneath lay the roaring tides
And side to side, was ancient still

When death came on this chaotic force
My sources said the center held
A fateful, timely, needed divorce
The calm dispersed til ‘gain would whir




I was doing some detail oriented cleaning the other day and stumbled upon this

Bits and pieces, chunks and tatters, clumped in sticky orgy
Brushing hands, picked several at once and never one alone
Yet many remained, never to be picked, seemed stubborn little thorns
Their fates disagreed with the garbage cans, destined a full life story
If luck would show, the winds would pick, and fly them out the window
Where livestock roamed, and grasses grew, ambiguous to presence
They’d land on musty mushroom heads or padded flower tops
Would there divine the forest’s secrets passed from tree to tree

Thought Figurines


I just felt like putting this one out here. Modest Mouse came out with a new song today and some people liked it (like me) and some people didn’t.

This poem is about ideals and beauty, tainted vs untainted. I’m not sure if it is ready, but why not. I can always edit these posts after the fact in any case.

Thought Figurines

A dent so deep in fundamentals
would warp this case on several levels
the space around, the time nearby
the whole would never be the same again

This the change in recipe
A lost color in painting’s sea
The staid blemish, casually carved
And timbre who stood against melody

My thoughts not alone
but as sculpted figurines
Each carved from the other
As ideal conceived

This sculpture of thoughts checked consistency
Worshiped the king, whose purity
Delivered from grace, excelled in space
Pondered upon unbinding shape

This sculpture of thoughts checked passionately
Would protect the king, whose emotions
of prime estate, refused tolerance
Pondered upon enhancing its shape

This sculpture of thoughts checked ignorantly
Derided the king, who oppressively
Took all for himself, left none with grace
Pondering upon nibbling the shape

If mixed with one another, what scandals we’d see
Deriding the carved with unnatural proportions
Denied the beauty of bodies in whole
Left with expiration of novelty’s fad

Pieces of Art


I have spent some time reading/thinking about an ideal society and its division of labor recently. From this the following poem came to be:

Pieces Of Art

Focus the mind
on image of the art
Then like bees swarm hives
Associates will come

The merchants come first
carrying papers and plots
Art conceived like puzzle pieces
Spotty Art, compressed into flow

Then Professors examine with gentle care
and whisper bold, concluding words
After studying some spots, they craft intuition
Linking the parts, as conceivable whole

Now the laborers come
for we have only ideas
the artisans base craft
upon gathered thoughts

The final touch, could not forget
The sacred storm, appetites to appease.
In deep slumber resting the minds
they bear in stomachs the fruitful whole

And poets commune, with the slumbering ones
Speaking with them as necessary
Detached the self from literal role
To further more create



I’ve been reading and thinking about the obsession with innovation lately

I’ll probably write about that some more in the coming days. I wrote a small poem on this type of mentality for now. Here it is:

The New vs Old

When starting out, I found my thoughts
drifting towards unreality
Would leap about like Google search
Without a care for subtle facts

The ground would stay, to my dismay
below my feet, where always been
Reminding me, to no surprise
though I sought surprise, of creation

The wind would bray, a horses’ neigh
Rustled tree leaves, left no notice
knocked things without apology
Blew rain on face and broad shoulders

The clouds remained unreachable
Would float along, as hazy wisps
Would sometimes join, formed larger things
And take up skies, and grow moody

The trees rooted in time and space
Steady as rocks, yet full of life
Waved among winds, their leaves like wings
Yet never strayed, kept dreams in check

The fires ate, yet proportioned
Left fertile ground, where always been
The trees naked, though still stood proud
And clouds and wind would float along

When ending here, I found myself
drifting to reality
To sink into enticing books
of staid wonder since ancient times



Upon reflecting on the concept of suicide for some time, I started reflecting on the desire for non-existence. Particularly I was wondering if it is possible at all to desire for non-existence. I don’t believe that it is truly possible even if it seems so. The definitions seem to contradict, so I wonder where such a desire originates.

First, the terms ‘non-existence’ and ‘desire’ must be defined.

I define ‘Non-existence’ as a lack of awareness. This is not to mean what the word ‘lack’ might suggest. ‘Lack’ tends to suggest a removal, particularly the feelings associated with the removal of something. Here, I use it to signify the negation of the awareness of everything including awareness of the negation itself.

‘Desire’ is the push to secure a certain quality or attribute as its object. For example, if one desires an apple, one wishes to secure some or all qualities of the apple. Perhaps it is the juicy taste or the visual quality of the apple alone or other combinations of qualities. To fulfill this desire one must secure these ‘desired’ attributes. These attributes or qualities form the object of desire.

Defining both ‘Desire’ and ‘Non-Existence’ in this way, it seems to me that the two cannot go together. ‘Non-existence’ does not have any qualities or attributes. Hence a desire for non-existence has no attributes or qualities to secure as its object. The definition of desire requires the existence of attributes to be secured, for there to be an object of desire. A desire with no such attributes or qualities and therefore no object of desire, cannot be considered a desire at all.

If we suppose that desire is successful in the endeavor to secure non-existence, it would not be possible to have awareness of it, making such a desire meaningless. How could a desire be meaningful, if one cannot be aware of the attribute or quality that is to be secured, i.e. the object of desire.

It is possible on the other hand to have a desire of a non-existent thing. Say, for example, that someone desires a unicorn. It may be said then, that a desire for a unicorn is a desire for a non-existent thing, thus such a desire is meaningless. To some extent this is true. As we do not expect unicorns to suddenly pop into existence at this point in time, such desires are silly but not necessarily contradictory and/or meaningless.

Non-existent things (as opposed to non-existence itself) still have qualities and attributes (even though the specific combination of qualities and attributes may not exist). It is perfectly logical and meaningful for these to be of the objects of desire. Insofar as the object of desire has some attributes or qualities to secure, the desire is compatible with the object of desire.

Personally, I interpret the desire for non-existence as a mixture of longing and respect, as I believe it to be the ‘final’ desire in life. Once the desires for specific attributes and qualities in life are fulfilled in one way or another (i.e. running through all possible objects of desire or reaching the conclusion that many of them are similar enough in nature, that fulfilling one is equivalent to fulfilling the others), one encounters this ‘final’ contradictory desire. I consider this ‘final’ desire to contain the very essence of longing since one will necessarily feel a perpetual state of longing when trying to attain this (which is unattainable). I also consider it respectable, since one who responds favorably to this ‘final’ desire is surely on the path of wisdom.

An oddity occurs at this point; though such a desire seems to contradict itself, the desire itself seems to also exist. Many in the past and present (not sure about the future yet) have defined the final goal as ‘nothingness’. I do not mean to wholly disagree here nor do I have enough written to credibly do so, but I would like to get a clearer picture of non-existence at some point. That shall be saved for another post in the future sometime, upon further reflection.

My Second Attempt at a First Post


OK so this blog started with a single post way back when (now deleted)… and didn’t go anywhere after that. I have learned some things in that time. I don’t think I can write prose just out of the blue. But I do write poems in that manner. That’s somewhat true.

Many of my poems are small and short but some are longer. I think I’ll start out with the shorter ones for now. I would like start a routine of posting a poem here on a regular basis and then post some of my thoughts written in prose on similar topics.

This first poem is called ‘Suicide’. It is based on an event that occurred near my workplace: a person committed suicide by jumping in front of a train. I felt very sullen that evening and wrote this short poem:


We demand free choice for all but this:
To continue on, our springing forth
To patiently wait, as silent witness
To lay in stealth, ’til reaction needs

On these depended, our interaction
Existence supposed, universe creates
Existence imposed, for what else could be?
From this our lives, it necessitates

Heart heavy, I grieved for futile hopes
At desires of loss of ability to hope
Forgotten the impact of necessity
Hopeless wanderers seeking contradictions