Why is it i no longer see the destiny of man
But the source code of an impervious future
Or the vanity of a culture that has perfected itself
And taken the credit
Why have you forsaken me with this vision
Existence condemned to a single thought
Futility that inspires repressed animal aggression
What force drives the trivial motion of your incognizant machine?
AEM sometime in the late 1990s-early 2000s
RB102602010
Job 5:7 Yet man is born to trouble as surely as sparks fly upward.
Job 7:9 My days are swifter than a weaver’s shuttle, and they come to an end without hope.
Job 9:25 My days are swifter than a runner; they fly away without a glimpse of joy.
Great prose on life’s miseries, and every bit as beautiful as Shakespeare.
This moment of graphic sense brought to you by: 
Listened to Bobby Schuller on youTube – saved these great words
This moment of graphic sense brought to you by:
endless monotonous skipping track
derelict emotion everybody loves me
enter the vein
dark electric absence
pilfer the flow of awareness
to buy your silence
you know the stillborn fantasies
memories of that which never happened
a realization fries the skin
crunch-perfection sizzles in the
grease of human conflict
manipulated and molded
ensuring fascist perfection
self propagated goodness
with a professional appeal
the right answer pushes the wrong button
immortal decay shows her chaotic smile
leaves only the inconsequential choice of path
the model number and price of inevitability
time is money to purchase a longer more elaborate death
AEMiller @1995
From the archives; poems lost, 2 ending in disappointment
Quoting a friend here who defined “growing up” being OK with
“not getting the recognition we hoped for
not completing the tasks we dreamed about
not seeing the world become a better place and
not receiving the unconditional love we deserved”
a rehash being grown up is:
“praising others
sharing knowledge
spreading fairness
loving everyone”
Unconditional love does not equal unconditional trust
I can love with unconditional love, but not trust that person. I have experienced it. I am not sure which “love” can survive the lack of trust, which love of the several meanings that the Greeks have named. Phileo, yes, Agape, yes, Eros, yes, Ludus, yes, Pragma, probably, and maybe even the self love. So I can love unconditionally but be aware of deceit.
Someday. Not that it would
be hung, no one else could
illustrate my life.
With no care for it at all.
To pull the struggling
you give and give
what you have to
free someone from their
mud. Without repayment
only your attachments
are worth a fight.
There is an argument
you could write about
my life, as though anything
might change or matter. Like
terracotta, it starts from
dust and so it is done.
Your life much more
to say, without the
tarnish, will slip as
too many do, unappropriated.
Though with only
two sides and given
away, your gifts were,
to others, seeming to have
been too precious while
of no meaning, or these
coins were probably
much less to you. RLB 2 7 17