Page Fifteen
so it is 29th october 2008, and the planet still disregards us
well, it disregards us as much as it can. it still endures our abuses, still rotates, still revolves. our depressions and joys, deaths and births do not draw from it a nano-second of notice, in spite of all the ways in which we interfere with it.
read a blog entry yesterday about a couple being denied medicaid for some truly ludicrous reasons. the social service rat-race again. the social service rat-race that sat back and let my life be destroyed. i’m not the only person to be hamburgered in the bureaucratic grinder — it’ simply that they ground me up even finer than they do most of their clients.
anyway, those are the kinds of blogs i most like to read — blogs about people wrestling with real stuff, stuff that’s not easy or funny or smiley.
time for another off-the-cuff poem by a person who sleeps in a bandstand every night (thanks to human services):
there in that distance glows the old light of lore: the end of the tunnel, they say. all the sewn-up phrases we invent, fables we tell to make ourselves believe that hurt will end and strain will end and every form of strife. where in that distance is truth? where in the tales of tunnel lights, the tales of this shall pass, are the words: we do not know. don’t know now, don’t know tomorrow, when or how or if a person’s tears will end. that truth is unpretty, such truth is unsaid. we are cowards, and so we invent: there’s a light at the end of the tunnel… this too shall pass… there in that distance brews the old stink of lies. i hold my nose and walk through it, for just past that stench is the truth.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
read… Spite and malice… Scealta liatha…
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