Investments

I’ve made a decision to invest in my perceptions

Well, perception of my perceptions. I feel like I’m three layers away from the truth

And maybe no matter how hard I try, I’m always boxed within a role, a substance, a circumstance.

And that’s right or wrong or… fuck it

Sometimes I see it, that we’re tides giving the moon a hard time. “Stop doing your thing, so I can stop doing my thing. Let’s watch life die together”

And I had to look hard at myself. As when you invest in something you gotta have an understanding of the value before commitments are made

So, where’s my poverty line?

How down on myself can I stoop before I tarnish this penny? Pretty low. No-ones perfect

That’s what vinegar is for! And it really doesn’t take that long to work

The market is forever changing, this bustling creation, like figures typed onto a screen with closed eyes and wondering fingers

It is what it is, I’ve heard that before

I’m investing in my perceptions

What perceptions? You say

I hear you

How do I see things? The word ‘how’ is incredibly specific

I can’t indulge in specifics, there is no time for that, I’m an investor now

Time is precious

Wait, perceptions of time, am I running out?

I’ll pour more in, paint more seconds and dial tones that expand the circle. Introduce 13

Now I’ve enough

Enough bids stillness and I’m happy to raise my hand to that

Perceptions on a conveyer belt, that’s an invention I could invest in

Or invest in seeing before appearance

I wish I’d learnt long ago that the real value isn’t the matter, but the thought in-between

Permission Slip

There’s not much you need to do

Just a little nod

Like a permission slip to the moon

Let her call home the cells of you, the fibres and the threads

With songs your cells remember

As you forgot such a long time ago, remember? For what cannot be pronounced is what we call nonsense

But she knows, and her work is effortless

So you see, there is little you can do

Her healing is effortless, like the simplistic complexity of breathing

All you need do is give a little nod, “ok, I’m ready now”

And let him join in too, let him wrap his arms around you

His hand is already clasped within yours, you’re just squeezing so tightly you feel only the weight of your own force

Be a permission slip to the son, the spirit, the mother who knows your every step

There really is little you have to do

Just nod

And this currency we call life will not only fill you, vibrate you, pleasure you

It will empty you of all those torn paper notes

That cut your fingers and toes and play a sad tune

This universe is never without chaos but sadness, we can burn the branches of sadness and scatter the ashes.

There’s not much you have to do except show up

With nothing

Expecting nothing

Saying nothing

Holding a permission slip that you know was probably never asked for in the first place

Sense

It may make no sense

No sense at all

But listen to this

As man of tall

Shall bend at the knees

As petals fall

And the breaking of day

Is best thought at night

To imagine to the sun

Most vivid in sight

And some days I’m weary

Some days I’m cold

Some days I’m young and others I’m old

Sense is the happen

No need for the why

As we’re born, we exist

And the end, we die.