Nothing Else Fills... then again.

the flesh covers the bone
and they put a mind
in there and
sometimes a soul,
and the women break
vases against the walls
and the men drink too
much
and nobody finds the
one
but keep
looking
crawling in and out
of beds.
flesh covers
the bone and the
flesh searches
for more than
flesh.

there's no chance
at all:
we are all trapped
by a singular
fate.

nobody ever finds
the one.

the city dumps fill
the junkyards fill
the madhouses fill
the hospitals fill
the graveyards fill

nothing else
fills.

-Bukowski

Sometimes I feel this way. There was a point when I had this feeling all the time. I've tried it ALL, in every damn combination, and was still left wanting. Put it down. Leave it alone. Walk away. Hit the fuckin' next button. Freedom comes from the inside. It starts here:


There do exist enquiring minds, which long for the truth of the heart, seek it, strive to solve the problems set by life, try to penetrate to the essence of things and phenomena and to penetrate into themselves. If a man reasons and thinks soundly, no matter which path he follows in solving these problems, he must inevitably arrive back at himself, and begin with the solution of the problem of what he is himself and what his place is in the world around him. - Gurdjieff

Nothing changes if you don't want it to change. There is no hope... no faith unless you ALLOW them to exist. If you have the tools and the fortitude to do so then, at some point my friends, we arrive here:

I have returned, once again,
To myself
To my home and haven
Somewhat scraped
Slightly bruised, but
safe once more.

I have returned from
The version of the world, where
Men are so angry, so cruel.
Everyday men, with
Their everyday faces, and
Incoherent jumble of scent and color

I have returned
From rectilinear Tee shirt slogans
Vague construct of marketed sexuality, with
It’s built in accusation
Insidious loneliness
Seething and displaced resentment of moral constraint

I have returned
Traveling, so easily now,
Along the sharp and splendid edges, of
Past, present, and glorious future
Breathing in that rarefied atmosphere
Of altogether uncommon freedom

-Reinhardt

It works. It's been quite a week. Thank you to everyone and God bless.