[oats]

if one (or all) of you could provide feedback on which ones to cut, that would be extremely helpful and appreciated.


Astronomical Dreams

"All of us get lost in the darkness, dreamers learn to steer by the stars." - Rush, The Pass

in the beginning our existence was akin to a black void
then it happened - a crash of platinum and iridium alloys
since then the tune of evolution has been written from that noise
as life stemmed from the materials delivered on asteroids.
some call it coincidence, some divine intervention
either way it seems to be a hopeful cry for attention
so take a little dipper in the pool of Ursa Minor's reflection
and realize we're looking home when we read the skies for direction.

but now Orion's perplexed and Andromeda's furrow-browed
as they tippy-toe to poke their nose above the walls of a burning cloud
this smog could be solved if we were able to turn around
but we can't - we're in line for the iphone cuz the upgraded version's out
what was once a staple of discovery is choking in small seams
we've relegated the heavens to what most of us call "dreams."
the void has returned in the form of issues never resolving
a new darkness is upon us: Man, the measure of all things.

humanity is damned - it's Malthusian principle
since the peak in population's been confused with our pinnacle
now the internet is getting us foolishly cynical
look! even the Mayan calendar is moving to digital
we all got our problems - mental or physical - from Rasputin to Sitting Bull
though plenty red flags are waving we construe them as indigo
because our mood is our citadel: a tumor is minuscule -
if there's no blood then fuck it, that wound isn't critical!
so chew on this riddle next time you chew your McGriddle
how famine for the masses means a feast for few individuals
respect to Buddha and Jesus, and Confucius' teachings, but the truth is more visceral
the places food is allocated is what humans are driven to

this movement is cyclical, don't even bother to run
since the sins of the father are reincarnate in sons
amongst celestial bodies, we're what the bodies become
but the sum of the parts is only part of the sum
we like to think of ourselves as the heart or the lung
but in this galaxy, reality's we're just the gargling tongue
the divisions and mistakes that we live with and embrace
are indications of the monumental carnage we've done
a terrorist for many is a martyr to some
and when we label another that's what they start to become
yet we're lauded and applauded for the scars that we've won
it's a curse, so further into darkness we plunge
if we could only know that every star is our sun
then maybe we'd remember that we are all one


Open Letters to Physicists


To Whom it May Dismiss,

I hear the universe exists inside of proofs and formulas
as numerical reflections deciphered through your corneas,
which means the expanses I've traveled and tragically sworn to love
are simply masks in the attic mathematically boarded shut.
but too much has been invested to accept this rigid receipt
that each breath in its essence is just a set of digits repeating
every second stripped of its meaning, retreating to logic's ordered peak
and though the edge of the cliff is appealing, please...look before you leap.

To Whom it May Discredit,

I presume it's unsafe to edit an established axiom
and answer to the annals you'd have to retract it from.
you'll face a marathon of laughter when you suggest to subtract a sum
but perhaps another answer would advantage the path they run
for example: PE=MGH is one that's proved with ease;
if you stand tall, you should become what you believe
which makes sense, but the secret that is wonderful to see
is that potential increases when you're humbled to your knees.
nothing you achieve's simple as arithmetic progress
besides, reaching potential tends to be a kinetic process.
this systemic logic is a palatable scheme
but now you see not every formula's infallible as it seems.

To Whom it May Enrage,

The truth will stain this page, engraving its signature
and make you rearrange the names for what you label as miniature.
your preconceptions and intuitions may be wading within the dirt,
for every trait of nature you can't contain in an integer.
like how F=MA is a linear way to state the greatness massive acceleration delivers -
but some of the most persuasive statements came in shades of a whisper.
the truth can be raised or fade away like the banks of a river
needless to say that either way it makes a painful elixir.

To Whom it May Concern,

It can be a foolish way to learn, to walk the edge of unusual
but this message is suitable...
numbers and letters will never capture the essence of beautiful.
though curiosity compels you to discover how it truly works
I beg you - don't ruin the wonders of the universe.
like Y=X^2, a fact that so accurately maps gravity, it's brilliant
but not everything falls down - that's humanity's resilience.
knowledge without perspective is threat we can't afford to keep
so remember: look in every direction before you leap.


Ambition's Nails

I don't believe in nightfalls, it might sound dumb or obtuse
but I've only noticed darkness rising - a smothering plume
and while the sun is consumed by shadows that tug at its hues
I watch it, wonder and muse, like what the fuck should I do?
almost 24, a third of life is under review -
though most likely closer to half, with all the drugs I've abused
hailed as brilliant, but don't get me and my brother confused
cuz he's a legitimate genius who applied it for a functional use

me? I have a hunger for truth, but a squeamish digestion
part-time sunken recluse, tenured fiend for attention
cursed with unquenchable curiosity without equal dimension
behind a lonely, unfocused soul with a need for expression.
seasonal tension - I walk a tightrope on a lean to depression
countered with pigmented smiles, but don't believe my complexion
one-night significant others and my addiction to substances were means to discretion
just emotional coping tools; crutches for my ceaseless dependence

all these secrets I've mentioned have helped me come to the meaning
that there's 2 of me: one awakens while the other is dreaming
one's the CEO, the other shows up drunk to the meeting
yet neither can help but think that they're underachieving
Earth's magnetic exhale, feel the iron lungs of it breathing
defying gravity through the mass that governs its being
feet like stumps of a tree - frozen, sunken retreating
while my head suffers dreams held captive under the ceiling

still, a thunderous feeling echoes - perhaps it means I'm hollow
it tells me “lead with your heart, then happiness will follow”
so I do. I bleed through this art, pen and pad to ease the sorrow
but I can't remember a second recently I've had to tweak my novel
it's about my hometown and the changes we have to eat and swallow
it's about the charm of the rainy season, the magic of each pothole
the people stuck here with only drips of ambition to salvage from the bottle
it's either genius or it's awful - I'm so erratic with bravado

now I'm this backwards teaching model on the brink of insanity
the beach erodes while the marsh is slowly shrinking in vanity
meanwhile my novel's dying with them - everything is a tragedy
and I guess it's all my fault because I think in analogies
these manifested connections bely a simple reality
that EVERYTHING - our very existence is shadowy
afoot the curtails of a golden orb, dependent on alchemy
we're tossed and twirled about by the whims of its gravity

thus ambition's a malady for a fatalist body
so I awaken every day and stick my face into coffee
complacency taught me not to swim, just drift with my peers;
all I need is love...job security and a fridge full of beer
the picture is clear, night continues even at the shadows end
it’s not that dreams don’t come true – we just grow out of them


A Piece of Glass


it all begins in the sun, the musical movement
of helium and hydrogen bonding in nuclear fusion
a truthful illusion, heat released to coast Earth
oh such beautiful hubris, look how Helios smirks...

rays of light sparkle and glimmer, each telling him to rise
shades of night partially linger 'neath the bellies of his eyes
sleep whispers sentimental lies, a con artist in disguise
so waking REM deprived for him is hardly a surprise
Dream's a martyr he despised, a sniveling pander
the most malignant of cancers selling visions of grandeur
but Dream has a foil steeped in innocent candor
a native of the day - his name? Ambition the Answer.
(let that picture meander through your brain for a minute
cuz sometimes things can be so much the same that they're different)

...all molecules seem to come alive when heated
so when the sea meets the sun, it will rise to greet it
evaporated particles in righteous asylum
finally! Aeolus reunites with Poseidon...

water splashes his face, the warm air is malevolent
his identity pleasantly draped in arrogant elegance
his name's irrelevant - call him whatever you like
he's every faceless stranger never met in your life
with one exception, he was blessed with an exceptional sight
so he could see the messages that Destiny writes
but that perception is blight, a horrid taste of death
to see the outline of your footprints, before you take a step
no reward from Fate could help him clean the stain of his vision
till one day Destiny presented him a painful decision

...the saturated winds begin their rapid ascension
water droplets cool to match the clouds they condensed in
cumulonimbus shrouds billow as they stack to the heavens
armored in the storm, mighty Zeus steps down with a vengeance...

the sky darkened his apartment as Destiny confronted him
from her spindle she removes a single thread to weave his punishment
her energy is thunderous, cloaked in a cloud
silence crescendos to an echo when she opens her mouth:


"Though you won't be allowed to use the eyes of the gods,
before you're blind you must decide upon a prize for your loss.
For undermining our laws, you owe a debt to our pride,
so we must change your fate, but I will let you decide.
If you want a long normal life, where happiness is yours,
then the tapestry I weave for you will have to be a stork.
Or you can die young, in the honor of fame,
and forever men will sing along with songs of your name.
If then, I'll weave a bull upon the fabric of Truths,
and the animals will take you on the path that you choose."

what a masterful ruse! a riddle free of rational proofs
so he looked within to see which one his passion approves
Ambition points to the bull - he's invested in the lie
but Dream the Question arrives and beckons him to fly
a respectable try, but greed is etched into his eyes
Destiny sighs, and weaves his lesson in the skies
lightning strikes, the bull is unrestrained and loose
no place to move, he's taken in the chains of Zeus

...the storm dissolves and the sky regains its bluest mask
a dark tune is no way to serenade a lucid past
if you can't see the difference, beware of foolish acts -
myth and science are the same, depending who you ask
Destiny's blessings always come with secret traps
and it takes a lightning bolt to mold a piece of glass
when your flaws are transparent, it's not wise to be great
now everyone sing the song of he who tried to cheat fate


Where Canterbury Stops

my life has been a storybook of unfinished chapters
an undulant path riddled with blunders and laughter
yet if I summon the shadows of every wonder, disaster
I birth versions of myself waiting to publish their answers
they compete with each other, treading puddles of past words
another Eric trying to surface for each month I've meandered.
scientists, teachers, liars and cheaters
different narrators vying for a rung on the ladder
I feel them argue for control over my lungs and my stature
ghosts of moments passed too close to grasp succumb to the
cancer
humbled, I grasp for the agency they've hunted and gathered -
I fire back with pen and pad to try and muffle the banter.
but I'm stuck in relapse, overcome by the clamor
spurts of progress operating like a bunt to a batter
this autonomy I've stumbled with and hungered to capture
feels like the stories I would read under the covers, enamored.

drunken with passwords for my wrinkled derision
this is no "once upon a time" or "in the beginning."
protect myself from myselves, on the brink of addiction
hostage to nostalgia - such an intimate prison.
instinctive division we mark as past and present
blurred into a vertigo of masked direction
so I look foolishly for future me to answer questions
like what happened to the magic of my adolescence?

static severance manifesting into massive dependence;
forsake what makes you happy for a vaginal entrance
books used to be my lamp until the shadows ascended
now staying up all night means I'm too trashed for repentance.
immaculate sentences allowed dreams to ignite
dreams of Jurassic Parks, Rats of Nimh and Wrinkles in Time
I had romance with the world, full of meaning and life
it gave me sincere belief that whatever I could think could be mine
everything would be fine - nothing is broken or stained
so long as I could hide myself once I opened the page
even the loneliest days weren't empty, those words were my
passport
they were the truest, wisest friends any person could ask for
the hurt didn't last more than the error of doubt
emotions were there to be understood, not embarrassed about
I learned that nothing’s unimportant, every thought is a pearl
and that love was all that I could really offer the world.

but now Chaucer would hurl at the sight of the bodies
given flesh by the memories that smile and haunt me
I've tried to move on, but I still hold to my youth:
my life's a comedy of errors and a porno of truth
stories were windows to new worlds till I closed the panes;
trees never lose their rings - they prefer growth to change
every note that I claim is a temporal stick-up
you've grown up once you realize how great being a kid was.
so here I am, another rat waiting for trap feed
too lazy to be angry, too afraid to be happy
fascination fades like all imaginary plots
I turn the corner of adulthood - where Canterbury stops.


Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been?

for Bob Dylan

Dear Eric,

you don't know me yet, but I know you very well
in fact, I know you better than I'd ever care to tell
like those vests you'd wear to Sunday School, such an arid smell
or that time you split your head trying to get on a carousel
the way you made your parents swell with anger, oh you were troublesome!
the youngest son, with 3 brothers, it's a wonder their marriage held
your cumbersome careless self, if only I knew what to say to you
but I'm older and I don't know how...it's all over now, Baby Blue

by all accounts known, you were a truly wild tike
but you've made it to a lot of places for someone who couldn't ride a bike
I know - you weren't taught, plus it wasn't your style
at least that's what you'd say with an uncomfortable smile
you always loved your denial, mixed in with some truth
like when your mom had the peach tree that glistened with one fruit?
you took a bite before it ripened - tossed it in the gutter
which clogged, so all your brothers were lined up to see who might snitch
you had to lie quick, even if it was generic
so you pulled a sly trick and blamed your "friend Eric"
not the smoothest maneuver, but it proved you wouldn't cry for help;
when the pressure was on you always knew to look inside yourself
only the sky could shelf your potential, nothing else would be able to
but those rolling clouds can hold it down...it's all over now, Baby Blue

I bet you're recognizing that these moments are slowing
so don't let 'em go, because you know where they're going
hold them as close to you as the Pope holds to his rosary
then maybe you'll avoid the disappointment you'll grow to be
the heartbreaks and mistakes, feeling smothered from the skies
now ashamed of the name that claimed you by the color of your eyes
the scars that you carry, partially buried, the heavy grief you shoulder
whatever keeps your soul on the road that's unpaved for you

With Grateful Inspiration,
the future Baby Blue

PS, it's never really over



thanks, Myrms.

@dead man
@Lars
@Seyance
@TopicalDood5