Captain Mary

Time spent in meaningless confrontation, testing the limits of boredom. Chasing an unseen tail, mesmerized by its swinging.Wild freedom just a memory in a sleeping body's leg twitch. Broken down and tired, the mausoleum closes in tight, trapping out light. Things seem more peaceful swaddled in darkness.

The half opened flower lays frozen on the altar, scared to move for fear of breaking, yet so cold that it is next to death. In its immorbility, it dreams, hoping that this will bring an end to the suffering, to bring thaw, but it does not. There is only one way. And so the flower begins to hum.

I watch the long antenna of my television pulse slightly to the beat of my heart. We share the same bed, my rhythm mingling mingling with it through the coiled steel covered in woven nylon and cotton that we sleep on. Must I really die?

Awakening from dreams through a crazy kalideoscope of bubble patterns meshing together, teasing me awake. I feel the thob of spring, hope, rebirth, green plants struggling towards the mother sun free from the bonds of winter earth, crying to be seen.

Lines? Hardly. Feelings too deep to be expressed by mere words, getting stuck in the throat, slow, confusing. Then: where did it go? It took so long just to learn the rules, wandering.

Night, in deserted city, cool air whistling harshly carrying fine dirty dust through the earth canyons terraformed by man. Masculine impulse, now she will reveal herself, great works only to coax her out of her deep shell. In the process he finds, then looses himself. Swallowed again by the earth, all the time praying for that perfect connection, light joined together, glow spreading in an intense wild surge, akira at Los Alamos, searing the brain of collective life, all that we know... the hand that feeds was bitten for knowledge. Respect the power. Suddenly mature, the idea not sitting together well. Must feed the head, heart, stomach.

They has imaged out. Half forgotten reptilian dreams of the western lands run deep in the tribe human. A drive, a desire.

Small and cold he huddled over winter, worshipping himself to learn. Spring approached and he struggled to open, pushing up towards the sun, to realize the dreams of winter slumber. A smile.

And one day there was finally quiet. We had worked things out so that we could restr for the next phase, knowing the knowledge that would take. The population stabilized. We knew we all would love the next explosion, but only when the time came. Discipline grew a necessity with survival. Peace and contentment.

The hum of the transformer outside my window reminds me of the electricity that I feel. Dreams of malls and multitierred parking garages, mast on full. Cars swish by my window, wheels wet with gentle rain, that falls. Some running scared, but always moving towards release when trapped. Pursuit and restraint dreams always end trapped in a corner with no apparent way out, waking to find the next step. MacGyver. Out with the in crowd, looking for something new. Strength electricity. More effective separate. Keep the trivia away. Sleep.

I began to feel that there was something in the way, something blocking and obscuring my path to the truth. Meandering through wooded hillsides, on damp mornings. Parched dry walking through cement desert under hot summer sun. It was a grey mass unobtainable somewhere in the light in front of me. Was it blocked by uncontrollable desire? Chasing the dragon, the boy nips at his tails. In tight circles he is not alone. Fear sadness anxiety brought to a fever pitch breaks calm in the ocean of thought. Hidden strength is suddenly unveiled. He munches on a carrot, pondering. On an old trip, trying to project towards death in a quest for truth. Sign me on with a flourish, with slight tremblings of fear.

"Hey, I'm just living my life," Sid winked to Captain Mary. "All aboard!" The clanking and rattling as the steam ship took off, looling a little in the soft waves of the bay. They were heading towards a storm. But for now the shining noonday greeted them with smiles of reassurance and strength, farmindful of the blueblack clouds a rumbling with flashes of lightning ahead. Twing. The wind was picking up now. Cooly assessing the situation in rapid eye movements, boldly focussing on important details and bringing them out; a bead of sweat on the forehead, slight change of olfactory output gave away the inner strain. "Don't worry maties," Captain Mary bellowed,"we've weathered worse. It'll be fun," her bosom heaved. She looked radiant in the light. We knew that everything was good. Maybe just not for us. The sacrifice of an individual.

Media is the evergrowing blueprint of the collective human consciousness.

Still thinking of the lightbulbs, we are one, strong.

"Peasants and soldiers don't like big shots oppressing them." -- Chairman Mao

"Alas, we are grown to expect it." -- Wendell

All things they do change. Without is real within.