our collect ive sorrow lucky star

the uselessness of daily life, the I wonder why I’m here feeling that I know I am not alone in, but no one talks about and we express in competition and anger – we are tired of living this way – two thousand channels cannot safely buffer us from the vacuum we’ve come to accept as reality and while not at fault the children of the fortunate will bear the children of the damned and those already damned have cried out their tears and realize that few are listening

DON’T CHIDE ME WITH POLITICS AND SANCTIMONIOUS SCRUB, YOU’RE NOT WILLING TO LIVE WITH LESS AND CARE FOR ANYTHING OTHER THAN SELF

and neither am I

and this ironic selfishness brings self-despair and devastation and

vacuum

oh! how we miss what we’ve only rarely dreamed and grandparents sometimes felt and has never been seen and how I want to live just live and fuck the ratrace

The only worthwhile living is to give of yourself and to change yourself

joy is gracious and fleeting and cannot be sought but is like a rain your lucky to be out in

please let’s stop the fighting and start the loving recognizing the benefit for ourselves

Nothing so noble as fighting for a cause with no profit

I want art –

I long for expression

I want living –

away from depression

I want a reason to live – (it’s our children by the way, but if they will be as lost and lonely as I ...) self-induction’s my theme and self-pity’s my motif but not without reason

we ARE guilty and should start acting with some humility and wonder

modern man is so smug

and unhappy

let us forgive ourselves and our histories, join hands in a circle and thank our collective lucky stars for our life and the opportunity to learn and, maybe, even love

The land is our heritage and our very soul. Our very soul. Strip mined and clear cut and hunted to extinction not by bad men but by our own and very greedy selves. Barren soil and Barren soul. Give back to the salmon and the whale and the eagle and the bear and the wolf and others and learn to live with a smaller self – and pray. And pray that the larger self will reappear one day and that you might sense a glimpse of it’s returning and feel a bit of the belonging which is no longer a promise or even a hope, but a dream of a dream of a dream once told around a fire once stared up out of the night sky and bundled up with one another

as naked and as holy as the day we were born.