Thursday, April 20, 2017

Off the Grid Dharma-Living in the Time of Traces

                         Off the Grid Dharma-Living in the Time of Traces




Where is this island found in space?
Am I interrupting a process by asking?
Or have I just invested in seeing it through?


Where is the edge of the grid and what lies beyond it?


Emptiness or salvation?

When I take a shit should I look forward to another meal?
Or should I remain at ease?


Oil is the shit of the devil who lives in the bowels of the Earth.


We are flesh drops living on a thin crust of surface,
That is slowly evaporating into space.
The oil creatures who manage our existence


Build us boxes to hide us from the sun and the infinite,
So we can be returned back to earth before we evaporate into space.


We are aphids feeding in a petroleum net of activity,
Managed by banker ants who milk us monthly, daily for their sweets.


I am now a Dharma mite wandering through a forest of sagebrush.
Looking for the edge where I don’t get milked,
But the sun speaks loudest and I evaporate in a longing to be free.


How many years have I tried to escape the constraints of petroleum culture?
That counterfeit world of reality where 3d printers can mock up my wishes,
With metal dust and plastic seams,

.

I can’t imagine the amount of work and struggle it takes to steal
All the oil from drained cavities and ruptured pipes sunk into land and oceans.



What is the need to ransack the thin crust of a planet
Until debris is scattered over every square inch of the surface?
It starts to pile higher and higher until no one can survive.


What drives the lust of need to make a planet uninhabitable?
Aliens, warlords, lemmings or end times book hawkers.
What is the prize after power has run its course,
And actual debt has been uncovered?


When the sheet rock palace has emerged from radioactive floods,
And mudslides block the doorways and windows,
And the roof collapses from so many people riding out the storm.
Are these forces of nature or karma or forces of retribution?


Does this quest for stability go all the way back to “fabled” King David and his search for a home?
No, it must be more ancient than that.



On our final school bus tour which served as a mobile home,
We came to the sagebrush mesa, off the grid, parked
And I was immediately devoured by space.


My fear of the infinite remains to write these words as a legacy for progeny,
For the story of those ascended is only revealed through the silence of infinite space.






1 comment:

  1. You are really living in the time of traces and having a great experience too, you already have discovered a lot of new things that your pictures show.

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