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Working Man

Not as if it’s real work either,
hunched over a keyboard
Trying not to drift
To another website found forgotten

What I wouldn’t give for the ache of an honest day
Shovelling shit into a ditch or aiming some loud machine
But that would last five minutes, and then
Back to the comfort of a complaining chair, lazy air

Motivate, move, plan, consume
Breaking the invisible arc of the sun into boxes of minutes
Meetings to mark out the boundaries and dry the heart
To shrivel and encase the reasons to start

And the body goes up and down
Interest rising and waning
Till the ticking massages and numbs
Counting down or up, sideways across around

Always for the evening
A richer hope of meaning
Distracted tired and reaching
From silly floor to ceiling

A rhythym in a void
casting tendrils from the edge
catching sight of flicking light
bobbing out of view

Crap, useless, late, and whatever
No truth here, taken together
Loss and meaning, life and grieving
Under the glow of factory weather

All there are are moments
taken together, life still in motion
each instant a seperate reality
ever new and odd

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Lazy Day Limbo

Does it move?
Is it dead?
Look at him poke it now with a stick, oh it comes to life and throws a kick,
And blinded by a waking rage, rattles the world against its cage…

Day, over. Can’t quite grasp it, like lifting water with bare hands, it falls away gurgling.

The sun sinking without a noise, vast and distant and giving us eyes. Why, we are made in and of this diurnal movement, not seperate or aloft, or aware of the moment.

water in streams and straining to reach, aspiring to learn, striving to teach.

I am not tall I am a child, just stepped away to pass a while.

Sometimes we are older and sometimes do not feel it, busy in motion and faking to mean it.

Do you love yourself, or does it make any sense, there are many meanings to the present tense. Love is a relation, and I am a fact… am I two people, or my relation an act?

It is the idea, and the idea is mine, mediated and vectored, jaded and fine.

I held aloft a crazy thought, from beams in dusty sunlight caught.
Always in motion from shadow to shade,
I held it out where it cannot fade.
But my arms already, tire and drop
My idea lurches and slows to stop,
You might have seen it fold and flop.

Play it loud, wherever, volume to drive out the ghosts
Blast the cobwebs off the walls,
Turns out they held it all together, balls.

Too short too slow, too stuck to know
Way out, way in, hell where I been?
A sublime distinction,
I was not aiming for my mark,
I would prefer to shoot the dark,
As unguided I cannot be led astray
To drift and trip will suit me well today.

Meander but a little way,
find and erode a path in clay.
Mere edges and lines,
The I is the motion, the me is the sway.

I aspire to being.

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Hand to Foot in Mouth

Hand to foot in mouth,
Leg to lean about
Clumsy stilted awkward tries

Arm to shoot and point
Head to air annoint
Relaxed forgetful onward flies

hand to foot in mouth
Voice to cast it out
Surprise surmised in medium size

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Incredible Developments Afoot

Since nobody reads anything except the headlines, I can put anything here in the body. Since the world is a stagnent overflow of steaming information, I can expect to be lost in its mass. My, hasn’t everything changed so much in the last few decades. I cannot keep apace. I am stripped of a general opinion. I will resort to my headlines

Incredible Developments Afoot

Massive Impinging Facts

Gay Man kills Nun Lover in Gangland Shootout Plane Crash

details to follow. details to sate your morish lust. We are slaves to the RSS feeds, we gorge on their snippet dose, our minds addicted to their popping growth. Update me. Download me. Ingest me. Eject me. Delete me. Erase me. Boot me up, beat me down… Ain’t it strange, how I’m getting around. Computer speak and computer verse, from the crowded house to the waiting hearse. details to flesh out the headline? details to back it up? Virtual chasms and endless linking arms, networked and interwoven strands in virtual lands.

As a lonely byte, I do not tolerate this plight.

As an unknown bit, I see the fire being lit.

Vacillating under the vacant sky, the horizon mocks my moving eye.

From the audience in our heads, with no people present, to a high def new world, with all meaning absent. Spat forth from the hips and gut, a leak of the empty that fattens the glut.

details to follow. In transit tomorrow. Update that post, abandon it quick, stifle the moment, chase your own stick.

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Someone’s Gotta

[audio:http://donakello.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/01/someonesGotta2.mp3|titles=Someone’s Gotta]

Someone’s Gotta

Le Chords
Verse
Am F G Em
Am F G

Chorus
Am Em F G
Am Em G

Verse 1
you have tried to change so much
feel the world the way they could
All the while the weight is getting lighter by the day.

step away and hold that thought,
concentrate and focus hard.
Wheels are falling off but
It’s gonna be okay.

Chorus
Someone’s gotta do it,
in the end
Now we’re getting through it,
We’re on the mend.

Someone’s gotta do it,
Every (single) time,
Now we’re getting through it,
We’re feeling fine

Solo (Over verse rhythm)

Verse 2
Time is moving softly by
Pushing off the reasons why
Reach into the floating sky
While you can

Destiny is just a word
Fate is how we find the world
Say it like you mean it
Could be true

Chorus

Chorus

Verse 3
Progress is a circle’s edge
Looping in my little head
Learning off just what was said
Not enough

Our education is complete
Now we have no one to greet
The trick is in the way we meet
What we find.

Chorus

Bridge

baby it’s hard, when it comes, and you feel yourself alone
you know you hold, in your heart, that place

Chorus

Someone’s gotta do it,
No matter how it starts
And I know that we’ll get through it
If we open up our hearts.

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motivate (the side)

what’s my motivation,
does it get a top ovation?
have I spent too long a-knockin on your door?

what’s my dedication,
will it stand the time of waiting?
Do I have the right of standing on that floor?

And I know I have been drifting
We have all been caught not listning
There are others who are drifting to our side.

Have you found the registration,
did you file for your migration?
Are those wings in working order for this air?

Are we mindfull of our station,
stuck beyond some arbitration?
Stress the strain to breaking
point the way too far.

And I know we have been watching
What the swindled men are catching.
There are more than us just watching from the side.

Can I hope to find fulfillment,
or dull restless entertainment?
Networked and not working on the soul.

Am I following or leading,
in confusion we are dealing,
hands of cards their faces leaning to the whole.

And I know not what I’m doing,
We are waiting for the moving
Maybe others are just keeping up our side.

And I know that time is sliding,
When our gaps are ever widening.
Can they handle when they’re driving off the side?

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Hello world!

Liftoff- Hello, Cruel World.

On your Marks!…  Get Set!… … er… <twiddles thumbs>… I think I need to sit down. I was sure I had something worth saying a minute ago. I mean, who doesn’t? Surely everyone has a useful opinion? It’s very quiet in here. Very vacant. Lots of buttons for doing cool stuff, changing the appearance and viewing comments. Great! But what about the content? Why, that is mine to choose and present, mine to discuss and ferment.

Rebirth is a Fake

Phew, a paragraph completed, stammering forth on groggy second-old legs, into the blinding glare of a busy new world, steaming with the heat of a recent womb. Great! Like being reborn! Now there’s a decent theme that resonates in many a mind. Yes sir, with this here medium, we are constantly being reborn. Or not. Humbug! I have already stained and tainted the special arrival, and convoluted and complexed what might have been innocent and stupid and good. I have filthied the swaddling clothes! Well what did I expect?  At least I stuck some words together to see what would happen, and got stuck trying to see what would happen when I stuck words together.

Opinion or Bollox?

I, I, eye, Aye. Maybe the Economist has the right idea. Anonymous, impartial, objective. That makes their particular opinions more reliable does it? Or is it just a style that removes the tracks and lineage of authorship, splitting the chain of call and response that defines modern media and possibly makes the writer more responsible (And I Call Upon th Author to Explain)? Surely not- the Economist has a large and literate readership that use their large and literate brains to carefully consider and weigh the fact-based objectivity of articles- They have a letters page, and can fire writers that attract the wrong kind of attention.

The Lending of Ears to the Most Recent of Fears

Here it is though, the face of modern media, the incredible pinnacle of thousands of years of constantly progressing humanity: A thousand racist youtube comments,  a million fake reviews of latest models, an anxious hyper-reality where so much commentary shifts reality to the second degree- where it is fear of what might happen that triggers what will happen, where self-fullfillment is fuelled by the lending of ears and cheapness of spreading of word. But there I go again, spinning muddled words into puddles of  random nonsense. Who the hell am I to pass judgement at such a level? Show me some statistics instead…

Newness Again

No. I bloody hate statistics, though I wish I understood them better- the maths that is. Mass opinion is self-regulatory. The most popular story on news websites are clicked on the most, making them the most popular stories. Aha says you, so where do the new stories come from? Why are we still not all clicking on that six thousand year old classic ‘Adam Bites Apple, God Smites Adam’? Well theres a flow, from newness to popularity, to oldness to gone.  So there has to be an original pique of interest that makes it stand out from the crowd. But are these transient headlines indicative of beliefs and opinion? Well surely the comments are- composed and communicated as they are. Well, the main thing is that positive and negative feedback loops are amazing and powerful things, driving forces behind genetics, recessions, and monopolies.

This is far too long. A good old ramble that nobody will finish. Little did you know, that if you read to the end, you would have discoverd incredible gems of inventive directives. Life is Short! I have many Regrets! Lets not get vindictive now, even if the word sounds good. Now I’m going to have to read it myself to fix the mistakes.

Hello world. It sounded good the first time. I know though, that if I could hear a fraction of every ‘hello world’ spoken even as I speak it now, I would no longer hear myself at all. So goodbye Hello World, I shall deconstruct you further in another birth/berth.