Letters from the Asylum/Your comment is waiting moderation
Maybe we are all lab rats, the human experiment, who, why, what are their motives, tested for patience I failed, how does one ever practice or learn to win against patience, a room with a view, a view of the killing fields..
Adorned with nothing but sleeves of emotions, sleeves that cry and laugh, sleeves that dwell over the smallest details, are these tests or trials, fill out a form and see if you too can be normal enough for Freedom 55, accreditation by enrollment, acceptance through cleansing, joining club conformity by abandoning the individual I(eye)....
For maybe the Riddler was actually the sane one, you don`t write like others, that`s true although I never ever signed anything ...by others..
Throughout time those with eyes wide open have always been deemed clouded and wrong, Galileo jailed for looking to the Sun for answers, Columbus dared to dream of oceans without waterfalls, the sheer madness, these dreamers of Brave new worlds never pondered pensions, they never worried about failed corporate promises, fill out the form and don`t misspell or the treasures will be gone..
Those written letters sent from nowhere addressed to no one and answered by an echo.
Awaiting moderation, there is something so wrong with the phrase.. "Awaiting moderation" or waiting for approval, for what, why is it someone`s thoughts or written word was in need of moderation, fill out the form and seek our approval and maybe, just maybe we will accept you..
Words of wisdom or vocal dissent permanently banished to a place of limbo, a spamish graveyard where thoughts are trapped then one by one those thoughts and opinions are killed, gone, never to be seen again, I too have a place for words and voices, BC Mary, I have years of notes and letters with links and opinion, requests and salutations directly from Mary, they haunt my mail and files, like friendly spirits guiding my thoughts, every word, Mary`s measured guidance still resonates deep..
Lost in the asylum where the guards are your neighbors, a place where the latest gadget grants you keys to the treadmill, accreditation, acceptance and thought control are so pervasive in the asylum that those captured are unaware they are running at a standstill...
Fear and loathing, jealousy and lust, love thy new steady blue dress or speculate how smart my new spectacles make me, call one a Socialist enough times through surrogate haters and soon the tide of change recedes back leaving rocks bare and exposed, only for time and denial to once again return to hiding those bare exposed stones..
As dreamers we never go part way, who dreams of an acceptable life, a so so wife or half a million, dreams don`t go part way, it`s an all or nothing proposition, it`s hard to imagine a leader who is ok, one who does just enough, we write for the stars, we talk to our own Gods and believe anything is possible when in fact all we can do is add another piece of straw to the Camel`s back
Like a pea between mattresses, not that it bothers me it`s because I know it`s there that I can`t sleep.
This post is dedicated to all the words and thoughts that become lost or linger in a world somewhere between death and spam