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Thread: 15th Poem Of The Zookopolis: "The Habit Train"

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    15th Poem Of The Zookopolis: "The Habit Train"

    On The Habit Train

    At times I retreat into my head and hide; I have to
    so that I can fly
    to destinations not encumbered with receipts
    or by the sloth of time arrested in long lines
    waiting to be groped, these days
    the measure of membership
    in the flock of consenting sheep.

    My mind, a place where shy nymphs occupy imagination;
    my mind, a space at odds
    with the mob and adopted inclination.

    The big gang Humanity
    immersed in pink lemonade thoughts
    executing algorithms of homage
    - a mere rung above robots -
    to insignificant achievement including the effortless act
    of awakening
    daily trumpeted in by a beastly yawn,
    a jagged cube of sound unleashed
    into the rectangular abound
    as chambermaids finish mopping up the night dream.
    Morning coffee paired with glaring rays emerging
    from the Cosmic Shadow and Prism
    polishes anew life's half-eaten apple.

    Exuding resignation I grapple
    with another day on the habit train
    as it gains velocity and displacement
    from the starting station
    on rails smoothed to a layer of shining atoms.
    No new discoveries to be had except perhaps
    a different view from a different seat
    and here and there, a virgin face lacquered
    by the latest cosmetic shellac;
    the scent of corporate ladies
    and the sight of curves reprimanded by square clothes,
    offering too much rose for this old school sage
    and too little for this pornographic age.

    Woman transmogrifying into man, the original hunter
    and natural penetrator,
    and gentlemen compressed by the new power paradigm;
    still nine hours adrift of treasure island
    in the insane sea
    where barkeeps with bouncing bosoms
    toggle trays balanced with hard drinks
    and decompressing beers, the jury of my peers
    too numb to turn against the tide,
    having decidedly succumbed to the task at hand.

    I continue to belong to no one and to no kind,
    to nothing but the meat upon my bones
    as I find my comfort spot on the habit train
    in the seat adjacent to an exit.

    At times I raise an air sword
    and take hacks at all that's amiss
    then rebuke myself for not holding longer
    this needed duty on the edge of the abyss;
    self-disgust at not turning the clock like an eternal fire
    nor probing the depths of the boggy mire.
    Slowly I float back to the drying dock of sobriety
    which awaits unmolested for my return,
    like a tight-lipped lass
    holding talcum under moist armpits
    whilst gaping at the Sun through fashion glasses
    as the latter drops embers upon the horizon;
    lonely, minding the marine,
    biding time before the darkness blossoms on the dunes
    and brings slithers in all manners and forms
    in proximity to her wide-eyed dorm.

    Sometimes I lie dead and randomly chiselled,
    a cold hard stone abandoned to the morrow
    and fresh random fisticuffs
    between the swelter and the drizzle.


    Copyknight@December.27.2017
    UncleZook
    Last edited by Zook_e_Pi; 12-27-2017 at 04:50 AM.

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    Ross (12-27-2017)

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    Administrator Ross's Avatar
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    Re: 15th Poem Of The Zookopolis: "The Habit Train"

    Excellent, I've said it before and I'll say it again...you're damn good with words Zook.
    Ross
    ***Fred Coleman, Founding Partner, Beloved Friend***
    who passed away 11/10/2016
    Rest in Peace
    ***

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    Zook_e_Pi (12-27-2017)

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    Senior Member Zook_e_Pi's Avatar
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    Re: 15th Poem Of The Zookopolis: "The Habit Train"

    Thanks, Ross.

    I've neglected my artistic nature far too long. I was born to paint naked ladies. To compose instrumentals inspired by the mystery of woman (as adjudged by man's desires, not as they actually are, the Heavens forbid as they are!). To sculpt tender faces, breasts, hips, and the general female form in all angles and contortions. To muse about the very meaning of life.

    I've wasted much time as it is with this truthseeking business. Watching helplessly as the US goes into dumpster mode under Zion Drumpf; Russia likewise under Zion Shlomo-Chabad-Lubavitch Putin; India under the Zion-minion Modi; and knowing for a long time now that Canada, still my favorite country, probably has an unrivaled claim to being the Global Zion's favorite lap poodle ... only makes me wonder how much more time I have left to waste. None of my efforts seems to register even with the small sampling crowds here on these sundry supposedly obverse forums, many of which are extensions of the mainstream.

    I don't know what we can take from such a small sampling. But the worst case points to a large combined density of unwitting numbnutz, willing executioners, witting sycophants and congenital communal sociopaths in the human population ... which doesn't leave much space for the good peeps and/or free thinkers to operate. At least, that's what it seems like. There is still hope that something redeemable, even remarkable, exists in the human condition beyond the apparition. Perhaps that's why I'm reluctant to walk away from the duty of truthseeking (a rare science) although every fiber of my being tells me to disappear into my own interests and immerse myself in the arts.

    Science versus arts? No contest. Teats are clinical. But tits, now there's something that can rush the blood. That sorta thing.


    Pax

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    Ross (12-28-2017)

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    Re: 15th Poem Of The Zookopolis: "The Habit Train"

    I hear you...

    The trick is to find balance, not always easy but worth it structure wise. An art in itself is to know when to shift that brain from one thing to another when needed, and that's not always obvious. That's what I do, change the record often...

    I too love the arts, Music mostly but also my gardens. While gardens provide with foods and all things flowering and colourful, they also provide me with active exercise, meditative pottering and fractal observations while in constant awe of all the habitat creatures I share my little plot with.

    Creating music for me is medicine. I do it daily and often between mornings and afternoons. It involves many hours of frustration and magic. And I record everything. Since my electric piano shjt itself, I've taken up the 4 string bass. Guitar is my thing but have somehow become board with it after years of frustration and magic...So piano and now bass has elevated my passion and of course naturally altered my music writing. I have two piano pieces transcribed into notation thanks to a friend who has that skill, so for the first time I have original pieces that I can handover in notation form to a more competent pianist.

    My bass playing has improved dramatically, and have written a dozen or so solid riffs and the last month I've taken to slap bass. I have a very sore right hand from over playing and must take a break...injury from over playing is a real bummer...that's when the passion overtakes the physical capabilities and one is forced to step back for a spell...

    Again, balance is the key and @ 53 years, I'm still learning the importance...

    You have an undeniable creative aspect and time does slip us by, so I would hope to see you develop and further your passions. You are a skilled writer, and linguist and your words can fill the pages of poetry, books or adaption to anything that's sparked by a desire. Lyrics to your artistic music is an obvious one...I'm poor at lyrics. I don't sing and from a youngster it was the movement of music and melody that captured me, not what was being sung in the context of lyrical content...I often wished I had a natural ability to sing.

    Anyways...keep at it Zook. I will always read and listen to whatever you create...

    I posted these two before Xmas, if you haven't listened please do so. One offers up the incredible talent Man can achieve on instruments and the other offers up the emotional lyrical hauntings the voice can achieve.

    http://universalspectrum.org/forum/s...ll=1#post22784

    http://universalspectrum.org/forum/s...ll=1#post22786
    Last edited by Ross; 12-28-2017 at 11:38 AM.
    Ross
    ***Fred Coleman, Founding Partner, Beloved Friend***
    who passed away 11/10/2016
    Rest in Peace
    ***

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    Zook_e_Pi (02-11-2018)

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