the story of cause and effect

the story of cause and effect

is read to me by experience,

as my never ending parents.

they painted my logic.

they conceived of my sense of interpretation.

I am forever living in their dialogue.

I seek their approval daily.

my senses are committed to their story.

mind-wise, I seem preoccupied,

can hardly get a different thought in edgewise.

I feel very audience prone.

I'd like to get out of the experiential bleachers,

at least every now and then.

as I age, 

this turns into a town meeting that never ends.

we are all there,

all teaming with versions of the parental story read.

yes, we appear to be teaming on,

as a group, a community,

as society,

even as a species.

but really,

doesn't anybody else catch an edge?

what is the push for this momentum

and where is it coming from?

my brain sometimes feels like it's on automatic.

it's a full on boredom,

without an ability to otherwise react or respond.

and I don't have a language base 

to otherwise acknowledge,

but it's there.

there is a time bomb ticking

and I can hear it.

sometimes softly

and other times, 

like what the hell is going on?

I look for confirmation amongst others,

but to no avail.

everyone seems to be listening to experience,

as if it's on all available channels to be heard.

and this isn't me having tinnitus, 

and in response.

cause and effect has become a lip-service activity.

something so simplistic, 

as if a convenience 

as a mind-style of usage.

I'm sorry

but I have a glitch to that pattern.

I am sensing something more,

even though experience is in override.

my paint box has other colors.

my crayons are more than just hands on.

I have a synesthesia with a reality's fix.

we have other organs to awaken from within

or at least brain-wise, 

more than turf to graze upon.

reality feels like an endless bus ride

to the point where it is not clear any more

where we were going.

why bother looking out the windows.

there is just the emotional jiggle of up and down

and the motorized hum of time passing, going on.

somehow I am not a fan of this containment.

I feel like a bird that is being flown,

rather than me, doing the flying myself

or at least having at the expression of that,

first hand.

cause and effect is just bedtime covers

and I get to go dream my existence as such.

no, I want something more

than rest assured as my confirming.

I want a dimension of intimacy

beyond what experience seems to offer.

I want vibratory as commonplace.

I want zeal as community

and common mind as dance.

I want the collective of heart to speak

and song to break out as transformation.

I want the musical of life 

to be earth worthy as all melodic, 

where there is no audience of experience.

where every isness is an active participant,

and an end of the read,

to be done with the ever-listen.

and a now,

as if we are all,

everlasting, on with the show . . .