Poetry: Declaration

Declaration of a Direction for the Twenty-First Century or
War of the Worlds, Part II: Musings After the Demise of the Age of Reason

The reader can assume
the author has hosted many individuals
as personalities within his own,
even as the reader them self
has mentally acted out various characters
and their psychosis at the author's direction.
Channeling is a thing
that comes naturally to anyone
who holds no responsibility for their own actions
or multiple personalities.

If you agree with someone
who has already expressed
thoughts that you yourself have pondered,
then who is the author of those ideas?
Time and history are only possible
through a mutually agreed upon standard.
When that standard is possibility itself
then life becomes impossibly fun
and impossibly complex.
That is what interests me.

Therefore, my next life will be
that of Gertrude,
the real Miss Stein.
Not that busy nobody,
who was an idea that saw little fruition,
though it was she, my Miss Wells,
who clawed, kicking and screaming
to the front of this psyche
and set down specific instructions,
when I was not fully formed
in the guise I appear today.
I believe Miss Gertrude Wells
was the originator
of a particular idea,
one which eventually
convinced me to follow my instincts
and not my fears,
to wonder about the substance of life
and not contemplate the trappings;
the very conclusion that life was worth living,
not because someone else said so,
but because it was true:
the idea, thus,
was one's experience
ever duplicated by another's
and if it was would the world cease to exist
because there would be no reason for it?
or by the very nature of existence,
the multiples
of variations
of gradations
of similarities
would be the possibilities
of eternities,
thus the real existence of Nirvana,
not as a state achieved
but acknowledged.
Miss Wells taught me all of this,
even though all she meant to me
was a simple, cheap
immitation of spiritual philosophy.
I cannot imagine, even now,
where her bespangled arms
currently entwine.

It is with my superior electronic connective tissues
that attention and alacrity
is not achieved mystically and alchemically,
although the publicity agents
would have you think otherwise.
You are indeed the very author
of your own movie production company
and it is well within your rights and ability
to film a blockbuster extravaganza
or simply a art house cult following.
In either case you still take home the receipts
after the performance.
Those who scoff
at the self-made madman
have stated as much.

I claim as my admired hero,
Gertrude, Her High Creativeness
and Inventor of the Twentieth Century
and though my visage remains
shadowed by her greater stature
I claim upon this day,
my role as her handmaid,
creator of the Twenty-First Century.
After all, young boys have already dreamed
the naive fantasies of great adventure and
our heroine, that buck,
Rogers of the Twinning-Furse-Cent-Chew-Ree.

I also claim reality as my standard
and assert my own invention
upon the world at large.
If you do not like it, I suggest you figure it out yourself
and change it to your own liking,
granted that when you do
you loose what I have left behind
for your edification.
Ultimately your own undoing
is the preferable existence.