Beatnik poem! Italian Highways! Super volcano crater lake!
I am Drinking a cappuccino along a highway in 🇮🇹 Italy. Reading a new poem Sean has just texted. My hair is still wet from swimming in a super volcano crater lake. This highway bar Café has many decaying statues, including half torso of women surrounded by serpents and large turtles.
“Apocalypse means”
Apocalypse means when the whole world changes forever
Like when an American's righteous act
becomes to walk over to his neighbor
And turn off their generator
When the power never comes back on
And they stop mining for more lithium
Quiet night
Latent in the din
When the middle of the night
Is when the full moon is high
And not when your phone says 5am
Crickets still going strong
It's when the young people take over banks
To throw a rager
And then give their lives more willingly to this
Than the cops do to their sense of law
When the dynamite has all been used
To remove speed bumps
And pot holes grow apples
Take a stroll down memory lane
How our freedom of thought was taken away
By songs about tacos raining from the sky
Flood stupidity down all major channels
And the elites shoot themselves in the foot
When the result is the annihilation of mind
Removing all obstacles to the insane choice
To return to God's will
Bending to the machine takes on new meaning
When you switch off the light to see by darkness
When you unplug the fridge
To cool food in a thick Northern wall
Because the sound of hot motors for cooling purposes has become more painful than rotten milk or soggy celery
Honesty isn't easy
But in the end
It's easier than all the lies
And unnecessary lines painted on the roads
Year after year after year
Yellow strip after yellow stripe after yellow stripe
Mosquito buzzing in my ear
Teaches me a lesson I haven't learned
About compassion and acceptance and surrender
To the trigger
Which button did Ron push to cause all of this?
Confusion breeds understanding
By exhausting all extreme options
No wonder God has allowed evil to win
To this extent
Dot exe
Executable file
Is the one they have on me
About my mental illness
And my wrong doings
And a deer playing jazz on wind chimes
Murmurs of a coyote behind closed doors
Runaway train
Like an addiction that lasts more than 24 hours
The quieter the suggestion the more powerful
Be careful what you believe
Erasure of logic
Defacement of ego
My smile is blank
Ecstatic stomping
On the back of the earth to wake her up
So she can breath again
Rise of the dead
Like mushrooms or zombies
Emptiness remembering
Categorizing settlements
Like a wine press
Turn and turn
Rotate tires to balance them
Even intonation has been tuned
By man
This dog who won't go too deeply into the darkness
To take a shit
Act in fear
Or act out of fear?
Either way I am lost
I have given in to the pit of my stomach
And can only argue
Against the preppers who buy
In plastic bulk
Oceans of islands heaving
This Moana moment in history
When the change
Dignifies a muzzle into my palm
And recoil of a gun
Damages only my shoulder
Stump removal
Becomes unspeakable
Because we are rooted in the past
While blistering forward
Into this painfully awfully wild adventure
~Sean Twohig
https://open.spotify.com/show/5wLSeBa5k0ykpBMVWI0h5Q?si=unNgrKNUT3irn97Qu4-fCg
