Sudding With Science

Whenever I'm in the shower
I can't help but wonder
When I see my body,
As to the oddity I am.

Smarter men than I said,
That I'm part of some
Unbroken thread.
They say it streches
Back to the first living cells.

But as the jets hit,
And I feel them
On my naked form-
I know it goes further.
The metaphor goes
Much further back.

I know in a very eloquent way,
That I am the cooling remnants,
Of a dying solar cry.

I know that at the singularity,
Everything I am
Expanded with existence,

But as I stretch the line forward,
I know that nothing
That makes me, me
Will outlast my dying breath,
But that everything I am,
Will continue to the end of time.

I am that Unbroken Thread.

Perhaps I am woven into,
The linen robe of a madman
Spouting platitudes to the desert.

As he mouths words that are
Just air that pushes forth,
From some sanctimonious ass.
He's obscuring in a fog,
The beauty of our form

Though perhaps with this prosey pondering,
I am part of-
A thread in
Some silken
Full body
Veil-
Covering the awful nakedness
Of a self replicating existence.

But perhaps I am neither string,
Nor line,
Nor robe of linen.
I am just a man concealed,
Within no convering.
His imperfect shape,
Standing in his shower
With his brow furrowed once again.

Chili

I always start with tomatoes,
I don't really know why,
They drip all over the counter.

Maybe thats why I use a bowl,
And then they sit off to the side.

Around this point I start thinking.

I'll put on music
My head will bob,
But I'm not really paying attention.

My mind might note my knife,
As it cuts through another pepper,
Catching me,
Before I cut to my bones.
But maybe I'm thinking about you,

I'll hold my hand above my head,
And get a goddamn band-aid.

Jalepino or some other hot pepper,
Don't really know which
Contributes what flavour,
But I include them both anyhow.
I'm a creature of habit,
And scotch drinking ritual,
Then again you probably already know that.

I think its around the onions where
I realize how much of a chore
Cutting vegetables really is.
Though garlic is no easier really,
And you probably know, how much
I like a woman that loves it.

It's probably the tears.

Crying is weird.

I hate onions.

So the base simmers in oil,
Olive oil,
extra virgin-
I love the stuff.
It means it's time for the meat,
Always two kinds really,
Something ground up,
And something tangible,
Like sausage or prosciutto
I only vary on the details.

Everything is tossed into the pot
And I slather it in spices that,
You probably wouldnt' like.
It looks delicious really,
I'm almost saddened by it.
Because I could almost eat it now.

I'll put it in the oven anyhow.
It can always simmer,
Quite a long time more.

Clench Your Jaw

It's tohu va bohu,
Warrior's battlescape.
Steels crash-- as swords clash,
In this chaos, men cease.

The Soldier raging roars,
He's got a spear lodged deep.
Surreal still sticking out,
Just nine feet of his death.

Strong jaw, his teeth are grit,
There's still fighting to do.
He takes the haft in hand,
Steely tightened grapple.

A devil's strength he pulls,
Metal leaves flesh's hold.
The clock is running now,
Life's blood is dripping out.

Whether ideal or rage,
Throws death back to dealer.
It sails to find its mark,
Technical perfection.

Metal greets flesh again,
A penetrating point.
The killer's weaker heart,
Just cannot stand the blow.

Tick tock clock runs down now,
But battle rages still.
Thoughts of wholesome cliches,
They seem so dear and far.

Grasps his sword from the ground,
Pain's muddy implement.
Holding it to practice,
Pain screams, and so does he.

Charge.