Mortaljive: The Rest is Silence

There is no still point in all the Universe, and that is the rock upon which I stand

Saturday, December 16, 2017

A Meditation for Trolls

A Meditation for Internet Trolls

Late at night, when the silence holds no promise, the troll faces the darkness just like everybody must at some point. He is danger itself! He is the arbiter at the door unto the void, and will wreak heartless tragedy upon those who despise him!

He waits beneath the bridge, to derail some passing family late in traveling, vulnerable, far from home. He is bitter acid in the clouds, razors in the jaw, broken glass and twisted metal. A vehicle approaches the crossing: inside the car sits father and mother in front, while in the back seat are children sleeping, huddled like small bears.

The air is chill outside. Father rubs his eyes, mother taps her fingernails against the glass of her window as they pass empty fields laying barren in winter. They approach the bridge in silence. The troll will destroy all who dares to pass, and seeks to strike but no, beneath the bridge he cannot join them, cannot reach them, cannot be them, is roughly torn apart in the despair of banishment. Is there something deep and abiding in that car, something dull and average, something profound.

The nameless family passes over the bridge and is gone--the troll cries "wait, wait" but it is of no use, the father and mother and children cannot hear the horrible moaning from beneath the asphalt road. Bitterness is the passing of love beyond our reach.

The troll turns away, and seeks the darkness for his shroud.


Thursday, December 14, 2017

What do you call it?

please pull me up
and drag me across the road
please lay me down
on the sand by the sea

i turn to dust
and you will be wise to know
i am everywhere
like light in the day
what's left to do
when the clock strikes two
ready for dawn

so, yes i was
i didn't set out to be
it was clear, at least
it was clear to me
i poured gasoline
and then struck a match
down i went to Turcs
right down the hatch
right down the hatch