psychedelic homogenization
Methodical mysteries fill the
endless night with startlight,
firelight, sight, flight of
the planets turning. Winged mammals
emerge from their darkened daytime
haunted hollow roost; synchronized in
formation, migration of galaxies,
connection, speculation, revelation,
a dead sattelite’s reflection in a
still mountain pond, full pool;
still flowing, not knowing of
beauty or destruction, consumation,
damnation, overpopulation.
Gravity leads the wayward water
downhill, soundlessly slipping past
gnawing beavers to the sea.
Turtles in the deep creeping,
rabbit on the shore nibbling,
owl on the prowl asking not why, but Who?
Concoctions of the mind bubble up,
blended beliefs, pureed practices,
psychedelic homogenization of culture and religion,
abstract reinvention of soulful activity
leads me from the bush to the shore,
to adore the breathe that fills me.
wylder chase 2002
Seed on the Breeze
A seed on the breeze
must land somewhere
in order to make a flower.
The wind must blow
through the limbs of the trees
to subtly show its power.
The rain must fall
down from the clouds
when the weight becomes a burden.
If the river is forced
to leave its course,
the sea it will still end up in.
wylder chase 2001-08
(sometimes they come a line a year)
5-7-5
#1
feathers on the breeze
soaring above the seas with
ease to foreign lands
#2
she calls from afar
an angel’s voice in my ears
gentle muse come back
#3
two high curbs to cross
for an old veteran man
two broke legs, big heart
#4
He talked about age
He said it was what ails him
that and the old war
#5
plane crash in Japan
nineteen fifty three, the draft
chills a drunk Diné
#6
his aunt spoke English
she spoke to him in his tongue
that is Navajo
#7
he was mad when he
found out she spoke English good
he now knows his aunt
#8
he spoke English well
learned it in Indian school
all braves spoke English
#9
he learned Navajo
in a Texas Army school
when it was useful
#10
he learned Navajo
to become a Code Talker
not to please his aunt
#11
the raven watched us
meet in the gravel between
two high curbs to cross
#12
a walker rolls slow
in deep gravel real real slow
as the sun gets low
#13
five drunk humanoids
stagger through the gravel deep
the old man looked down
#14
the drink stops the pain
makes you want to take a dog
or ask for money
#15
kids laugh in the hall
walls in motel six are thin
after three days here
#16
empty walls of tan
lines of lighter tan between
the big black t.v.
#17
two high curbs to cross
we stood on the gravel there
six legs says he soars
#18
I regurgitate
the memories as I go
so much more to say
#19
pounding feet above
on the ceiling or the floor
children dance heavy
#20
I wrote a song to
to the joyful beating feet
it sounds like this one
#21
how could I complain
steal the joy from under them
churning over silence
#22
unencumbered flight
is not allowed here in earth’s
magnetic embrace
#23
depression is in
America is crippled
focus on the love
#24
locked in houses
watching the bad news unfold
turn it off right now
#25
back in the village
twelve years ago i lived there
in that old brick house
#26
uplift consciousness
connect the shimmering lights
scattered and dying
#27
sitting still is good
so is sweeping wooden floors
and doing dishes
#28
without everything
we would have nothing at all
that would not be fun
#29
change the story now
it’s the only time we have
it’s neverending
#30
work gets done by men
cigarettes hang in pursed lips
nails get filled with dirt
#31
she is merciful
she listens quietly and waits
wind takes her away
#32
these poems are for her
she inspired me to write them
she reads now she knows
#33
she knows i love her
no less than i did that day
when I heard her shoes
#34
this invitation
to live and let go be free
made me sad again
#35
tonight I thought once
a hundred poems is a lot
of sadness to write
#36
the prettiest bird sang
today in the sawed up wood
hiding from the rain
#37
she felt my sadness
she opened her wings for me
she sang soft and pure
#38
immersed in music
liquid lights with Bassnectar
pleasure in my veins
#39
stranded on the road
albuquerque took me in
made me feel at home
#40
i stayed for five days
waiting on the Pretty Lights
with some new old friends
#41
she is my mirror
crouching in the strong wind
in some far off land
#42
collective thinking
harmonious progression
evolving at last
#43
closing off our hearts
caused these ailments here on earth
open up for peace
#44
moving west to east
the artist old man winter
working with snowflakes
#45
a sharecroppers dream
two sun rises everyday
some food and warm clothes
#46
just enough money
to eat for a day or two
after bills are paid
#47
the first drops of rain
make loud clear crisp smacks on tin
wetting the surface
#48
submersing young plants
in a toxic neem oil bath
prevents bugs and mold
#49
circular structures
split the violent gusts of wind
produced in strong storms
#50
the ocean’s center
a place that is hard to find
always in motion
#51
a blank canvas
bent around a plastic frame
reveals nothing yet
#52
solitude sinks in
deep down to the core of self
nothing left but joy
#53
withdraw in winter
to analyze the inside
fix the holes and cracks
#54
take a dip and float
fancifully on funk from
The New Mastersounds
#55
lovely rainbow locks
low down in the dirty yurt
will we meet again
#56
ganja concentrate
some people call it hashish
makes me think a lot
#57
breaking the habit
modify cells one by one
renewal is slow
#58
drove ten thousand miles
over forty days and nights
some days i sat still
#59
food is medicine
one morsel generates life
combat scarcity
#60
the look in his eyes
bewildering hunger pains
flopped on the sidewalk
#61
tonight is the night
the supermoon equinox
synchronize the clocks
#62
flower farmers fuel
conscientious explosions
of freed emotions
#63
food farmers provide
nutrients and vitamins
vital to our lives
#64
only two roads in
one road covered by a slide
one road is holey
#65
i see stars above
shining brightly on us all
cohesive thinking
#66
the frogs say thank you
when i turn on propane heat
in the steel frame hoop
#67
coyote on watch
ear deep in the tall dry grass
the trickster crouches
#68
fire is our old friend
thousands of years passing by
warming humans up
#69
lost ocean in fog
wavering across the ridge
feeling for the shore
#70
radioactive
tears pounding on the rooftop
“no need to worry”
#71
rest easy dayglow
child the days are getting warm
live out your half life
#72
Yonder Mountain Strings
play Eureka theatre
we burned down inside
#73
historic hotel
five Presidents stayed inside
wonder how they slept
#74
Soulive and Lettuce
smooth riffery with good bounce
the horns blew me home
#75
the war is over
Osama Bin Laden killed
celebrate Murder
#76
oh why did Tang die
astronautical delight
sunshine in a can
#77
deaf and pissing dog
sleeping on the wooden floor
humbled by old age
#78
strategically
placed symbols made out of light
represent my thoughts
#79
naps in the garden
rejuvenate the body
after morning chores
#80
diffused by the fog
muted colors of sunset
pale green refraction
#81
she brought me coffee
traditional eastern pants
drama and romance
#82
loving illusion
blowing smoke spreading honey
she wanted money
#83
Jesus died for us
Jesus died for Judas too
now that is true love
#84
wide open pages
my soul laid down upon them
read my emotions
#85
uprooted to roam
with permission from myself
to go see and learn
#86
American made goods
are hard to find in the stores
one must search and search
#87
American made words
are freely passed between us
prepaid with dried blood
#88
futures are built
from ideas and culture
working together
#89
futures come to us
past consequence our burden
we can start fresh now
#90
action or non action
the only choice we must make
things always work out
#91
see act balancing
before the iris opens
it buds and grows up
#92
healing wounds take time
causing further injury
slows healing down more
#93
lift each other up
do not tear each other down
stubbornness divides
#94
life is hard enough
plants search for water with roots
animals have legs
#95
war creates chaos
wasting time and resources
people starve and bleed
#96
stop and take a look
what do you see around you
does it bring you peace
#97
needlepoint focus
is required to wrangle in
unraveled heart strings
#98
intentional life
the one we choose to begin
defy circumstance
#99
the divine within
animate inanimate
projecting outward
#100
warm willing able
bodies needed to suffer
for commerce and war
#101
seeking peace with you
that is all I want to do
now and hereafter
Wylder Chase 2010-11
on Politics
I thought it might be appropriate to address politics now that this election cycle has broken wind. Let there be hot air.
First, in the ancient rhetorical tradition of rhetoricians and scholars, I would like for us to take a look at the definition of the word politics. Now that I see it in blue it looks queer to me, maybe we should turn it red and righteous. What if it was purple and passive? What if we turn it green and politically correct? What if it was clear and functional? Now that would be a fucking miracle.
I’m not here to talk about politics in the way of the polls and the candidates. There are plenty of folks doing that already. I would like to share my interpretation of the political landscape in these Divided States of America and focus on what common ground exists between all 100% of us. Now don’t get frazzled because I included the 1% with the 99%. If they are as all you wing nuts both right and left declare, then we the people are gonna need their help. Who the hell are they anyway? I’d like to talk to em’. This is about ‘us’, all of us. Now if anybody is offended by the term wing nut I’m probably talking directly to you, calm down and breathe. Join me on this journey, let us walk down the double yellow line and see who jumps first when the future comes.
So what do we have in common. We eat, sleep, poop, drink, live, and breathe and die. That’s about it. The only consequential differences of any account are related to height and weight and the amount of dirt that we’ll each make. The individual human experience is what we are all having. We each exist and react to stimuli as time passes. Our decisions are governed by circumstance. Now I could romanticize or politicize or religicize any of the aforementioned terms, but that is not the goal.
The art of politics is getting people to believe that there is a cause with meaning and that by aligning oneself with that cause and supporting it the process of eating, sleeping, pooping, drinking, living and breathing and dying will be easier, safer, and healthier. Personally, I don’t buy it. These days it’s mostly salesmanship and pandering and when someone does get elected the resistance rises on the other side of the aisle and stagnation of the process occurs. This may not be a bad thing. I mean look at how the economy is doing or the fact that most of our soldiers are at a home base somewhere right now, or that gas is cheaper, or that the dollar is strong during this phase of governance in which our highly esteemed politicians have been locked in a stalemate over principles and values and campaign contributions. Like most of the disillusioned, free thinking, open hearted people out there I simply want to live my life in peace. I’m sure the people in the really dysfunctional war torn nations would like to live in peace too with full bellies, but they too are subject to the ramifications that arise from conflicting opinions.
I think a lot about the consequences of two-party politics. The suggestion puts two forces in opposition. How can this system adapt to the many different sets of circumstances each of us individuals confront? A lot of people desire more parties. I think that it is a noble suggestion, but in a way I feel that it would create more noise. So far I haven’t found anything in the Constitution that says we should have Republicans and Democrats fighting with each other while our roads fall apart and our turds pile up a mile high. At this point I’m so over it that I think political parties should be banned. Candidates should run on their merits, if they aren’t accomplished enough to be known and respected and liked by a majority of Americans without the support of a whole network of fundraisers and gossipers then maybe they aren’t the people we need guiding these United States of America. Hell, in this day and age we could have an officially sanctioned website where people who wanted to run for office could make it known and we the people and our reporters and savvy conspiracy finders can sift through the dust for the diamonds and place them in the light for a cost that is next to nothing. Instead we have a system in which we waste a bunch of money that could be used to fix things on all this rigamarole and hoohah.
So if any politician is listening and they want to negotiate for my vote; I’ll be up early going to work and I’ll be way to busy to listen to any of this horse shit I’ve been hearing. And to anyone that may be reading this and has the desire to convince me to vote for your candidate of choice please don’t repeat any of the aforementioned. And if you are in the 1% of the 1% and actually have a voice, call me, I have lot of ideas and no time to waste.
Post-Dystopian
I choose my words and if I don’t find one I like; I construct them. Post-Dystopian is one of those words. Now do I feel like I made it up, certainly not. I put it together like I would a couple of 2×4’s laying on the ground and maybe somebody else has too. Fundamentally, a word is comprised of many constituent properties, always relative to context and descended from events that resulted in that context. Just like the 2×4’s that were once a tree.
The meaning that I interpret relative to the word at hand may be different than what you would. To me post-dystopian signifies a transformation. A transformation from a world of despair and beyond the naivety of believing that utopia can exist. I know some will argue that utopia is possible. I agree to a degree and I can’t prove it, but I certainly will not sit around and wait on it to happen nor argue the possibilities. That in itself affects the manifestation of my personal utopia. That’s also part of being a post-dystopian. The realization that my utopia would be different from anybody else’s, leads me to the conclusion that two utopias may not be able to inhabit the same space at the same time, much less 7 billion utopias. No wonder the word dystopian emerged in the first place, 6,999,999,999 people were in the way each of us getting to our own personal utopias and got us depressed and miserable and hopeless and looking for the answer for all the ails of society. See the craziness. Let’s get over it. We try to fix things on the wrong end sometimes. Dystopian is a state of mind just like it’s antonym utopia.
Now, I know we got problems, but living under the fear of doom and gloom and/or the impending apocalypse and/or listening to jibber jabber about whatever conspiracy wool is being pulled over whose eyes for what political agenda that makes you cooler than the next guy because you spent 97 hours in the past week researching it on wing nut political minded websites and are now the authority on secret information that was published for 7 billion people that are being directed by marketing to their own personal utopias to read, doesn’t help any. We must act from places of clarity. We must stop the noise.
