Release

When it hasn't come out of you,
In a very long time,
It does not mean it's stale, but you might have to,
Remember how to climb,

To those heights that bring it about,
Because it's in all of us,
The result of working up to the moment,
When the world is glorious,

And others cannot help but know the origin,
Of the product,
Because it's as natural as stardust,
Whether it's in everyone or not.

And it's alright,
If you're embarrassed in the end,
That just means that you've produced something true,
To your deepest opinion.

Impossible Success

Is there really so much,
Going on,
That tasks are always being completed,
And nothing seems to be getting done,

That the end of the day never comes,
Where there is a flawless sleep,
Because the next thing's always calling to,
Be complete,

That what one loves and what one has to do,
Can never be one and the same,
Or, at least, if they are, there has to be,
Some kind of intrinsic change,

To make it alright,
To actually do it,
Because others around would never stand,
A success that is legit?

Why Not All?

What does it take to make it,
And what does make it mean?
Other than to have the freedom to do what you want,
Without having to live lean,

Without having to wonder if you will still,
Be able to do what you want later,
Because you're now just taking the chance,
That you'll somehow have the same freedom in a year.

Which you won't unless you are,
Of a very, very small group,
As it is now, as it has always been,
Until there is some kind of real coup,

That makes it alright,
To be born anywhere,
And still have as much comfort as someone with,
A silver spoon serving up his fare.

You Moving?

It is very easy,
To get stuck in a rut,
And imagine you're going places,
But,

If you stop and look around you,
You might notice that others,
Are actually moving and you're disoriented,
Into feeling your motion is forward,

Until the moment you wake up,
And all your joints are aching with the truth,
That the illusion of motion's been deceiving,
You since the moment that you left youth.

And it's alright,
At least you'll think that until the next phase,
When you realize that it's really too late,
For this motionless life to be saved.

Finally Doing It

No, it's never to late,
But, if you have to ask,
You've probably been down this road before,
With some other task,

And to say to just do it,
Probably isn't enough.
What's more likely needed is,
A stiff kick in the butt.

And even then, the chances that the conditions,
Are just right for making it work,
Are probably less than that Magnum P.I.,
Was really thirty-two.

And it's alright,
If the reference is lost on you,
Like all things anyone says, this advice is anything but,
New.

Capacity

Not every missed opportunity,
Need be a cause for regret,
Because it's not obvious in any given situation,
Which route is the best bet,

To success, and it just might be,
That you did just the right thing,
Though, this could all just be a cop-out,
For not seeing,

The big picture, or at least not keeping your eye,
On the ball.
So, do you need to change who you are,
Or just not need to understand it all?

And it's not alright,
To just say that's just how things are,
Because if anything makes us human at all,
It's that we can step up and demand more.

The Truth

You cannot stop the terror,
That things might not quite be,
What you thought they were because ultimately,
It's all a mystery,

And a best bet, no matter who you are,
Except for the scenario,
That you have enough people that agree with you,
So that what is true will never be known,

And it will never be known anyway,
I guess the proper phrase should have been,
That the fact that what's not known will never be known,
Will never be seen.

And it's alright,
If this seems like an easy cop out,
That, too, is a way to muffle,
Reason and instinct's eternal shout.

Who to Know

The waves of reality are such,
That if you want to know how you're made,
You must pay attention to the rhythm of your belly,
As your body follows the waves,

And take note your perceptions on the highs,
And on the lows,
Not the specifics, mind you, only the structure.
It's not what, but how you know.

And all this means that you must live first,
Before you can know how it is you live,
Which is both dangerous and exhilarating,
And must be risked if you are ever to give,

A representation that's alright,
And true to who you are.
What is there to know in life, if not yourself,
Before the position of the stars?

What There Is

Are there two sides to everybody,
Or more,
Or simply no discernable characteristic make-up,
That is neither a person nor,

A jumble of perceptions, and if there's not,
How could anyone have assumed to write,
A description of anyone else,
Unless they really might,

Be thinking of a world where people exist,
Whose minds actually are set fast,
And know what they would do given any situation,
That they actually think can last?

It's alright,
To try to understand the world,
In terms of a way that can be understood,
Just don't forget that it is always unfurled.

Randomness

Can truth come out of randomicity?
Isn't reality proof of that?
And if you describe whatever's given to you,
Isn't that a truthful act,

That reveals not only what you see,
But what you don't?
If I had a penny, no tenner, for all the things I miss,
I'd still never be rich enough for this joint.

But everything can be connected,
No matter how distant they seem,
For the randomness of structure and form,
Underlines absolutely everything.

And it's alright,
If you have to organize the randomness,
To get a handle on how the world is just,
Intrinsically a chaotic mess.

Finally

It's never too late,
To know thyself,
And in this age of anything's possible,
There's a tool on the shelf,

Waiting for you to use it expertly,
Even if no one has been able to,
See it as even anything useful,
Except you.

And to translate your idiosyncrasy,
Into something others can understand,
is the surpising accomplishment,
of every great man.

And it's alright,
If it takes you a while,
To figure out what you have to offer,
Just stop being in denial

Lying Story

He ended up destroyed,
Because he lost himself in the ploy,
After he found himself defending a lie,
About a high-powered, remote toy.

The sun was out and the heat was on,
As he met, by chance, is very best friend,
From whom he'd borrowed money to buy a gift,
That he never bought in the end,

Instead, he paid some bills and got drunk,
And now he has nothing for that same friend's son,
As he tells his friend that he was robbed,
At the same time the two of them were on a run.

But it's alright,
He has another friend or two,
That will stay his friends until that time,
When his best friend tells them what he can do.

Being Others

You can't be someone else,
Period.
You are who you are, and the best you can do,
Is paint over it,

And as you know paint will peal and crack,
And must be sanded and reapplied,
And if you want the same colour again,
You must keep a sample of what you first buyed.

And if you think that this is rudimentary,
You are right, but people often forget,
That being who you are naturally,
Is your best bet,

For being alright,
And excelling at what you do best,
Unless, that is, you're best at being others,
Then go on and be my guest.

Intentions

Can you misrepresent yourself,
So that other people think,
Your intentions are other than they are,
To hide that you are a rat-fink?

It all depends on your definition,
Of the word 'intentions',
For if you want to avoid all mistakes,
It should be synonymous with 'actions',

And then no thought exists before its actualization.
Oh, what a shallow world that is,
Unless you stop to think about all of your own thoughts,
That may as well never exist,

Because they're alright,
As a reverie.
The risk comes taking some of your darkest thoughts,
And making them reality.

It's How You Look At It

Fortunes change in a second,
Though a lifetime may be dedicated to that,
And if anyone tells you events are just random,
Well, they are right, but also sad,

Because they also are not depending on,
How you look at it,
Because that's the only control you have over life,
So why not work at surrendering it?

Because that makes you so much larger,
Than just a candle blowing in the wind.
It also gives you a powerful ally,
In a force that will never end.

And it's alright,
No matter how you look at it,
You'll always be the one that has to cope,
With however life is interpreted.

Book

This is a story of love,
For the story of love,
Of the varied choices left to one,
After being stripped of,

All pretension to knowing what is right,
Or even knowing anything at all,
Just as each generation has to remind itself,
To get finally get beyond,

The legacy of those who came before:
A method born of habit.
But all is lost once it is realized,
That this new story can have no end,

Because it's alright,
To describe a world built on assumptions,
But try to make sense of one built on truth,
And you'll soon find yourself with no foundation.

Who's Crazy

Yes, everyone's crazy,
Because no one knows for sure,
If what they're being told by everyone else,
Springs from nature,

Or from deceit, if you consider them opposites,
And no one knows if what they're saying themselves,
Is based on truth or even honesty,
Because humanity's innocence fell,

With the decision to live together,
And to spare each others' pain,
For both require a certain amount of obfuscation,
And estimating what's in the other's brain.

And it's alright,
There is one test for finding out:
Just compare what someone says to what they do,
And if they match, then you can suspend your doubt.

Headache

To know what it is you want to,
Do with you life,
Requires a certain knowledge of yourself,
And your price.

And should you expect to be happy all of the time,
Once you've figured it out?
It's all a bit obtuse when it's not even clear,
What 'doing' is really all about.

And while you're sorting it there're still things to do,
Demanded by society,
If you let it rule your life,
Instead of living as you want to be.

And it's alright,
If you go through life never satisfied.
Join the club.
At least you'll be allied.

What Now?

When your hands are full,
But you really don't mind,
Don't make excuses to others,
For a life that is sublime,

For outside of the society you live in,
That demands much work for little pay,
Imagine what you'd be doing with no rules,
And then think what you would say,

In those moments of pure idleness,
When your mind's free to contemplate,
Why you've ended up where you are,
And what you're here in the first place,

And you'll see it's alright,
That society ain't all that great,
Except for the freedom it gives your mind,
From the onus of figuring out where you originate.