Different Whirls.

[rewiiired]

Different Whirls,
04/16/03,
4:00 AM.

She found her god.
I found Nietzche.
I'm looking for answers.
She likes preaching.
She dodges bullets.
I'm chased by UFOs.
I see visions, drink coffee, smoke cigs, and
read Jung and Campbell and boy is she's annoyed:
she just likes her cocaine, just wants a dark room,
just wants some of her
books by Freud.
We're from two different worlds, here:
you see angels, I'm seeing aliens.
You see a day of judgment I just see
species suicide.
We're from two different worlds, here:
you dream Satan, I'm seeing telepathic babies.
You have faith and I know too much
to be certain about anything
anymore in or outside my mind.
So pursue your god,
I'll pursue my truth.
What else to do?
And what's the fucking use?
I see nothing in fighting anymore.
We've come so far alone
and meet up nowhere.

 

[Dagny]

Sometimes the only person that you can bear to have alongside you is the one who can't possibly understand what you're going through. Takes the pressure off in a way, and it makes the journey more personal while giving you a hand to hold in the process.

Wonderful writing! Thank you.

 

[Doc_Rocksbay]

wow! It's like you are the voice in my head that I fired last week.... I thought we had a confidentiality agreement

 

[rewiiired]

Dagny: Thank you. I have to say I agree, but that sometimes the fundamental differences between one person and a mass of others can make it hard to relate or communicate. You can try to reach out and do your best to assure mutual understanding, but difference is distance. The gap can be bridged by a mutual willingness to understand the Other. When the attempt to understand isn't mutual, however, it proves to be futile. After awhile a person just has to throw in the towel.

Doc_Rocksbay: strangely enough, I have no idea where this poem came from -- I mean, I know I wrote it, but it was one of those spontanious jingles I had stuck in my head at work that I had to write down. Though I can relate to `my' side of the poem, and the `other' side of it does illustrate the differences between me and others I know as a whole... I don't know what the other refers to specifically, or where she came from: I don't know a girl involved with cocaine, or who likes to read Freud, or who's seen angels. So part of it may in fact be that voice in your head you fired last week, because I can't figure how it came from mine.

 

[Nietzche]

. . . I found Nietzche.

Or did Nietzche find you?????

Nice poem.