| WORD SALAD Where is the love of which they speak? Do 'they' really feel it, know it, radiate it.. or do they seek it deliberate, desperate, and disguise the search with the words "I Love"? What is the love, is it real? Can they really feel such joy and closeness? Or are they banging on walls and rocks in the darkness, using the password 'I Love'. Secrets elusive in the alphabet soup's jumble.. a senseless inner dialogue continues escalating to diatribe harshly emitting letters, spinning, spinning actually visible before the eye in eyelid movies mercilessly shown. But the words register not in the space where the meaning takes place.. THEY RELATE NOT HERE. The sun shines so bright…too bright it intimidates. Cloudy weather seems much more familiar. Where is the love,- What is the love-- but more how can the love in this world of misguided actions, violent deeds and despair, in such stark contrast to the almost universal love of sunny days, be anything but four letters thrown around loosely? Just four letters perchance to be spelled out in an alphabits breakfast morning, but lost somewhere in the swallowing; A GREAT BIG BELLY LAUGH Right now this is beginning a rambling, so it must end here. Before all meaning is lost, if there ever was any…END THIS HERE. Before all meaning is lost… get a grip. There's always an urge to keep on going. Even in nonsense there has to be sense SOMEPLACE, doesn't there? …And then a thought of the futility of it all…. GET A GRIP. Here in this looking glass world somehow everything is in just exactly the wrong place.. turned around and twisted.. coming from where, here or there? get a grip. Discordant screams rise and resonate in the hollow interior never quite escaping into the air. Is love really hate? Both have four letters. Everything is relative. Uncle! Uncle! Four plus four equals eight. Somebody ate alphabits for breakfast. The equation seems always unbalanced. Without meaning to lucidity is turning into loose association in the textbook jargon; a classic illustration… But of what? Here the associations are not loose at all, but a way of thinking and being. Judge not lest you be judged. It is what is in this space where everything seems always so out of place; it's hard to hang onto a single thought for there are always way too many.. It's hard to hang on at all. Descending into the turbulence End this here if you know what is good for you, END THIS HERE But there always seems to be so much to say; much ado about nothing perhaps and yet so urgent somehow GET A GRIP no I, no me eternal torment futility Peace be with you…piece pieces of eight four plus four equals eight, (or is it nine?) ATE UP SHACKELED DOWN. So sorry if this is hard to follow, perhaps you should not try lest you end up ?????????? ??????HERE????? %##@!!!&*^%$## copyright Sarah Gallant 2001-2002 |