Obituaries: Older flowers

[Sepia]

We seek to live in the land of the dead. We try to free ourselves from the shackles of the dead, our dead heroes, poets and pundits. Our writers and actors, our doers and our thinkers. They live now in the land of the dead whilst we try to find the way to the land of the living. To feel it, feel the shape of it, feel the life seeping into our every pore and our minds are clear, like darts of silver through the darkened wilderness of spirituality. Some of the times you truly and really live and it happens by accident. You write something that feels perfect or you suddenly realize how everything comes together or apart, it's the same, it is just dependent on mood or beliefs. The first time you say I love you and mean it like only you yourself can mean it for you are the only one that knows your complete interpration or like the first time you taste elderflower.

"Auricularia auricula-judae (syn. Auricularia auricula, Hirneola auricula-judae) is commonly known as Judas's ear fungus or Jew's Ear, the name from which it derives the "judae" in its scientific name, or as the jelly ear fungus. It was said that Judas hanged himself on an elder tree, which is the origin of the name.[2] The term 'Jew's Meat' was a deprecatory term used for all fungi in the Middle Ages[1][2] Snow fungus, another edible fungus which is white in color, is a separate species, Tremella fuciformis." - Wikipedia, retrieved 22.06.09 0045.

Here hangs Judas. Was he one of the living or was he one of the dead? Do we drink to his memory or do we spit after saying his name out loud? Was he as biggie smalls put it, a winner or a sinner? Did he eat anchovies fo' dinna and did he even like anchovies? If he was ordering a pizza in a nice place, would he go for the napoletana? Would he even go eat italian pizza or would you find him down by the kebab shops, screaming at the owner for the sauce being weak shit and what would the difference be between Judas and Jesus? They died by a tree, they consciously chose and while their legacy is different for the time being, what is the difference between all our dead inspirators? Our facilitators, growing us into our skin, lying rotting, transcending. They knew what they were headed for, they were alive. Or was this whole charade just the other way around?

Is this where hope should lie and rest? Is this the shining city we see every day after work, catching glimpses of it in passing subway trains or dark buses? Did you dream me here and where is the operations manual, where is up and where is down? Time fluctuates as a child sits in the flesh of an old man on a distant beach in thailand, reading borges as two ladyboys blow him and fondle him and love him in their way like we love our jobs and the magician makes the connection to the faraway land, another dimension or reality or simply a different thought

is passing as a breeze through the tree in the yard, our lovely bush smelling of the faraway land

[Kai]

I'm having trouble getting a consistent feeling from this one, sepia.

I like it though.