Colosseum

There's a school of thought

Concerning our ultimate end

Positing that we don't experience our own death...

That there are branching timeliness and probabilistic dimensions...

That we, the conscious observer, 

Must exist,

Perceiving alleged reality,

In order to allow reality to objectively exist...

All is consciousness, 

Collective consciousness is All...

Those close-call moments in your life

Where you swear

Just another inch or two to the left

And I wouldn't be standing here

Right now...

Where the ice caught your tires 

As you slide helplessly towards that

Busy intersection,

But the wheels catch

Just in time...

With probability,

Every outcome that is possible

Occurs simultaneously...

Your consciousness usually jumps

From the time line 

Where your body dies

To the nearest time line 

Where you survive...

Your perceiving/observer mind

Can't observe life

From a corpse...

That is left for another time line

To grieve...

In this branch of philosophy, 

We have all likely died

Innumerable times,

Constantly jumping tracks

Into more favorable-to-existence realities...

I am somewhat inclined towards this possibility...

If this were how things actually worked 

Then I have died many times...

Sometimes I can feel it...

Every sensation, but totally devoid

Of physical pain...

Falling from unhealthy heights

And then getting up unscathed and unphased...

Bones crushing...

The hollow metallic thud of impact

And the groaning of stressed steel...

Another time line involves the jaws of life

And a trip to the morgue,

But my consciousness jumped here 

Just a few minutes before that 

Unfortunate event...

There's a vague awareness of the jump...

Everything looks generally the same,

But some small details seem 

Off...

This place that our combined consciousness

Creates 

Wants to be seen...

It desires the attention of mind...

It can't exist without force of will...

It has no energy but for what the watchers

Put into it...

The rowdy audience

Cheering on either the gladiators

Or the lions...

Kicking Angels in the Teeth

What you want, 
What your heart desires,

It's all in front of you,

But you look right past it.

All those things you think you need

Aren't the things you really need.

All the love you feel you've

Missed out on,

Is the love you've willfully withheld. 

We will give advice

That we would never take.

We say things publicly 

That we don't really believe. 

We just want to fit in.

To be seen and to be unseen.

To be pitied for being unwanted

While giving empty platitudes

Should unwanted want be shown.

Every glance

Could be a ravening wolf,

Or so our egos sometimes believe.

Every kindness 

Has some stranger's expectation

Tied on it with a pretty bow.

We say we want peace

While carefully planting mines

Strategically across our psyches.

We say we want love

While chasing it away.

It could be anywhere.

A hundred dollar bill

Blowing across a salt dusty parking lot.

Will you ignore it

Because it doesn't shine like gold?

Will you put it down

And forget it

Because it doesn't look like

A movie star?

Has it stopped massaging your ego?

Is the honeymoon over?

Is no one fawning

Over what you think you are?

We struggle with our emptiness

Telling ourselves we deserve to be full.

We gently coddle our demons

While kicking angels in the teeth.

How dare they presume 

That we need their touch?

How dare they assume

That they deserve ours?

Isn't this how it goes?

Every time a bell rings,

An angel gets it's wings.

At least, that's what they say.

Bell's are ringing...

All the time...

But wings are being torn off

One feather at a time

As the clock keeps ticking...