We are kings within mountains.
Captains of its crevices and canals,
Tribunal of its tributaries.
From slow paced mannerism and lamentations: we wear down.
So close, side by side: a white cap ocean,
Becomes a rolling valley.
Our struggle to motivate one another,
Yet still unmoved: What now
Does it accomplish when we are weathered?
Us kings of mountains.
Our words: gabbled echo in the distance.
Our concepts: faint withered haze in still air.
With wisdoms and meanings and motivations still not followed,
Can us kings ever meet hand in hand
Upon summits so far apart?
Sunday, June 17, 2012
02: It was the College that Killed Him
It was the college that killed him.
Looked him in the eye,
and told him no.
It was the college that betrayed him.
Told him to be quiet,
and forced him to go.
It was the college that lied to him.
Told him he could learn,
yet kept him at bay.
It was the college that scolded him.
For jumping ahead,
they got in his way.
For every book and lesson he struggled to gather,
A rule and a price is what they threw at the matter.
It was the college that maimed him.
Destroyed his desire,
And tore him to shreds.
It was the college that killed him.
Gave him diplomas,
And left him for dead.
Looked him in the eye,
and told him no.
It was the college that betrayed him.
Told him to be quiet,
and forced him to go.
It was the college that lied to him.
Told him he could learn,
yet kept him at bay.
It was the college that scolded him.
For jumping ahead,
they got in his way.
For every book and lesson he struggled to gather,
A rule and a price is what they threw at the matter.
It was the college that maimed him.
Destroyed his desire,
And tore him to shreds.
It was the college that killed him.
Gave him diplomas,
And left him for dead.
01: Glorious Stones of Troy and Avalon
(In light of "Shine, Perishing Republic" by Robinson Jeffers)
As this globe of icy mass continues its journey - through and
down a snow laden path of highly paved frost - it is a
consuming entity of individuals from which I wonder where
and who the first few flakes were that made this pact.
All in well counted and exacting time it will reach its bottom
river bed, gloriously silencing itself in melting by the hand of
its own primordial constituents.
Weep and fear not, unnamed kings, for the table of nobles leaves
always room for a next, fast minded visionary to see through
the means and endless end.
Need only a drop of water; the sands of institution be shaped
once more, oh glorious stones of Troy and Avalon.
And when the glee of the young dawns once again I will leave my
reservations on the porch as an old rifle of protection.
For the beach castles are already en route to cities. They are
still just . . . child's toys in my eyes; temperaments of
adolescence.
There will be little need for reeducation as the trade from
tyrant to nun would all the same be oppressive, lest I presume
the definition of a better life for all.
Rather . . . let's play together in the structure we've so proudly
assembled and enjoy fruits for the sake of fruits' sake.
My musing observations are content enough, for now, that
miserable understanding is always a more colorful portrait
than blind bliss.
As this globe of icy mass continues its journey - through and
down a snow laden path of highly paved frost - it is a
consuming entity of individuals from which I wonder where
and who the first few flakes were that made this pact.
All in well counted and exacting time it will reach its bottom
river bed, gloriously silencing itself in melting by the hand of
its own primordial constituents.
Weep and fear not, unnamed kings, for the table of nobles leaves
always room for a next, fast minded visionary to see through
the means and endless end.
Need only a drop of water; the sands of institution be shaped
once more, oh glorious stones of Troy and Avalon.
And when the glee of the young dawns once again I will leave my
reservations on the porch as an old rifle of protection.
For the beach castles are already en route to cities. They are
still just . . . child's toys in my eyes; temperaments of
adolescence.
There will be little need for reeducation as the trade from
tyrant to nun would all the same be oppressive, lest I presume
the definition of a better life for all.
Rather . . . let's play together in the structure we've so proudly
assembled and enjoy fruits for the sake of fruits' sake.
My musing observations are content enough, for now, that
miserable understanding is always a more colorful portrait
than blind bliss.
In Memoriam
This is a collection of short writings by Jared A.D. Radtke, originally published on his blog. He was one of my closest and oldest friends. This collection is named "Lone Artist" for the film company he had dreamed of creating.
Jared took his life on May 1st, 2012. I am republishing his works here in memoriam lest it be deleted elsewhere.
You may read my tribute on my other blog here.
Jared A.D. Radtke
September 19, 1987 to May 1, 2012
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