Dynamic Tension Resistance League

Focusing upon the impossible, so clearly defined by that which is not, I am beside myself. Lost in the throes of a battle between chance and fate, I am both a puppet and a master enacting these elaborate fables for y(our) entertainment. Let gentle wisdom guide my heart and hand always, for this world of confusion can challenge the soul.

If there is a truth
There's a lie
If there is perfection
Where am I?
If there is a direction
Other than now
There is a way
To say it somehow

"I have my choice: who can wish for more? Free will enables us to do everything well while imposition makes a light burden heavy."
- Samuel Richardson

the madcap laughs

All too often this twisted tale of duality gone amok remains unrecognized as such, and belief becomes optional. When senses serve reality, we enslave ourselves voluntarily. There may not be much freedom in this mortal coil, but what is there is choice. The madcap laughs understanding nothing is perfect.
Meantimes, we find ourselves heavily pursuing some logical framework to explain situations that have no more complexity than a single flap of a butterfly's wing. Soon, our thoughts turn to silent prayer that our struggle is not in vain. Our case of mistaken identity becomes clear. 'Tis a wicked web that ensnares it's maker, 'tis.

Laughing in the sunshine
Crying in the rain
It's often a thin line
Between pleasure and pain

Working for a living
Giving all you got
Of time we're spending
Being what we're not

Dancing under starlight
Sleeping until noon
What is wrong or right
Only phases of the moon

Kissing in the middle
Of an apocalypse
Nero with his fiddle
Couldn't care less


" Avoid eye contact, kiss."
- Mason Cooley

Chemical Socialism Absentee Ballot

Extra gooey sucrose literally oozing from stunningly ergonomic packaging carelessly consumed with little or no concern for quality control can lead to rather unpredictable mutations. Still, a pleasant attitude and solid personal hygiene practices can go a long way in helping avoid situations that expose one's genetic shortcomings. We may be in the shit can, but we're all in it together!


The power within ourselves
Is far greater than we're taught
Does such a prospect overwhelm
Those whom illusion has caught?

Creating what we wait for
Is an intriguing occupation
Relating after and before
With a perfect unification

The funny thing about perception
It's so real and yet so deceiving
What one sees in any direction
Depends on what one is believing

"I favor whom’s doom except after a preposition."
- Theodore M Bernstein
(Ending some years of ambivalence on the use of who and whom)

Show Stopping Techniques of the Stars

Faced with the inevitable, we naturally choose not to accept the logical conclusion, but rather, formulate a comprehensive campaign promoting the glorious reign of our sense of superiority. Trumpets blare and banners unfurl in a pompous parade of confusion designed explicitly to distract gullible souls from accomplishing anything that might actually contribute to a sane and sustainable existence. Living in the illusion where the spotlight never dims may seem like a pretty good idea at the time, yet, there is always a sneaking suspicion that heretofore unknown factors may intrude on our fortress of daisies. It's a risk we loopy rim-dwellers engage every single moment since we can remember, and like most archaic tribal functions, serves no purpose other than marketing mindless consumerism. Still,as any proto-highly-evolved being knows, swill is best served vigorously stirred.

Remembering I'm dreaming
Is the difference between
What I do and what I'm thinking
And what remains to be seen

Often I'm unraveling
My sense of here and now
Just like light traveling
As fast as time will allow


"Cudgel thy brains no more about it, for your dull ass will not mend his pace with beating!"
- William Shakespeare, Hamlet

Speed Dating Myself

All too oft we opt to obfuscate our special happy dream to reorder supplies for another here and now that may never happen. Yet, with formidable relentlessness, occasion calls. Although formalities may seem restrictive or overbearing, let us remember that one wants to be at their best when forming memories with emotional carnivores. Barring explicit sexual displays, the floor is yours. Bonus points are available for promptness, and can be redeemed at the soiled undergarment exchange, next to Bilbo's Expresso Hut by the loading dock.


Being becomes dreaming
Seeming to be real
Awakened by a feeling
No dream could conceal
But still I will believing
In what is and isn't so
It's not what I'm seeing
As much as what I know

"We must speak by the card, or equivocation will undo us."
- Shakespeare, Hamlet

Purple Brain All in My Haze

What falters in love's journey towards perfection? What accidental misstep falls out of concourse with a true future unfolding? What freakazoid mutant spasm unexpectedly explodes across the face of the known universe marring our perception and acceptance of reality? The churning, yearning, infinite abyss that we like to call home plays by no one's rules, making all points moot, meaningless threads of drivel tied to ideas whose purposes are unfathomable as they are idiosyncratic. One needn't look beyond these very words before your eyes now to see the truth of this.

The Secret Joy of Repetitive Thematic Structure

The beauty of a star
Depends on how far
Light goes to be known
The duty of an art
Fulfills its part
The moment it is shown


"They sin who tell us love can die;
With life all other passions fly,
All others are but vanity.

Love is indestructible,
Its holy flame forever burneth;
From heaven it came, to heaven returneth.

It soweth here with toil and care,
But the harvest-time of love is there."

Robert Southey (1774–1843)

Insert Romantic Interlude Here

All the wackiness of our mating ritual is gently folded into our terrifying survival mechanisms providing us with ample fodder for rationalization of behavior heretofore considered unbecoming. Aye, there is the rub. Primordial goo aside, the decorative aspects of these mindless glee fests almost seem to overwhelm any connection to any spiritual process.

But for what we dream
We're simply light streaming
Between what has been
And what must come into being
It seems as much a sin
As a reason for believing
To end and begin again
Simply by perceiving

This thin tissue of existence
Flutters through time and space
Amid attraction and resistance
We will always find our place

"It is often hard to determine whether a clear, open, and honorable proceeding is the result of goodness or of cunning."
- François, Duc De La Rochefoucauld (1613–1680)

The Illusion of Sanity Consumed My Time

The causeless disturbance of yearning for more continues to dominate our acts, regardless of altruistic rationalizations. Life, it seems, is consumption, elimination and procreation, so boldly exalted in the daily processes that preoccupy us. The universe is really so far beyond what any given human can comprehend, and yet, so many of us give more weight to politics and entertainment than we would ever devote to actual learning. Perhaps this is for the best, considering that truth is madness.

Everywhere is the center
Everyone is God
Each future we enter
Is meant to go on

All dreams are just one dream
Between the future and past
The present is just what seems
May or may not last

"Oh Science, lift aloud thy voice that stills
The pulse of fear"
-Lucretius (Titus Lucretius Carus) (94–55 B.C.)