Noah in the Paramedic’s Eyes

The emergency room gets smaller
They wheel you outside, the shadows grow taller
It’s cold, dark, wet, the sky a cloudy indigo
We’re not in Scottsdale anymore, Toto
Emergency workers conversing
Looking at you, their eyes furtively glancing

Denk je dat hij er ooit zal komen?
De tijd stroomt in ieder geval weer
Het is meer een kwestie of hij ooit terug zal komen naar waar hij was
Ik denk niet dat hij zal komen waar we zijn

Darkness turns to light as you slide into the ambulance
From blue to brilliant orange, an effervescent radiance
Expectation of immolation causes your nerves to dance
Your first second of damnation; you’ve missed your last chance
On your way to the sanatorium
Your vehicle is a crematorium

But you felt no heat
Your perdition you didn’t meet
God told you something sweet
As soon as it started, it’s over
You’re just in a chariot of fire with your charioteer

Young, fat, with a mustache trimmed neatly
Looking from his clipboard, he peeps at you quickly
His gaze turns to surprise
As if he sees what is behind your eyes
The interaction has the power to hypnotize

Your urge to find familiarity
To imprint upon him something you know
People do this unconsciously
Your mind explodes
Electrodes

A girl writing by candlelight
Late at night
A Walkman beside her in bed
Covered in papers with words from her head
Far away in another universe

The papers fill your field of vision
Pandora’s box cornucopia
Like the buckets of water from the sorcerer’s apprentice
Pages and pages flying to the sky, no division
You understand it as a conceptual infinity information utopia
The multi mega infinite data matrice

Everything that can happen will happen
In two separate infinite universes
The exact same thing must eventually happen
When the same thing happens in two universes, there is a connection
When it does, you have a gateway between universes
A multi-infinite extra-dimensional infinity of infinities confection

You can slide from one to the other
This is saying something about your lover
Don’t look at me, that’s what you call her
It’s also what happened in the garden
It’s how the snake busted into Eden
I mean it isn’t, but that thought came into your mind
Would make a cool idea for a book or poem or something of that kind

“Are you fucking kidding? Is that you?”
The paramedic breaks your gaze and tries to find something else to do

8 Comments

    1. Uh…no…it’s kind of a description of the ride from the Aurora Hospital to the inpatient facility in God Knows Where, Arizona. I mean there could be themes common to various chapters. And the thing is a failure. Like, there is no way I could describe this crap, dude. But, our challenge is complete. You wrote the poem about Neruda’s cat, and I wrote a poem about one of my visions on 15 November 2019. There is just no way this stuff can be described. Google Dimethyltryptamine on YouTube and see what people say about it. Some will say “it’s just so beyond, higher consciousness” while others will say “it’s just a violation of everything to even go there…” The reactions of “total beyond” and “total violation of limits” and “utter ascension” and “complete chaos” will resound. I do think there is the possibility that Chaz and Haley slipped me some DMT, somehow, that I don’t remember. I have a memory of him saying “you have no idea what we gave you, do you?” In the car on the way to the hospital. But the whole thing was after I started some kind of I don’t even know what schizophrenic whatever about implants and aliens and all, and I could tell I was some kind of a goner, or on the verge of it, or whatever. I don’t know what happened. I have memories. I don’t even know what they are.

      The poem is not exactly inaccurate, but it is definitely a failure. There’s just no way I could put that stuff into words. And there was a lot more than what I wrote.

      But, I guess what there is to get out of it, whatever it was, is that in that state, there were Dutch people there. As for the rest, I will be writing some science fiction about little slivers of what I experienced. I am trying to develop a story about transdimensional travel via mimicry of coincidence. That in itself is not easy. It comes from this particular vision. But as for the rest, make what you will of it. A common thread in the book is the paralllel track of the numinous and the interpersonal. Jonathan tries to bring heaven to earth. Jonathan has this thing about a girl. Parallel threads that drive along a unified purpose of a sort. I dunno, really. It was just an autobiography, I didn’t know what everything in it meant and still don’t, and in a lot of ways I look at it like you do. But I have a lot more information about it than you do.

      Anyway, you challenged me to write about a vision and I told you to write about Neruda’s sleeping cat, and you got yours done days ago. And yours was good. Mine? Well, it is what it is. Writing about that ambulance ride is more than a human can do, man.

      1. Well, thanks for the vote of confidence. But remember, the only important thing in all of this, the only thing that matters, is that Noah van Ouwerkerk not call Jonathan Bailey. That’s why the universe exists. To make sure none of this ever gets untied. Because the most important thing is social convention. If somebody were nicer to somebody somewhere, or did something different than what was done, then everything would be fine.

        You remember that movie Aliens? Remember how everyone is fighting for survival, but Burke ends up killing himself and almost everybody else because the most important thing is money? That’s a lot of my recollection of it all. Like, “all this happened, but what’s on your mind is that somebody wasn’t nice to you? Or somebody got horny? Or somebody doesn’t want to make somebody mad?” That’s what blows my mind more than anything else. Blows…my…freaking…mind…. Says guy who was in that ambulance.

        I’ll tell you man, this has taught me something about the world. And as always, I have to insist there is a reason for it.

      2. The world is broken. Not as broken as it could be, but it is broken. That includes the people for which it was made.

      3. I regret showing the frustration of the above comment, and was going to delete it, but you replied to it, so I’ll leave it. Don’t know what to say about it. You’re right. The world is broken.

        I guess I can say that in a broken world, hope and disappointment are sisters. Disappointment is easy to get rid of if you get rid of hope. Disappointment is more of a state of things than any sort of feeling or action. But it leads to frustration, anger, sadness. So easy to get rid of all those things if you just get rid of hope. It doesn’t seem fitting with God’s character that he would want me to give up hope, but I am getting to the point where that is his message. It would be so easy for him to write things differently.

      4. Hope, the only way it works, is when you’re not hoping, but having hope. Hope in the source rather than the outcome. God might be worth having your hope. Getting the answer you really really want usually isn’t. My life story, anyway.

      5. God has my hope, and I will share in that with those who will share in it with me. I asked for a sign. I got it. I haven’t heard back from the dude from their synagogue that they are harassing me with the Israeli authorities. If they do, my book is online as my explanation. I’m happy to drive around Netanya. A figment of my imagination gave me my purpose, and that is miracle enough for me. It’s time to date some short chicks. The messianic synagogues of Israel are not on my path.

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