Category: Poetry

Mad Old, Yo

Scenario: An alien lands on the surface of the planet, trying to investigate the nature of Human behavior for a book he’s writing. This is a book meant for scientific endeavor, and he also hopes it reaches the point where his fellow beings appreciate his efforts enough to award him with some sort of accolade. This is a big deal to him, and his species is on board with him. You may want to compare this to the Christopher Columbus scenario, except that our hero is benevolent. This species of hominid has evolved to the point where telepathic communication has been perfected to an indefinite amount. These beings are mad old, yo. Something like fifteen million years ago is when they first figured out the whole telepathic bit, which fell fifteen million years after that time they figured out what fire was good for.

Of course, this is to be read only if you want some perspective on their development. I’m only doing this for your benefit.

What? You asked me to take on this project. Do you think I would volunteer my time to this for no reason? You must be crazy.

People] Can’t Tell Me

Bleak entertainers’ glee
leaks all over the stage

as the freaks peak
in their social development

and the geeks tweak
while the Greeks seek.

You robber baron bandits
have nothing on our scheme!

You lack significance
in a most crucial way

and you make up for it
by burying that invisible hatchet

you claimed was a mile away
at the time. Now you

[you of all people] can’t tell me
I’m just being paranoid this time.

You know damn well
that I’m your equal

and there’s nothing stopping me
from declaring mutiny

and shipping your saviors overseas,
never to be seen again by Western eyes

(good riddance). We all take a sauna
and throw down tequila,

as is the style at the time.
Our cultural awareness steps forward

and mocks itself ruthlessly,
as I’m sure you know.

Oh, come now.

You can’t say
you didn’t already know

the state of our adolescent trek
through the Everglades of public opinion.

We’ve all known this for years at this point,
and it’s time you come back to reality.

Clean Up Your Act

How many times now have I seen a mirror just sticking out of the side of the garage? I told you that the garage was not the place for a mirror to just go sticking out in broad daylight. There’s a sun out there, mister. That sun can reflect off this mirror and reflect a beam of fiery wrath back at that dead tree over there and toast that puppy. I will not have you just putting up mirrors all willy nilly, as though you’ve never been trained in the fine art of mirror hanging. I will not stand the disgrace to our craft, and I sure as hell will not pay for the damages caused by that fire to the property. Our insurance coverage isn’t half as good as I thought it would be when we signed up, so I’m pretty sure this family would end up in financial ruin. Your brazen attitude is just what we don’t need to see in this world, and I would like you to clean up your act.

On Macroscale

There’s nothing here
for me,
and I really can’t quite stand it.

It’s as though my skin
is tearing itself
apart at a subatomic level

and I’m sitting here
on macroscale
just wondering when all my atoms
are going to pop away into oblivion.

Chopping and Carving

I can at least say that I’m trying to understand your situation, can’t I? It’s not like I’m just throwing a life preserver from the edge of the dock and telling you to swim in its general direction. I mean, I’m practically carving a canoe from a tree I just chopped down and hauled to shore.

Oh, by the way, all I could find for chopping and carving was a crappy old serrated kitchen knife. I hope you’re happy. Look how miserable you’ve just made me and tell me that you don’t find any satisfaction in that.

Distraught and Laughing

Theirs
is a sense
of foreboding pain,

nothing I can describe
without beginning
to seize uncontrollably
until the dogs find me,

distraught and laughing,

rolling in the gutter,
where I don’t remember winding up.