Lift my spirits
by the boot straps.
Clever molecules beg for creation,
genius granted in hindsight,
toil and indecision between.
Which path again?
Lesser traveled or
that of least resistance?
Market guided incentives.
Exit stage left, but,
when the play is over,
you rejoin the audience–
use the same door as them.
Preposterous pondering,
splintered fields of study,
money in bed with morality,
‘amber waves of grain.’
Endless questions
lead to alack of saying anything.
Money rent echo budget
trickle resource life force.
Days jingle in my pocket,
spend time–not all in one place though.
Calories now, calories tomorrow,
energy for well thought decision.
Practical force willpower quotient–
sustenance upkeep effort drain.
Fried chicken morality,
peel the skin–taste the meat.
Conveyor belt babies
propel school development debt.
Needy corporation ambush,
cast psychometric fishing lines,
craft nets big enough to cast upon whole cities–
society’s pulse ready for bloodletting.
“Climb, Maslow, climb!”
One due date at a time.
Pronoun verb noun–
subject verb object,
preposition of a platitude
no meaning lost.
Pronouns and Con-nouns
just pounds and pounds
of sounds and sounds,
if words carried any weight.
Verb! Spoken with verve.
Imperative!
Exclamation!
Descriptor of the described.
Filter of a filter,
picture of a picture,
diluted twice over,
the world watches its reflection in our eyes.
I like ideas,
I like coming up with them,
I like listening to them,
contributing to them.
I like when they pan out
or don’t pan out.
They enthrall and excite,
put your damn veins to work.
I like the idea of ideas.
I like thinking them
wondering when next they’ll
‘scalp my naked soul.’
However, I dislike when they stagnate,
make me feel powerless
as a vessel to enact them–
flagrant flagellant apologies
offered like burnt sack dog crap
ashes on a silver platter.
“I’m sorry, I’m too stupid for you.”
“Don’t care,” says the idea, “I’m brilliant,
you had me–deal.”
Fluke of genius, I’m afraid.
I’ll have to get back to you when I’m better,
more learned–it’s not you it’s me, really.
I really like you–
I like ideas.
Of course, I am ready
–I’ve been ready
There’s too much
heat in my chest,
too much blood on my breath,
and sweat, sweat in
every fold of flesh
Be bold!
Serotonin is calling,
dopamine and modest oxytocin calling,
beckoning from the void
where you posit a soul
Be bold and be ready
like friction between earth and tire,
electricity on a copper wire,
fast, to catch a synapse mid syn-ap
If you’re not ready,
it will catch up to you
or, worse, be in wait of you
Heartfelt
heartbeats
I hear
heart aches
fear what
heart takes
but take heart
before heart breaks
For transplant ease
I wear my heart on my sleeve
Sweetheart
wild heart
heart of stone
hardened heart
heart of gold
young, cold, or old
heart to heart
heartstrings
oh how my heart sings!
Heart attack!
Bleeding heart!
Be still my heart!
Defibrillator!
Have a heart:
there’s plenty to go around
Here’s your minerals,
slanted so, just so.
Here’s your universe,
ready to carry you,
slanted so, just so.
Ultraviolet, same color
as my introspection,
spilled all around
swims for its source,
but I am slanted so,
just so.
Universe is slanted so,
just so–it won’t settle
sit still, cease to flow.
Beats, my heart is slanted so
succinct, blows and bleats
breathes for treats
so distinct, just so.
My brain breeds neurons with the world–
been at it since the womb
At least, I think this happens
a consistent metaphor
Introgressive iteration of self to environment
habituated abandonment of lackluster concepts
Never fully trust inner notions
cautiously expose expectations to reality
If the outer world doesn’t map onto your inner world
I’m afraid, that is exactly your problem
All the suffering surprise brings,
mislead by biased value judgement
“The world cares so little,”
more, “the world doesn’t care at all!”
This cliche malaise kind of an outcry
is too primed by language itself to have proper meaning
Emotional inference gets smuggled in by the filter
of our ever emotionally inferring minds
Anthropomorphized, the statement translates:
“the world, as an agent, does not care (to care being an expression of its agency of choice)”
The statement purports the world could care if it wanted to,
but the world does not want either–we want
to better illustrate the point while simultaneously risking infinite regression:
“the world does not care that it does not care”
This violates our relationship to it, for we care immensely,
want incessantly, and are primed to infer relationships between actors
The world simply is–
we’re an expression of that is-ing
The next step could easily be, “nothing matters”
but again that’s you, equating caring with mattering,
bringing your own conceptions to the table–
all matter matters, as all plants plant and animals animal
The world would ceaselessly continue production of its
astounding scenic beauty and variety of atomic expression
regardless of our being there to witness it
regardless of our being there to call it pretty
So, perhaps we should take a page from its stoic book
and not need the dirt around us to care about what we do for it to matter
Attain to be like the world and just do—
the introgression of seeing everything exactly as it is
Dollar collar chafes my neck raw
scarlet flesh ring from when society
asked ever so kindly,
“will you marry me?”
“Yes, yes, oh yes!
please bless me with
your rent seeking agenda
your insatiable love of constant capitol”
How droll,
most of us are never paid
for our cleverest capacities
incentive structures want only
to rain pennies for mediocrity
while we hold tight
to our slutty little buckets
for dear life
Peek privately at our inner brilliance,
treasure hidden at the dark bottoms
of crumpled brown paper bags,
then fold and roll the top
Try to muster energy between
daily bread outings–
meantime, show the world a cultured soul
and expect nothing you can’t earn incrementally
Grow physical
shrink existential
rack up time alive
countdown time to live
Little layabout,
wave vacation goodbye
effort entreats
denying entropy
Years arrears
debt intrepid,
loves me dearly,
asks after affairs
Owe it to yourself
ode to your id
desire on layaway
own it
Elephant Nihilism 