The blood in the stream of San Salvador
barely had time to congeal
when the hammer fell on America.
Too soon, already, all things had passed,
judgment fallen and sentence called,
execution, death to the fabled empire.
Mistakes were made even before
the citizens reached the voting booth,
and for that they must be condemned,
long before they put in office
the idiots who fucked up the nation,
before they could rule the world.
I saw it, I was there,
and I reached up with my dead hand,
and signed the warrant with my own blood,
because it would be a cold time
in the old town tonight,
when everyone lets us know
that we can't have what we
never really had.
Friday, May 30, 2008
Thursday, May 29, 2008
We'll See, Indeed...
We'll see
when the levee breaks,
we'll see
if the dam can hold,
we'll see
if there's anything different
this time.
when the levee breaks,
we'll see
if the dam can hold,
we'll see
if there's anything different
this time.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Melophobia
I tell you,
I can't hear
a song that
doesn't crack
me up. It's
all funny
to me.
I mean,
seriously?
We're going
to pretend
that in a
hundred years
people are still
going to care
about the music
acts more than
the music?
That's a failure
of the music,
or a failure
of the acts,
to be something
that transcends
experience and
becomes part
of our
cultural
experience.
Tell me how
many acts
from even
a hundred
years ago,
when recording
was already
in full bloom,
that you can
name. I mean,
even Sinatra,
who became
perhaps the first
breakout act
to be put
on record,
was known for
and performed
standards, which
is just another
name for what
every song becomes,
even if it's not
the cool way
to refer to them,
folk music,
just something
someone will
casually
incorporate
rather than
obsess over
its popularity
because of the
act that makes
it famous.
Bob Dylan?
That's the guy
who blew the lid
off the myth,
and he's still
not being
understood.
No wonder
he plays the blues.
The only thing
from the age of
recording that
will still be
around in
a hundred years
is film, and we
know even now
in what form,
as a curio
still more will
be doing over
again, because
unlike books
or even paintings,
it was born in
a time of great
transparency,
when DeMille
was remaking
his own Commandments
(and making it
more popular
the second time),
when the great stars
were cemented,
at least for
a few years.
As the techniques
evolve, so will
the interests,
which is not to say
something once
revered will become
irrelevent, but rather
will lose the mystique
that just because
it was a first,
it was among the best.
People will still
make these things
and there will
still be audiences
and all these things
will just sort of
linger and be
appreciated
like old books.
The classics are
only beginning
to emerge,
despite what they say.
The medium is young.
And there truly is
always a second time
to get it right.
In music, the second
time and the third time
and every time after
is a continuing test,
because in music,
it's a constant
understanding, in
whatever form, that
must take place,
either by the artist
or by the audience.
You can get it wrong
a million times and
still get it right
and that product
can outlive a bloodline.
And yet, all you hear
is how much better it is
to like an act no one
hears now and still won't
long down the line,
an act of self-loathing
because popularity
is anathema
unless you see
that you too can cash in.
It's a hell of a time
to be alive.
I can't hear
a song that
doesn't crack
me up. It's
all funny
to me.
I mean,
seriously?
We're going
to pretend
that in a
hundred years
people are still
going to care
about the music
acts more than
the music?
That's a failure
of the music,
or a failure
of the acts,
to be something
that transcends
experience and
becomes part
of our
cultural
experience.
Tell me how
many acts
from even
a hundred
years ago,
when recording
was already
in full bloom,
that you can
name. I mean,
even Sinatra,
who became
perhaps the first
breakout act
to be put
on record,
was known for
and performed
standards, which
is just another
name for what
every song becomes,
even if it's not
the cool way
to refer to them,
folk music,
just something
someone will
casually
incorporate
rather than
obsess over
its popularity
because of the
act that makes
it famous.
Bob Dylan?
That's the guy
who blew the lid
off the myth,
and he's still
not being
understood.
No wonder
he plays the blues.
The only thing
from the age of
recording that
will still be
around in
a hundred years
is film, and we
know even now
in what form,
as a curio
still more will
be doing over
again, because
unlike books
or even paintings,
it was born in
a time of great
transparency,
when DeMille
was remaking
his own Commandments
(and making it
more popular
the second time),
when the great stars
were cemented,
at least for
a few years.
As the techniques
evolve, so will
the interests,
which is not to say
something once
revered will become
irrelevent, but rather
will lose the mystique
that just because
it was a first,
it was among the best.
People will still
make these things
and there will
still be audiences
and all these things
will just sort of
linger and be
appreciated
like old books.
The classics are
only beginning
to emerge,
despite what they say.
The medium is young.
And there truly is
always a second time
to get it right.
In music, the second
time and the third time
and every time after
is a continuing test,
because in music,
it's a constant
understanding, in
whatever form, that
must take place,
either by the artist
or by the audience.
You can get it wrong
a million times and
still get it right
and that product
can outlive a bloodline.
And yet, all you hear
is how much better it is
to like an act no one
hears now and still won't
long down the line,
an act of self-loathing
because popularity
is anathema
unless you see
that you too can cash in.
It's a hell of a time
to be alive.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Violet Hill
They didn't end up prospekting
after all, but rather chose
to live the life. Whatever
that ends up meaning,
just because they used to rule,
I'm fine with it!
after all, but rather chose
to live the life. Whatever
that ends up meaning,
just because they used to rule,
I'm fine with it!
Friday, May 23, 2008
The Ballad of Oliver Stone
Oliver Stone, Oliver Stone,
usually lands on his feet
wherever he's thrown.
It's a bit upsetting to think
that the man's no longer
respected as much as he was
even when he came out with Nixon,
peaking with JFK and Natural Born Killers,
too controversial to be understood,
too brilliant to be heard,
except now he's going to
visit the one subject
everyone is going to have
something to say about again,
GWB, whom he should know
better than anyone else
but instead seems to have
taken the popular route,
except he's making a game
of it still; he's going
to make people see G
as a person, even as a joke
but as a person and not just
pariah, a legacy who knows
what it means to cower
before history, long
before he had to.
That's what he's doing next,
that's where he's landing,
nearly always on his feet,
looking ahead so intently
he never knows exactly
where he's going, and it
won't matter because
people will tell him,
even if he doesn't agree.
Oliver Stone, Oliver Stone,
usually lands on his feet
wherever he's thrown.
usually lands on his feet
wherever he's thrown.
It's a bit upsetting to think
that the man's no longer
respected as much as he was
even when he came out with Nixon,
peaking with JFK and Natural Born Killers,
too controversial to be understood,
too brilliant to be heard,
except now he's going to
visit the one subject
everyone is going to have
something to say about again,
GWB, whom he should know
better than anyone else
but instead seems to have
taken the popular route,
except he's making a game
of it still; he's going
to make people see G
as a person, even as a joke
but as a person and not just
pariah, a legacy who knows
what it means to cower
before history, long
before he had to.
That's what he's doing next,
that's where he's landing,
nearly always on his feet,
looking ahead so intently
he never knows exactly
where he's going, and it
won't matter because
people will tell him,
even if he doesn't agree.
Oliver Stone, Oliver Stone,
usually lands on his feet
wherever he's thrown.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
The Perfection of Grace
It had become known to me
that the right things
happen in their own time,
that I needed comfort with
uncertainty even while possessed
with a restlessness of knowledge.
The good aren't good because
they've had it easy
or are the happiest people around,
but because they've chosen to be,
and this is no easy road,
not a choice between two paths
but a constant branching,
a fork at every bend.
How to find grace on this journey?
That's another thing to work on
along the way. You can't just
stumble on it, but rather
must draw on it as a companion.
that the right things
happen in their own time,
that I needed comfort with
uncertainty even while possessed
with a restlessness of knowledge.
The good aren't good because
they've had it easy
or are the happiest people around,
but because they've chosen to be,
and this is no easy road,
not a choice between two paths
but a constant branching,
a fork at every bend.
How to find grace on this journey?
That's another thing to work on
along the way. You can't just
stumble on it, but rather
must draw on it as a companion.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
The P.I.G. to the New Fade
History is a bitch
and it's only getting
worse, fellas.
We've literally been
on the same track
for almost the past
two thousand years,
once we got the Romans
and their inability
to see past the world
they had helped create
out of our way, and yet,
even though we're moving
at a faster pace than
ever before, we're still
worried that it's all
going to go away like
a flash, like it was never
really there. But
the bitch of it is,
as much as it seems
more than ever that we
haven't, we're learning
from our mistakes, oh yes,
figuring out the way to
get what we want and escape
what got us here, because
it's no longer needed.
We practice all the time,
discarding left and right,
long before we need to,
past enjoyments, past
improvements, just because
we can, because we feel
like it, or because
something else was shiny!
Green is the new shiny,
and green is also a funny
little thing all itself,
because we've convinced
ourselves that our bright
shiny future is impossible
because to reach it we've
made it impossible to get
there, because the world
won't support us anymore,
the world that lasted
for untold thousands of years
without us, we done wrecked
just like that! The kids
are the ones who will suffer!
Because some of us are
convinced they can do it
themselves, and we're
letting them, faster than
ever before, because they
like shiny, too, and they
like green, and they
will never be able to
tell the difference.
The New Fade is a funny thing,
too, because it's got something
we refuse to credit it with,
and that's legs. It's
running a marathon, and this
one actually counts. Without
understanding one bit,
we've all been training for it,
so no, we have not actually
been wasting our time.
It just looks like we have.
and it's only getting
worse, fellas.
We've literally been
on the same track
for almost the past
two thousand years,
once we got the Romans
and their inability
to see past the world
they had helped create
out of our way, and yet,
even though we're moving
at a faster pace than
ever before, we're still
worried that it's all
going to go away like
a flash, like it was never
really there. But
the bitch of it is,
as much as it seems
more than ever that we
haven't, we're learning
from our mistakes, oh yes,
figuring out the way to
get what we want and escape
what got us here, because
it's no longer needed.
We practice all the time,
discarding left and right,
long before we need to,
past enjoyments, past
improvements, just because
we can, because we feel
like it, or because
something else was shiny!
Green is the new shiny,
and green is also a funny
little thing all itself,
because we've convinced
ourselves that our bright
shiny future is impossible
because to reach it we've
made it impossible to get
there, because the world
won't support us anymore,
the world that lasted
for untold thousands of years
without us, we done wrecked
just like that! The kids
are the ones who will suffer!
Because some of us are
convinced they can do it
themselves, and we're
letting them, faster than
ever before, because they
like shiny, too, and they
like green, and they
will never be able to
tell the difference.
The New Fade is a funny thing,
too, because it's got something
we refuse to credit it with,
and that's legs. It's
running a marathon, and this
one actually counts. Without
understanding one bit,
we've all been training for it,
so no, we have not actually
been wasting our time.
It just looks like we have.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Wheel C
You know when you want
to hate someone and
then you actually meet
them and you figure
you won't be able to?
Driver 8 had a problem
like that, until he
took control of Wheel C,
a wicked new ride he found
down in the drain slabs
by the roads, where he was
exploring for a considerable
amount of time last week,
for no other reason than
he felt compelled to,
well into the night when
he ordinarily would have
checked in some time ago.
Driver 8 took a break
and found Wheel C by accident,
a kind of fortuitous
occurrence that involved
an epic battle with himself
and the rest of the world,
instigated by the sudden
disappearance of a girl
involved in another ongoing
struggle, another no other
person could comprehend,
so how could he discuss it?
He was told that it was pretty
common for those in his condition
to feel isolated, but Driver 8
stands by his statement that
he is unique, that his condition
like others similar to him,
cannot be duplicated much less
successfully solved, except
with respites such as Wheel C,
which directs everyone
past the construction that
is always going on and
will probably not be finished
on time.
to hate someone and
then you actually meet
them and you figure
you won't be able to?
Driver 8 had a problem
like that, until he
took control of Wheel C,
a wicked new ride he found
down in the drain slabs
by the roads, where he was
exploring for a considerable
amount of time last week,
for no other reason than
he felt compelled to,
well into the night when
he ordinarily would have
checked in some time ago.
Driver 8 took a break
and found Wheel C by accident,
a kind of fortuitous
occurrence that involved
an epic battle with himself
and the rest of the world,
instigated by the sudden
disappearance of a girl
involved in another ongoing
struggle, another no other
person could comprehend,
so how could he discuss it?
He was told that it was pretty
common for those in his condition
to feel isolated, but Driver 8
stands by his statement that
he is unique, that his condition
like others similar to him,
cannot be duplicated much less
successfully solved, except
with respites such as Wheel C,
which directs everyone
past the construction that
is always going on and
will probably not be finished
on time.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Suicide (Now You'll Know)
People, generally speaking,
are pretty shocked when
a suicide happens.
Taking this from the perspective
of a long-term case
(and refusing to believe
that most are anything but)
they really shouldn't be.
This is a note to document
a point in my journey,
because I have become
more convinced than ever
that it is inevitable.
You see, one of the underlining
causes is that nobody cares.
Nobody cares,
if you will indulge repetition.
How can no one notice
when someone in their midst
is miserable? Because
they simply don't care,
and they'll be the same ones
to be shocked when it happens.
They even know some of the
most extreme moments of the misery,
and they don't care, they know
some of the main reasons
and they don't care.
Would you really be so surprised?
Most cases, I would wager
may share a superficial similarity
but they're never the same -
how can they be?
Mine is a crippling isolation,
at the deep root of it all,
self-claimed, accepted,
and necessary. You can't relate
when you can't relate,
and when nobody cares.
You're stuck with thoughts
you can try and share
but know it will be meaningless,
because they don't relate
and they don't care.
So what becomes the point?
To see how far you can go
on the things that still seem to matter.
Yeah, it's a lot of fun.
Whenever this becomes relevant,
you will know, oh yes, you will
and you will realize how long
you didn't care, the sheer bedazzlement
of the numbers who didn't care
even though they should have known,
at some level, by some small degree,
that this stretches back three years
and nobody cared, not for all the time
it took to reach that point, and what
it took to reach this one.
And should I apologize?
I think that would be missing the point.
are pretty shocked when
a suicide happens.
Taking this from the perspective
of a long-term case
(and refusing to believe
that most are anything but)
they really shouldn't be.
This is a note to document
a point in my journey,
because I have become
more convinced than ever
that it is inevitable.
You see, one of the underlining
causes is that nobody cares.
Nobody cares,
if you will indulge repetition.
How can no one notice
when someone in their midst
is miserable? Because
they simply don't care,
and they'll be the same ones
to be shocked when it happens.
They even know some of the
most extreme moments of the misery,
and they don't care, they know
some of the main reasons
and they don't care.
Would you really be so surprised?
Most cases, I would wager
may share a superficial similarity
but they're never the same -
how can they be?
Mine is a crippling isolation,
at the deep root of it all,
self-claimed, accepted,
and necessary. You can't relate
when you can't relate,
and when nobody cares.
You're stuck with thoughts
you can try and share
but know it will be meaningless,
because they don't relate
and they don't care.
So what becomes the point?
To see how far you can go
on the things that still seem to matter.
Yeah, it's a lot of fun.
Whenever this becomes relevant,
you will know, oh yes, you will
and you will realize how long
you didn't care, the sheer bedazzlement
of the numbers who didn't care
even though they should have known,
at some level, by some small degree,
that this stretches back three years
and nobody cared, not for all the time
it took to reach that point, and what
it took to reach this one.
And should I apologize?
I think that would be missing the point.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Spectre
I dress in green.
Can you see me?
I judge others.
Must I smite you?
I must find a host.
Care to take me on?
I am never the spotlight.
Do you pay attention?
I have earned eternal glory.
Will I ever know it?
Can you see me?
I judge others.
Must I smite you?
I must find a host.
Care to take me on?
I am never the spotlight.
Do you pay attention?
I have earned eternal glory.
Will I ever know it?
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Is This A Problem?
I think this may be
a problem.
You see, I invariably
view social
interaction on a day off
as a waste
of my time, because I've
already done
a more than adequate job
of avoiding
things that I really should
be doing.
That's a bad thing, right?
A bad way
to approach things I seem
to be approaching?
a problem.
You see, I invariably
view social
interaction on a day off
as a waste
of my time, because I've
already done
a more than adequate job
of avoiding
things that I really should
be doing.
That's a bad thing, right?
A bad way
to approach things I seem
to be approaching?
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Sudoku
I would have tried
a few years ago
to actually make
a witty poem
out of the ridiculous
idea of sudoku,
and in fact started
this poetry blogging
with the thought
that I might get
back to that if
I felt inspired to
(I just haven't),
but that's just not
going to happen -
I mean, why dignify
a fad like that,
like manga? Maybe they'll
both stick around,
or maybe they'll
both cool off together.
Or maybe they'll die!
Anyway, I'll get back
to my comic books.
a few years ago
to actually make
a witty poem
out of the ridiculous
idea of sudoku,
and in fact started
this poetry blogging
with the thought
that I might get
back to that if
I felt inspired to
(I just haven't),
but that's just not
going to happen -
I mean, why dignify
a fad like that,
like manga? Maybe they'll
both stick around,
or maybe they'll
both cool off together.
Or maybe they'll die!
Anyway, I'll get back
to my comic books.
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Don't Know What To Say
Kind of gotten myself
into a fix. This time
I swear, I swear,
it's not just me,
no figment of my imagination,
but something that
I will have to deal with,
and I don't know
what to do with the
tossed salad and scrambled eggs,
because they're calling again.
It's not easy,
I'm in over my head,
the rules are being rewritten
and I'm almost better off dead.
It was just a game!
I was just having fun!
But I'm not death proof,
oh no, I'm not,
and there's no stuntman around
to sail the masts for me.
Please, just tell me
what I gotta do.
into a fix. This time
I swear, I swear,
it's not just me,
no figment of my imagination,
but something that
I will have to deal with,
and I don't know
what to do with the
tossed salad and scrambled eggs,
because they're calling again.
It's not easy,
I'm in over my head,
the rules are being rewritten
and I'm almost better off dead.
It was just a game!
I was just having fun!
But I'm not death proof,
oh no, I'm not,
and there's no stuntman around
to sail the masts for me.
Please, just tell me
what I gotta do.
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
The Shooter
A year later
and I'm still
trying to figure
it out.
What happened?
Well, I know
what happened, or
at least what
everyone's best
guess is (not
since that day
have I been able
to view homicide
the same way, not
even with the
Law & Orders
still buzzing),
but it's the why...
Why did it end
up happening?
The medical
reports are
full of reasons,
and the speculations
have been pretty
constant, but
in the end,
I still have
not been
satisfied.
Everyone is
too happy
either
dodging or
condemning
him. Well,
I'm not.
Recently,
I've begun
to think,
maybe it was
inevitable.
His was the last
link of a chain
that strung through
wrestling's new
golden age, where
it became okay
for the public
to admit a taste
for it, even as
pressures mounted,
scandals hovered,
and it became
harder to prove
what a wrestling
purist was.
I think he was
just caught in
the middle.
Two of the stars
he emulated ended
their careers
ominously, one
bowing out suddenly,
the other after a long
personal struggle
that saw everything
he treasured
crumble around him.
Even so, his love,
his passion continued,
and he was even given
a shot no one believed
he'd win, and so did
his last best friend,
who died.
Too few have recognized
how much impact that
must have had, the tradition
it was ensconced in, how
there had to be an end.
His last responsibility,
the last crippling,
must be his.
His legacy seemed
doomed to be lost,
and that would have
been the real tragedy,
for all he had fought
for would too
have been lost.
He was the last
of the shooters,
the last, and he had
no pupil, except history,
and to history
he now belongs.
It would be best
to remember him,
the rabid wolverine,
Chris Benoit.
and I'm still
trying to figure
it out.
What happened?
Well, I know
what happened, or
at least what
everyone's best
guess is (not
since that day
have I been able
to view homicide
the same way, not
even with the
Law & Orders
still buzzing),
but it's the why...
Why did it end
up happening?
The medical
reports are
full of reasons,
and the speculations
have been pretty
constant, but
in the end,
I still have
not been
satisfied.
Everyone is
too happy
either
dodging or
condemning
him. Well,
I'm not.
Recently,
I've begun
to think,
maybe it was
inevitable.
His was the last
link of a chain
that strung through
wrestling's new
golden age, where
it became okay
for the public
to admit a taste
for it, even as
pressures mounted,
scandals hovered,
and it became
harder to prove
what a wrestling
purist was.
I think he was
just caught in
the middle.
Two of the stars
he emulated ended
their careers
ominously, one
bowing out suddenly,
the other after a long
personal struggle
that saw everything
he treasured
crumble around him.
Even so, his love,
his passion continued,
and he was even given
a shot no one believed
he'd win, and so did
his last best friend,
who died.
Too few have recognized
how much impact that
must have had, the tradition
it was ensconced in, how
there had to be an end.
His last responsibility,
the last crippling,
must be his.
His legacy seemed
doomed to be lost,
and that would have
been the real tragedy,
for all he had fought
for would too
have been lost.
He was the last
of the shooters,
the last, and he had
no pupil, except history,
and to history
he now belongs.
It would be best
to remember him,
the rabid wolverine,
Chris Benoit.
Sunday, May 4, 2008
Atomic Bombs In the Air!
We've got
a faith in fear
and a fear of faith.
The former it would be
really easy to assume
was taken on after 9/11,
while the latter has been
around for a while,
probably as long as faith.
Both are a matter of
stark belief, are totally
ingrained in our
collective conscious,
a real party blaster
if there ever was one.
Woody Allen made himself
an archetype because
no one else does his
kind of guy, and it's
only right that someone does,
which means that all the
criticisms about that
are a poor show of faith,
maybe even a fear that
he may be right.
You can be a pretty wise
person and still be
awkward about it.
I tell ya,
it's a lot of fun.
a faith in fear
and a fear of faith.
The former it would be
really easy to assume
was taken on after 9/11,
while the latter has been
around for a while,
probably as long as faith.
Both are a matter of
stark belief, are totally
ingrained in our
collective conscious,
a real party blaster
if there ever was one.
Woody Allen made himself
an archetype because
no one else does his
kind of guy, and it's
only right that someone does,
which means that all the
criticisms about that
are a poor show of faith,
maybe even a fear that
he may be right.
You can be a pretty wise
person and still be
awkward about it.
I tell ya,
it's a lot of fun.
Saturday, May 3, 2008
Zen Has Flown
Lots of people at work
have been wondering
what kind of juice
I got myself in lately.
Truth is better than that.
The truth is, zen has
come again, the bird
has flown, and a strange
confluence of events
just may have made it
more permanent.
Blame Marlon Brando.
And Kevin Spacey
("Superman must die").
I sat through a set
of Ultimate Superman,
not everything but
a good deal of filmed
Man of Steel, around
the time Sadie happened
and I had to try
and figure that out
(Sun says women know -
oh god!), which led
to an even greater
concentration of
twisted evil inside
my brain, swishing
around until it had
reached a toxic brew,
which I drank
and joined Hurley
in the asylum, where
he gets to wait out
while rationality
comes through again.
I'll try and sustain it,
can't wait promises,
but right now I'm enjoying
all the bafflement,
and trying to reap
some rewards.
have been wondering
what kind of juice
I got myself in lately.
Truth is better than that.
The truth is, zen has
come again, the bird
has flown, and a strange
confluence of events
just may have made it
more permanent.
Blame Marlon Brando.
And Kevin Spacey
("Superman must die").
I sat through a set
of Ultimate Superman,
not everything but
a good deal of filmed
Man of Steel, around
the time Sadie happened
and I had to try
and figure that out
(Sun says women know -
oh god!), which led
to an even greater
concentration of
twisted evil inside
my brain, swishing
around until it had
reached a toxic brew,
which I drank
and joined Hurley
in the asylum, where
he gets to wait out
while rationality
comes through again.
I'll try and sustain it,
can't wait promises,
but right now I'm enjoying
all the bafflement,
and trying to reap
some rewards.
Friday, May 2, 2008
I'm With Stupid
Which is to say,
I'm with myself!
No, seriously!
If you had the chance
to meet me, you would
assume the same,
that I must be some
sort of imbecile -
I can't help it!
I pass off the vibe,
look the right part!
It is truly a blessing
I would not want others
to steal, for it sets
me apart all the more
and further! Because
the joke is still there
that I am far from it!
I'm smarter than can be
and always willing
to prove it! Look
long and look slow
because that's not
how I go!
Okay, I do move
at my own pace, and that
may be the very reason
of all, that I don't
conform to the statis
of wonder but rather
would have a look at it
from my own comfortable distance.
I'm with stupid!
I'm with myself!
But don't feel too bad,
because I don't myself!
I'm with myself!
No, seriously!
If you had the chance
to meet me, you would
assume the same,
that I must be some
sort of imbecile -
I can't help it!
I pass off the vibe,
look the right part!
It is truly a blessing
I would not want others
to steal, for it sets
me apart all the more
and further! Because
the joke is still there
that I am far from it!
I'm smarter than can be
and always willing
to prove it! Look
long and look slow
because that's not
how I go!
Okay, I do move
at my own pace, and that
may be the very reason
of all, that I don't
conform to the statis
of wonder but rather
would have a look at it
from my own comfortable distance.
I'm with stupid!
I'm with myself!
But don't feel too bad,
because I don't myself!
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Survivorman
Apocalyptc fantasies
are the concern that
an irretrievable
loss of knowledge is
still possible.
Long life and wealth
are the twin illusions
that illustrate the
importance of this
obession.
Fear motivates all.
History is a game.
The good players
know how to win it.
The bad don't.
Fame is the arena.
The losers merely
create the culture.
War is as it always
should be:
unthinkable.
And that's the problem.
are the concern that
an irretrievable
loss of knowledge is
still possible.
Long life and wealth
are the twin illusions
that illustrate the
importance of this
obession.
Fear motivates all.
History is a game.
The good players
know how to win it.
The bad don't.
Fame is the arena.
The losers merely
create the culture.
War is as it always
should be:
unthinkable.
And that's the problem.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
