Epiphany

I’ve done
a lot of thinking lately,
and I’ve reached
an epiphany.

Do you want
to hear it?
It goes
something like this.

There are two
types of people
in this world:
me, and—

Actually,
there is only one
type of person
in this world.

Musings on Nihilism

Years down the road,
None of this will matter.
Everything I do,
Everything I have done
Will turn to dust.

My greatest loads
Will long have scattered
And I will rue
Having had no fun
As I lie down and rust.

There is no secret code
To reaching eternity. Rather,
We’re all just goo:
Dying before we’ve begun,
Treading paths for which we lust.

If this is what the future bodes,
Then my dreams should shatter.
I should try something new,
Make myself second to none,
Abandon all my “musts,”

Scuff the lines I’ve toed,
Spurn the folks I’ve flattered…
I have no clue
Which way I should run
—In chance I’ll put my trust.

Little Scraps

The carpet is fuzzy.
I’ve never noticed how remarkably fuzzy the carpet is.
And when I rub my cheek against
its off-white clumps, it tickles.

Slightly. Because it also scratches in an unpleasant way.
But then my eyes catch the dent in the wall
(or rather, the dent catches my eyes),
and I forget the carpet and remember

how my four-legged wooden stool
scraped there when you threw it aside after
climbing on top to turn on the ceiling fan because
it was such a hot day so many years ago.

And only then do I know that today’s another day
I won’t get up until the shadows on the wall roll east.

On an Intersection by the Freeway

“I specialize in marketing,”
he says,
a sigh betraying his fatigue.

“And I sell—
let’s just say I sell—brownie points,
or—that feel-good factor.
You know, conscience credits.”
This time, a wink.

“In a sense,
you can call me an entrepreneur-errant,”
he mumbles,
his snicker barely restrained.

“Appearance and dress—
they’re of utmost importance
in my line of business.
UT-most im-POR-tance.
An itinerant capitalist like me
can’t look like any other bum off the streets.”
Now, a furtive twitch of the eye.

“Still, my clients need to retain
some semblance of superiority,”
he muses,
“I’ve got to look shabby enough
so nobody wonders.”

He absentmindedly scratches his scraggly beard,
gazing wistfully to his right.
“Anyway,
you don’t look too much like the giving type.
I’d best be going.”

“If you ever need my services, drop by.
Anything’ll do: a few quarters,
spare change in the cupholder.”

And with that,
he lopes off to the next car,
change bucket and cardboard sign in tow:
the ultimate peripatetic consumerist.

Figure out the Speech

Similes cluster like smeared eraser dust
On a page of metaphors haphazardly strewn.
(Synesthesia supplanting art—a little overripe)

Fretful fingers alliteratively rust.
The poet’s conceit must surrender soon:
“Ticonderoga, expunge your metonymous tripe.”

Compulsive Insomnia

The sleepier I get, the less willpower I have.
The less willpower I have, the longer I stay awake.
The longer I stay awake, the sleepier I get.

Lather.
Rinse.
Repeat.

Apologies

it’s so easy to apologize.

look.
i can do it now:

i’m sorry.

that was so easy,
and it doesn’t take
anything,

but doesn’t that
make you feel
better?

such a simple phrase,
such a simple gesture,
why can’t all thi—

oh.
wait.
you don’t feel better?
why not?

i
said
i was sorry.

well,
what more do you want, then?
i can’t give you anything else.
there's nothing else to give.

you should be the one
apologizing to me.
after all, you’re the one
making me feel guilty,
and i wouldn’t have felt guilty
in the first place
if you hadn’t been there
to make me feel guilty.

i’m really sorry.
really and truly sorry.
sorry from the bottom of my heart.

there. is that good enough for you?

dialogue:

me: you could have done so much with your intellect you could have built empires you could have demolished empires you could have you could have

you: but i didnt

me: but you didnt

you: no no i didnt rule the world i didnt cure cancer i didnt solve the mysteries of humanity i didnt discover new life forms i didnt alter reality i didnt

me: but you could have

you: i could have i could have but have you ever stopped to consider for a moment just ponder over your future

me: but of course of course i have considered my future isnt that what ive been doing all these years

you: no no you havent you havent because if you had you would be where i am today doing what i do today

me: what youre doing today today you are living your mediocre life with a mediocre home and a mediocre five to nine job and a mediocre five figure salary when you could

you: it was only ever a could

me: but

you: it was only ever a could

you: please please just stop and reflect for a moment consider your life plans consider the risks of success success is not likely it has never been likely it only happens to a few a very limited few and not even they know the reason they have succeeded its why theyre always discarding the fruits of their labor in debauchery in hedonism they never know when serendipity might turn against them so they spend as rapidly as they can theyre very confused do you follow

me: maybe

you: striving for modern societys definition of success is not the most sane action normality is the most rational path not abnormality the most intelligent decision is to avoid fame and fortune so you you should do as i have done and abandon your patrician dreams and embrace the plebeians blend yourself in make yourself invisible only in invisibility are you invincible

you: if youre smart enough youd realize what i say is true

me: then maybe im not smart enough

Valedictory Speech

Thirteen years and it has come to this. We have followed the great thoroughfare of public education, and now it is time for our paths to diverge. It is time for us to blaze our own trails, and it is time for us to wend our way into the wilderness alone.

To some, this voyage has been a walk in the park. To others—not so much. But from now, from the moment our fingers first close around those weighty paper certificates, we will once again find ourselves upon an even footing. Our slates will be cleaned and polished, receptive to the chalk of life. Our arms, outstretched, will be ready to accept the weight of power, the weight of responsibility. Our eyes, glistening with the resolute zeal of—

You’re not listening. You hear, but not really.
You think I’m just another boring orator,
Standing here to say what no one stands for.
But trust me. I’m not one you should ignore,
‘Cause I need to warn you the world’s got more.

I’m talking to the ones who do not listen.
I’m talking to the ones who cannot hear.
I’m not trying to be cynical or critical, intractable, unflappable;
I’m realistic, rational, pragmatic, practical. Maybe, a little controversial.
But that’s the point. You’ve got to know, you’ve got to see.
You’ve got to see to know and you’ve got to know to see.
We tell you that the world’s a snap:
Hard work always equates to hard cash
So why’s it hard for me to ask
Why we seldom see success in those who thrash?

I’m reaching for the ones who do not listen.
I’m reaching for the ones who cannot hear.
It’s luck, I say, just Lady Luck.
Who rolls her dice to tell you that you’re stuck.
Rich and famous, starved and shameless.

People will tell you that there’s a difference between book smarts and street smarts. I say, if school isn’t teaching you enough to survive on the streets, then you haven’t learned enough. But you don’t need me to chastise. You know it. You can feel it, somewhere deep within, that sense that all is not as it should be, that arbitrary tests and arbitrary facts—scaled to a level of unutterable inanity—are not, will not, and cannot be necessary to your lives. So listen:

“In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.”

I’m hoping for the ones who do not listen.
I’m hoping for the ones who cannot hear.
All words are meaningless and broken,
Unless you read them like they’re spoken.
Life ain’t easy; that you’ve got to know.
I see the timer, the countdown, so now I’ve got to go.

form & function

if form follows function
and function’s malformed
then function needs reform
so form’s not defunct
but reform’s a function
of information and time
and information forms
from a functioning form
so to reform function
you need to reform form
and since form follows function
reforming function requires
reforming function
tautologically speaking
thus either function’s malformed
or form’s defunct
or you’re forming funk
or you’re forming life

Shh. Don't tell.

“Congratulations. You must be delighted.
All your hard work paid off.” A smile.
Eyes crinkled in sincere pride. Genuine warmth.

I should say “Thanks.” I should be cordial.
I should take the offered hand
and recognize my recognition.

But instead, I want to say,
“What ‘hard work’ have I done today?
What meretricious feat have I paraded
to finagle this, this cereal box prize? I don’t deserve it.”
But instead, I avert my eyes.
But instead, I take the hand
and move on with life.

Tell me, before the glow dissipates,
the grins evaporate, the shadows and masks
of self-deception, introspection relax,
while reality unravels, my little devils
reclaim my name, assign the blame,
reveal my shame, take false acclaim.
Convince me. Remind me.
But please, if you will, blind me
from all these, my follies.
The truth I reject. I am perfect
to all eyes. It’s all lies.

Vacillating

Why   does the world insist that ignorance
is   preferable to pain when
it   comes to societal expectations
so   that a truly independent action becomes
impossible   even though all I need
to   know is that all I need to do is
decide?