290218A
------------
That absolutely no one feeling,
in a sea of someones,
wondering how it happened
that it went that far.
There is an unrelenting blockade
stationed at the port of entry,
halting the flow of ideas,
across hardened demarcations.
Crossing over to the other side
is something one dreams about,
as to anything that was attractive
being gone in the morning.
That constitutes the bulk
of usual pretensions at life,
but there are no vital signs,
and you feel completely buried.
Seems no one will ever actually call
that you really wanted to hear from,
as to any of the options
that you felt you could live with.
You know you do not have a chance
to do anything that you wanted to,
in that erasure of your calendar,
and its inserting of sharp comments.
It does not matter what you request,
the request is always denied.
You stare at the cruelty of the telephone,
and fall into your empty mailbox.
You flail around in that space,
until fiscal business interrupts,
with statements and payments,
asserting the only evidence.
Nothing except formal arrangements,
as to purely practical requirements,
serving as any introduction
to the passage of time.
Your patience has already fled
out of the confines of the long stretch
of what seems an endless moment,
imposing that deepening isolation.
------------------------------------------
010318B
-----------
It kills you,
how you cannot find whatever it is
that would make any real difference.
Eternal recurrence
is the same endless grind,
of never finding a way out
no matter how hard you squirm.
Whatever you felt like doing,
was never what anyone wanted done,
so you feel punished for it all,
and convert to a belief in masochism.
Everything else expended into doubt,
and made to stand apart in opposition
to anything you might have become.
You are forced to realize,
the universe began as an old fart,
outburst of gas
coalescing into star dust of stars,
that furiously burn themselves out.
So you take your cues from that
as to what it all really signifies.
Wondering why there is any opposition
to your own little nothings
as could comfort you for a while,
in wanting to perish comfortably
make believe it actually matters,
in the cosmic terms and conditions
of negotiated settlements.
-------------------------------
010318C
------------
Makes you feel entirely wrong,
that someone has you pinned up
to an absolute version of solitude,
as if you are a big gear wheel
of grossly inflated importance,
keeping their world turning,
in the belief it might actually stop,
if you happen to slip slide away,
into some insignificant corner
of personalized indulgence,
shared with some other insignificant,
that you chance to mesh up with
in the secrecy of mutual enjoyment.
All such moments deemed illicit,
no matter what they are really about.
You fail to evoke any interest,
and no one ever chances to find you,
who fits any of those descriptions.
The sort of personal termination
that stretches into what seems an infinity,
of trying to fill an impossible vacuum.
You watch your efforts dissipate,
the way messages scrawled in sand
dissipate in relentless surf.
You failed at failing,
being added to the litany of complaints
continually being lodged against you.
Most people are better at it,
than that miserable showing.
It is not that you did not try hard enough,
but only that you did not know how,
thus giving someone another big laugh.
You are labelled the slowest learner
who simply failed to catch on,
as to how it has to be done.
I do not know why it is that difficult,
as to scrounging up tiny morsels
of various ways of becoming less free
in an effort to defeat terminal boredom,
and ending up challenged in contrast,
to big, common, popular vices
that saturate the big player worlds
that you never know anything of,
and that never actually know you.
Connections are always expensive,
and satisfaction costs even more,
no matter how you try to turn it around.
Someone always came out on top,
and you are accused of falling through,
to pushed right off your heap.
It all piles up, and you have to carry it,
on your shoulders, everywhere you go,
that you really do not want to be,
but that is all the going there is to get,
in the get going, and keep it going,
sidelines of all that competition
awarding repeated bench penalties,
that make you their permanent loser.
--------------------------------------------
010318D
------------
Those hacked up remains
of what passed as a reality,
give a blank stare,
having been stripped of desire.
Way to go, and gone way out,
past the deep end,
as something to blame
for being in perpetual loss.
It never works out that way,
beyond barricades torn down,
and the crowd having surged
into extremes of ordinariness.
Assassins' bullets will be obsolete,
and no need to sanitize away
any blood stains,
of a simplified elimination.
Shit made simple,
and you can teach yourself,
how to pass yourself off
as being one of the crowd.
They do not let anyone in anymore,
past the tokens of appreciation,
and you can collect the full set,
but not everyone is made that way.
Unfortunate for those who aren't,
and who never will be,
anything that they really ought to be,
according to rubber stamp bureaucrats.
You can make a good living
as a parrot of government lines,
where no one ever gets it quite right,
but everyone tries very hard.
Some are left out in the middle
of the ever popular in and out games,
offering up reserved seats
for those with the price of admission.
---------------------------------------------
010318E
-----------
Looking forever for something
that you cannot get any of,
while being perpetually haunted
by what you cannot stand any of,
becomes another cattle run
of tight pressure walls,
that you slam your face into,
until it becomes a poster,
in a language no one comprehends.
Compelled to await instructions,
that you never actually receive,
forces you to watch for signals
in various other things,
hoping that they might tell you,
something you need to know
to set yourself free,
from everyone you ever knew
who did not really want you.
Playing match ups,
and finding the pieces never fit
into any acceptable patterns,
currently deemed popular styles,
and officially sanctioned.
You try to find a way around
all those carnal problems,
as to never knowing anything
beyond surface abrasion.
------------------------------
|
|