Within the superiority complex
lives a human contortedly bent!
What we remember of assholes
our happiness when they went!
Poems
This is what I have to give
Tales hithermost in the flesh
Whims of creativity
Lilium now drop-dead fresh
This is all I leave the world
Poems uppermost on my mind
Words and punctuation marks
Liliaceae soon left behind
Going cold turkey
Trying to turn it all around
Fighting off monkeys
Looking to get out of the woods
Going cold turkey
Hoping to kick my bad habits
Living with madness
Knowing what I love might kill me
In the end, when all breathing faded
as I started loving every second of it;
I feel grateful for my late awakening
I see a joyful wokeness in my beings
I saw truth half the time
Thanks to a leaking mask
That sprang too many leaks
For brothers born to bask
I hung on for the ride
Thanks to long runs of luck
That carried us this far
But often came unstuck
My troth throve half and half
Thanks to a calm dead wind
That left us in the lurch
For lads so sweetly twinned
You saw it the whole time,
I couldn't see a darn thing
as my weak anti-coolness
manifested into a ruining!
Well, we're inking poetry
which pulls 'pon a poetic
Old men writing poetries
'tis anti-fucking pathetic!
I didn't follow my dream,
and now it surely seems
it's way too fucking late!
All seeming's real friend
yet 'pon bittersweet end!
Never bow down to hate
Be cool not just for school
Coolness is the best rule
Stay cool don't be a fool
Chill pills make happy fuel
Don't lose your cool
is what they'd said?
I've misunderstood!
here now I am dead
Don't lose your cool,
go mean and angry
don't lose your cool,
you ruin likeability!
We toss and turn like mental patients
From clean slate to Pavlovian mind
Yearning for omniscient approval
Our sapience caveman-like inclined
We hem and haw like unsung heroes
From innocence to self-protection
Forging robust special-needs egos
Of able-bodied imperfection
We carry on like New York minutes
From first breath to final fatal throes
Seeking meaningful recognition
In triumphs chic as emperor's clothes
We come and go like mad geniuses
From humility to who's the boss
Trading truth for popularity
Our brief life spans saddened by the loss
Looking back into the passage of the past
Deep into the long straight hole of existence
Where unremitting memories start and stop
Like subways click-clacking from out of the dark
Seeking truth inside the tunnel of lost time
Dark beyond the illuminated exits
Where regrets and pure delights step on and off
Like tourists seeking out the finest locales
Beating back against the rushing cavern walls
Chanced upon each arrival and departure
Where wayward spirits reach out for one last ride
Like ghosted hobos hoping all is not lost
