poetomachia

It doesn’t give us value or virtue
It only logs the mistakes we make along the way
Pulling us through this concrete pipe obstacle course
As we try to stand out like a pageant winner
Or go through the motions to satisfy mom

Keeping us all wishing for freefall
And a soft landing
Making some of us forsake all else
Keeping others dutiful
As others rebel
For a while

Dammit!
The system is in feedback
The system equilibrates
The system lies
But never for long

We stand like wash on a line
We are folded
We are stored
We are held in reserve

For a time

They keep me baited
And switch-ed
By their panscreen
Jag

They keep me heating
Metabolizing
My human form
Ignited
For now
A bond

Maturing then replaced
They have a statement
For themselves
On punch card
For breakfast.

In ¾ time

They only issued us one moon
Pulled on a string
Etching a perfect circle for physics class.
Waning from one to half to none
Waxing the same fractions back

Giving lovers something to look at
Together
Like a sleek cat on the beach

Pulling back
Calling for colonists
A hotbed for robots
A launching pad for stepping out

They only issued us one
But there is so much room for more
Many colored satellites
Lighting up the sky at night

But they only issued one
To Rule the night

Don’t put honey in my
Beer, my
Bread, or my
Butter

I am ready for the cold, hard truth that my
Beer is bitter, my
Bread is basic, and my
Butter is creamy, not sweet

How can we hold to our ideals
While swinging from the trees
I’m placing a call out to you
Walking streets, kicking leaves

We are surprised by the compromise
Far from uninformed, and unknown
We arrive on the wings in power
Frightened to find ourselves alone

Opening the door to impossibility
Peering through to opportunity
Walking through to only become
Realized potential, dream-like reality

I am drawn, tired of being 43
On the eve of something more
Maybe tomorrow I’ll be ready
And yes, today’s succession will find me 44

Do we twist too hard to wring words from
Pen, paper, time, mind, experience,
Dictionaries, truisms, already well stated,
But revisited, can the new turn
Yield something
Anything unseen
Blind leading the blind

Disruptive technology

I looked up today and saw the moon in it’s hateful spite
Leaving no wonder, only shock and awe, as it burned bright
High on rebellion, forsaking it’s bed of stars and night
I long to follow it into darkness, lost in it’s light

The simple cross made complex by Christ
Did he make all ways to death complicated?
How hope confuses. How faith frustrates.
Is the greater grace to lose it all?

A thousand miles of dirt
And mindless crushing pressure

A perch of polished rock
A vantage point for beauty

An ambush field of monsters
From shore to horizon

A refreshing playground
A place to laugh with friends

A nagging decline
A chance to enjoy

Too terrible to comprehend
Too glorious to take it all in

Here we are trapped beneath the hateful sky
So shallow, so alone, born without purpose
Given no freedom, we hate ourselves to be
And annoy those about, awakened to frightful

Ceaseless in our wandering, misshapen in our haste
We become the awful, rushed, hurried, frazzled
Could there be even now beyond our wildest thoughts
Our strangest concoction of existence once

Here we lie beneath, filtered distilled
Forgotten by land and progenitor
No hope outside the ceaseless beat
No wisdom aside from that of flight