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