I would rather imagine
the son of Hera
climbing out of a red tunnel
withering in black
and with daggers in his eyes
than be reminded
consistantly and as science
about the redundant stupidity of the human race.
I used to figure that hermitage
had its perks,
like long sullen cigarettes
and dour cups of coffee
as I sat in a musty apartment
surrounded only in the scent of used books
instead of the lingering traces
of some other filthy animal
who was only nice and kind
when it suited their belief system
instead of mine,
or how parity of currency
works out best alone,
(admittedly, last time I was broke and alone
it was so pleasing that I just bummed around
and laid in parks).
I don't understand
why the fecundity of idiocy
is a prevelent notion in the human genome
as related to the mind
but if you look at history
it is a history of war
and nothing less.
If not, well there would be non fiction books
on bravery in the face of adversity
instead of psych pop babble with titles
like "Springing Out of Grief"
when no one has even documented
Grief's History
unless it was inadvertently
or called something fey and ringing
like the Great Depression.
I swear I would rather fight with Hera's first born
than try again to leave tips for Seven Eleven workers
and be refused because of the asinine reason
that it might be illegal somehow
like I could commission them
while constantly standing up behind hot dog counters
and really make the other customers subject to my philandering wrath.
The reason I am tired
is because I gave up that Robin Hood gambit
and began fighting only for the existence
and possibility of Beauty.
The snobs think it is in the eye of the beholder
but I have come to find that people who hold that opinion
are just incredibly ugly and skewed.
I love someone
and I should say
that its not any of you sometimes
but that being that
I shouldn't talk about it
because it gets misunderstood
(like it is some crime)
and for legal and moral reasons
I should say that they are not a child, family member, or man
but I gather that you would hate it
so I would rather be alone
in these wonderful cloistered woodlands
that got saturated with Japanese radiation
where I saw the bark turn from brown to grey and black
and nobody seems to care, because ho hum..
I am insolvent about human coolness,
I really figure that it is an awkward title
for trying to get laid
and I don't need to get laid
maybe if the prospect came up again
I would rather fight the son of Hera
crawling out of Hell
with me falling through the flaming depths
while he placed a dagger in my sternum
because really
the memories are the same experience.
I had five hundred more readers
and I'm sure that you people are like "he's poor and full of ego"
which I don't even care to talk about
and neither do I care to mention
how a bunch of Chinese page views
came from something I wrote trying to piss off the Chinese neighbors
because if you want to talk about racism
all I'd probably do at this stage in my wandering life
is call you a faggot, with the subtle acknowledgment
that it was too bad that such a great term
was wasted on debasing gay people.
So I gripe
and imagine being tortured
by Hera for being stabbed by her son
but the truth that I found is
that the world could be any place
without or within
so let me find a pen
and hope that it lands in some dragon's nostril
who will leave it there in smoke and ash and fire
until people learn to behave.
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