HAIKU #8
There's beauty in you
Even when you can't see it
Trust that others can
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
Monday, December 30, 2013
Saturday, December 28, 2013
Friday, December 27, 2013
Tuesday, December 24, 2013
Monday, December 23, 2013
Thursday, December 19, 2013
Wednesday, December 18, 2013
Tuesday, December 17, 2013
WE'RE ALL GREAT FRIENDS
Look at us, world!
We're all such a catch
We're all well-fed
Our outfits all match
Look at us, world!
We all have careers
We're all high-paid
We've passed all our peers
Look at us, world!
Surrounded by wealth
We're all high-class
We're all in good health
Look at us, world!
We're lavish and fit
We're all great friends
But you're all just shit
Look at us, world!
We're all such a catch
We're all well-fed
Our outfits all match
Look at us, world!
We all have careers
We're all high-paid
We've passed all our peers
Look at us, world!
Surrounded by wealth
We're all high-class
We're all in good health
Look at us, world!
We're lavish and fit
We're all great friends
But you're all just shit
Saturday, December 14, 2013
ROOMMATE
My new roommate refused to talk
Though I introduced myself nicely
He wouldn't extend either hand to shake mine
Or acknowledge me with eye contact
I asked which bedroom he'd prefer
But evidently he was neutral
I told him a dumb joke to see if he'd smile
He didn't react whatsoever
I broke into a song and dance
Yet still he ignored me completely
I started to poke him to see if he'd move
The problem was he wasn't breathing
Just then a stranger wandered in
And said, "You must be my new roommate"
It was in that moment that I realized
I'd been talking to an umbrella
My new roommate refused to talk
Though I introduced myself nicely
He wouldn't extend either hand to shake mine
Or acknowledge me with eye contact
I asked which bedroom he'd prefer
But evidently he was neutral
I told him a dumb joke to see if he'd smile
He didn't react whatsoever
I broke into a song and dance
Yet still he ignored me completely
I started to poke him to see if he'd move
The problem was he wasn't breathing
Just then a stranger wandered in
And said, "You must be my new roommate"
It was in that moment that I realized
I'd been talking to an umbrella
Friday, December 13, 2013
Thursday, December 12, 2013
MASK
They made me wear a mask
They said it was a game
They said I could have anything
I could have wealth and fame
They made me wear a mask
They said they were my friends
They said I could go anywhere
To all the world's ends
They made me wear a mask
It wasn't all that fun
They said I'd get the hang of it
I could be anyone
They made me wear a mask
I said it was too tight
They said it would adjust to me
At least they thought it might
They made me wear a mask
I said it wasn't fair
They said I couldn't question it
They said I shouldn't care
They made me wear a mask
They said it was the rule
They said it was the protocol
A necessary tool
They made me wear a mask
They said it was my face
It hid my true identity
It didn't leave a trace
They made me wear a mask
They told me I was free
But still I can't remove the mask
They buried it with me
They made me wear a mask
They said it was a game
They said I could have anything
I could have wealth and fame
They made me wear a mask
They said they were my friends
They said I could go anywhere
To all the world's ends
They made me wear a mask
It wasn't all that fun
They said I'd get the hang of it
I could be anyone
They made me wear a mask
I said it was too tight
They said it would adjust to me
At least they thought it might
They made me wear a mask
I said it wasn't fair
They said I couldn't question it
They said I shouldn't care
They made me wear a mask
They said it was the rule
They said it was the protocol
A necessary tool
They made me wear a mask
They said it was my face
It hid my true identity
It didn't leave a trace
They made me wear a mask
They told me I was free
But still I can't remove the mask
They buried it with me
Tuesday, December 10, 2013
Monday, December 9, 2013
I recently watched Iron Man 3 for the second time. In case you haven't seen it, it doesn't spoil anything to know that the central message of the movie is that we create our own demons. This is stated explicitly at the very beginning, I think in the opening line. Simply put, if you hurt someone they may wish to hurt you back. I'm bringing up the point not because it's from a movie I like, but because I think it's fundamentally true: Whether on a personal or societal level, we create our own demons.
Life is made up of all kinds of little competitions. We compete against each other constantly for jobs, money, sex, love, approval, attention, and relationships. In any competition there are winners and losers, and this much is fine. Competition is healthy and productive when the winners are gracious and the losers are good sports. The problem is that we live in what has increasingly become a bragging culture: We celebrate not only winners but show-offs. A lot of the time it seems like winning is desired only as a means to the end of bragging, of showing off, of proudly presenting oneself to the world as better-than.
In a lot of life's competitions, I am decidedly one of the losers. I say this not with emotion but as a dispassionate statement of fact. I happen to suffer from a variety of physical, medical, and psychological conditions that make it difficult and often impossible for me to compete with others either personally or professionally. The specifics of my situation are beside the point; what matters is that I know how it feels to be one of life's losers. And as such I have a lot of experience with the world of difference between when a good winner behaves graciously toward me and when a bad winner creates in me a demon.
The other day I caught part of a story on the news about a married couple who had been randomly murdered, allegedly by another couple who wanted to know how it felt to murder someone. To my surprise, I found myself immediately identifying not with the victims but with the alleged murderers. Over the past few years I've repeatedly failed to achieve a variety of social and professional goals I'd set for myself, not because I've fallen short of any objective standard but rather because other people have been deemed better than me for no particular discernible reason. This has left me feeling frustrated, helpless, and confused to say the least. But alas, this much is life. However, several of the "winners" in this case have exhibited show-offish, elitist, self-promoting attitudes around both myself and others. Consequently, for the first time in my life, I've entertained fantasies about the potential satisfaction and dignity I could gain by murdering a fellow human being. Other people from the same winning group have by contrast been friendly, good-natured, supportive, and kind. For them I have wished and continue to wish only the best.
There are a few key differences, I think, between myself and most actual murderers. For starters, I'm able to clearly separate fantasy from reality. No matter how badly I feel like I want to kill or even seriously hurt someone, I'm not going to act on that impulse. This is mostly because of my values but also because I wouldn't want to potentially make my situation even worse by getting caught. Another difference is that I'm usually able to articulate my emotions, attribute them to a cause, and mentally separate the people who have hurt me from the ones who haven't. In my less emotionally articulate states, I know what it's like to momentarily lump all people into the crudely arranged categories of "self," "loved ones," or "other." In this foggy mindset I've fantasized about the feeling of power and control that would come from murdering even a stranger. The satisfaction here would derive not from taking specific revenge on an individual but from taking general revenge on society as a whole. I'm under the impression that this might be the mindset of a lot of murderers who prey upon victims they don't personally know.
So, if I had been raised with different values, if I didn't care or simply didn't have the foresight to think about getting caught, and if I lacked the mental and emotional capacity to differentiate between people who have hurt me and everyone else, it seems likely that I could not only be a murderer but an indiscriminate murderer of strangers as in the news story I saw. And although the individual is ultimately responsible for his own actions, the action in this case would stem not from myself alone but also from those around me who had shown off, ignored me, and treated me badly. If the winners behaved graciously, the loser would wish them the best.
It's when winners rub their success in losers' faces that the losers want to push back in whatever way they can. And I'm not talking about naturally sore losers. I'm talking about good losers like myself who would be happy for the winners' success if only the winners would behave graciously or with a certain level of modesty. These are the people who flaunt their wealth and wonder why they get robbed; the ones who flaunt their bodies and wonder why they get raped; the ones who flaunt their power and wonder why they get overthrown, murdered, terrorized, and destroyed.
Granted, most victims don't deserve what they get. But most criminals don't deserve what they've gotten. Like the rest of us, they've drawn general conclusions about the world based on the relatively few examples of it to which they've been directly exposed. Like anyone, they take that experience and do with it whatever they feel they rightfully or reasonably can. It comforts us to think that evil comes from some noticeably dark and far away place, but a lot of the time it comes from and is amplified by everyday acts of showiness, taunting, elitism, and pride. I'm not saying everyone is equally to blame, but a bragging culture of winners will inevitably produce a spiteful counterculture of losers. Whether on a personal or societal level, we create our own demons.
Life is made up of all kinds of little competitions. We compete against each other constantly for jobs, money, sex, love, approval, attention, and relationships. In any competition there are winners and losers, and this much is fine. Competition is healthy and productive when the winners are gracious and the losers are good sports. The problem is that we live in what has increasingly become a bragging culture: We celebrate not only winners but show-offs. A lot of the time it seems like winning is desired only as a means to the end of bragging, of showing off, of proudly presenting oneself to the world as better-than.
In a lot of life's competitions, I am decidedly one of the losers. I say this not with emotion but as a dispassionate statement of fact. I happen to suffer from a variety of physical, medical, and psychological conditions that make it difficult and often impossible for me to compete with others either personally or professionally. The specifics of my situation are beside the point; what matters is that I know how it feels to be one of life's losers. And as such I have a lot of experience with the world of difference between when a good winner behaves graciously toward me and when a bad winner creates in me a demon.
The other day I caught part of a story on the news about a married couple who had been randomly murdered, allegedly by another couple who wanted to know how it felt to murder someone. To my surprise, I found myself immediately identifying not with the victims but with the alleged murderers. Over the past few years I've repeatedly failed to achieve a variety of social and professional goals I'd set for myself, not because I've fallen short of any objective standard but rather because other people have been deemed better than me for no particular discernible reason. This has left me feeling frustrated, helpless, and confused to say the least. But alas, this much is life. However, several of the "winners" in this case have exhibited show-offish, elitist, self-promoting attitudes around both myself and others. Consequently, for the first time in my life, I've entertained fantasies about the potential satisfaction and dignity I could gain by murdering a fellow human being. Other people from the same winning group have by contrast been friendly, good-natured, supportive, and kind. For them I have wished and continue to wish only the best.
There are a few key differences, I think, between myself and most actual murderers. For starters, I'm able to clearly separate fantasy from reality. No matter how badly I feel like I want to kill or even seriously hurt someone, I'm not going to act on that impulse. This is mostly because of my values but also because I wouldn't want to potentially make my situation even worse by getting caught. Another difference is that I'm usually able to articulate my emotions, attribute them to a cause, and mentally separate the people who have hurt me from the ones who haven't. In my less emotionally articulate states, I know what it's like to momentarily lump all people into the crudely arranged categories of "self," "loved ones," or "other." In this foggy mindset I've fantasized about the feeling of power and control that would come from murdering even a stranger. The satisfaction here would derive not from taking specific revenge on an individual but from taking general revenge on society as a whole. I'm under the impression that this might be the mindset of a lot of murderers who prey upon victims they don't personally know.
So, if I had been raised with different values, if I didn't care or simply didn't have the foresight to think about getting caught, and if I lacked the mental and emotional capacity to differentiate between people who have hurt me and everyone else, it seems likely that I could not only be a murderer but an indiscriminate murderer of strangers as in the news story I saw. And although the individual is ultimately responsible for his own actions, the action in this case would stem not from myself alone but also from those around me who had shown off, ignored me, and treated me badly. If the winners behaved graciously, the loser would wish them the best.
It's when winners rub their success in losers' faces that the losers want to push back in whatever way they can. And I'm not talking about naturally sore losers. I'm talking about good losers like myself who would be happy for the winners' success if only the winners would behave graciously or with a certain level of modesty. These are the people who flaunt their wealth and wonder why they get robbed; the ones who flaunt their bodies and wonder why they get raped; the ones who flaunt their power and wonder why they get overthrown, murdered, terrorized, and destroyed.
Granted, most victims don't deserve what they get. But most criminals don't deserve what they've gotten. Like the rest of us, they've drawn general conclusions about the world based on the relatively few examples of it to which they've been directly exposed. Like anyone, they take that experience and do with it whatever they feel they rightfully or reasonably can. It comforts us to think that evil comes from some noticeably dark and far away place, but a lot of the time it comes from and is amplified by everyday acts of showiness, taunting, elitism, and pride. I'm not saying everyone is equally to blame, but a bragging culture of winners will inevitably produce a spiteful counterculture of losers. Whether on a personal or societal level, we create our own demons.
Sunday, December 8, 2013
FINGER
I lost my finger today
I'm not sure exactly what happened
I was washing my hands and noticed it's gone
I had ten where now there are nine
I re-traced my steps all day
I thought I'd recover it surely
I'd been in just one room for nearly a week
The finger, it never appeared
I lost my whole hand today
Exactly when, I couldn't tell you
I was moments away from trimming my nails
But all I could do were my toes
I lost both my arms today
I probably wouldn't have noticed
I was going to brush my teeth before bed
Turns out you need arms to do that
I lost both my legs today
Although when and how, that escapes me
I'd started to make my way toward the shower
But ended up flat on my face
I lost my body today
I know now exactly what happened
The body in question was never my own
Without it I'm perfect and free
I lost my finger today
I'm not sure exactly what happened
I was washing my hands and noticed it's gone
I had ten where now there are nine
I re-traced my steps all day
I thought I'd recover it surely
I'd been in just one room for nearly a week
The finger, it never appeared
I lost my whole hand today
Exactly when, I couldn't tell you
I was moments away from trimming my nails
But all I could do were my toes
I lost both my arms today
I probably wouldn't have noticed
I was going to brush my teeth before bed
Turns out you need arms to do that
I lost both my legs today
Although when and how, that escapes me
I'd started to make my way toward the shower
But ended up flat on my face
I lost my body today
I know now exactly what happened
The body in question was never my own
Without it I'm perfect and free
Saturday, December 7, 2013
CHICKEN BROTH
I step into the club with chicken broth in my eye
I'm the only one here who isn't high
There's paint on my face and I'm dressed like a sprinter
Everyone here will starve come winter
I step into the club with chicken broth on my face
The only one here who's not a disgrace
There's string in their veins and sticks in their bones
Everyone here will die alone
I step into the club with chicken broth on my head
I'm the only one here who isn't dead
My paint has peeled off, my jersey is torn
The only one here who will ever be born
I step into the club with chicken broth in my eye
I'm the only one here who isn't high
There's paint on my face and I'm dressed like a sprinter
Everyone here will starve come winter
I step into the club with chicken broth on my face
The only one here who's not a disgrace
There's string in their veins and sticks in their bones
Everyone here will die alone
I step into the club with chicken broth on my head
I'm the only one here who isn't dead
My paint has peeled off, my jersey is torn
The only one here who will ever be born
Thursday, December 5, 2013
A lot of the time I want to give up on living. But if I look hard enough there's always a better choice, something worthwhile to do with my time. This time I wrote a short poem about how it feels to want to give up on living and surrender to my inner insanity. I call it "Goodbye, Reality." And before you ask, I've already begun optioning it to publishers as a pop-up children's book. Enjoy.
GOODBYE, REALITY
Goodbye, life
I gave you a try
I'm too proud to live
Too stubborn to die
Goodbye, world
I'm sure you'll agree
I'm nothing to you
You're too big for me
Goodbye, hope
You comforting song
You've withered away
I held you too long
Goodbye, friends
I joined a new team
Goodbye, reality
Hello, my dream
GOODBYE, REALITY
Goodbye, life
I gave you a try
I'm too proud to live
Too stubborn to die
Goodbye, world
I'm sure you'll agree
I'm nothing to you
You're too big for me
Goodbye, hope
You comforting song
You've withered away
I held you too long
Goodbye, friends
I joined a new team
Goodbye, reality
Hello, my dream
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