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Day 15

15 April, 2011 2 comments

Day 15

A meta-life, a life about life;
Reassuring, were it to be used as some kind of lesson.
Nevertheless, a life that requires reassurances,
that experiences only in terms of lessons.

Only drawn to the whos, whys, and hows -
To know things unknowable.
Neverminding the wheres and whats,
The whens-that-are-always-now.

Now means nothing to a how-why-whoer -
Only in how it alters the hypothesis,
How now affects my working theory.
‘Now’ matters proportionate to the degree in which
It can be removed from the present.

Damn Aristotle! Damn Bacon and Descartes!
Why must my life be an experiment (a non-repeatable one at that)?
Why must my life have a thesis statement, supporting paragraphs, a conclusion?
Why have I been apprenticed to dissecting the dead, admiring only the crypt that I build for them?
(There I go with the whys again.)

I’m only a person to the extent to which I can describe myself;
tweeting my individuality as glibly as possible.
I only have who-ness when I know what it means to be me.
Meanwhile, knowing a single who is impossible
(Sorry Horton, sorry Cindy-Lou).

Thoughts about thoughts, feelings about feelings,
Thoughts about feelings about feelings about thoughts.
When did I last taste? When did I last look?
When did the where-what-when become a means and not the end?

“You know, I bet those Golden Tickets
Make the chocolate taste terrible.”

What can I say? Subtlety is not my strength.
The first iteration of this poem started out last year as a long-winded blog post entitled “Self-Indulgent Autopsychoanalysis.” So be grateful that the above is all that I subjected you to.

Poetry, Writing prose poorly masquerading as poetry, the unexamined life is not worth living eh?, you might think this a result of binging on lectures on Existentialism all week but this seed has actually been growing for a couple of years

Day 14

14 April, 2011 1 comment

Day 14: Silence not included

Snoozed alarms, humming fan, an unvoiced tune on repeat.
Groaning pipes and shower head, a torrent ricochets off of skin and ceramic.
“Good mornings” and “how did you sleeps,”
Planning out the day, “goodbye girl-cats.”

Music through the speakers,
Music through the earbuds
(In perpetual competition with passing trucks and buses).

Greetings, chit-chat, voicemails, greetings,
Chit-chat, buzzer, phone rings, meetings,
Dousing fires, conference calls,
Ambient chatter, passing pleasantries,
“See you tomorrows” and “take it easys.”

Earbuds (lecture, podcast),
“How was works,”
Music through the speakers.

Television, YouTube, sharing RSS reads,
Bumper dishes (a torrent ricochets off of skin and ceramic).
Hissing saucepans, scattered discussions,
Humming fan and feline breaths.

Poetry, Writing i think the true horror of a collapse in technology wouldn't be the barbarism between people but the sudden presence of a silence and darkness that is so profoundly alien to us, oh symmetry you showoff! you don't have to pop up everywhere for people to like you

Day 2

2 April, 2011 No comments

Day 2

Strange that

a lifetime spent

imagining magics

would draw a veil over wonders

right here.

A little too on the nose, I know. The content came while watching Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows on Friday night. I had this flashback to all of the hours spent as a kid, playing alone in the woods behind our house, imagining what it would be like to be able to fly or shoot fireballs from my hands or transmogrify. Then to when I abandoned playing in the woods for reading about other people who have magic. Then to watching people with magic on TV. I saw that part of me hadn’t abandoned the longing, the hope. So here I was, wishing for magic, while ignoring that I was instantaneously communicating with people all around the globe using only my fingers (and not, ya know, having to stick my head in a fireplace), playing games on my tiny tiny phone that (oh yeah) can also instantaneously communicate with people all around the globe, and… well, you get the idea. As Brandon Sanderson pointed out: the only difference between magic and technology is whether or not everyone has access to it.
It’s hardly a new message “magic is all around.” My apologies.

The form is a cinquain, which I hadn’t heard of until yesterday. It’s kind of a fun form, so I’m sure I’ll do it again.

Poetry, Writing can't seem to stop using obvious platitudes as inspiration, cinquain, i feel it in my fingers i feel it in my toes, wingardium leviosa

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