Poems: 250621 - June 25th, 2021

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Robert Morpheal

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Jun 25, 2021, 11:57:30 PM6/25/21
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130621A
----------- 

We can do whatever 
we want to 
knowing it is not 
what they want us to do. 

All that wanting to be
something else in the end
comes to nothing much
but no point going back. 

It is that sort of place
that we have come to
in all that trying 
to wander away. 

It is a childhood ambition
cross over red rover
getting past the other side 
to keep on going. 

They tried to take us 
down by the knees
knee capped 
into a crunch of earth. 

We can call ourselves now
and not have to wait 
for anyone to call us 
then get called out for that. 

Another take down 
to our knees again
wondering how to please
those lesser gods. 

Finding a calling 
was the worst sort of game
and everything finds you 
but you cannot find it. 

I feel dismal inside
but I am lying 
the same lies as you
because those are the rule. 

We follow the rules 
while thinking up ways 
we might break them
and not get caught. 

That is all we learned 
about romance 
and the other silly games
that people play. 

No one gets any 
unless they break a rule 
but they have to know how
and which rules to break. 

No one gets any 
by telling the truth 
the whole truth 
and nothing but the truth. 

If daddy didn't say 
and mommy didn't scold you 
you would never know 
the way to strip poker. 

Find another game 
that someone lets you play
but it is no fun 
when you are losing out. 

You were the conductor 
of another beer hall putsch 
in a no name local bar 
looking for a change of mind. 

Change your mind 
the way a good person changes
underwear and styles 
following the latest trends.

Out with the old 
and in with the new 
but some claim it is possible
to find recycled love. 

You missed a cue 
that you can no longer find
and it gives you bad dreams
that you cannot mend. 

We are always on the mend
from lessons learned 
about who gets and how
and who doesn't. 

Those strapping lads 
with blush bottom girls 
up from behind to the take 
you came too late for.

It isn't really going 
but you know it never was 
as you surfed illusions
trying to catch a new wave. 

Borrowed some time 
with no way to pay interest 
knowing no one who does
or who really wants any. 

Any of what you got 
chasing your thin belief
that you could get 
up on top. 

It closes over you 
and it takes you down 
in a choke off too much 
and much too serious. 

We are the forever useless
always being used 
in someone else's practice 
at what we did not plan.

You know they don't want 
anything you brought 
including yourself  
at the second hand market. 

You ask anyway 
but get no answer
so cross your heart 
pushed for hope to die. 

You won't be doing 
whatever you thought of
with those  reminders
that your approach is wrong.

You came in too low 
you are flying too high
too fast and too slow 
until you crashed yourself. 

It goes like that 
when it is not really going 
but you know it never was 
no matter how hard you tried. 

------------------------------------ 

130621B
----------- 

It is what you don't own 
that always matters most 
compared to what you have
that you cannot really use. 

You ask around 
but no one has any 
that they want to spare 
but they would borrow yours. 

They won't give it back 
and you can ask the wind 
a thousand times 
for a thousand answers. 

The times might change 
but it is never for the better 
and what you really want 
is what you never knew. 

You heard it being said 
you can buy your way in
finding some sort of heaven
that you can never afford. 

People say things 
and some of that is true
but they never give you words
that change anything for good. 

It is a temporary hook 
tugging at a temporary skin
keeping you thrashing about
on an unreeled line. 

A new species of moth 
has eaten holes in the vocabulary
making you freeze 
as a deer in the headlights. 

A  head on crash  
where Bambi meets Society
which is something worse
than Bambi Meets Godzilla. 

Wearing a hood ornament 
seems better than being
softly run down
by the hard faced crowd. 

The grit gives traction 
on your slippery slopes 
ending as a fast slide
amusement park ride. 

You got around 
or around got you 
boxed around the ears
for being lonely. 

Tired of alone 
and alone at being tired
wishing someone cared
about those little treasures. 

And bits of stories 
that can be told 
all sitting pretty 
as what little was saved. 

Saving is a big thing 
even when giving up 
on being saved by anyone
there is something left to save. 

You can never save enough
and never save yourself
but you must keep looking
for ways to save.  

The weak minded moments
become more frequent 
and you have given up 
wagering yourself. 

You went dead broke 
several turns ago 
while everyone you knew
did winning streaks. 

Life softens you up 
no matter how you turn it 
tenderizing by the beat 
that presses you down. 

Even a gender outlaw 
sometimes wants for more
than being holed up flat
broke in a hideout. 

You can no longer repair 
the rips in your fabric 
feeling teen passions
trapped in a park bench body. 

Starting out was delayed
too many times to count 
and the race was scrubbed 
before it was run. 

Building a home 
for someone else to live in 
after the lay off notice
sorry it didn't work out. 

Just a pain in the neck 
not carrying your weight
turned flat on your back 
turtle in a ditch. 

There was no intent
to let you into the gene pool
from where you dangled 
spotted by life guards. 

Hanging out in the closet
clinging to coat hangers 
could have been the next
in line for strangulation.  

If you put your information
into some sort of jacket
you can hide most of it
to evade embodied truth. 

Speculations such as that 
shape your reviews of life 
making you see clearly 
you were blind the whole time. 

You did not have any pets
so you were that penis 
someone took for a walk
end of a string along. 

That wasn't really the dance
where you could lead 
but it was make believe 
everything is alright. 

Feeling you should have 
bought into a different face
along with miscellaneous bits 
while there was a market. 

Too late for that now 
considering damage control 
still filing endless reports 
about what is broken or lost. 

What you came with 
was never any good
but no one taught you 
how to shop for better. 

Back in those days 
you were taught make do 
with the standard issue 
from your factory. 

It was all printed out 
as though on a name plate 
and if you took the label off
you were null and void. 

It was unthinkable 
you could get approval 
to get anything engineered
to a different configuration. 

The details all there 
never seemed right
but nothing to do about it
and no point complaining. 

You wore your body 
same as ill fitting clothes 
that kept declaring 
who and what you are. 

Sometimes wanting
to take it all off 
to exchange it
for that mythical fit. 

It was that clumsy thing 
you learned to trip over 
that never really did
what you told it to. 

Sometimes it was that “girl” 
boys wanted to torture
because “she” didn't like them
and wouldn't play their game. 

Secretly trying on 
your mother's clothes 
but the mirror sneered 
that you were too ugly. 

Chasing after girls 
who giggled at too girly
feeling heart broke 
at went wrong love. 

That is how you get 
worse trouble 
than someone gets 
when they bang someone up. 

Expensive dinner dates
were never really honest 
but you made believe
you knew what you were doing. 

You could mortgage that 
then bury the whole idea
in any available money pit 
that you could buy into. 

You became less interesting 
than a jumping jack 
and those friends plotting 
your immanent replacement. 

It all goes in a box 
then the box is closed up 
and that is the end of it
as to any real meaning. 

You were working too hard
fixing things 
to ever fix yourself  
so you ended at broken. 

You get taken out back 
exchanged for something
knowing the lease expired 
without a buy out clause. 

Eventually you move on
realizing you were too girly 
for that salt of the earth type 
that you unmarried. 

You saved a life 
at least three times 
including the last time 
when you left. 

Never forwarded 
your most precious things
and the stories still say 
they were tortured to death. 

There are no indications given
as to where they are buried
but the garden you built 
has since been paved. 

That becomes a pattern
perhaps a sort of habit 
that others adopt 
in place of identities. 

--------------------------

130621B
----------- 

We blame the sun 
for shrivelling up 
all those other possibilities
wasted away 
best of seasons passed. 

When I was a child 
the sun licked at my skin
with its hot tongue 
and I had no idea 
that it was consuming me. 

It seemed different 
long slide of forever 
into lingering now 
pushed in too close 
to some sort of forever. 

That is a sum total 
of all the discontent 
that was ever imagined 
in the too late 
for any such fantasies. 

We knew the tease 
of the here and now 
the ever after 
the when and how 
beaming down on us. 

Wandering through
the parched brittle  
turning hard baked 
toss and turn 
along the channel drift 
of test pattern dreams. 

The mad genius 
lurking out of sight 
behind that projector 
mixing up yours 
with mine. 

The rain that falls
from our eyes 
is for ourselves 
as to all the futures
that could not be. 

---------------------

There is a bit of influence from Brecht in there somewhere. The deadpan recitation of what comes reasonably near to the truth. That then neglecting almost entirely any typical attempts to impress anyone, or to become in any way popular. Knowing that the latter require commonly accepted patterns of deceptions, if not outright lies.  Perhaps one reaches a point in life, at a certain age, where it does not seem to matter anymore. It is not as if one is hopeful, and anticipatory, in some way or other. That perished long ago, and is no more than would be a dead roach dropped into a crumpled beer can. It becomes that void of any further depth.  The life that one wanted to live is realized as no longer any sort of real possibility, and there are no remaining expectations as to anyone ever really rallying around your personal banner.  In some ways that in itself becomes entirely and totally surreal.  






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