Day 39 – The Other Side

It’s so obvious
you can’t stand it:
you’re on the winning side
of history.

How could anybody not see
that simple logic?

They must be bad,
must be evil,
must be enemies of virtue

to want the kind of world
you don’t want.

So you’ll yell,
you might fight,
you could spend your whole life
on a cause you know is righteous
and you’ll never win.

No one will.
But at least they won’t,
either.

Day 15 – Kings

What do you do
when you are small
and the world is unfair?

What do you do
when you can’t stand up,
can’t prove it,
can’t speak out,

but can’t keep on
the same way anymore?

What do you do
when you’re right
but no one cares?

What do you do
when they’ll laugh if you quit
but keep spitting if you carry on?

Do you turn to stone?
Do you just go mad?

Do you write a poem
and call it a day?

Are we all going to die
like this
either way?

Or are some of us
really
born kings?

My John Cena Shirt

I wear my John Cena shirt
oh ho hey oh
I got a family to feed

I dig in the mines
and the gym
oh ho hey oh
I got a dream to buy

I vote for the president
oh ho ho hey oh
I got an axe to grind

I write my poems with sweat
at the discount store
oh ho
I’m the weekend kind

And I don’t waste time on flowers
I don’t eat cake
oh ho ho
I’m ok

Jerky in the bunker
I’m good ’til the world falls down
oh ho ho
I’m ok

I always kick out at two
and good always wins
oh ho ho
oh ho ho

I’ll never give up
oh ho oh ho ho ho
oh ho
oh ho ho ho

Apocalypse

At the end of the world, Pink Floyd is playing. They planned it this way, the creatures who pity us and are finally doing us the greatest kindness. It’s a lovely shade of pink, our last sky, and getting deeper into mauve so thick you could scoop it like the berry sundaes we spent our whole lives dreaming about. There are cherry-flowers bursting with fire throughout the heavens, raining the smoke of some last-ditch resistance from those who no doubt believe they have something to lose, and even that is beautiful at this moment. I think they put something in our water.

We are an anthill faced with the knowledge that the Queen is dead, and some of us appear to be really worried about that. I know that screaming through the streets is pointless. A group of us has assembled a huddle of lawn chairs, hammocks, and couches on the grassy hill outside the post office. I am sitting on one of those battery-operated Barbie cars like my sister Amy asked for every Christmas until she was 11 but never got. When she was 12 she was dead. I would’ve liked to give her the one I’ve taken custody of now but I know she would’ve wanted it for more than just a seat from which to watch the government try to blow up the moon.

I’m only assuming that’s what’s happening, of course, because they wiped out the internet and cut out all the news feeds from tv. I’m not sure why they think Full House reruns would be necessarily calming to anybody while the world is ending, but that’s all they left us to watch. I’ll find out later about their unfathomably complex algorithm which calculated the average preferences of every human and animal mind in the world and came up with a pink sky, Full House reruns, a Pink Floyd album, and bananas as the most universally perfect end-of-the-world setting. Freakin’ bananas everywhere, they just appeared in boxes all over.

Sandy doesn’t like bananas, she never has. I think of her now and wonder where the hell she thought she was going after she figured out what was happening, after she spit a panicked, “I can’t spend my last moments with you” in my face and ran off. Later I’ll find out that she tried to call her parents in Nebraska but after discovering the cell reception was gone she settled to ride out the end cuddled up with her ex-boyfriend. Later I’ll find out a lot of things.

Later me and Amy and a few of the people from the post office lawn are going to replant some of the trees that got ripped into the sky when gravity reversed. That part of it wasn’t exactly necessary but it made for an exciting finish. Sandy and her ex-boyfriend will be gone along with the government bomb-cannons, but I don’t know that right now. Right now I just know that I am an ant, and everything around me is beautiful, and I’m going to die along with everything else while Pink Floyd plays in the background.

“And everything under the sun is in tune, but the sun is eclipsed by the moon…”

Breaking: Man Pursues Impossible Dream, Wins Prestigious ‘A for Effort’ Award

On a slow news day, sometimes it’s nice to cover common occurrences that often go unnoticed. We’ve received yet another report highlighting the wonder of everything that’s right in the world: a man has pursued an impossible dream and, while not achieving that dream, has been presented with the ‘A for Effort’ award because life is nothing if not fair and just.

The prestigious award is commonly given to those who display average feats of bravery and commitment to astonishing goals which are often so difficult that we’re not sure why anyone would’ve ever tried to reach them anyway. Literally billions have taken comfort in the fact that reaching such lofty goals is unnecessary because a patronizing pat on the back is never far away.

The ‘A for Effort’ award includes the prize of a comfortable living, the affirmation and affection of one’s family, friends, and peers, as well as the personal satisfaction of not having tried very hard before reaping all of life’s undeserved rewards. The award has actually become so typical that mankind’s progress has come to a grinding halt due to lack of motivation, but who needs progress when the forerunners of change can instead accrue awards right from their living rooms!

In fact, this CharNN reporter just won the ‘A for Effort’ award for the eighth time in a row for typing actual words on the screen instead of just posting cat pictures! Hooray for real news and a world where life is totally fair!

Year 2: Day 134 – I Must Be Lost

Zebra daisies, snozberry wine,
dip into my dreams,
the purple water’s fine.
If you look for me and
you don’t find me there,
well I must be lost,
I must be waiting for you
to arrive.

Calico sunrise, juniper moon,
I’m always at one end
of a glass balloon.
If you’re having trouble
tracking where I’ve gone,
well I must be lost,
I must be counting down
to you.

Saccharine cactus, wings of the sea,
my dreams are mine
but they are not me.
If you can’t find me in dreams
where I belong,
well I must be lost-
or you must not see where I
could be.