get myself all worked up
bang my head against the world
no big deal
i need a soda
so go down to the store and buy a soda
need a beach house
so go to the beach and buy a house
no big deal
i see your future, i see your gravity
i see your eyes your face your smile your blood
and bones and flesh and all your molecules crushed into a
tiny
neuron, baby, you’re gonna be a star!
no big deal
all the scientist’s make a fist and pound the ground
a pack of lips proclaiming apocalypse
can’t solve the equation without piles and piles of
remainders
no big deal
and i’d rather be a lover than a fighter
to love the love and fight the fight
but fight for love and love the fight for the love of the fight
and i’d rather be a fighter than a lover
either way, i get rolled to the gutter
no big deal
and when it gets to be too much, cause it’s always too much
much too much, i pull this ripcord and watch the world fall
away, wave goodbye
no great-big-goddamn-deal
and it’s a race to save the human race
case by case and collectively altogether
and we see how these human beings treat each other
and all the other others, the bird race and the lizard race
and the modest little mouse race
i think about saving this inhuman race and
i don’t think it’s a good idea
god looks down, and he doesn’t smile and he doesn’t frown
god looks down like its no big deal, he can always make
another
this universe recycles itself and dirt is cheap
god looks down as the prayers go up, everybody pulling
ripcords
and god isn’t here and he isn’t there and he isn’t everywhere
if he’s anywhere, it’s a beach house and he just sits around
drinking soda
lifts his soda can and makes a toast – go save yourselves!
except
he doesn’t use the word
save
I love the first two stanzas and this:
ReplyDelete“can’t solve the equation without piles and piles of remainders”
... plus the whole section that made me want to watch Fight Club again ... then Primal Fear, because I love that guy.
This poem makes me feel very sad, though your writing is so good.
yes, makes me sad too, frustrated and sad
DeleteI do believe that God is here, there, and everywhere. I will pray so hard for you—blessings, healing, comfort, and love. I’m sorry you’re suffering.
DeleteWhat kind of soda?
ReplyDeleteWhich beach?
these are questions only god can answer =)
DeleteI thought the poem implied that you are God.
Deletewell i pose as a literary "stand-in" not a literal one
DeleteWhen you write like this, I completely lose track of the rest of where I am--I'm in the poem, and that is the writer's gift. Few have it. Here you take thoughts I have, most people have, floating around in the background of their daily lives, the answers they can't find, the pressure of everything that isn't right, and you bring it out to look at and to deal with, even if there really is no dealing with it. And some of the lines, like "a pack of lips proclaiming apocalypse ," are just pure unadulterated poetry, a tool you are using so skillfully that it feels natural when the mind picks it up. And the conclusion, also a resolution, is one that seems inevitable--what is there worth saving here? Not the mass, but maybe the individual that can cry into his soda over it all in an isolated beach house. Really excellent work, Phillip.
ReplyDeleteYour poem is a great big fucking deal ........ outstanding work.
ReplyDelete