Poem a Day for April - 22

The buildings of the downtown core jut up higher than the suburbs. From the air, it looks like a three dimensional sound wave of where humanity is the loudest.

What we as humans have done is really strange.

A combination of advertising and fairy tales has turned this world in a giant waiting room.

People waiting for the perfect mate. People waiting for the perfect job. People waiting for the perfect opportunity. People waiting for the perfect key, the perfect product, the perfect distraction.

Myself, I’m a juggler waiting for my balls to drop. I am a priest in a bullet-proof vest. People who live in glass houses have no dark rooms.

Anyone can stick their ass on a photocopier. After hours office parties are metaphors for this entire planet. The boss is gone and here we are doing our best to have a good time with no guidebook.

The truest way to live is to stay still while they’re firing but the surest way to survive is to dodge.

Never be earnest. Find ways around being direct. Get this tattooed on your chest.

Twenty-five cents a commercial is evil’s rate. Hiding doesn’t even come into it. Help yourself.




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