Meditations on the wall of your boom

If I told you that you know how to see right through me––
then what damn else is keeping me in this room?
You fear I am deceitful because everybody knows I try––
This does not pain me.
My deeds endue me with your providence.
Even Rasputin had to foot his way in the door,
But he did,
And only the Czar could go too far––
with or without a beauty rasp to shape his nails.
You and me? We’re mountain dew flavored oreos
with little pop rock crystals in the frosting.
If we had a color it would be cyber lemon yellow.
If we had a sign it would be an endless knot.
You almost made me believe––
Something I can.

Listen: what you’ll do.
Because when I speak to you
I’m not Will Smith in Bad Boys II,
I’m Billie D Williams selling colt 45s.
I’m a corndog in a deep fryer––
Like a sneaker in a duct taped dryer––
I’m Langston Hughes under a tin roof, and it’s raining––
because when I speak to you,
I see your view.
And it sees me, too.
All over the wall of your boom.

If a moon spins around this planet
but nobody’s around to ever see that obvious shit happen,
Does it really make the tides?
When a salamander looks up to the sky––
Does he ever wonder what that is?
Perhaps ignorance succeeds his pinchkin brain––
the luckiest man on the wall of your boom.
Thinking about you is an errand for fools––
And that is what makes man so crazy.

So what does it matter if you were born to please?
Charity is always in fashion.
And philistines attack genius with a broom.
What have I for you?
Before the cane loops over my neck and pulls me off the stage?
If I told you that you know how to see right through me––
then what damn else is keeping me in this room?
Accept people for who they are.
To respect yourself, seek independence.
Don’t be a needy Nidra––
who cares what they think next––
who cares what they wish to kibosh––
you got this, woman––
The world is your simulation––
What makes you a maker.
Like a Goddess––(not to overstate you.)
You are a creator.

But it will take all of us to eat it whole.
Indeed––a sturdy sense of self
is the greatest device of service
that altruism has ever known.
And on you it’s right like lights on miners––
Only fools believe in hearts of gold.
Find happiness in causing it in others.
Make that shit your bad habit
if you must––
it’s super easy to lift people up
like a freak of joy with a bottomless well––
Alls you do is
you just refuse to let off: the secret.
That is why the thespian rules.
Just whatever you do––
stop looking for the cure––
for life is a lullaby––
And everyone just wants you to sleep.
With him.
**le SIGH**
There’s no meme for that––
Do that with me.

#poetry #art #yourboom



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