there is a volume of experience
awaiting each of us.
it is stored on a shelf high up.
ladders exist! just find one.

I did. I am one of those fortunate ones.
never expecting things to change this much,
they pulled down the dictionary and
tore out the whole page so it could be rewritten.

I have thought, not so humbly,
I had answers, enlightenment, knowledge,
wisdom, power, beauty, fear, love,
experience, peace, maps, the truth.

when the universe decides to unveil its true self,
all becomes a petty pool.
a mess of ideological impurity.
a yawn and a smirk, and maybe a wink.

getting caught up in this business
knowing it all pays the bills, after all-
until life no longer accepts that currency.
I like what I’ve been now issued.

listening to the rain,
because the softness distills the world’s anger.

travelling to an island,
because water and beaches make everyone happy.

raising children,
because life is more enjoyable with young smiley faces.

reading books,
because the human mind is built to be expanded.

dyeing hair,
because everyone needs a change now and then.

riding a bicycle,
because the exercise is amplified by fresh air.

picking wild flowers,
because someone special will always appreciate the effort.

calling your grandma,
because the generations of insight are useful in the battles ahead.

sorting your socks,
because societal norms dictate wearing whites with blacks is just a no no.

planning a scavenger hunt,
because everyone likes the mystery unraveling with a few clues in hand.

building a fort,
because bedrooms are meant to be dissheveled.

drinking water,
because humans need it to survive.

folding a paper airplane,
because the young and old all love to see them fly.

writing a screenplay,
because in each of us there lies a desire to see our name in lights.

hunting for a four leaf clover,
because there has to be some truth to the tale that they exist.

delivering baked goods to a friend,
because even the most grumpy of person has a sweet tooth.

loving everyone,
because in this cruel world there are few cold hard truths:
we will die, we will feel pain,
and every moment feeling loved will ease the burden
of all intolerance and bigotry and hatred from our backs
and restore our humanity once again.

(indeed it does, however)
all that collectively means is
rare.

I am a little organism collection
a harbinger of flora fertilizer
(I surely hope)

a simple bacteria cesspool
who forsook the safety of a normal upbringing
and, instead, believed in magic.

without a god, one might question
that devotion to the arcane relics of the Rockwell era
(what is normal, anyway?)

but I celebrated inside the peculiar devotion one builds
when the arcane attitudes of the small town square
chastise difference.

I built endurance in the absence of
what we all know is needed.
thus, this race.

my goal posts are foreign
(I never was one to follow the rules of sporting behaviours.)
and I don’t mind the lapsing social currency in the wake.

I am an embodiment of chance;
sometimes,
my fortitude surprises even myself.

being labeled externally
only leads to internal combustion
of those wrongly cast presumptions.

when a hankering
for an island hideway
realizes, finally.

all that constipating fear
rescinding:
how heterodox.

it’s never been enough that I took this upbringing from a rural, conservative place and spun it into
absolute openness,
anti-prejudicial, anti-xenophobic, anti-discriminatory space.

it’s never been enough that I drank the kool-aid, fought until tears, forged battles,
unsolicited,
unselfishly,
unprovoked.

it’s never been enough that I challenged all sorts of authority, even as a timid introvert,
a hobbled nerd,
a hopeful little idealist,
a rigidly committed optimist.

it’s never been enough.
they judge. they throw stones.
they attempt coups at my work ambitions.
they label. they deflect. they yell. they secretly tape record my conversations.

even when all of the accomplishments are notched in the belt,
when the fat lady sings out and the pigs fly and their self-inflicted hell freezes over
even that wouldn’t be enough.

nothing would,
when you have to try to befriend
psychopaths.

one where,
with the flick of wrists,
we dance and shake and throw cars in the air.

where we get the twists on the corners of our mouths
from laughter.

where the meals are aplenty:
nourishing soups, delicate hints of cinnamon buried into rice,
even crackers coated with fresh cheese and simple sauces
soak into our palettes.

where a walk becomes a conversation,
a structurally sound interaction
between two future siblings.

I cringe to think when people don’t recognize
the good life
when they live it.

we don’t burn homes in the night.
we don’t fill the wells with toxins.
we don’t loot the villages of their voluptuous treasures,
nor turn over the fields in the pinnacle of harvest.

we’re too exhausted to attempt
such destruction.
the challenge they present is
but a game.

build your career so high!
ladders shouldn’t reach your feet!

walls of solid mortar should underpin aspirations with enormous complexity!
devour those opponents to your dreams who persist in the midst!

lambaste those with ulterior motives!
and don’t doubt it: they all have ulterior motives!

even with the fascinating communal structures of family units
friends by the dozen
networks of support that reach far and wide across this great nation
the whole attempt at sanity seems like a wash.

arbitrary pristine fields of opportunity
we don’t really need
open up to consume whatever energy lingers after the stellar assembly
of star gazers and budding copycat enthusiasts.

in the rush to be keeping up with the neighbours
the ones who keep up with us on the even days,
frantic to chase after capricious consumer aesthetics,
we might be losing sight of what really matters.

one who will posess nothing more than
a passion to be one with them.
a desire to be drinking this coffee
in their shadow,
under their careful preparation,
in their grateful prescence.

I will make whatever I can,
perhaps bread,
certainly cookies,
to share with them and demonstrate
that my blood runs thick too,
black and red and white and blue.

the soil underneath – never quite ready for harvesting -
should be serving as vital nourishment for
leafy greens.

giving way to the ruptures robs all of the potential -
the reaping is a raping of concealed talent,
dormant seeds.

the kinetic nature of the roll is so enticing
to the mind, anyway. we love the oscillation,
the repetition, the simplicity of the curl.

meandering thoughts, twisted frows, ringlets of our once brilliantly straight locks.
all that was elementary is now purely concocted discontent.

so, I turn to the sky, as some have before,
and look out past what limitations the eye can see.
I search for what celestial body will rise with the twilight hours
to turn back that tide and recede it into the darkest depths
of our failing experiments where it, hopefully,
is swept into the compounding new waves
of hopeful ingenious talent
that will save us all.

• underground currencies
• progressive credit unions
• extended government-run pension plans
• crown corporations
• co-operatives
• worker-owned establishments
• post neo-liberalism

things that excite me

• e-paper
• tiny things, like tiny cell phones, tiny cameras, tiny computers
• correspondence from friends
• the current generation of easy-to-make crafts available in Toys R Us
• coffee, over ice
• neon green
• rain drops that don’t drip away
• really bad hair styles that look fashionable, somehow

what I want in life

• happiness
• love
• more house music
• innovative boredom killers
• the ability to savour
• more

flaws I have

• limited ability to savour
• easily bored
• easily unimpressed
• easily confused
• a big jumper into conclusions
• overly analytical

tendencies to gain

• better metabolism
• patience
• contentment
• living in the moment
• fewer hesitations
• more doubt
• balance
• online quizzes I’d actually complete

the burning squadron
the rampaged streets
the glorified hysteria
the savaged protest.

they wanted this,
they got it.
they go home thrilled with their decisions
and we sit here and contemplate what next steps we need.

protecting rights of those who smash property
justifying governance to those who see tyranny
challenging militarization in the face of scared grandmothers
defending pacifism to those who are violence’s witness.

mutual satisfaction
spread thick, a layer of oozing external contempt
and internal validation
with their snickering smug “you’re welcome and go fuck yourself” attitudes.

my dialogue is mostly an inch from my face;
this has never been the realm for staunch idealists
to debate what painful testimonies must erupt
before change is ever actually made.

I await further exposé,
but undoubtedly in vain;
they did well at colluding that day
to limit what price they’ll ever pay.