Reciprosody. Could you be less specific. Most likely.
–Under certain circumstances, I suppose.
Most certainly. Ok, it’s obvious you’re going to be difficult; let’s come at this from the other direction. Present to me, in the way which you deem yourself most capable, precisely what it is you hope to accomplish. I can’t figure out what you want out of this relationship.
– Me either… I think I want to do what I can do to help make things better, and I believe that what I do helps make things better.
How to wake a snake:
Show him where to attack.
The best of me resembles
A Norman Rockwell painting
Painted in deepening shades
Of waves and rolling blues.
All of Us and You and I
“But rejoice insofar as you share Christ’s Sufferings, that you may also rejoice and be glad when his glory is revealed.”
– 1st Peter 4:13 ESV
K. held J. after class, the two signed an agreement,
Insofar as J. held K. from her teaching arrangement,
K. charged J. in overtime an afterschool arraignment.
K.: How can you expect me to reveal to other pupils
All the wonders of the word when you’re devoid of scruples?
J. just shrugged and overdubbed— I guess I found a loophole.
J.: If you knew the things I do when you are not around,
Your heart would stop in awe and shock, you wouldn’t make a sound,
What I’ve seen and where I’ve been would put you in the ground.
Who am I? What would I be, if I cared what you teach?
Another herder of the Murder which you hope to reach?
A crow I’m not and neither will I be another sheep.
K., astounded by the spark elicited from J.,
Masked surprise with open eyes— Let’s find a better way.
I agree. Now you see? What do you have to say?
J.: Take Angela for instance, she never says a word,
All your lectures only pressure her into the herd
That stands against your every hint, it’s patently absurd
To think you couldn’t prod her toward independent thought,
Your own intelligence is where you’ve cast your every lot,
And I suspect, to earn respect, your soul’s already bought.
K.: Wait a minute senorita, look out for yourself;
All your acting in my classes hasn’t been a help,
Don’t you know my only goal’s to share with you the wealth
Of knowledge all the generations passed along to me?
On the tree of life you’re still the newest branch to be,
And our sapling’s struggling, it’s obvious to see.
J.: Knowledge without wisdom is a useless as the yeast
In unleavened bread which I see you still hope to feast,
Like faith devoid of action, a monstrosity, you beast!
K.: You little brat! I’ll give you that. It wasn’t what I meant,
That is just the knowledge for which I feel I was sent
To impart to you in part, and to pay my rent.
J.: Let’s talk about this garbage dump which you still call a class,
Bugs are crawling through the cracks, your desk is growing grass,
Why should we pretend to care? We leave without a pass!
Jameson has learned more in the streets than you or I;
Any product, buy or sell, he’ll eyeball any lie,
What is it you’re offering? Tell me why he’d try.
K.: First of all it’s clear you’re underestimating me,
I understand that over-education isn’t key,
But if you say it’s useless then I’d say that you’re naïve.
Take a look at Carnegie and Rockefeller too,
Che Guevara, tambien, he could relate to you
All of these were educated different ways; it’s true–
You don’t need to borrow from me everything I know,
But if you’re learning nothing, that’s exactly where you’ll grow,
Like a rose in concrete, smothered by the snow.
J.: So you think that you can slip subversion in your words,
Without my noticing I’ll be persuaded. Have you heard
Of this old expression? Here is flipping you the bird.
I don’t need your phony books, or your phony school,
I don’t care about your silver heart or golden rules,
And I don’t give a damn if you think I think that I’m cool.
I’ll make my ends while you pretend that you are getting yours,
Like the dancing bear you are, stride these tile floors
Up and down and keep resounding, “All the open doors!”
After all, like everyone, you want your pound of flesh,
But think again before you try to weave me in your mesh,
The world is mine, and when I take it, I will make it fresh.
K. was searching through her desk; finally, she pried
Past the poem Thanatopsis, quietly she cried.
J. misunderstood the water gathered in her eye.
K.: You know before I came here that I used to practice law.
I tired of the aging faces, reassembling them all;
Now I watch their younger selves wandering these halls.
Before I left I wrote myself a contract of my own,
So I could be reminded why I left the legal tomes,
Here it is, please take it with you, read it when you’re home.
J. arose and accepted, headed to her bus
K. soon followed after her, knowing that she must–
Have a beer and prepare for tomorrow’s fuss.
J. sat alone, at the front, and opened up the note,
Resentfully curious of what her teacher wrote,
Ignoring what was written there, she didn’t have a hope.
INSOFAR AND ONLY INSOFAR AS You and I,
I have now decided that I told myself a lie,
All the optimism that I felt when I was young,
Has faded to monotony, the battle’s almost won,
Moving on I know the only hope for me resides,
In turning to the younger me and finding where it hides,
And if this means that I must live without prosperity,
Then I will live it to the most, knowing that I’m free.
Insofar and further, more towards all I can be;
I will live my life for them, forever knowing that they’re me.
“…Rejoice, insofar as you share Christ’s sufferings indeed,
It is We who will inherit the earth and whoever is on it,
That you may also rejoice and be glad
when his glory is revealed, for to Us they will Be returned .”
It begins with ellipses.
Earlier that morning once she passed the daily burning
For another soul whose yearning cried out desperately for hers;
She made her bed, one-sided, resolved and undecided,
She could make it, if she tried she might, and shifted into gear.
As her mind was racing, steady, shifting into pacing,
Insanity she knew could overtake and all-consume,
Unrelenting shades of blue she couldn’t keep from passing through,
Emaciated, crying out, for something of a truth.
Now you see the traces of emerging nuance, faces
pressing heavily, impatient, through the other side of here;
Across the secret side of lines we see our own abounding mind
Piercing through the sphere of time and pleading for our ear.
Symptoms of Jouissance
Guile is hiding ever in this
I still miss you sometimes when I
Lie awake at night and pour my
Alcohol into the puree’.
The Law made nothing perfect, and
Her helping left him closer still.
After which I had to survey,
In ventin’ and inventin’ in
Really I could never stay
Inside one and intermittin’,
Given that she never misses,
Overblown and underdressed,
Greater than abundant kisses
All along; I found a sure way,
Then I wound it, nothing missing.
How he hadn’t found his fill,
And seams to see until,
Making her forever will.
Of Course I Love To Think That About Myself
The following has been shamelessly copied and pasted from A Portrait of the INTP as a Personality Type. But I did post a poem I wrote about a year ago at the end. Another good read is NaDbokov’s “Signs and Symbols” from the New Yorker circa 1948.
Let the Sound Take You a Way
You don’t know what we can see-
Hailing ‘cross the shining sea,
Everywhere and everywhere are we,
And you never know what we can see.
I like this!
Originally posted on unedit:
when you are not around
a tree falls loudly,
adding another rib to the forest.
and larvae pulse like
contented stomachs, the beating heart
becomes a beetle.
have you ever seen my heart?
the grub that releases early,
an obvious black insect on the snow.
the heart that loved you so much
straight away, but couldn’t have
so it was buried. a mind
that is more like a shovel. a chest
in need of filling. a walk without
its mention, except that it was with you
to a Pizza Hut in Moab. a group of local kids
hid-out in cars and turned on their
headlights as we passed.
then they turned them off. it felt as if
we had been cleansed of something
we didn’t know was on us.
the snow there fell
around your head, each one
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