the never-ending American dream of perfection IV

Let's look in at this well-oiled machine
Established 1984 and still running clean
Metallic shrieks cover human screams
And the robotic process hinders human dreams.
So tell me if you want to be
The lonely last one standing
After surviving for years on hard work alone
And now you collapse on your shattering bones -

The Democratic debate, four nights ago
Potential to change - and it goes to show -
What is change?
God only knows.
A pain on both sides, swollen biblical tomes
Deciding the future of this country of gold

But listen, hearken back
To the warnings of old
When we leave all our history
And walk all alone
It won't be too long before the gold has been sold
China's the victor, and the world has turned cold
Look around then and you'll have to say
"It's too bad this century turned out this way,"
So focused on learning and winning and dreams
That we forgot that perfection is not all it seems.

{ the end }

too far

the room that you left

when you breathed your last breath

still lingers the smell of you

and the place

where your cold fingers grazed

my frozen shoulder

still burns.

but I'm done now. I told myself

I wouldn't let this

get to the point of obsession,

so I'm done.

(but, if you want to keep going,

I won't complain.)

the never-ending American dream of perfection III

O! What hasn’t been done
To ensure that this misbegotten war will be won
But the one overseas, not the one right at home -
Not the one with the secrets covered with stone -
Not the one with misery tied up alone -
Not the one with perfection lost in the poem.

This is the voice of the misguided souls
Of the lost, diseased, mistreated
Of the overeager, standing, seated
Of the confident, the sad, the driven, and the mad
Of the mistaken – most of all
Of those nobody thinks will ever fall
Of those who of course will stay up till the end
Fighting their enemies and protecting their friends
Deciding the victor of the rule over men.
Deciding the voice that history will take
Ten years from now when a bit less is at stake
When perhaps some higher power would know
What needs to stay and what had to go—
What had to change and what wasn’t so
The test of a nation in victories outside?
No – it is at all the failures inside.

The inability of all to see past the pride –
Past years of schooling
Past all the lies –
To the less than perfect student, who honestly tried
To change what he was before forced into disguise.

I think perhaps it's time I changed the rhyme.

her

he did leave me
and her
and life would be really quite different
if there wasn't any anger

but instead she'll use words that hammer into my better half
and respond to a fight with a full glass
of ice, whiskey, and sadness

regret, you know?

love doesn't cloud my perception too much where he is concerned
and so i'm left with a little less faith in him and a little more in her
a little less faith in the whole human race
and a bit more belief in all i know for sure,
which isn't much.
but it is enough.

The never-ending American dream of perfection II

I am the girl who you see getting A’s
And bouncing though life with smiles and grace.
But I am the girl who secretly cries
Since her father went bankrupt and left in his lies –
I am not giving up or changing my ways
But it’s hard when everyone expects perfect days.

And I am the voice of the boy who’s alone
Since his girlfriend got smashed up by his telephone –
But nobody knows what he did there that night,
Since he hid from himself to hide from the fight,
And yet he goes on, day after day
With a smile on his face and the perfect words to say.

God listens not only to those who fear
But also to those with their own open ears,
With shackles and secrets all bound in their chest
And gasoline ready to ignite all the rest –
These soldiers march on to the beat of their drums
And wait for the moment of sweet death to come –

Since by now they’ve been told a few too many times,
That if they go home they’ll be drenched in the lies
Of a nation that stretched itself too many times
To help the young vagrants with murderous eyes
To help the foreign powers of democratic prize
In the hope it would help all the nuclear disguise –

Sadly, what this nation failed to realize
Was the depth of deception on their home lines –
One out of ten is some man who lies
To protect his position and his masculine pride.
But this nation believed in the promise of peace
So they sent these daydreamers to fight to the teeth.

not meant to be a song

stargazing
remember this feeling
suddenly

now i breathe
les 'etoiles brillent

my feet freeze
the earth warms me

the sky swallows me
the stars show me

the never-ending American dream of perfection I

{One of our more interesting assignments in English class this year was to write a poem in the style of Langston Hughes' "Let America Be America Again." This is the first installment of my response to the assignment.}



Hey there, baby, lying in the bed,
Who put that brilliant brain in your head?
Who told you that you could have all the world?
Who gave you that beautiful string of pearls?

(You don’t see past perfection, do you?)

Hey there, superstar, studying the skies,
What luck of genes gave you those eloquent eyes?
What determination gave you the trophy
That you remember you won in your times of great need?

(I am not as perfect as you think.)

Hey there, drifter, wandering the halls,
How can you rise while all others fall?
Given the choice of remorse or the chase
You’d lose everything if you could win just first place.

(I’m just a symbol of cold-hearted achievement –
Over the smoking embers of a life once spent
In misery – do you see that in me?)

Hey there, now, don’t be shy
Are you that one who ran across the sky?
Are you the one who changed,
So that you wouldn’t be under nobody’s claim?

haiku for Mr. Gleich

Thanks to you, I know
All about semi-colons
And comma splices.

fragile is not a synonym for volatile

Part of me demands to be more clingy
To hold on to everything that might someday flee from me
To grasp and hold fast, tight, to my entire world; it can't last


The other part wants to run away
And this is the more familiar feeling.
To force forgetfulness: the truth, yesterday, the confrontation, the negotiations, the sickening sense of knowing that
When you push, and push, and push...
You can't arrange punctuation or the thoughts in your own head.


I just want to be loved, instead!


And what right do they have, to interfere, to wonder
And to bumble into a blunder of such epic proportions
Playing catch-and-release with my heart
Fragile is not a synonym for volatile, this is true
But when all is shattered (or exploded)
I'd still rather be with you.

"Gravitation is not responsible for people falling in love."

Except, what else but gravity could cause such insanity?
Could meld this confused melody into a pounding polyphony?
Could disregard the modulation in favor of
self-actualization, inexplicable desire:
"Hold me, 'cause I'm going higher!"

I can't use logic.
And it doesn't matter if the drink is toxic,
or if it's going to make us sick.

I want to wrap myself up in your arms

I want to wrap myself up in your arms
and I want you to want me there
If maybe that scares you
At least, run your fingers through my hair?

I can’t wait to follow you off stage
I won’t wait for you to call
I wish I could feel like I knew all your thoughts
Instead of knowing nothing at all.

And maybe I just got paranoid
Or maybe I’ve gone round the bend
I said it before and I’ll say it once more
You know I’d just do it again.

Since for once I believed
No strings attached
Could work, could keep us safe from attack.
But people want to know everything, don’t they?
Now there’s no going back.