Pandemonium

 

Wondering desperately about that which will never occur,

Soothing with alcohol and sex and sleep and

Anything that won’t talk back when

Overwrought with pathos and vice and remorse.

And when chastised for inappropriate behavior,

For mishandling real and imaginary crises,

There are wishes for more dignity, yet

Comfort in those fools whom are just the same.

Smothered with self-help bullshit that makes sense when

Javaed with a friend or huddled alone in a library corner,

But becomes less than nothing after hearing it on 97 channels

With 1200 different faces…

So close to forgetting every one of the yesterdays.

Sticking the lion chest out and scattering the vision,

With a time-to-time shudder and sporadic misstep,

Hard not to tire quickly when compared to previous generations,

Hard not to wonder where the f**k their angst went.

All those wise ones, yeah,

The wise ones…

Those who have achieved shimmering serenity by living

Inconsequential lives, by existing and no more,

Those who scoff and resent anyone searching for better---

Perhaps agonizing to deal with, at times wasted,

But always survived.

With a raging haze of anxiety and

Creamy smooth lethargy,

Everything that is raucous and sublime,

Becoming someone’s forgotten yesterday…

Just a fragment of everyone’s yesterdays, so much

Consigned to oblivion.

 

Reviews

[Pete]

Very deep and thought provoking. Honest & raw yet has an elegance to it. It can be lonely & painful going your own way against the grain. I know.