A poem dedicated to me, because I feel responsible
The nerd god of folk poetry said it best,
I’m a driver I’m a winner Things are gonna change I can feel it
Well, I am not that man
I personify the string of antonyms that are contrary to the bolded, italicized prose
I’m not a driver, I am a passenger
I’m not a winner, I’m a failure
Things won’t change and I can feel it too
In this case, empiricism equates to common sense
And the cast of Glee backs me up as I mouth the Spanish part of the chorus
Soy un perdedor!
And the chorus continues onward, asserting the truth that I am a failure and that I should become the end result of societal Darwinism
Except I don’t have a guitar string strong enough or a Douglas fir beam high enough off the floor in which to commit the deed.
And the committed, Biblical zealots will tell you that societal Darwinism is the ultimate result of a denial of the Lord’s sovereignty over humankind
And my answer is that the belief in hell is its own form of pessimism, its own form of nihilism
Religious nihilism is equitable to societal Darwinism
The prime directive is to survive and multiply and when one of those two basic tenets are compromised, it makes life not worth living
Of course, not everybody subscribes to this simple, biologically-based philosophy
Some people wisely understand that there is a purpose to this life and that the divine silence problem is not a problem at all, but a simple fact build into this thing called existence
Christian theism is the only point of view that supplies the necessary transcendental reasons for how existence came about, and there is no escaping this truth
In other words, I was dealt this s****y hand and I have to play it even though I won’t win any tricks in this game of reproductive five hundred
To quote a s****y poet who knows more useless information than the guy who wins all the rounds of interactive trivia at Buffalo Wild Wings,
November Oscar, November Zero, nothing, none, nil and nada! These producers are unable, and so they are November Zeroes
And now we have come full circle like we drove the circuit from Fargo to Grand Forks to Minot to Bismarck and back to Fargo
The nerd god of folk poetry said it best,
Soy un perdedor! I am loser, baby! Why don’t you kill me?
So much for playing the hand I was dealt
The prime directive is no longer violated
This is the silver lining around the mushroom cloud of my despair
All because the happy-faced, Santa Claus-looking drunk wrote a six word story,
A clear hint to an emotional turmoil, your poem literally screams out your guilt and self-derision. The rawness of these feelings was conveyed well enough to the reader. And since the poem is personal as well, I hope you feel better soon.
Thank you for a amazing poem. I like the many good quotes. Some are part of my generation.
"Soy un perdedor!
I am loser, baby!
Why don’t you kill me? "
You can always entertain me with good story. Thank you for a excellent poem.
Coyote
Wow. All of my favorite trademarks of your poems, in spades--the awesomely unpredictable references (Buffalo Wild Wings :D), the depressing but logical arguments, the...stream-of-conscience style, I guess you'd call it? This one really touched me. A lot of pain lying under the words. I keep trying to think of how to describe it, but I can't. Just amazing.
Heart rending. From start to finish. Your poetry brings out the depths of despair. I wish you peace. Regardless of ones views religious or Darwinistic, we are meaningful one to another in ways we can't even imagine.
Your last line struck my heart like a lightning bolt. Key. I know they say what doesn't kill us makes us stronger but darn if it makes any sense, does it? An incredible piece Kenneth.
I love your poetry as you likely already know.. your streaming consciousness is endlessly intriguing and the imagery selections are calculatingly impressive.. I love the unique signature that all your poetic expressions hold, I can verify trough word selection and tone that its you who has scribed a piece.. your thoughts and feelings are resolute and impress the point quite clearly.
Knowing where your pain derives from.. I can see the subject all over these words and while its sadness is painful.. the poetry it creates is awake in its forceful nature..
Kenneth The Poet is an optimist wrapped in the candy shell of moroseness and cynicism. He lives between the two parallels marked 46 and 49, all while living in the state marked 39. He pretends that he.. more..