I keep reading my stuff to my mother
it’s a crutch
and I have two broken legs
And my mother says, “Oh, when I get too old and infirmed, your sister will take care of me (My sister went to nursing school, but decided she didn’t like to touch people, and she got her MBA, instead), and you can read your short stories to me.”
When I read my poems to my mother, she always stops me mid-poem and asks, “What are you trying to say?”
And I have to explain myself
And when I finish, she doesn’t say anything
there is a pause
and then she says, “pretty good—you are a good writer”
and her implication is obvious, you are good, but not great
and she’s right.
Then she will ask, “Why are your poems so depressing? Why can’t you write something positive?”
“They’re not positive?… I thought they were.”
Needing approval always carries a greater cost than it’s worth.
My friend and I have been praying for success
and it seems that our desires fall on deaf ears
We are trying to live the clean life, but we can never be perfect enough to please God
We are like pharisees, petting our rabbits’ feet
I could drop all the balls, and let life happen to me
but if I lose, it will be my fault
and if I strive my whole life without success, I will become a bitter old man
but I’ll be able to say, “I did my best.”
Success is a strange mistress. Some men have access to her all the time
And they like to give advice
to the young men who have not yet penetrated the secret barriers and booby-traps
We are like impatient eunuchs
to the gods of the game
not even setting foot, into her bed chamber
and there are impure rockstars who do whatever they want
So, purity/impurity
success/no success
is a horrible, juvenile, way of thinking.
I don’t think the gurus can help me
I don’t think God can help me
I can never abandon my beliefs, totally
but for a day, yes.
And yesterday, I did exactly that, and it was the luckiest, most unexplainable day
People were kind to me, and I felt liberated from my self-imposed beliefs about life
there is no one way
but I guess, my orientation could always be wrong
So, my friend and I got into a philosophical battle
in our attempt to prove or disprove God’s existence
and I started talking philosophy
and he started talking mathematics
and neither of us could understand each other
so, we had a good laugh, and dropped it
dropping the balls, and quitting the juggle
feels really good
especially when life keeps going
So, the implication is:
it’s only a game
with no winners, at the end.
(A Positive Poem?…Maybe?)