few, have the genius gene

expressed, through stress

most,

don’t want the tension

thrust, upon them.

The crowd wants to normalize

what isn’t normal

the abnormal,

want acceptance.

Sustained tension seldom endures

because, storms dissipate

Nature returns to herself, longing, to be loved

Being lost

is a loss, to the unloved

like an alien, in a far-away land

with no one to talk to— no one understands.

The champion is different, than a fan

he doesn’t try to escape

the heat

he is active,

venting steam in the office

where cubicles catch fire

“It’s 105 degrees in here!” The maintenance man shouts.

“It feels right to me.”

Burning—

the pressure, has to explode.

No corporate linear sense

can make sense

of insane belief.

Stress, wants to be expressed

so that it can become bigger than before

an attack on calm

a different mountain, with the insides blown out

burying the town.

A champion goes, like a nuclear bomb

unleashed

with the temptation to return to its master

like a trained tiger

after it kills

but it can never become a kitten again.

With no chance, the champion rolls the dice

His vice, is winning

the other kind, is a shame to the jungle cat

“Do you ever get lonely?”

“Not anymore.”

“I used to play golf by myself, at twilight

and now, I look at a room full of people, and there’s nobody there.”

The old man, had a big belly, with scruffy white whiskers. His kid, had curly-blonde hair.

“He never listens to me. The world is going to hell, and it’s because sons don’t listen to their fathers. Now for my birdie juice.”

He popped back a whiskey, and drained his liquid luck.

“Homosexuals are bring down this country!” He yelled. “I’m a Jehovah’s witness. Are you married?”

“I’m looking.”

“Well, you practically have to sleep with a woman, to get to know her, these days. I did, and the Witnesses disfellowshipped me. Take my advice, make a list of what you have in common, before sleeping with her.”

“I don’t think I’m there yet.”

“Well, you will be. You’re a good-looking man. It’s hard to be single, with so many women walking around in bikinis. I know. My wife died last year.”

“Oh—lusting has a cost.”

“It’s fun to look though, isn’t it? We’re not perfect,” he said. “Say, can I ask you a personal question?”

“Shoot.”

“Why aren’t you a Jehovah’s Witness?”

“I’m following God.”

“But you won’t be chosen!” His face was red. “You can’t earn your way to heaven!”

“I know that, but if we want the blessings of God, we must obey.”

“You’re not tempted?”

“There’s a cost. It’s better to know the law and follow it—rather than believing there isn’t one.”

“Who are you?”

I didn’t answer.