few, have the genius gene
expressed, through stress
don’t want the tension
thrust, upon them.
The crowd wants to normalize
what isn’t normal
Sustained tension seldom endures
because, storms dissipate
Nature returns to herself, longing, to be loved
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
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.”
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
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?”
“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?”
“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?”
“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.