high-coup

poets: join forces

arm yourselves, and then light up

this is a high-coup

Everything Is Broken

This is my parody of the Everything Is AWESOME!!! song:

Everything Is Broken

Everything is broken

Everything’s on fire and high priority

Everything is broken

And out of warranty

Everything would be better with best practices

But in practice it’s all rushed into slacknesses

Let’s hurry forever

We’re the same, I’m like you, you’re like me

We are just working for money

Everything is broken

Everything’s on fire and high priority

Everything is broken

And out of warranty

Woo! Three, two, one, go!

Have you heard the news? Everyone’s talking

Life is shit ’cause everything’s broken

Lost my job, no new opportunities

No free time for my non-existent communities

I feel more broken than a broken token

Drown my sorrow in chocolate frosting

Three years later, wash off the frosting

Smelling like a hobo, everything is broken

Stepped in poop, got new brown shoes

It’s awesome to win but frustrating to lose, frustrating to lose

Everything is better when we stick together

But no time, you and I are gonna race forever

Let’s hurry forever

We’re the same, I’m like you, you’re like me

We are just working for money

Everything is broken

Everything’s on fire and high priority

Everything is broken

And out of warranty

Polluted skies, delayed springs

We just named two shitty things

War and famine, a shoelace string

You know what’s broken? Everything!

Reliable news, civilities

We’ve not learned from antiquities

Simple features, passing tests,

Poor security vipers’ nests,

Drought, frogs, cogs, they’re broken

Crops, clocks, and socks, they’re broken

Police, brigs, oil rigs, they’re broken

Everything you see or think or say is broken

Everything is broken

Everything’s on fire and high priority

Everything is broken

And out of warranty

step away from the vehicle

we submit ourselves to wage slavery in order to commit our children to the unsavory

in the vain hopes of them training through the competitive pre-primary-secondary-tertiary production line that tunnels straight into the factories of the forgotten far below the morbid mountains of misdirected minds

competing for golden tickets to burn out churning and burning oils and animals, oceans and jungles to line other peoples' pockets 

and that’s if they’re not broken down by the social education engine first

we measure our successes in days and nights overflowing with busywork and bureaucracies

we measure our failures in welfare cheques with strings attached to draw and quarter us down into charities

instead of the very communities that they were supposed to be uplifting

we passionately play job roulette in the hope of winning roles that won't *only* pay us to be miserable

we optimize our fad diets, ingest caffeine and pop pills

but still it takes every ounce of will we can muster just to zombie-lurch through each day

too anxious to perform properly while pretending that everything's okay

we offer ourselves up on the altars of our addictions

to pharmaceuticals or exercise or sports or games

to television and social media channels that distract and rot our brains

with sordid simulations of society, nonsense narratives obscuring futility

we'll give ourselves over to literally any kind of fantasy that might help us temporarily forget our existential pain reality

we chase down our nightmares with spirits

to drown our spirits and bring on dreamless sleep and cotton-mouth mornings

after whole lives chasing smoke through halls of mirrors we're too tired and stressed to rest

to make memories that fuel us

to write our own stories that build us

once upon a time we didn't have all of these modern inconveniences

and our society in its denial has maintained the useful lie that luddites were against technology

but in actual fact their fight was for their right to continue living their lives on their own terms

setting their own hours

spending their borrowed time on their families

constructing their communities

the original luddite rage was against the same perpetual energy consuming industrial complex machine that's held its iron grip around our necks for so long that we only remember our freedoms in advertising materials, political propaganda

and other children's tales designed to hold back the looming revolution

we've all been generationally traumatized by lifetimes of trying to keep up with the runaway gunpowder-germ-and-steel train

on foot

we’ve no time to grab our stumbling neighbors by the hand without falling behind ourselves

our breaths are short, our lungs are burning and our muscles are on fire, but we keep on running

we’ve no time to consider that this train's tracks are not a viable, reliable route to surviving our relentless race to the future

to consider that there might be alternate modes of transport that we can use to get to dust B from dust A

modes that let us ride with our soulmates and even sing along the way

we can walk, we can ride, we can slip, we can slide

just as long as we make sure to always remember the golden rule of "never go it alone"

because you don't have to do this alone.

you. don't. have. to do. this. alone.

you. don't. have. to do. this. alone.

you. don't. have. to do. this. alone.

our internalized social functioning inversions have generated mass hallucination diversions and left us wired up to implode

we inadvertently drive ourselves and our kids to either shoot up or shoot out, and then reload

everything seems to be broken, but it’s not just the compasses in our pointing fingers

you see, we blame the rich, we blame the glitch, we blame the cheat, we blame the snitch,

we blame the poor, we blame the pure, we blame the sick, we blame the cure,

we blame the company, the individual, we blame the economy, and the aboriginal,

we blame the foreigners, we blame their gods, we blame our own with their golden rods

but it doesn't matter who's at fault

because we're all full of faults

and the fixing's down to each and every one of us if we want to bring this grim storyline to a halt

the truth is there isn’t anybody who will save us but ourselves

there’s no hero in a cape, or band of plucky dwarves and elves

we need to bridge the gaping chasms of our fractured collective consciousness

pull together if we're going to reach towards redemption, rebuild our self-confidence

we need to dig ourselves out of our self-imposed prisons where we serve without a crime

even if we can only afford to do so one single disposable plastic teaspoon at a time

stop.

take a breath.

grab the first hand that you see.

help, and be helped.

there's more to life than just "you" or "me".

don't

be afraid.

try to remember why you're here.

this epic adventure began long ago

where we're headed's still not clear.

if you try to do it anyone else's way

it will be hard just to survive

so don't *ever* let anyone tell you

there's only one right way to thrive.

the death march

one foot in front of the other
day after grueling day
my time marches behind me with a gun to my back
looming larger and larger
as we all walk towards the abyss

billions and billions of us marching together
each desperately clutching at whatever nourishment presents itself
some shove others out of the way, or ride on their backs
some hold out helping hands and lend their shoulders for support
and some just shrug their shoulders, and lie down

while falling is inevitable
how we march in the face of its inevitability expresses our truest selves

when we have time to look up, the views can be incredible
when we connect, our love makes everything worthwhile

but my dreams feel like someone small standing before a massive wall

i wake up each morning to the sound of the beating drums of the times
the thudding of my heart in my ears as i try to watch my footing and escape my worries about the future
live my gratitude, because acknowledging it is not enough
never enough
just like everything else

being in control of our destiny isn't necessary for a good life
but having a sense of control is crucial
as i find myself compulsively putting one foot in front of the other
watching myself drag my feet

i think
"i need to learn to dance".

amateur origami

my take on the tragedy of the titan cronos eating his children is that it's less of a lesson on how time devours whatever time produces, and is more about how one's intentions can be so misconstrued that the only version of that story that has survived is the one in which he does so out of fear
and not love
for my little boy has taught me just how difficult it can be to hold back from dislocating my own jaw in order to swallow his cuteness whole
when he's unhappy, his squeals and shrieks shatter my heart and scatter the shards but his smiles
and the sound of his little voice box engine starting
uhh-uhh-huhhhhhhhh
and the feeling of his little hands gripping me tight as our breaths squeeze his chest into mine
these melt and draw those scattered heart shards right back together again
each time reforming a little larger than before

we dance along together to his sheer delight, his joyous little jazz hands clench into vices holding on for dear life
every first moment that his curious eyes lock on to mine i am mise en abyme
absorbed by my reflection's reflection
in the mirror of his face i see my two greatest loves and our future stares back with a sublime wisdom that i cannot comprehend
stares straight through me with an intensity against which i cannot - and will not - defend
we have planted a tree of life with its fractal branches spiraling into infinities
heavily laden with the fruits of what-ifs and could-bes
and each tastes of dizzying, endless possibilities

but all of our fantasies of how we wish for him to be fall subject to the fact that we have as much control over the direction of his soul as of the earth's revolutions around our sun
that our influence over him will be primarily due to what we do and have done
and that each reflex, each utterance chooses paths and closes doors
even since long before his eyes were first able to perceive us

every moment of his life is an origami fold over hot coals
we're trying to construct a phoenix without ever actually having seen one

the kid that would not sleep

(based on Metallica's The Thing That Should Not Be)

parents' fear is gripping tight
terror as they kill the light

hyper child begins to see
an opportunity to roam free

fearless wretch
insanity
he watches
lurking and trolling me
he sneaks to a
forbidden site
he searches
hunter in the shadows is rising
remorseless
in madness you dwell

crawling chaos, on the ground
yelp a tiny, twisted sound

out from blankets, now possessed
feels no pity, out of breath

fearless wretch
insanity
he watches
lurking and trolling me
priceless sleep
has been upset
he awakens
hunter in the shadows is rising
remorseless
in madness you dwell
in madness you dwell

overtired but will not lie
endless nights may make you cry

drain you of your sanity
face the kid that would not sleep

fearless wretch
insanity
he watches
lurking and trolling me
he sneaks to a
forbidden site
he searches
hunter in the shadows is rising
remorseless
in madness you dwell

i take our love for granted

i take our love for granted

if i didn't love you
if i wasn't committed to you
committed to our private asylum
i would have walked a long time ago

and so would you
so i take our love for granted

on our good days
when we're two giddy teenagers fighting over who loves who more
fighting over who gets to hold our son, basking in delight on the days he picks me over you
basking in small corners of old buildings in the rays of the sun reflecting off snow lined window frames reflecting off of slick skin bonded with ancient magic and taut with the ecstasy of two halves becoming whole and beginning to heal

your gifts to me and mine to you

and on our dark days
when bruises and scratches cover our hearts and the floor is slick with spent lives
lives spent in cold forests on dark moons where aliens convinced us that we were alone in the universe
that our lives didn't matter
and couldn't matter
while they brutally tore into our cores
seeking to destroy the engines that would take us home but failing to find them:
our technologies so different that they could not identify their true targets

so our power remained even as our skins were ripped away
and whether raw or covered in spikes and steel i see you
i see you see me
i see us see our history and i take our love for granted

but never you
i never take you for granted