dishes

I want to come back as a poem
so I can live forever in the minds of men,
but first I have to do the dishes.

One Big Dramatic Curve

In the wake of fascism came fascism.
At either end of a line
each extreme found themselves
with the same problem
and the same solution

Some kept running
from the other side and
from the side they were,
without ever retracing the other's steps,
to arrive at either end
of the same circle turned on its side,

exchanging polarities like a light swinging
between red and blue

No matter how far they run
from the cross
the circle just gets bigger
like the far ends of the universe
running away from a discovery.

Kids educated on opinions,
history and subjectivity,
gave up on which way was right.
Wide-eyed at the vortex,
leaving only to escape
the current channel

only imagine the view
from outside, where Sasquatch hides.
The edge will be running away
from us for the rest of our lives.

Forgotten Sense

The majority forgot,
upon his eternal rest,
the man who said it best,
his hippie nonsense.

Yet, a few do recall
the message that he left,
high upon his grave,
spray painted love over his name.

Cycle

As the lake becomes glass looking
at clouds thicken, drops tear apart

serenity like liquid stones.
The regularity of time matters less

than how the lake reflects itself
in between glances of the heavens.

History of The Failing Safeguard

are we getting smarter,
or do we just know more?
when will stubborn intellect
realize its gone too far?
that questions of an other
reinvent the mother
over and over and over
until we're more confused than before.
one day i think we'll know,
collectively that is,
that time's just an assumption.
a circle ends where it begins.
we'll try to put a safeguard in
to make sure we don't get here again
and we'll all be fine and dandy
till resources start to thin.
some will conserve,
realizing life's source.
some will move on
and time will run its course.

Silent Treatment

You're having fun slurping at the seemingly endless last sip of your Big Gulp.
The watered-down pop snaps through the straw barrel like a machine gun,
but the sound of melted ice drowns out her eyes.

This fountain drink was a treat. From her, tomorrow's refill is free.
Milk money could buy you a sweet future full of carbonation and corn-syrup.
But, when black holes form, you'll carry false fillings in real cavities forever.