Relative Something

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it’s not like I can’t hear you
when you spout into my ear
barely hiding what you fear
wondering where your world went
the one you think you knew
now you’re so distressed
why can’t things still just be
the way they were back when
your forefathers set the stage
for you to never have a clue
to diss most of the human race
that life of bliss
for you

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grasping at straws
of brilliant white light
enthralled in the thrills
that make great things right
fact after fact
smacks the green-screen of life
fast gasping stabs
ringing hollow amid strife
loneliness glows
almost in spite
weak weary knees
climbing flight
after flight

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if it was possible
to tell it all
in the little span of time
as it takes to peruse
the lines of a rhyme
and life could be whittled
all neat and tidy
into the two hours it takes
to present feature-length films
would it belabor the point
of hashing the thrash
and dashing the dash
to dot all our “i”s and cross each the “t”s
to speak all the words
which we too often do
that mean so much less
than “Hi, how are you?”

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light
from the basement
dripping down his calf
flashes
of brilliance
washing past too fast
in moments somehow singled
out of barely half a glance
nighttime dances blithely
changing as if cast
from pages overfilled
with endless dreary words
fire breathing backwards
beneath it all at last
warning off the ghosts
watching
thrill-enhanced

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the slowly ticking drama
of every thing as nothing
swirling manipulations
manufactured stipulations
stressors preconceived
lightly dangling listless
smashing moment’s notice
lunging almost laughing
barely ever stopping
as a check to reality
waiting without effort
diligence paused, as if unguarded
insidiously seeking just that chance
intent on breaking open
the ice that is in sanity
to open well-worn fractures
forged whole in perfect time
starting over in undoing
grief already undone

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try as we might
to comprehend
the incomprehensible
with all that we’ve got
when what passes for logic
is chock-full of holes
and the bottom keeps dropping
from under the rainbow
our best intentions
mere shattering glass
the wrong people speaking
their version of facts
democracy screams
for its promising past

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