(For Jodi O'Brien, literally and metaphorically)
For most of my life, the last twenty years, I have felt trapped
and lost within the classic American game; they told me
it’s just the American way. I guess you could say my mode of orientation
didn’t match the mode of production; until now, my life was just an abduction
with a reduction of creative energy.
Albert Camus said life is just a game for us fools, complete with irremovable rules
and we either play or we quit, for which, suicide is the only way. I knew all along
that I would have to compete, leaving death for the weak,
but I didn’t see the sense in their ways, so I decided to cheat.
Reason was my primary tool; in high school,
the principal held up the hoops and we were supposed to jump through,
but me, I crawled under and hid all my blunders. I yearned for real knowledge,
but couldn’t learn what I wanted; so I dozed off during class and only studied
my topics; what I learned was determined by my personal logic.
Consequently, I only learned what was important to me;
I’m sorry that it wasn’t American history.
See, its basic, I’m not a racist, which means slavery is nothing to me,
except a reminder of how fucked the world can be. In this way,
the hard facts did not hold a new lesson for me. I still learned them,
but only as well as I could without any real care and I barely did well,
but somehow, they considered it enough to be proud.
Of everything from sociology, I’m most in love with Liberty;
the idea that reason allows us to be free. But individualism has
its flaws and competition has its drawbacks, because the system is a
waterfall that causes some to crawl back defeated. In a world with winners,
there also comes losers and if arbitrary means fair, then consider me scared.
These were the flaws I saw from the start; these were the
reasons I did not want to play. America, Seattle U, and South Whidbey
High School wanted to toss me into the economic pool without
water wings just to see if I drowned; would Eric float down to the bottom?
Ferguson saw society as an organism, made up of interdependent parts;
and this too, I saw from the start. But in my heart, I wasn’t ready for
everybody to depend on me; I’m still not sure if I rely on me.
I’m just a broken organ of an organism; I’m a heart that doesn’t pump blood.
High school was much easier to cheat than capitalism,
which watches like Big Brother and holds the concern of our mothers.
In a weak attempt to be a societal rebel, I began smoking weed, hoping
to free myself from disillusionment. It didn’t work; it only made me a blank slate;
so I dubbed the bong John Locke, and moved on to my next fate.
College was supposed to be a blessing and it certainly wasn’t a curse,
but I wasn’t ready to submerse myself into arbitrary words; I needed
more time to mature. But my back was pushed forward, toward the
economic prison of capitalism; and my back is still pushed today; pushed by my parents,
by the world, and by the lack of our days. But I already decided I wouldn’t play;
if those bullies push me again, I’ll find a new way.
I’m ready for an egotistical suicide, in the metaphorical sense;
I’m ready for new ride; I’m ready to jump the old fence.
For most of my life, the last twenty years, I have felt trapped
and lost within the classic American game; they told me
it’s just the American way. I guess you could say my mode of orientation
didn’t match the mode of production; until now, my life was just an abduction
with a reduction of creative energy.
Albert Camus said life is just a game for us fools, complete with irremovable rules
and we either play or we quit, for which, suicide is the only way. I knew all along
that I would have to compete, leaving death for the weak,
but I didn’t see the sense in their ways, so I decided to cheat.
Reason was my primary tool; in high school,
the principal held up the hoops and we were supposed to jump through,
but me, I crawled under and hid all my blunders. I yearned for real knowledge,
but couldn’t learn what I wanted; so I dozed off during class and only studied
my topics; what I learned was determined by my personal logic.
Consequently, I only learned what was important to me;
I’m sorry that it wasn’t American history.
See, its basic, I’m not a racist, which means slavery is nothing to me,
except a reminder of how fucked the world can be. In this way,
the hard facts did not hold a new lesson for me. I still learned them,
but only as well as I could without any real care and I barely did well,
but somehow, they considered it enough to be proud.
Of everything from sociology, I’m most in love with Liberty;
the idea that reason allows us to be free. But individualism has
its flaws and competition has its drawbacks, because the system is a
waterfall that causes some to crawl back defeated. In a world with winners,
there also comes losers and if arbitrary means fair, then consider me scared.
These were the flaws I saw from the start; these were the
reasons I did not want to play. America, Seattle U, and South Whidbey
High School wanted to toss me into the economic pool without
water wings just to see if I drowned; would Eric float down to the bottom?
Ferguson saw society as an organism, made up of interdependent parts;
and this too, I saw from the start. But in my heart, I wasn’t ready for
everybody to depend on me; I’m still not sure if I rely on me.
I’m just a broken organ of an organism; I’m a heart that doesn’t pump blood.
High school was much easier to cheat than capitalism,
which watches like Big Brother and holds the concern of our mothers.
In a weak attempt to be a societal rebel, I began smoking weed, hoping
to free myself from disillusionment. It didn’t work; it only made me a blank slate;
so I dubbed the bong John Locke, and moved on to my next fate.
College was supposed to be a blessing and it certainly wasn’t a curse,
but I wasn’t ready to submerse myself into arbitrary words; I needed
more time to mature. But my back was pushed forward, toward the
economic prison of capitalism; and my back is still pushed today; pushed by my parents,
by the world, and by the lack of our days. But I already decided I wouldn’t play;
if those bullies push me again, I’ll find a new way.
I’m ready for an egotistical suicide, in the metaphorical sense;
I’m ready for new ride; I’m ready to jump the old fence.
No comments:
Post a Comment