Once a guy said, “Make it good,

I have needs, fix it.”

He was referring to me.


Once a guy said, “It is good,

for a comedian to laugh at self.”

He was referring to me.


Once a guy said, “That was good,

eloquent, honest and true.”

He was referring to me.


I live in this paradox of old and new

Of old feelings invading new thoughts

Of ancient beliefs violating new ways

Of senile emotions plundering new freedom

Of decrepit perceptions pillaging new life


At a time when society is dumbed by media-ocrity

At a time when bureaucracy is short-sightedly obtuse

At this time, in this paradox, I am asked for more.


I, cast as Limbkins, more is not forthcoming.

With icicles running through

Arterioles and the deep palmar arch,

I say no, in my head.

But my heart and hands:

They are doing and being

Something completely different.

Chordae tendineae tugging

As only heart strings can.

Pulling me on

Striving for more.


Can this paradox be something new

Vibrantly creative

Inventive without

Regurgitating yet another wheel

Leave unproductive ways

Fruitless and impotent

On the side of this new path.

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